A Gift from a Friend: 4B
Geodude slammed his fists together again and barreled forward. No oily flesh or flame could stop him. The odds were in his favor and that's exactly why Angel taught his pokemon tricks beyond their trade. He called for an extrasensory. The oil residue of Beats' coat burned with an aromatic byproduct. Having begun since the middle of the chorus, an invisible scented cloud floated within the street. Geodude flew right into it and the extrasensory heighted his senses. The fragrance seared his eyes, nose, and mouth. Even the heat of the quilava's flame burned his rocky skin before the two even touched. Geodude flinched and veered upwards. Angel tilted one way to avoid it, and behind him, John the other. The disoriented trainer snapped up with a wide eyed burst of panic. "Fight!" he suddenly realized.
"Glad for you to join us," Angel smirked. John came up beside him with a toss of his hair that could have ended a sprint. "Isa help," he declared.
"Wait, John, don't!" Angel shouted but the trainer was already out of reach.
"Go, Charles!" John yelled. He reached for a pokeball. The ground cut off his advance when Angel's attempt failed. John fell and hit the ground but at just the perfect angle to scrape his pokebelt across the road. A ball popped off and opened against the pressure of his leg. A small flash illuminated John's shadow and he sat up with a squawk, or rather, the pidgeotto that hopped out from underneath him did. Rocky snickered, but a pokemon was a pokemon no matter its entrance.
"Think two against one will put the odds in your favor?" Rocky yelled across the battlefield in reference to Angel's partnership. "Even in doubles you'll lose!"
Bullwinkle stepped up beside his partner. Together, they mirrored Angel and John. The moose threw out two pokeballs, releasing two nearly identical zubat. They chattered and hovered over Grimer as the sludge pokemon crawled his way back to the battlefield.
"Now, let's start this party with a bang!" Rocky yelled with a clap of his hands. Grimer belched out a poisonous gas so foul it tinted the air a smoggy green. The crowd turned away their noses with throat retches. Both zubat circled Grimer again before they streaked forward, carrying the gas on their wings. Angel heaved John to his feet, breaking more of a sweat in the effort than the battle. Such un-sportsman like tactics didn't deserve more than the narrow glare slanting his eye. If Rocky wanted a "bang", then he'd give him one.
Angel sharply whistled. It cut through the music, straight to Beats' attention. The quilava charged. He jumped into the poisonous haze, tucked into a defense curl while he was in the air, and spun his flaming tail across the cloud better than the strike of a match. The gas caught on fire and exploded in a burst of light and heat hot enough to rattle the booths. It scared several bystanders into a scream. Angel turned his face into his shoulder at the concussion. John let it billow across his face, his head turning upwards only to follow his pidgeotto as it landed on the top of a tent post. He ambled over to the edge of the sidewalk after the bird. Spectators quickly scurried away.
"Marco?" John asked with an inquisitive cock of his head. "What's you doin' here?"
Both zubat capitalized on the distraction. They circled John, riding opposite paths to keep the trainer tightly contained. John glanced back and forth, spinning to try and keep up with them. Their chattering calls heightened into twin supersonics. Angel heard the screeches over the vigorous thrills of the crowd. He glanced over his shoulder in enough time to catch the sonic tornado with John at the center. The trainer leaned sideways and tripped over his own feet. He fell, harder than he had all night, cutting his head against the rubble on the pavement. His pidgeotto, Marco, shrieked with a stretch of his wings and jumped off of his perch. He dove into the fanged storm but the zubat split in a living double team too fast for his comparatively slow wings to catch. Angel ripped off another ball from his belt. Blood had been drawn. The fight was no longer a battle but a war.
"Let's give him some help, Athena, and show them what a real goddess of the sky looks like," he yelled. The nest ball sprang open with a glittering expanse of fawn feathered wings. They reached for the stars, spreading far enough to push open lazy and tired eyes before they shrunk to proper proportions. Athena, the pidgeotto, joined the battlefield. As a female, she was larger than an average male but her plumage was dull and short. She compensated the loss with a bone chilling screech and snatched a zubat in her claws faster than a fly swatter, startling both the remaining bat and bird with her lightning fast dive.
"Not fair!" Bullwinkle howled from behind.
