Chapter 10: Shopping with a Friend

"No Furry/Feathery Pokémon Allowed!" That's what the sign insisted, bold red letters on a square white cardboard plastered on the front door of the Poké Mart.

In smaller letters below the bold: "Furry & Feathery Pokémon Must Be Kept Inside Their Pokéballs At All Times, Thank You!"

Free yet furry, the Ninetails wasn't permitted to enter, not unless he was shrunk and sucked inside a red and white spherical device.

"Darling, do me a favor and stay outside with Ally," Albina said, a tinge of disdain in her light voice.

Or there was that option.

Nodding, the man-pretty skinhead wearing a black top hat held out his leathery bag. Taking ahold of the strap, the woman slung it around her shoulder and clutched the bulk at her hip.

Ushering the sophisticated looking gentleman with long purple hair towards the store, she said, "You!"

"Me…?" Lucian said as he cheekily poked his chest.

"Yeah, you! You're coming in with me." She started towards the door.

On instinct, the young man lunged ahead of her. Apparently his instincts were determined not to squander the opportunity for chivalry.

Hanging from the door were several jingle bells which rang as they banged against the swiveling glass. Filing through the opening, Albina curtly said, "Thank you."

"My pleasure," Lucian replied, following her inside.

The Poké Mart was large and bustling with shoppers. As soon as you walked in, you were greeted with a tsunami of air conditioning emanating from above. Variegated teal tiled flooring proliferated below. The vast indoor environment was lit by an array of high-ceiling lights. Separating that space were dozens of aisles racked primarily with Poké gear.

It wasn't the first time the young Psychic had been inside the Saffron Poké Mart. Was it the second? No, he was pretty sure it was the third. Third times the charm, he supposed.

The two of them b-lined one of the front desks. Behind the counter was a bleached pony tail which belonged to a slack-jawed female sales clerk.

"Good…morning…" the clerk said with baffling awkwardness.

The nametag said "Tiffany." For whatever reason, Tiffany's jaw was loose. She was in her late twenties, maybe early thirties. Freckles sprinkled around her nose and she had magnetic blue eyes. They were magnetic because Lucian couldn't tear away. She wouldn't stop staring at him and he couldn't stop staring at her staring at him.

She started it!

"Hi, Tiffany," he said as politely as he could, trying to break free from her gaze but failing outright.

Openmouthed, the clerk remained silent. It was like she was under some kind of spell. Literally, because when she snapped out of whatever it was she wobbled for several seconds.

Weird.

"What can I do for you today sir!?" She blurted out, blushing heavily afterwards.

Lucian's peripheral vision informed him that his neighbor in the white dress was stifling a laugh. Tiffany didn't appear to notice, or maybe she didn't care.

"I actually don't know to be quite frank…" Lucian explained, trying to keep his own tension down to a minimum. "Uhhhh…" His head creaked to Albina, who fittingly placed her hands on the counter. "She's in charge," he said, motioning to the commander.

After a few seconds, Tiffany's blue eyes departed, closing as she expelled several less tense giggles. When her eyes opened, they were directed towards bug-eyed sunglasses.

"Okay, since you're in charge, what can I do for you two today?"

"I would like to purchase Poké Balls," Albina said, clacking her long nails against the marble of the desk. Raven tresses draped over an otherwise bared shoulder. Slung around the other shoulder was the strap of her black bag.

Tiffany nodded enthusiastically, her demeanor far more relaxed as she conversed with the same sex. "Certainly, what kind and how many?"

Pokéballs, Lucian groaned inside his head. Fuming, he could only brood at the provocateur in dismay. Albina wouldn't stop. She was intent on turning him into a Trainer in a single fucking morning.

"Ten, please," Albina said simply. "Just regular Pokéballs."

Tiffany swiftly dropped down below, disappearing from view behind the counter. When she shot back up, she was holding a tray with a matrix of indentations. The round dents were for Pokéballs. Spinning around, she inspected the display of devices ordered in neat rows and columns on the wall behind the counter. Different sections displayed items of distinctive colors, designs, and prices.

"Ten regular Pokéballs…" the clerk said to herself. Scooping one up and placing it in the tray, she repeated the same exact process while counting out loud. "One…two…three…"

Lucian felt vexed. And fidgety. Compelled to get Albina's attention, he hissed, "Yo! Pssst!"

A bug-eyed head turned leisurely in his direction. "Hmmm...?"

"What do you think you're doing?" he hissed again.

"Breathing," she replied as the clerk turned back to face them, both hands holding a tray stocked with Pokéballs. Price tags were attached to each one.

Disgruntled, Lucian could only bite his tongue as she placed that tray on the counter.

"Forgive me for being blunt," the clerk said as she scanned the barcodes for each item, "but your boyfriend is by far the cutest guy I've ever seen in person." Occasionally sneaking side-eyed peeks at him as she scanned the items, she said, "I'm actually really jealous of you."

Lucian was pretty sure he would have fainted from light-headedness if his mind wasn't already weighed down by vexation.

"He is cute, isn't he?" the woman in white stressed. "Absolutely superb genetics."

"Tall," the clerk said, eyeing Lucian for another split-second before darting away, freckled cheeks sweltering. "You two are perfect for each other. You're drop-dead-eff-ing gorgeous and he's, well..." One hand clutching the barcode scanner, both of her hands flew to her heart as she whispered dreamily, "I absolutely adore hot guys who dye their hair and make it work. And B-T-Dubs, his is working overtime…" She sighed heavily.

"He dyes his hair all the time," Albina articulated fluidly. "Last week he was a blonde like you."

A couple of white lies. The delivery was perfect, extremely convincing. For a few seconds Lucian even fell for them, hook, line, and sinker.

