Chapter 9: The Bandit's Hideout
Grimsley drummed his fingers on the bar and sighed. Sundays were always a slow day for him, especially at nine in the morning when the call of wild Braviary echoed across the valleys of Route 4. So much for a separate world for people and Pokémon, he thought. Even the Permafrost had not been enough to wipe out or capture everything in Unova, but the trading embargoes with the other members of the Archipelago and the mainland state of Orre ensured that none but Team Plasma could catch anything. A true world of black and white, the way N had envisioned it, would have been impossible, but it was perfectly possible to impose an artificial version of such truths and ideals.
Wesley was still around, but he was currently dismantling the stage upon which his daughter had performed the night before and so could no longer discuss how the system was designed to keep everyone in little boxes while those at the top controlled every facet of their lifestyles (by this point Wesley had been under the influence of a pill with a picture of a chicken on it, but his views still stood), so Grimsley had played a few games of poker with the other early risers, but now they had become bored and lost all their gambling money so back to the bar it was.
On the verge of despair from sheer boredom and not having a house to call his own despite once being one of the richest men in Unova, Grimsley began trying to tell his own fortune using his pack of playing cards. This method would be less accurate than the traditional tarot cards and be subject to a lot of interpretation but it was all he had at hand. He overturned the first card, revealing the King of Hearts, famously depicted being impaled by his own sword and sometimes colloquially known as 'the suicide king.' Grimsley took this to mean Death, but not necessarily in the literal sense, more the death of one lifestyle and the birth of a new one. He sighed, remembering how one of his own had stabbed the rest in the back, ending a great legacy. Granted, if anyone was to turn around and begin to aid Team Plasma to save themselves it was most likely to have been Caitlin, with a family's reputation on the line and her fear of her own monstrously destructive latent psychic powers going out of control. Such a shame she had turned coat and joined the wrong side, as powers would be incredibly valuable to whomever she served. It was not the king's hand guiding the blade, Grimsley mused. It was the Queen's.
He overturned another card, revealing a 9 of Clubs. Frowning, he decided to shuffle the deck and pick again as he couldn't interpret the 9 of Clubs properly, and besides it was not a serious fortune reading. After cutting the deck and reshuffling it, he picked out a 5 of Diamonds. Not being very knowledgeable about tarot cards, he took it literally, as he'd probably lost about half his fortune by now if not more. Actually, definitely more. That house alone must've been worth about 20 million poke. His rampant gambling had wrecked the Tyrells and his position among the Elite Four was his saving grace. Without that, he was nothing but prey for the Mandibuzz as the bailiffs came in and stole all his furniture. After this bout of reflection, he had the sudden urge to break his usual vow of not drinking until mid-afternoon in order to take the edge off the memories.
"Get me whatever will do the trick," Grimsley said to the landlord, the only honest worker on Route 4.
"One Pink Gyarados coming right up!" the landlord declared. Someone in the far corner couldn't contain their laughter, as the Pink Gyarados was largely considered a 'gay drink' due to the name and colour, a shocking bright pink. Its appearance was deceptive, though, as it had quite the fiery kick to it and was rather intoxicating to boot, hence the 'Gyarados' portion of its moniker. Many a night had gone horribly wrong when an unassuming teen was caught out by the notorious beverage, a stomach-demolishing mix of amaretto, neat Russian vodka (it had to be Russian to be a Pink Gyarados, otherwise it was call a Fluorescent Magikarp), grapefruit juice from which it derived its eponymous colour and drops of chilli extract, but this would not ward off Grimsley, who accepted the challenge and dutifully drank. Once the horrific pain from it passing through his oesophagus had faded, he shuffled the deck once again and pulled out the Joker.
"I'll sue whoever made these decks," he said. "They advertised it as Jokerless!" With the Pink Gyarados invigorating him, Grimsley no longer felt the need to be surrounded by squalor and bid his fellow alcoholics farewell, heading towards the door, right as it flew open and several new faces burst in.