It wasn't nearly as bitter as Rocky's hiss as Beats cornered Grimer in the edge of the gutter. The two stood face to face. Both on the defensive and offended by each other's smell. Getting any closer would cause them both nightmares. Luckily, the quilava didn't have to. One clap of his teeth sparked a stationary flame charge that engulfed his body in whitish blue flame. He burned into a white bodied black eyed specter that KO'd Grimer with just the summoning of its flame. The dilapidated sludgy mass deflated with a ripple of gas. Beats winked out his flames as soon as the grimer's eyes went white with intimidation. Such a powerful display burnt nearly all of the oil reserves from his coat. Any longer and he'd burn more than what he could spare.
"You useless pile of sludge!" Rocky yelled. He kicked the purple mass away from him. Grimer flopped onto the quilava with a splashing like slap. With skin still too hot to the touch, the burning specter revived. The fumes of grimer's body mixed with the boiling skin oil and ignited. Both pokemon instantly went up in flames. Beats flailed until he threw off the pokemon and incinerated the last of the grimy insult clinging to his coat. The sludge pokemon continued to burn even without the quilava's touch. Rocky quickly withdrew his embarrassment, nearly cutting his fingers on the edge of the ball as it snapped shut. And they weren't the only ones in motion.
Bullwinkle's stubby fingers dug fistfuls into John's jacket again. He lifted the trainer to his feet, scattering the flying pokemon wheeling about their heads. Doubles and triples filled John's vision. His head rolled from shoulder to shoulder trying to keep up with them. Bullwinkle attempted to jar him back into focus with a shake.
"Leave him alone!" Angel ordered with a turn. A stony hand grabbed his wrist and pulled it away from his pokebelt. Geodude yanked Angel around, grabbing his other wrist as he spun. The pokemon held them at equal height. He sliced Angel's halo in two with a glare. For the first time that night, Angel's lips dropped down into a resting glower. He clenched his captured hands into white fists, refusing to relinquish the balloon and box in his grasp. Both were too important. Across the street, Bullwinkle escalated his attempts at therapy. He slapped John on the cheek.
"Look at me," he demanded. John slowly brought his chin back around to his chest. The compounded confusion now making it impossible for him to speak.
"Can't you see, he doesn't understand!" Angel shouted. He tugged against his captor but Geodude didn't move.
"Either you step up to the fight," Bullwinkle continued, "or get stepped on."
Rocky laughed. He walked up beside Angel. "Consider this your final warning," he taunted with an adjustment of his hat.
"And consider this my one and only," Angel announced. Rocky froze. Under the shadow of his hat, he slowly turned an eye to the side. He immediately regretted the decision the moment his gaze crossed Angel's. "Leave him alone," Angel repeated one final time.
Like a seviper caught within the predatory glare of a zangoose, Rocky feared to move even his lips in response. It was only the steadiness of Geodude's grip on Angel's wrists that quelled his shaking knees. He convinced himself that his enemy was immobile, and thus, not a threat. Rocky quickly glanced away as if he never heard the command.
"Do this, and you'll regret it," Angel promised.
Rocky didn't risk looking at him a second time. Instead, he transferred his bravado over to his partner. "Let's show these surface dwellers what a real message looks like!" he shouted despite the bead of sweat running down his temple. Bullwinkle drew out a smile as wide and stumpy as his fingers. He looked down at John who struggled to stay awake even at the brink of two fists. "Don't be too rough with him," Rocky quickly added with an instinctual glance to the side should the Persian beside him pounce. "He still needs to be able to fight in The Ring."
Angel said nothing and it was enough to dry up Rocky's throat faster than Beat's flame charge on Grime's skin. Bullwinkle was too far to feel its heat.
"That doesn't mean he has to look good doin' it!" Bullwinkle shouted back. He tightened his grip, but by the time he looked back at John, his fists were empty. One twirl and two double takes later, the brute spotted the trainer behind him, swaying like a zombie. He snarled out a "hey!" and placed a heavy hand on John's shoulder. It immediately slid off with a defensive turn. If hands didn't work, than fists might. Bullwinkle swung with his free arm. He missed but snagged a sleeve and dragged John to the side. John slipped loose with a slight of hand better than rubber in water but the momentum transferred to his feet. He stumbled backwards and hit the counter of a game booth. Both elbows landed on it better than a night bar, rattling the three tokens on top of it. The vendor didn't dare take the payment anyway, especially when the customer that placed them there sharply sucked her teeth and slammed the air rifle onto the counter.