Then he remembered that she was lying on his behalf. Your hair is all-natural. You should know. It's your hair dumbass.

"I love the purple!" the clerk cried, rocking her head and closing her eyes despite rapidly punching keys on the cash register. "Don't get me wrong, I'm sure he looked great as a blonde, but I hope he keeps it this way, at least for a little while longer…"

"Me too," Albina said agreeably. Then, she made something quite clear. "Just so you know, the two of us are not actually a couple."

From behind the cash register, the clerk with the ponytail glanced up. Raising an eyebrow, her attention glued to the other member of the female species, she said, "Girlfriend are you serious? How do you put a guy like that, like this in the friend zone?" A sliver of guilt affected her demeanor as she murmured with downward palms and straightened fingers, "No, you know what? I'm sorry it's none of my business." She waved a hand in front of the tray. "Here are the items you requested. Of course for purchasing ten Poké Balls you get a free Premier Ball as an added bonus. And…" She swiveled her head back and forth, wide eyes surveying their immediate surroundings and beyond, a long bleach ponytail swinging on its hinge before settling. For a few silent moments she eyed another cashier at the nearby checkout desk, an older lady who was preoccupied with another customer. "Keep it on the down-low," she whispered, "but I'm also sneaking you two a Love Ball. Free of charge."

Glazing over the tray, Lucian quickly tallied twelve devices. Ten regular Poké Balls plus a starkly white Ball with a red strip in the middle made eleven. Finally, the last sphere appeared white on the bottom but on top it was pink with a big, bloated heart painted on the front.

A Love Ball.

"Maybe you're not a thing…yet!" the clerk said, her voice still muffled. "Maybe you're just F.W.B's. I dunno the whole story even though I kind of want to. Anyway, what I do know is you two would look super cute together." She began bagging the items one-by-one.

Lucian glanced over at Albina. It was the first time he had ever seen her absolutely speechless, her mouth hanging open.

"You have to pay for these you know," Tiffany said jokingly as she placed the bag on the counter. "That will be two-thousand dollars."

"Oh, right," Albina said, snapping out of her trance. "How much?"
"Two-thousand."

"Of course, give me just a second." White fingernails dived into the black bag where a bronze hand deftly extracted a stack of bills. Upon exchanging a counted amount, there was the cha-ching of the cash register.

"You're all set," the clerk said, "and since you're in charge…" she handed Albina the bag, its plastic base bulging with a dozen Pokéballs.

Stiff as a statue, Lucian turned around and began cranking his legs away from the desk, an elbow to Albina's shoulder.

"Thank you very much for you purchase!" Tiffany called from behind. "Oh and um…wait! One last thing. Um…cute guy!?"

Lucian froze, as did the raven-haired woman next to him. "She's talking to you," Albina uttered. "You're the cute guy."

Lucian twirled around. This time, when he met the clerk's blue eyes they had salvaged their magnetic field. As he approached the desk, their eye contact sustained. However, although she was blushing she didn't seem quite as nervous as before. "So," she said with a shrug, "if you're not with her, can I give you my number?"

A clammy hand nonchalantly reached into his pants pocket. "Hold on," Lucian said, pulling out his Holocaster. With a thumb, he worked the touchscreen. Opening up the Contacts app, he tried not to teeter as he said, "Okay, what is it?"

She gave it to him. All ten digits. As he entered them one-by-one, he felt his pulse accelerate. She was his second Contact.

"Can I have your number?" she asked hopefully.

"Sure," he said, downplaying his excitement as he gave it to her.

"Name's Tiffany, by the way."

Lucian looked up where he discovered blushing freckled cheeks below blue eyes. "It's on my badge," she said with both sass and a morsel of anxiety, prodding the rectangular emblem on her uniform just below her right shoulder. "In case you're a bad speller…"

Lucian grinned, causing her pink cheeks to turn red. He wanted to jump for joy, but instead decided to suppress his excitement. Something gave him the feeling she was doing the exact same thing. "T-I-F-F-A-N-Y," he said smoothly. "I think I've got it. I'll see you around, Tiffany." He threw her a smirk and a wave before turning around.

"Wait!"

He turned back around, dizzy though not so much from pirouetting.

"What's your name? I'd rather not type cute guy."

"Oh right!" He ambled back over to the counter. "It's Lucian."

"Loo-shin," Tiffany repeated as she typed on her Holocaster's touchpad. A puzzled expression formed over her face.

"Yeah," Lucian said, "Kind of like Lucy, but instead of a y at the end add an i-a-n."

"Loo-shin…" She placed a finger to her lip, lashes batting as she looked at him. "Lucian…that sounds so familiar…"

Fuck, Lucian thought. She's on the verge of recognizing me. Blue eyes studied him top to bottom. She opened her mouth.

Fuck my asshole!

"Call me sometime, Lucian!" the clerk chirped before greeting another customer, who had been waiting with their arms crossed and a foot tapping.

Whew. Close call. Apparently he wasn't as recognizable as he thought he might be. To be fair, his mother was the famous celebrity. He was just her unaccomplished bastard child with long purple hair and violet eyes. Still, the longer he remained in public the more likely someone was going to identify him.

At the moment, there were more pressing mental matters to attend to.

He powerwalked over to a waiting Albina who had her Holocaster out as she stood over at the front of the store, sunglasses pointed downwards. Thumbs thrummed the touchscreen furiously. She was definitely texting. She was also frowning for some reason, though when she looked up and saw him that frown flipped.

"Look at you," Albina said as she placed her Holocaster back in her bag. "That clerk was crazy into you."