The resistance squad erupted through the door, on the lookout for any potential recruits. Ushering the newly-befriended Lurch the biscuit addict away by throwing a double-pack of custard creams in the opposite direction, the more presentable members entered the establishment.
"Whose idea was it to bring the meathead along?" Victor asked angrily. "Those were for an emergency situation!"
"Cool it, Victor," Lisa warned. "We can easily buy more. Besides, we need the manpower. He could probably take the guards on by himself."
"How reassuring," Victor said sarcastically.
"Oh, give it a rest already," Lisa snapped. "We're here for info, not to argue."
"Don't worry ma'am, I'll be on my best behaviour!" Victor said, accompanied by an exaggerated salute. "You know me, I'm the ultimate charmer! The ladies won't be able to stop themselves from spilling all their secrets!"
"Well, doesn't look like there's many ladies to charm here," Lisa observed. "And I think the new guy has a head-start..."
Defying all expectations, Jason had already made his way halfway across the bar, heading in the general direction of the stage, adorned with black and purple stripes, which he knew was an indication of the presence of a Gym Leader who never was. Roxie Underhill, most commonly only referred to by her first name like such luminaries as Madonna; Rihanna and the greatest of them all, Seal, mainly trained the Poison type, particularly those found in and around the toxic Virbank Complex in the city for which it was named. Her first album, Dogars, a name which arose from a translation error when manufacturing it for the Japanese market, had been Number 1 in Unova's charts for 20 straight weeks, and the succession of follow-ups reached similar success. If anyone in this place would be willing to fight the resistance, it would be Roxie.
So determined was Jason that he didn't even flinch in the presence of Roxie's bodyguards, who were built like Machoke and twice as ugly. The two must have been there all night and most of the morning, standing vigilantly next to the stage to ensure it wasn't trashed by drunkards, but now the time had come to take it down and move to the next venue, as Roxie's bandmates, Nicky the drummer and Billy-Jo the guitarist, and her father were dismantling it.
"Whaddaya want, pipsqueak?" the nearest grunted.
"Make it quick!" the one further away added.
"Um... do you have a moment?" Jason asked quietly, keen not to receive a beating.
"We ain't got time for the likes of you!" the near bodyguard barked. "Now scram!"
"Alright then, if you insist..."
"Hey!" A female voice yelled from behind the two guards. "Lay off, will ya?" The two emitted an uncharacteristically high-pitched squeal and parted immediately, allowing the illustrious young punk rocker through. "Well well, what have we here? You sure are kinda cute, I'll give ya that."
"Um... thanks?" was all Jason could muster.
"Nervous, huh? Well, that's expected. I like that." She licked her lips provocatively, gazing deep into Jason's eyes. What do I do? What do I say? Is she... oh no! She is! Jason's inner monologue went berserk as Roxie approached and placed a hand on his face, still gazing. Her hand was surprisingly warm, although not as warm as his face currently was. The other hand was creeping slowly downwards, getting increasingly closer to the top of his jeans.
"I'm not sure that's a good idea..." Jason said half-heartedly. Part of him was aching, even longing for her to just go ahead and have her way with him, but his conscience, old Jiminy Kricketot, was still very much in charge as he began to resist Roxie's advances. "No offense, you're nice and all, but..."
"Oh, you wanna take it somewhere a little more private, huh?" she asked, frowning slightly. Jason had to wonder what kind of a place this was if she had the confidence to try that in public, then again she was a rebellious figure and probably did it for the hell of it.
"Look, don't take this the wrong way, but-"
"Whoa, man, leave some for me!" At that precise moment Victor tripped over a table-leg and came crashing down next to them, causing Roxie to jump back in shock, pulling Jason with her and almost throwing them both off-balance. Pop Roxie, the bodyguards and Roxie's two bandmates looked up for a moment before re-occupying themselves with taking the stage apart.
"Check you out, gettin' fresh with the rockstar! I'm proud o' you, man! If not a little envious."