"This shit is rigged," she snarled. "There's no way I'd miss that shot!" She snatched up the tokens, tucked them underneath the black lace framing her chest, and dared the game master with a scowl. He scurried away down the length of the counter with a clutch of his red and white cap. The woman sucked her teeth in another scoff. "Fucking coward," she growled. Her eyes then flicked away from the moving target to the prize wall. "It's not like I wanted one of those cheap ass toys anyway."
And like magic, one of them suddenly appeared off of the wall. A tentacruel plush thrust itself in front of the woman. She looked down at it: hand stitched eyes and quality fabric. It was soft, adorable, and no doubt a top line prize. Whoever won it was either sneaky enough to steal luck from fortune herself or trickier than the cons of the carnival trade. Either way, she was impressed. The woman followed the extended arm to the man behind it. He was young but by no means a boy and looked at her with such seriousness that refusing the offer would have led to more persistent, and annoying attempts. Not that she needed another fan boy, but she did appreciate a good carnival inspired date night. She pursed her lips in a smile, slowly took the plush, and twirled a tentacle around her finger.
"And just who exactly are you?" she asked.
John smiled, and even if he wanted to answer, he didn't have the time to as two gnarled hands grabbed him by the shirt again and yanked him back to his feet. Bullwinkle swung John around to the street, putting the woman at his back and out of sight.
"Hey, I asked him a question," the woman yelled.
"Beat it, Broad, he's none of your business," Bullwinkle snapped without even a turn of the cheek. The woman sucked her teeth again. It cut across her ivory white canines, sharpening them into fangs. Bullwinkle didn't hear it. He only heard his own yelp when a set of claws raked across his lower back. The blood didn't break the skin before a sweeping kick knocked out both of his knees. The giant fell, exchanging his grip on John to catch himself as he crashed to the ground. John swayed to a standstill and cocked his head to make sure he was seeing straight, or at least, keeping up with his confusion.
A sneasel stood on top of Bullwinkle with a look as sharp as the claws digging into his back. The grunt winced as she carelessly jumped off of it. He propped up onto an elbow and came face to face with the tip of a black stiletto boot. The woman from the gaming booth would have preferred to lead with the specially made steel point at the heel, but she didn't need weapons when her body itself was one. Long black leathered legs streaked warning to the upward glance. The sensual tension along the way pierced the faint of heart with each purposeful tap of her boot. If the point of her heel wasn't sharp enough to break the heart, the tightly laced bodice up above did. It struggled to contain her natural born gifts polished with enough natural oils and lotions to gleam with a rosy shine.
For the sheer sake of keeping families together, the woman wore a matching black leather jacket, although its zipper ran a little too low for children. One side of her collar was flipped up. It created a sharp point so the sableye crawling around her neck had a clear view of its ever changing targets. He cocked his multifaceted eyes at the one below him. The woman placed her foot on Bullwinkle's head, and the harder she pressed, the wider her smile became. Each fang grew whiter against the heavy purple lipstick coating her lips. The outer lip lines started in black to match the frozen nature of her soul, and faded into a slight shade of red along the soft inner skin where she couldn't remove the stain of blood from her latest meal. Top and bottom lip glistened as the woman pulled out a smile as twisted as the finger curling around a lock of her hair. The strands matched her lips from root to tip. One splinter of faith and the horns of that devil would stab even the holiest of creatures.
The woman leaned in with an arm over her knee. "I don't remember asking you for your opinion," she whispered. Bullwinkle didn't reply. If he did, the steel tipped heel would have impaled his cheek. But there wasn't much stopping it anyway as she leaned in deeper, putting more and more weight on her leg. The only thing powerful enough to stop the monstrous descent was a light tap on the woman's shoulder. John swayed to a standstill and she flicked her voluptuous curls out of the way to look at him clearly. He cocked his head in a thinking sort of way. There was a slant to his eye as if he wanted to tell her something important but couldn't. Those poisonous lips pursed again and the woman stepped off of her prey. She didn't bother to relish in Bullwinkle's retreat as she turned to John and traced his well-shaped youth in a single glance.
"My God, you are adorable," she mused with a cross of her arms over her chest. "Confusion and all."