"I guess so," Lucian mumbled, naturally modest and not forgetting that he was quite vexed.

"You should see your face!" Albina exclaimed through a knowing grin. "I'm pretty sure that's what happy looks like."

Lucian sighed. He did have to admit, he felt really good about what just happened. At the same time, he needed to highlight her tactlessness. "So," he said, "are you going to explain why you're buying me a crap-ton of Pokéballs? I feel like I've mentioned once, or twice, or forty times that I have no intention of training Pokémon."

"Be a dear and get me a buggy," Albina crooned, ignoring his question while dumping the plastic bag of Pokéballs into the cavern that was her leather black bag.

Lucian sighed. First Pokéballs and now what? Weren't they done? No of course not, she was a girl. Shopping meant…shopping. Fuck.

He traipsed towards the section of the Poké Mart where about ten million empty shopping carts remained idle. Selecting the very first one, he peeled it from the grasp of another and reeled it around. As he drove along the tile floor, he realized one of the wheels was squeaky. Fucking fuck!

"Follow me," Albina commanded before taking off.

"Yes, your majesty," Lucian answered cheekily, wheeling along behind her and trying not to focus on the constant, maddening squeaking. As a distraction, he found himself staring at the swaying of her hips. Despite the visual appeal, he was upset with those hips.

"For the record," the owner of those hips called up ahead, "I didn't purchase those Pokéballs for you. They were for me." She turned around abruptly, forcing Lucian to come to a screeching, squeaky halt. A guilty look coated his face, as if somehow she caught him checking her out.

"I was running low," she stated flatly.

Low on Pokéballs. She was just buying them for herself. Lucian exuded a sigh of binary relief. "I guess I owe you apology," he said, toning down the cheekiness and trying to sound candid.

Albina shrugged. "Instead, how about you explain to me why you refuse to train Pokémon?"

"Come on, not this," he groaned, laughing defensively, hoping she wouldn't pressure him. Not now. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

"It's hard to explain," he said as she resumed wandering around. Tailing her, "There's not just one reason."

Albina made a sharp turn, gliding down aisle number '8.'

"I'm all ears," she said before slowing down and planting her roots in front of an assortment of diverse looking backpacks.

Parking the shopping cart beside her, he sighed. "Fine, your majesty. You win. I'll spill the beans…"

"I thought I was your commander," Albina uttered suddenly, her countenance displaying legitimate confusion.

"Do you have a preference?" Lucian asked, amused by the brief conversational disruption.

"I am royalty you know," she said as one of her hands browsed the merchandise. "I would prefer your majesty." She said it with such pokerfaced impassivity that it was almost believable.

Almost.

Lucian bowed deeply. "As you wish, your majesty."

From Albina, not a giggle or even the hint of a smile. "How about you tell your Majesty the Queen why you and Pokémon aren't compatible?" Despite the silliness of half the query, she still sounded and looked dead-serious.

"Okay…" The young man whispered, caving. He wondered where to start. Which was the most pressing issue? Big orange eyes invaded his mind. Not there, he didn't want to start there. Shoving those orange eyes to the back of his mind, he said, "Well to start, consider what we discussed on our way over here. The objectification of Pokémon. Their being treated, as you pointed out, like gladiators and toys, or dolls. I agree, it's wrong."

"Very wrong indeed," Albina said poignantly. "That's why the world needs more people like you who befriend Pokémon and treat them with the respect and care they deserve. Notice how I said befriend. Not own. Not possess. Too many humans rip Pokémon from their homes, claim custody over them, and force them to fight. They don't bother getting to know them. Most of these captured Pokémon have it even worse than that. Most are caught and locked away in storage for weeks, months, even years on end. Others are taken to labs for study and scientific experimentation. And a few endure even worse fates than all of those…On the other hand, some Pokémon are lucky. Lucky Pokémon enjoy life with their companions. Lucky Pokémon fight with their Trainers instead of simply for them. In this world, there is nothing more beautiful than a positive relationship between a Trainer and her Pokémon. Or his Pokémon…" Albina tilted her head before scowling. "Excuse me, do you feel like I'm lecturing you?"

Somehow, Lucian's elbow had landed on the horizontal handlebar of the shopping cart. His hand opened up into a welcoming nest where his cheek nuzzled against it.

He wasn't bored at all. His eyes were open, his full attention on Albina's speech.

"Crap, sorry!" he cried, springing back up. "Bad body language…I'm listening to you, cross my heart." He made an 'x' over his heart. Better body language, he hoped.

Hands on her hips, she gave him a long, enigmatic stare. After what felt like five minutes, or maybe a single minute but still excruciating, she turned and began perusing the merchandise on the side of the aisle. "What is it that's bothering you, Lucian?" she asked surly, not paying him visual heed. "Get it off your chest. Just tell me."

Orange invaded his mind, big, soft eyes teeming with tears. Behind them, so much hope only to be crushed by pain.

He pushed that out of his mind. Instead, he decided to underscore something else. Red wasn't a scapegoat per say, but Lucian remained intent on using him to hide the bigger picture.

"I guess you could say my father soured my mental image of the quote on quote, Pokémon Trainer," he stressed. "I have very few memories of the guy. He was rarely around when I was little. Whenever I asked where he was, mother said he was out training his Pikachu. One day, I realized I hadn't seen him in a month. That month became many months. And then years. No visits, letters, emails, Holocaster calls. Nothing. When I think of a Trainer, I think of my shitty father..."

Unexpected tears welled in his eyes. His scapegoat father backfired. He wasn't supposed to tear up like a fucking baby. He hated leaking from his eyeballs, and worst of all he was in public. Fuck.