"This... isn't..."
"Oh, sure it ain't, son..."
"Who's the goofball?" Roxie enquired, giving him a single dismissive look before turning back to Jason.
"Lemme introduce myself! Name's Victor Rossetti, but you can call me whatever you want, baby!" Jason put his head in his hands. He wasn't usually embarrassed on behalf of others, but in this instance Victor had made such an utter fool of himself that there was a chaotic overbalance of embarrassment that was too overwhelming to ignore. Victor stood up, dusted himself down and extended a hand for Roxie, who looked at him as though he'd offered her a slab of diseased meat.
"You looked better as a heap on the floor," she said derisively. Turning back to Jason, who by now had let the wave of embarrassment wash over him and ebb away, she asked, "Why are you hanging out with this loser?"
"Well, that's a bit of a complicated story."
"So, would you be willing to assist us?" While Victor was busy making a fool of himself and stopping Jason from being sexually harassed by one of Unova's most desired women, Lisa had bought Grimsley another drink to try and convince him to join forces with the team. Dennis had managed to infiltrate the ranks of a group of construction workers in the far corner, while Kathy was busy convincing some philosophy undergraduates to change to a more practical course.
"Indubitably, my dear!" Grimsley replied, surprisingly eloquently for someone who'd just consumed Unova's closest equivalent to the Pan-Galactic Gargleblaster. "Ever since that blackguard Ghetsis took over I've sought my vengeance! I've dealt with the fact I squandered my fortunes unwisely, but being forced to hide in the desert was all his doing! I shan't stand for it any longer!" His dramatic gesturing garnered more attention from onlookers than he had perhaps hoped, so he sat down again and attempted to continue the discussion in a more civil manner.
"So, what exactly would I be doing to help?" he asked.
"Anything you can," Lisa said. "Spread the word that Team Plasma is controlling everyone for their own selfish gains, that's a good start. Once we complete our current mission hopefully we can expose what's going on behind the scenes and stir up a bit of a rebellion against the regime."
"Your aims are admirable. I'd be happy to help you. My only concern is how you plan on fighting a tyrant who has the vast powers of the dragons of legend at his disposal. I only fought a fragment of it all those years ago and there was nothing I could do against it, so what hope have you got?"
"We don't plan on fighting Ghetsis or his dragon directly," Lisa notified Grimsley. "We only need to win over the common people. If we can expose the truth, he's finished. Ghetsis isn't stupid, he knows he's got to keep the people on his side. If he doesn't, everything crumbles to dust!"
"I see you've thought this through," Grimsley remarked. "Very well, you have my word. I'll help you achieve your goals. Why, I'll even accompany you if you want, as a man of great wisdom I could come in useful."
"Sure, just don't draw too much attention to yourself. People will still remember you from the Elite Four."
"Oh, not to worry, miss," Grimsley said slyly. "I've got just the thing!" From his front pocket, along with several decks of cards, he produced a silk scarf and a turban. "You never know when a disguise might come in handy!"
Yeah, there's a ton of situations where we need someone dressed as a desert nomad, Lisa thought.
"I've used it several times in my travels," Grimsley remarked. "It's especially useful around here. It suits the climate well. Plus it stops me getting mugged every five minutes."
"That's very nice," Lisa said. "Now help me round up the others, we need to get back on the road as quickly as we can!"
Grimsley went off to the far corner to part Dennis from the construction workers that Grimsley often played poker with, Lisa immediately made a beeline for the now deconstructed stage so that Victor wouldn't make even more of a fool of himself.
"...And that's about it, really." To her surprise, Lisa found Roxie listening intently to Jason's retelling of how he'd ended up embroiled in the grand plan while Victor was absent-mindedly twirling his gun around on the table (team policy dictated that everyone had to carry a firearm in case they needed it, although Jason was exempt from this since he had no prior weapons training). Lisa couldn't help but giggle at the sight.
"Well, isn't this a nice role reversal?" she cackled.
