Disclaimer:

When my need to be creative

Turns to lust that can't be sated

No concern for how I'm hated

Can make late the lust's abatement

As my need to feel elated

Turns to rash poeticism

And my mind and sense do schism

Like light aiming through a prism

There are no walls to this prison

Yet I cannot help but listen

For the jailors walking by to tell me of the law's decision

To my claim of high position, made in absence of all wisdom

That I… own… Nintendo. Which I don't.

That was… almost impressive, wasn't it? Ah well.

Chapter 9: A Grandstander

Ladies and Gentlemen, Children of all ages, Friends, Esteemed members of the council, and Jeff Bridges, lend me your ears! Come bear witness to the fantastic, inconceivable, yet entirely true long-awaited narration by the one, the only, Shelligan the Squirtle!

It's a wonderful stage name, isn't it? Unfortunately, my old trainer believed that a showman should maintain his persona both on and off stage so… it's also my real name. And while Axel has offered to change it for me… I couldn't. It's really the only piece of him I have left.

Since I'm not a man to drop tiny details like that and not elaborate on them fully, I shall give this part of my life the full allotment of stage time it deserves. My owner was killed. By Death himself. Axel, simply by virtue of being Axel, was a close friend of his and… well, I've been beyond returning to the wild for quite some time, now. The comforts that a successful career in showbiz affords are far more tantalizing than the simpler life of… river living. No offense to those that love it, but I'll take a hotel over a pond any day of the week.

Which is why I eagerly volunteered to accompany Axel and Amber on their way to completing Axel's latest random side quest (he's got a habit of picking up a lot of those. Perhaps he's going for 100% completion? IN LIFE?) A chance to see the city of Woodale, famous for its magnificent wooden architecture as well as its fine brews and spirits? Don't mind if I do, good sir. A round of your best stout for me, and some Irish coffee for my trainer. Real Irish coffee too, good sir, he's actually nineteen believe it or not. [Totodile Edit: The context for this statement has not, yet AGAIN, been laid out for you. The legal drinking age in Salvout is 18. You're welcome. Now back to Shelligan.]

After making a mental note to stop by a particularly popular-seeming watering hole and at least attempt to have this conversation with the local barkeep (remember: I can't exactly speak other than 'Squirt Squirtle'), I followed our fearless leader (and Axel) further downtown into a residential district. My previous master's philosophy of constant performance still rooted in my being, I spun and flipped wildly through the streets while doing so, grinding the edges of buildings and curbs as if I were a shelled skateboard. All this while holding onto the package that Lily had asked us to bring this 'Mr. Bertrand.'

After a few blocks worth of spinning, we finally reached the address that Lily had specified: a single-floor flat at 133 Oak Street. It was a normal specimen for the area, by all accounts, tinted windows, rustic-looking red-brown brick façade, and, sticking out from the other domiciles nearby, trimmings blacker than an Umbreon's coat in the summer… dipped in ink.

Medici floated upwards to the door knocker, rapping it unceremoniously. "BERTY!" he yelled. "Lily says hi! Open up!" This behavior immediately won the scorn of Amber, who unleashed a fearsome forehand that would Maria Sharapova cry from sheer jealousy.

"Mr. Bertrand?" Amber asked in a polite, respectful tone. "We're acquaintances of Lily Parsons? She asked us to deliver something to you?"

Dead silence. For a moment, I thought I heard something shift inside the flat, but no one came to the door.

"Ah well!" Medici said with a shrug of his shoulders. "We tried. Let's head back now, eh? Maybe we'll 'accidentally' run into that Gardevoir in the park again…"

"Now, now… let's not be hasty…" Axel responded. "She did tell us that he might not come to the door, remember? That's why she told us where the key was." He squatted down, rustling through a nearby bush until he found a rock. Fumbling with it, he eventually swung open the bottom to reveal… nothing. Such a momentous build-up for such an anticlimactic event.

Axel sighed, dropping the rock back in the bush and taking a step back, surveying the house. Smiling slightly, he pointed to the roof. "Looks like Christmas comes early this year for our Mr. Bertrand. You know what to do, Shelligan."

Having anticipated Axel's command before he even said it, I was already grinding the side of the houses' roof. A quick shift of momentum, the slightest flourish, and a succinct "Squirt!" and down the chimney I ricocheted.

I landed in ashes, only natural as I was in a fireplace. Not a single light was on, and the only things that cut through the darkness were the rays of sunlight that eked through the venetian blinds. I shuddered. If there's anything a performer fears, it's a lack of light. How's anyone supposed to see you?

The room I was in was a sitting room, but it clearly hadn't been used to entertain in a while. The only thing piece of furniture not completely covered in dust was an armchair that looked like it had been consistently flopped down upon with complete abandon. Next to it, on a large table, sat countless newspaper clippings and magazine articles, strewn and stacked in a messy, yet organized fashion.

Curiosity never having killed the turtle (yet), I worked my way over to the table, setting Ms. Lily's package down on the sitting chair. Climbing up to the arm, I looked over the pages.