He buried his head under the handlebar of the shopping cart, trying not to make the motion too quick as not to garner her attention. Unless she was giving him a sidelong glance through the tint of bug-eyed sunglasses, her attention still seemed to be on the display of backpacks.

"You have a few unresolved issues with him," she said, "which is unfortunate. Red was a great man. I understand your beef with him, but your father was a Legend."

"My father was anything but great," Lucian said, trying not to sound like he was sniveling while also trying not to think of her as being nosy or too tactless. She's just trying to help, he assured himself. But she didn't understand. She couldn't. Blinded by admiration, she just like most of everyone idolized Red the famous former Pokémon League Champion.

"Maybe in time, you will see your father in a more positive light."

Lucian's head sunk further. Wide, wet eyes glared at the teal floor tiles down below. Suddenly, his purple sunglasses leapt off his face, smacking the floor with a sharp, POP!

Unsteady hands scrambled to pick them back up, hoping Albina hadn't noticed.

"Daddy issues," he heard her say as he fitted a purple tint over his burnished eyes. He summoned the courage to look at her, just to see if she might be looking back. Letting his hair fall into his face to hide damp cheeks, he cautiously glanced up.

Through the purple curtains, he saw black bug-eyes pointed at the front of the shopping cart. She was staring at him.

She looked baffled.

"Why are you crying?" she asked, stroking her pointed chin.

Fuck.

She appraised him for another moment before nodding. "I think I get it," she said, her head bobbing slightly. "I used to hate my parents. Both my father and my mother."

Compassion swelled inside his heart when she said that. "Yeah, I remember you telling me that," he rasped, his throat sore. Purple eyebrows floated up on his creasing forehead as he allowed himself to empathize. On top of that, he desperately wanted to change the subject. "In a way, we're kind of in the same boat," he scrubbed at damp cheeks with a purple curtain. He cleared his throat. "Are you okay, Albina? With your parents, I mean?"

"I'm absolutely fine," she said, sounding it too. Her expression was still grim.

Lucian hoped that was the truth. There was a somber air about her. He didn't know how to describe it exactly. He also didn't want to dig further, not yet, not too soon as he wanted to lend her the same space he appreciated. But he needed to know if she was really alright.

At the Saffron City Gym, a nagging idea had manifested in his mind, one that wouldn't go away. "Would it be too forward to ask why you dislike your parents?" he asked.

"I used to," she said with clarity. "As a matter of fact, the three of us are closer now than we've ever been." After she said those words, a reassuring grin formed on her face. As she grinned, she rearranged the strap of her black leather bag, dragging it up higher on her narrow shoulder.

"It's just, I've noticed a pattern," he said, peeling the purple curtains away. "You're always talking about pain. It's been the theme of this entire morning. For example, during both of your Pokémon battles with Ninetails, you told him to embrace his pain. Something along those lines. Hell, not long after we met you even asked me if it felt good. If pain felt good…"

Immediately, Albina pouted. "Hmmm," she murmured. "Well, I hope you don't think I'm some sort of masochist."

Lucian laughed uneasily. "You said it, not me…" He pointed at her and instantly regretted it. That finger floated back down, his hand curling around the handle of the shopping cart. "…But no, not at all…"

Albina placed her hands on the metal end of the cart, long white nails scraping against thin metal bars. "Listen to me Lucian," she whispered emphatically. "Pain is the only thing that's real. Everyone has pain. Some people are afraid of confronting it. Not me. Not anymore. Pain is power. I use mine for strength and motivation. It's the same with Alabaster. When we battle, I remind him to embrace his dark past and release his pain instead of bottling it up. And it's the same with you. That's why I'm probing you. I want to know what it is that's bothering you. I want to know what makes you tick. I want to know what's holding you back."

Lucian's jaw had dropped. Those words resonated deeply. She was right on the money. Pain imprisoned him. It's why he slept most of the days away, to forget his own pain and to escape those of others.

In truth, the latter precipitated his inaction far more than the former did. It wasn't his own aching heart which kept him at bay.

It was the pain of others. Specifically, of Pokémon. That was the real reason why he could not become a Pokémon Trainer. When he looked deep into their eyes, something churned inside of them that in turn sparked and swelled inside of him. Their agony. Their suffering. Their pain. That was his curse, his illness, and he did everything he could to avoid it.

Pain was the singular reason Lucian avoided the Ninetails' eyes. Whatever plagued Alabaster's heart, the grief was unbearable.

More than ever he felt compelled to change the subject. Very uneasily, the young man deployed a non sequitur.

"Albina, if you want I'll carry your bag for you. It looks heavy."

"That's sweet of you, Lucian," she said, looking and sounding disappointed, "but not necessary. I'm much, much, much stronger than I look."

Lucian forced a laugh. "You said much like ten times."

"No I didn't," Albina spat.

He laughed again. This time, it was genuine. He was happy to be discussing something, anything else. "I get it, you're pretty tough. A total badass, and from what I've seen bar none. I'm just giving a suggestion. You could place it in the cart. It's not like it will jump out and run off somewhere."

She shook her head. "I've got it, thank you." A salacious grin formed on her face suddenly, the second Albina had ever granted him. For a guy, that lascivious gesture proved electrifying. "Hey?" she said, her voice hushed.

"Hi…?" he replied, the hairs on the back of his neck on end.

"What's your favorite color?"

"Orange," he answered reflexively.

"Orange?" She tilted her head. "I thought it might be purple."

"Purple gets a silver medal in my book," he corrected.

"Orange…Alright. Orange it is."

"What's yours, your highness?" he asked, his mind at increasing ease as his heart did summersaults.

"Pink," the Queen answered nonchalantly, detaching a backpack off a rack.