"Not really," Victor mumbled while Roxie locked Jason into another passionate embrace, only partially against his will. Lisa cleared her throat to catch their attention, and Roxie's arms reluctantly fell to her sides as she turned to face the killjoy.
"You've sure settled in quickly," Lisa said to Jason.
"I suppose you could say that, yes."
"Did you at least tell her who we are and why we're here?" Lisa asked, returning to focusing on the mission.
"I was getting to that," Jason said.
"Well whatever it is you're up to, count me in," Roxie said. "Your boy here's done a hell of a job convincing me..."
"Yeah, sorry kid, but nobody's gettin' any while I'm around!" Victor declared, trying to salvage his reputation.
"Quiet you!" Roxie yelled. "Nobody said it was your turn! And anyway, how are you planning to pick up chicks with that get-up? Ugh, talk about killin' the mood..."
"You want us to escort him out, Miss Roxie?" one of the bodyguards suggested.
"Nah, leave him," she said. "I can handle it. I'll just pretend he ain't there."
Lisa eventually managed to turn the topic back to the resistance, a rather needless endeavour considering this was a Gym Leader-in waiting she was trying to convince.
"Yeah, I'll spread the word for ya," Roxie replied. "I'm playin' Nimbasa next, should be a fairly big crowd there. Just gotta be careful cos there'll probably be some o' Plasma's men there."
"Of course there will," Lisa realised. "They've got control of the police after all. Just do what you can. We really appreciate it, Roxie."
"No problem. But first, I got somethin' for the cutie here..."
"I'm afraid it's against my moral code to use another human being as a bargaining chip."
"I don't think he's gonna object," Victor said.
"Shut it already, ya creep!" Roxie yelled. Victor backed down, but it was too late. He felt the firm grip of a very strong man on his shoulder and before he could react he felt himself being hoisted from his seat and dragged across the tavern. "Anyway, here, take one o' these." She reached into her dress and pulled out a business card, which considering her size must have been difficult to conceal well. Jason fished out his X-Transceiver from his pocket and Lisa observed he was even shakier than usual, probably because he was about to register the number of a woman who not only seemed to find him attractive, but was prepared to take on the oppressive regime that had brought Unova to a standstill.
"I'll call you once we're finished here," he promised. "And maybe then, you could join us?"
"I'd love to, but we've gotta haul this crap up to Nimbasa and get everything set up in just a few short hours. Ain't gonna leave me much time to have fun, sadly. But I'll see if I can fit you in sometime." Roxie winked, then sashayed back to the stage to make sure none of her valuable equipment was damaged due to the gross negligence of her accomplices.
"Well, guess we better get the rest of the gang back together," Lisa said, and reluctantly Jason followed her towards the far corner where Kathy was locked in a deep discussion with a few scholarly types who seemed to be unaware they were in the roughest pub in Unova.
"I can't say I've ever agreed with Nietzsche to be honest," Kathy was saying. "Then again being a nihilist doesn't exactly fit with the medical profession, does it?"
"Can't say I've thought about that," said a blonde youth with massive shoulders.
"But if there are no morals, why should we be obliged to save lives? In fact, why is there any society in the first place? Are these Doritos in the bag, or have I just spilt the Doritos all over the place because there never was a bag to start with?"
"Hey, those were mine!" a voluptuous girl accompanying the blonde boy protested.
"You can still eat them," Kathy said. The girl promptly did so, offering Lisa a window in which to prise Kathy away from the intellectual debate.
"Hey, before we go, would you be interested in the liberation of Unova?" Lisa asked.
"Sorry," the blonde boy replied, pulling a large sword out from under the table and slamming it down on the tabletop, causing the few uneaten Doritos to jump into the air, "not interested."
"Alright." Lisa turned to Jason and Kathy. "Let's leave before things somehow get even worse."