I gulped. Each page had, either circled or marked by hand, and article about one of Death's victims. Man Thunderbolted outside Lakeless. Woman found dead, shards of Steel Wing detected. And so on. Titles were circled, details, underlined… some were even corrected. One particular handwritten comment questioned why the investigators had missed a body.

I wasn't going to take any chances, not having already felt Death's sting once before. I spun towards the door as quickly as I could, but before I could make it out, I heard a loud cough.

I froze. Slowly spinning around, I came face to face with… nothing. I admonished myself for jumping to conclusions. Someone could actually be sick, perhaps in need.

Still a good idea to open the door and let everyone else in first, though.

"Ugh…" Amber said quietly as she came inside. "Doesn't exactly clean much, does he?" She cleared her throat. "Hello? Mr. Bertrand? We're here with a package from Ms. Lily?"

No response. I called Medici's attention, relating my discovery to him. He floated over to the chair-side table, thumbing through the articles rapidly. If there were anyway of making a decent show of the Meditite's learning capacity, it would make millions.

"Looks like we've got a sick-o obsessive, Axel," he said, handing our master some of the pages. "What do you think? Wannabe Private Eye? Potential copycat? Plain old loony?"

"Let's not jump to any conclusions…" Axel said quickly. "A lot of people read the reports almost religiously, you know? Just to make sure that it wasn't someone they knew."

"This is clearly not just a case of that," Medici retorted.

"Well… yeah, probably not," Axel admitted, walking down the hallway into the house itself. "Hello? Mr. Bertrand?" Doors closed and opened, and there were a few sounds of rustling. After a few minutes, Axel came back with a shrug. "Not here," he concluded. "No reason to stay then, is there?"

Absolutely right! Let's get out of here immediately, shall we?

We reported back to Ms. Lily, who had agreed to let Axel takes us all out for Lunch afterwards. Despite the obvious tension between Amber and the as-of-yet-oblivious-to-ill-will Ms. Lily, I hardly noticed much other than my Pallet of berries, which tasted far better than usual for some reason. Unfortunately, my juggling display, while winning many rounds of applause, did not pay for our meal, so Axel's wallet was, unfortunately, drained yet again. But what's a simple bard to do?

"By the way…" Lily asked, stretching what may have been a tad too much (but was not unappreciated). "Did Bertie say anything about why he hasn't been in touch lately? I know it's a bit late to ask, but…"

"We never actually saw him," Axel told her. "Should I… I guess I should have mentioned that at the very beginning, huh…"

Lily froze, looking at Axel as if judging whether he was trustworthy or not. She must have decided neither way, because she asked again: "what do you mean he wasn't there?"

"Um…" Axel paused, fishing for words. "I mean that… his physical being… wasn't occupying the… space?" He thought over his sentence for a minute, then nodded. "Yeah. Sorry if that wasn't clear before."

"Are you being sassy with me?" Lily asked with a small smile.

"No," Amber said with a sigh. "He actually thought you didn't understand."

"Right…" Lily chuckled, smile quickly fading nonetheless. "Hm…" she paused, lost in thought, and then pulled a Pokéball from her belt. "Gallade! Go!" A green and white Pokémon, giant at what must have been nearly seven feet, stood before her, quickly bowing. "Madame?" It said in English, utterly polite.

"Head over to work and tell them I'll be taking the rest of the day off, please," she said. "I've got something I need to do."

"Right away," the Gallade said, leaping out the window bravely… and unnecessarily.

"What's the matter?" Medici asked. "I'm sure he'll be back sometime soon."

"No, he won't," Lily said quickly. "You see, the package I asked you to give to him… was medicine." She bit her lower lip. "Bertie's not in the best condition… last I knew, he wasn't able to leave his bed." She looked up at Axel. "You're sure he wasn't there?"

Axel nodded slowly, and then looked over to Amber. "You're in, right?"

She nodded.

"Alright then," he said with determination. "Everyone, senses raised. We've got a mission person to find."

Authors Note:

We're updating surprisingly regularly recently.

This should concern all of you.

Why? Well… um, and… don't rush me! Jeez, why do you ask so many questions?

Oh wait… I've never told you that you can ask questions, have I? Well then… um… you totally can!

Believe it or not, the world this is set in is pretty well fleshed out! If you wanted to ask something about history or back-story, if it doesn't spoil the plot, I'll answer it! I suppose if you wanted to know more about me, I'd answer too. Or if you wanted to ask a character a question directly, or… whatever. Either review or pm if you're curious about anything! Or don't! But here's a sample just in case you do!

Question: Ok, when you do these author's notes things, is it actually your voice, or do you adopt a persona?

Answer: An astounding question! There is in fact a Persona-like element to writing these things. After I'm done writing the chapter, I pull out an Evoker, point it at my head and yell "PERSONA!" really loudly before pulling the trigger. The resulting splatter falls onto the page and, presto! Instant author's note!

(For those who don't understand the reference: this is clearly not a reliable statement. Shooting yourself in the head will not result in better writing. It will result in death, which is mayhaps the opposite. So DON'T DO IT. Or do. I don't…. SMACK!

Amber: You damn well BETTER care is your readers are shooting themselves!

Ack! I'm sorry! You're right, of course. Don't do that.

… Viva la feminism?