"Typical girl." His tone was flirtatious and purposely so.

As Albina stunned him with a smirk, she towed a large backpack over the shopping cart before dropping it into the metal basket. It landed with a clang.

The straps and waist belt were black, but an orange hue dominated the bulk. Hands on the horizontal metal handle and standing on his toes, Lucian's vision fell to the Halloween-esque backpack sitting down below where he stared with grave interest.

"Is this orange backpack," he began carefully, "which just so happens to be my favorite color…are you going to tell me that this thing is for you…Are you running low on backpacks or something?"

Hands on her hips as her body rocked a bit back and forth, Albina said, "Nope."

"So, if it's not for you, should I assume you're buying it for Einstein?"

Albina shook her head. "Also, no."

Lucian thought for a moment before pulling another possibility out of his ass, unlikely as he knew it to be. "How about for your sister?"

She shook her head happily. "This is for you."

Lucian sighed. "Why are you buying me a backpack?"

"It's a present. You're going to need it."

"Are we going camping in the wilderness somewhere?"

"Maybe."

"Please don't do this to me Albina…come on!"

"Is there a good reason why I shouldn't?"

"Actually there is," Lucian said, the proverbial light bulb going off in his head. "I don't want you spending any money on me."

Albina bestowed upon him a cute shrug, her hands parallel to her shoulders. "Money's not an issue. I make plenty working for the you-know-who."

Lucian's chin rammed against his sternum in defiance. "I know what you're doing," he muttered. "I just started to explain why I can't become a Pokémon Trainer. Are you not listening?"

When Albina's voice rang, Lucian's head and vision sprang up. "Shut up yah silly Zangoose… and follow meeeeeeeeee!" Arbitrarily sprinting down the rest of aisle number 8, the pert woman in a white evening dress and clicking heels no less veered left before clacking out of sight. With the orange backpack stowed in the cart, a disgruntled Lucian pushed it forward to catch up.

Albina was standing right there on the edge of the aisle, waiting for him.

"What took you so long?" she asked.

Still disgruntled, he couldn't prevent a smile from surfacing. "You know, you're kind of being immature. Especially for an IP agent."

Albina's hand flew to her face. "Shhhhh," she shushed with a finger pressed against her lips.

"Oh right," he replied, now trying to play along, his head revolving frantically, eyes scrutinizing for enemy spies, looking left and right, up and even down at his boots.

Albina muffled mirth. "No, but in all seriousness," she said, her voice quieter than ever, "don't blow my cover, alright? Not to anyone. Let's just call them the you-know-who. "

"Will do, your majesty."

"You still want to be part of the investigation, right?" she asked, folding arms sheathed in white. "Or have you had a sudden change of heart?"

"I'm all in," Lucian said with a positive tone as he drummed on the buggy's handle.

"All in huh...Good. See, that's why I'm buying you a backpack."

"Alright fine," he said, caving once again.

Aisle 10 was their next stop.

As he pushed the cart down the enclosed passage, he found himself bordered by fishing rods, collapsible recliners, and tents among other camping equipment.

"Please tell me why you're buying me this crap?" Lucian protested as Albina scrunched not one but two sleeping bags into the cart.

She turned to him. "Patience, yah Zangoose. I have a question for you."

"What do you want this time?"

"It pertains to your past."

Lucian sighed. "This is an interrogation," he grumbled.

Albina pouted. "I just want to know what else conflicts you. I know talent when I see it. You could become a superb Pokémon Trainer."

"Not this again," he said brusquely. "I'm sorry to let you down, Albina, but I can't do that. It's not in the cards. For more reasons than one…ok?"

"Well, Lucian, you see that's going to be a problem."

"What do you mean?"

"It's as I told you before my Battle with that rotten witch. I can't babysit you."

Firm hands grasped the shopping cart handle, wringing around it. "I thought you wanted me to help the International Police," he said, his grip intensifying around the strip of metal. "You keep asking me if I want to. Well, I do. I've already said yes several times, what's your problem?"

"Keep your voice down," she said, glancing around. There were dozens of shoppers wandering about the store, but besides the two of them aisle 12 was vacant.

"The truth is," Albina said rather petulantly, "I work better on my own. I'm more productive and efficient by myself. I'm a lone wolf, Lucian." She reached for the two Pokéballs suspended at her hip and unclipped both of them, one in each hand. "Just me, my Pokémon, and Alabaster," she said, shrugging as they expanded in her grip. "That's how I do my job best."

"What about Einstein?" Lucian said, unconvinced and feeling slighted. Okay, so she couldn't babysit him. Was she just going to leave him stranded then?

"He is different," Albina stated, her voice regaining its usual light placidity. She refastened one of the Pokéballs around her belt. "Einstein is my deputy, has been for years. We're a team. I told you, he's extremely intelligent. You both are, but each of you excels in different areas. Listen, Lucian. I hate to have to tell you this, I really do, but besides holding yourself back, you're holding me back. If I'm going to solve this case, which mind you involves the disappearances of dozens of individuals – not just your mother, Sabrina, who is only the latest in this slew of strange phenomenon – I can't look after you. I just can't."

"So what am I supposed to do," Lucian hissed, anger mounting as he also tried to muffle his pitch. "You want me to take a sabbatical somewhere until this blows over? Just hide and chill and twiddle my thumbs until this blows over. Until my mother is safe and sound. If she is even fucking found. No. NO! I can't do that. I want to be a part of the solution. You said I could help."

"That I did. And if I remember correctly, you said you were willing to do whatever it takes to be useful."

Lucian's eyes narrowed. He battered his sternum with his jaw again as that recurring sense of helplessness coursed through his veins. "Okay, so what's the catch?"