"What about Dennis?" Kathy enquired. Lisa glanced over at the far corner and saw he'd been surrounded by a small crowd including an old man with a Poochyena (Arceus knows how he'd managed to keep hold of it) and a man with a hook nose and a chin that pointed upward, making his face look like a crescent moon.
"Yeah, I suppose we'd better see what's going on," Lisa said. With due diligence, they did indeed venture forth and discover that Dennis was playing a rendition of Classical Gas on an old banjo. Then the Poochyena started howling and everyone applauded, although it was uncertain whether they were applauding Dennis or the Pokémon.
"You did tell them why we're here, right?" Lisa asked, concerned that Dennis may have been too carried away with his music to spread the word to the denizens of the Bandit's Hideout.
"Yeah, sure, whatever," Dennis said. "I'm at least ten times more competent than ol' Vic! Did he even accomplish anything besides getting himself thrown out?"
"What's that, sonny?" the old man enquired. Someone forgot to put their hearing aids in, Lisa was tempted to say but stopped herself from vocalising. "This isn't Albert Square!"
"Nor is it... Coronation Street!" Moon-Face said.
"It's not a farm either!" the old man added, although anyone with two eyes would have observed that there was no way these arid conditions could have sustained an agricultural structure.
"That's it, we're going!" Lisa announced, dragging Dennis from his chair. He just about managed to grasp the toolbox he'd left under the table, which made a horrific scraping sound as it was dragged along with him. Once everyone was a sufficient distance from the crowd he was allowed to stand on his own, and realised in his haste he'd stolen the old man's banjo. Sure enough, the Poochyena brought its master over to reclaim it.
"That thing's got quite a nose on it," Dennis remarked, impressed that it had been trained to follow the scent of a sentimental instrument, as Poochyena were often impossible to train for anything outside of battle.
"Could be useful for sniffing out Stealth Rocks," Lisa said. "Keep hold of that banjo."
"I'm eighty-two, you know!" the old man boasted for no reason.
"Yeah, and we're taking your Poochyena!" Dennis said callously. When not distracting himself with his music, he had a habit of focusing on the objective at hand, and would stop at nothing to achieve his goals.
"Not the bloody rozzers again!" the old man wailed, raising his walking stick.
"Dennis, you idiot!" Lisa yelled. "Look, sir, we're not the police. We're on your side. You're obviously against the Plasma regime if you've kept your loyal pet, so here's the deal. Plasma have a base in the old castle off to the west. We're going in to flush them out, but we suspect they've got traps set up, so we need your Poochyena to help sniff them out. Is that alright, sir?"
"Where's my pension? Did you take it? Give me back my pension!"
"No sir, we didn't take your pension. The government did because they're corrupt and evil. If you help us, then we'll try and get your pension back."
"Bloody Tories, stealin' all our pensions and givin' jobs to the Muslims! Alright, you've got yourself a deal. Who are you again?"
"A rebellious group fighting for freedom. Now come on, we've got work to do. You too, Grimsley!" Lisa shouted, awakening the shamed baron from a drink-induced slumber.
"I think I'm quite alright here madam," he slurred. While Lisa had been rounding up the others, instead of prying Dennis away from the builders Grimsley had paid for another round and become even more intoxicated than before.
"No you aren't," Lisa said pointedly, forcing Grimsley to stand and walking him out of the bar.
And so, with a drunken ex-aristocrat, an old man and his dog and a biscuit-addicted meathead in tow, the resistance squad were finally ready to storm the desert fortress and take the first step to freeing Unova from the rule of Ghetsis.
Author's Notes: Yup, uni is back in full swing, hence the massive delay in getting this up. Quick clarification regarding X and Y content, for the purpose of this fic I'm going to ignore 6th gen content because I started drafting it a long time before those games had even been announced, as such there'll be no Fairy types or anything like that featured. As much as I'd like to introduce some things from Kalos, and that in-universe it would be quite likely that the Fairy type was well-known by this point (in the 'real' world at least), I made this decision quite a while back and in all likelihood won't go back on it as it would probably require me to go back and change things.