"I spoke with my sister earlier."

"Yeah, you said you had to return her call. What does that have to do with any of this?"

"She's coming here, Lucian," Albina explained. "To Saffron City. She's coming here tonight. And she's going to help you find your mother."

"Your sister," Lucian quacked in disbelief. "Does she work for the you-know-who?"

"No, she does not."

"So why the hell would she get involved?"

"Because I asked her to. She owes me a favor." Still very serious, Albina's slightly upturned lips were assuaging as she said, "She's a very savvy girl, Lucian. Just as capable as I am at detective work, if not more so. Besides, the two of you have something in common."

"We do?" Lucian huffed, not knowing what to think, his thoughts spiraling. "What could I possibly have in common with your sister…weird hair?"

Albina's lips parted as if she was surprised. "Make that two things," she said as she nibbled on a fingernail. "Now that I think about it, the both of you really do have weird hair. And…" she gave him a very mischievous look. "Secondly, you both have disproportionately large heads."

Lucian's hands found their way to his mop of hair. Matting down his purple mane, fingers burrowing until they found the scalp of his head, he said self-consciously, "We do?"

Albina nodded. "Take it as a compliment. Both of you are smart and, well, rather exotic. I think she's going to surprise you, Lucian. I really do. Actually, I know that for a fact." She giggled lightly before becoming very serious again. "Now, as for me, I have my own mission. Dozens of men and women are disappearing, and I've got to figure out what's happening to all of them. I've really got my work cut out for me. But I'm not going to leave you hanging. My sister is going to tag along as you conduct your own personal investigation. Ally is, as well."

"The Ninetails…?"

"Yup, he's going to come with you." Suddenly, she tossed him something, that thing she had been holding.

Catching it, Lucian gaped down at the circular device that sat in his hands. Red on top and white on the bottom, it felt cold. Empty, too. It was Alabaster's Pokéball.

"But Ninetails is with you–"

"–He's a free Pokémon. He does whatever he wants. Remember when I told you that the sun follows me?"

The young man managed a slow nod. The sun denoted Alabaster's 'Drought' hidden ability.

"Well now," Albina uttered, "that sun wants to follow you."

Lucian didn't know what to think. "Why would he want follow me?"

"Why? Because Ally likes you! Like's you a lot… for some reason." She tilted her head, still looking very solemn. "I jest. You're a likable guy, Lucian. Why do you think he's been glued to you for the last few hours? There's something different about you…and, well, he's noticed."

A free Pokémon wants to come with me, Lucian wondered? To help me like he had been Albina and Einstein?

"It's a real honor,' said a female voice. "Alabaster is very old and very wise. It's not easy to gain his trust."

How old was the furry guy? 800 and-something years old? I don't get it, why in the world would a Ninetails want to follow me?

Another question sprang in Lucian's mind, one he verbalized.

"Okay, so if Ninetails really is a free Pokémon, why does he have a Pokéball?"

Albina shrugged. "Certain situations require Alabaster to be inside a Pokéball."

"Meaning…?"

Another mischievous expression formed on the woman's face. Flapping her arms like they were wings, she said, "Flying is a good example."

An interesting admission on her part. Certain situations involved their needing or wanting to take flight. Transporting Ninetails in a Pokéball while another Pokémon took to the air made sense. Obviously, that Pokémon was large enough to carry Albina and Einstein midflight. He tried to picture the two of them riding on a Pokémon's back as it soared amongst the clouds.

"So that mysterious Pokémon you have can fly?" Lucian posed, motioning to the lonesome Pokéball dangling around her white-clothed waist. It had to be a Dragon type Pokémon, he was sure of it.

"Oh yes," Albina answered, still grinning as her limbs returned to her sides. "We can fly…high in the sky. Now, come on yah silly Zangoose, let's hurry up. We've still got a lot on our list."

"List," he breathed, startled. "There's a list?"

"A mental list," Albina replied, prodding at her temple with a jagged fingernail.

After stuffing the Ninetails' Pokéball in his left pocket, Lucian followed closely behind the woman in white, being very careful not to get too close and clip her shins. "Hmmmm," she mused aloud, "backpack, sleeping bags, medical remedies, a flashlight, map, belt…"

She turned to him suddenly. "Lucian, do you give a fuck about your appearance?"

Despite the jumbled mess of thoughts inside his skull, his face broke into a grin. "Many fucks," he admitted through that grin. "I'm not a philistine, you know. In fact, I'm probably every bit as chicly as you are…"

Albina gave him a playfully puzzled look. "Even more so, I'm sure. I don't usually dress to impress. Blending in should be your objective."

Lucian shrugged. "Part of the fun in going undercover is the fashion. As I recall, you told me that..."

Shaking her head but doing so with a still painted smirk, the woman in white whirled around and began gliding into the unknown with the young man in hot pursuit.

"You know, I'm pleasantly surprised," she said, not looking back.

"About what?"

"I had you pinned as a Poindexter, but you're a pretty funny guy."

When she said that, a sense of calm overcame him. Surreal or genuine, maybe the outside world didn't have to be so bad. If he found the right people, maybe he could fit in. Hell, a girl even asked him for his number.

Best of all, Albina found him funny.

"Thanks for giving me a second chance," he chided teasingly. "Kind of a cruel first impression, but I'm glad I was able to overcome it."

"It's the truth, Lucian. With me, nothing but the truth. Hope it wasn't too offensive."

Lucian chuckled. "Maybe it's time I come clean, too."

"With what?" Albina asked, her tone one of interest as she glanced back.

"Before you and Einstein introduced yourselves," he said alongside several authentic snickers, "I thought the two of you were burglars…that or kidnappers. Remember? I accused you of trying to kidnap me…" Upon realizing the irony, he grunted.

Albina stopped in front of another aisle. Meeting his gaze, she walked around the side of the cart and placed a dry hand on top of one of his, which was white-knuckled as he strangled the handlebar.

"We're going to find your mother," she said, giving his clenched fist a tight squeeze. "I swear that to you, Lucian." She sounded so sure of herself. Her confidence helped.

Entering the grotto, Albina weaved her way past several other shoppers, most of whom had their own buggies parked nearby. Customers were obstacles for the designated shopping cart driver, a la Lucian, to avoid.

The second such obstacle was a guy with long flowing hair, kind of like his except instead of purple it was more on the ordinary side of the spectrum.

In his hands the guy was holding a boxy item. Distracted, he just stood there like a statue, eyes scanning the label, the girth of his buggy preventing Lucian's own cumbersome store station wagon from squeezing past.

"Excuse me, sir?" Lucian tried to say as politely as he possibly could.

The guy's eyes shot up. "Ah, no excuse me pal," he replied, shifting his cart over and giving Lucian space to pass.

"Thanks," Lucian said.

"No problem."

As Lucian wheeled past, a thought surfaced. They both had long hair. He could toss the guy a likeminded compliment. Hopefully it wouldn't come out awkward.

But passing by, violet eyes honed in on the box the guy was holding.

'Desperation Lice Exterminator – For Hair Ravaged by Lice – The Only Treatment When You're on the Cusp of Mowing It Down.'

As Lucian hit the gas, he imagined a lice squadron parachuting from their brunette base over to Fort Purple.

"What's with that face?" Albina asked as squeaky wheels rendezvoused.

Lucian's heart was pounding. "Lice," he hissed. "That guy over there with hair styled kind of like mine has fucking lice."

"How can you be sure?"

"Well, I didn't fucking examine his scalp under a microscope…but he's buying some kind of super lice slayer."

Albina muffled mirth. "Well that sucks," she said, cupping her mouth.

"You're not getting it," Lucian hissed again. "I had to…walk past him."

This time, Albina's attempts to suppress laughter failed. "Your first truly public trial," she giggled. "One of many, Lucian. And look! You survived."

Lucian pouted. "How do you know?" he asked with sappy undertones. "What if I'm infected?"

Still grinning, Albina shook her head. "Is that a serious question?"

"Maybe."

"I think you're fine."

"Really?"

"Nah, you're screwed. Worst case scenario, you have to shave your head."

By now, Lucian was playing off his comedic strengths. Albina found him funny, and he wanted that impression to stick.

Fingers twirling in the long purple strands of his rock star hair, he carped, "I can't go bald. I just can't. I won't be able to pull it off as well as Einstein." Digging his fingers under his glasses and mashing his cheeks, he pretended to weep.

To Lucian's delight, Albina giggled once again. "You're right about that," she said. "The two of you look nothing alike."

Still mashing his face, Lucian's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, still trying to sound and appear playful. Genuine curiosity dwelled behind that facade.

Einstein was more than simply man-pretty. There was no denying that the guy had the face of a model and the body of a Greek god. By stating that the two of them looked different, was Albina hinting or even outright suggesting that she was more attracted to Einstein than she was him?

"Well," Albina said, biting on one of her long fingernails, "isn't it obvious?"

"Uh… no," Lucian said, biting down on his lip.

Ceasing her nail-gnawing, Albina's face broke into a smirk. "You're more fashionable than he is," she said at last. "That's exactly why we're here in this aisle. See!"

Lucian glanced around. Much of the lane was devoted to men's health.

"Einstein is a jock," the female said before slinking behind him. Two dainty hands landed on his broad shoulders as a feminine voice whispered below his ears, "You're a different breed of man, Lucian. Because of your high-fashion demands, something I very much approve of by the way, you're going to need a toothbrush, razor, shaving cream, shampoo, conditioner…Hmmmm–" She plucked a container of Men's Moisturizing Cream off a shelf. "This," she said, dumping it in the shopping cart. She glanced around. "Ah, and perhaps this…whatever this is..."

It was a bottle of cologne.

"Men's Fragrance," Lucian muttered, trying not to sound pretentious as she inspected the label.

"Hope it's not rotten," Albina said, holding the bottle up to her sunglasses.

"What's it say?"

"Executive Exeggutor?" she answered, her tone and posturing assuming the guise of a question. She tilted her head. "Execute and Exude Executive Excellence...what?"

Lucian laughed. "I fucking love it!"

"You sure?" she asked, her voice laced with skepticism.

"I haven't a clue how an Exeggutor might smell…but its aroma must be good enough to turn into incense. Besides, I like that Pokémon."

"Really?" Albina asked. "I was starting to suspect you didn't like any of them at all mister I-don't-wanna-train-Pokémon."

Lucian gathered his thoughts for a moment. "I love Pokémon," he finally whispered. "I've been studying them my whole life. I'm no professor or anything…" He laughed uneasily, almost sadly. Regaining his composure, "…But I know just about everything there is to know about most of them."

Albina looked worried. "I think I'm starting to figure you out…SO…what's so great about Exeggutor in your book?"

"They're half Psychic," Lucian answered, allowing himself to grin. "Psychic is one of my two favorite types of Pokémon."

"Oh yea, what's the other type?" Albina asked as she placed the rather expensive bottle of Executive Exeggutor cologne in the shopping cart.

"Fairy," Lucian stated positively.

"Psychic and Fairy," Albina said, staring at him for a few moments. "Interesting combination." She tugged on the edge of the cart. "Let's go yah Zangoose!"

They encountered a razor, shaving cream, and hair shampoo and conditioner, all of which were tossed into the shopping cart. Wheeling through another aisle, Lucian spotted something he wanted.

"Gum!" he exclaimed, rushing over and exploring the robust selection. "Being in public, I'm really starting to become self-conscious." He eyed packs of mint and fruit flavors.

"Good idea," Albina said, standing next to him. "I didn't want to say anything, but your breath is awful. When I first met you, as soon as you opened your front door it was the first thing I noticed. Bad breath. I about fainted like a Pokémon."

Lucian's stirring heart instantly began to sink like a ship. "Are you serious?" he said, turning towards her while instinctively cupping a hand over his cesspool mouth.

When Albina started giggling, Lucian pouted underneath his fingers. "That was cruel," he protested, letting his hand fall.

"I just like messing with you," she said, punching him playfully in the chest.

Planted next to him, she looked so tiny, her zenith of dark hair several inches below his chin. Below bared shoulders and prominent collar bones, pallid fabric wrapped tightly around her arms, waist, and legs, accentuating delicate features as well as her body's feminine curves. Maybe it was just the way the light was falling underneath her, but it looked like she was glowing.

"On a serious note," the woman in white said with ironic mischievousness, "we'll get some gum. Peace of mind. Just stop making me feel like an ingenue."

"You, an ingenue?" Lucian chortled, finding himself enthralled and amused. "Sorry," he said at last. Not wanting to stare, he turned to the assortment of gum packs hanging from metal rods.

"So what's it going be?" she asked, still standing next to him.

Lucian didn't want to be hasty. A finger pressed against his lips while the other browsed around like the proboscis of a Beautifly, searching for that perfect flower.

Eventually, Albina started stripping a variety of packs off their racks. "I guess you'll have to figure out what you like," she said, pretending to be annoyed as she tossed several different brands and flavors inside the already congested buggy.

She turned around to face him. Then, tilting her head, "Hey what's with…what are you–?"

Without another moment's hesitation, Lucian wrapped an arm around her. Another one curled. Neither dared slide down lower on her bare back. Inhaling deeply as he pulled her in, he was mindful not to press his lower body against hers. He didn't want to give the wrong impression.

What he felt then was indescribable. In Albina he was pretty sure he had a friend. He held her close, squeezing gently. Despite his friendly intentions, his nerves felt scrambled, his face hot.

"Thanks for everything…" he whispered in her ear, her head nestled against his chest. "…For going out of your way to help me. And being patient. We are friends, right?"

Against his body, he could feel her heart. It was beating very fast. "Of course we are…Lucian…"

"Congratulations," he half- joked, "you're literally my first friend." When he felt tears teem in his eyes, he barricaded the ducts.

After releasing her, he was surprised by how slowly she pulled away. Inhaling deeply once more, he said, "I was wondering if we could make everything official. Can we exchange numbers?"

The three or four seconds of wholesome impassivity from her seemed to linger for much longer.

In the end, it was worth it.

Below black bug-eyes, a smirk formed on her face. A hand with long white fingernails dipped into a black bag. "What's your number," she said, dragging up her Holocaster.

After he gave her his number and she gave him hers, the Psychic followed the IP agent into the hollow of another aisle, the squeaky wheel squeaking evermore.

By then, Lucian had forgotten about that squeaky discordance completely.

Inside of him, pandemonium roiled. Newfound confidence clashed with newfound self-consciousness as well as longstanding pessimism. He had a friend and he was pretty sure he was developing a crush. He was discovering a part of himself that he never knew existed. His self-image and identity were changing, as were his desires and goals.

He even found himself having fun. Shopping with a pretty girl and having fun. Not one but two girls had even given him their number.

Outside, the world wasn't as bad as he thought. Parts of it were worse, however, much worse than he could have ever dreamed. There were bad people with bad intentions. He had seen them with his own eyes.

Somewhere out there in the unknown, his mother was at the mercy of bad people.

Lucian silently swore he was going to uncover where she was taken, why, and by whom. Whatever he had to do to find her and save her, he was willing to do it.

Considering the heap of items and equipment in the buggy, a shopping marathon he could never have anticipated, the former exile was very much aware that his life was going to change even more than it already had. In the span of a single day, his entire world was flipped upside down. He had to adapt, and he had to try to do it fast.

According to Albina, the Ninetails was going to help him in this quest. Her sister was coming along for the ride, too. Hopefully, she was every bit as proficient as Albina promised. Lucian wondered if the two sisters looked alike. They probably had a lot in common.

Apparently he had something in common with her sister, too. As Albina so eloquently put it, they had exotic hair and disproportionately large heads.

As they continued shopping, Lucian completely forgot about the squeaky wheel.

However, he couldn't disregard the foreign weight sitting inside one of his pockets.

Residing inside his left pants pocket was Alabaster's Pokéball.

Note: The liftoff of Lucian's Pokemon Adventure is at hand. Alabaster, Desiree, and dark secrets await.

Next chapter I was originally planning to unveil the 'Pink Pieces of the Past and Present,' which was an extremely intense and elucidating Einstein POV. Too elucidating. After careful consideration I've decided to hold off on outright exposing the truth behind Team Rocket, Albina, Einstein the Ditto, and the enigmatic Red.

I want Lucian's journey/investigation to take prescience, as well as the budding & at times strained relationship between his two companions (Ninetails & the Shiny Gardevoir). Lucian will have to discover these secrets for himself, as well as confront the consequences behind knowing the truth. Next Chapter Alabaster has a lengthy and very enlightening/philosophical discussion with Lucian. Desiree is also arriving, along with all the baggage she carries.

Thank you so much for reading!