Rocky quickly ran over. Geodude threw down Angel's arms to follow. The grunt halfheartedly lugged Bullwinkle back to his feet. "Who the hell do you think you-," The woman turned around with a clack of her heels. Rocky froze, unable to move while his life flashed before his eyes. Angel walked up beside him with eyes also on the woman. Neither were stupid enough to look away. She smiled with a giddy pop of her hip.
"Now, that's more like it," the woman said. She strung her arm around John's. He looked at her, and rolled his head up at Angel. Curiosity lifted his brow. He then pointed at him.
"No, I'm still your guardian angel," Angel cautiously answered. "You can't get rid of me that easily." John then pointed at the woman. Angel hesitated. Apprehension pulled all humor from his voice, tightening it with a trace of fear. "and that is Vermillion."
"Best Polisher of the Royal Jewels," Rocky blurted as if the name couldn't be said without the reputation, "She cleans up, cuts up, and polishes every person and pokemon into whatever the Jewels want them to be." And that was playing coy. The woman in front of them was the best contract killer, bounty hunter, and thief the syndicate had to offer. Defiance didn't break against her techniques, it shattered. Pain and torture played as her muse. Her hobbies including extortion. Her specialty, persuasion, and murder the occasional indulgence. She was the one waiting at the end of a last chance with cold steel in her hand. She liked to get her hands dirty as much as her party pokemon. And here John was pointing a finger at her.
Angel tilted his head in a butler's like apology. "You'll have to excuse him," he began but Vermillion quickly cut away the rest with a flick of her freshly polished nails better than a butcher's cleaver. Angel's heart thumped as if it cut straight through the gristle and bone and into the wood. She wasn't merely peeved by the grunt's intrusion. She was interested . . . in John. Shit. Vermillion snuggled closer to her prize and traced a finger along John's jacket with a predatory glance.
"Where on earth did you find him?" she asked, directing the question at Angel. "He's precious."
"And very sick," Angel added. He slowly took a step forward and raised the black box in his hand. "I need to give him this or he might not make it through another round of ring toss."
The woman scoffed again, this time, a little less forcefully to avoid blowing John over. She straightened him out of a sideways lean with a tug of the arm. "If his situation was that dire, you wouldn't be pissing around the match with a hatchling," she said with a flick of her black lined eyes at the nearby quilava. They shifted to Angel. "Now, would you?"
The halo dropped from Angel's head and tightened around his neck. He thought of his other party pokemon and how quickly they could have ended this situation. Vermillion laughed as darkly as her lips. It ended in a sigh that rested her head on John's chest. He emphasized his pointing finger. Angel wished he could snap it off.
"No," exclaimed, catching his frustrated correction with a clear of the throat. "Not a bad guy," he lied.
And speaking of bad guys, Rocky finally melted out of his paralysis. "What the hell are you doing here?" he squeaked with a fumble of his pokeball. It dropped to the ground. Sneasel pressed a claw between his ribs to make sure he didn't retrieve it. Vermillion kept her eyes on Angel. She waited just long enough for the crowd to get bored. Several spectators made a hasty retreat in the lull and the DJ finally realized his station had been hacked. He pushed the glowing tourist off of his equipment and immediately new streams of people pushed their way into the road, oblivious to the doings of others around them now that the threat of battle was gone. John's eyes suddenly dimmed. His shoulders fell and he sagged where he stood. Vermillion allowed him to lean into her. She effortless carried the burden, puckered her lips again, and ran her fingers through his hair.
"Just look at the poor Babe," she cooed. "I don't think he's going to make it much longer."
"If I may," Angel interjected with a lift of the case. Vermillion scrunched up her nose.
"But I like him this way," she whined before she squeezed John's cheeks and shook his head. "He's so cute."
"I think you mean: vulnerable," Angel dared. Vermillion slowly aimed a sideways glance at him. A smile crept into the corner of her mouth, much like the sableye relocating from one shoulder to the other, but to Angel's surprise, she accepted his plea.
"Alright," she sighed. "You can have him."
Vermillion unhooked her arm and pushed John forward in the most romantic of cast offs she was capable of. Angel rushed forward and caught the trainer's fall. He sagged to the ground against the sudden and awkward weight. Both box and balloon finally left his grip. Vermillion crossed her arms over her chest with a pendulum like sway of her hips. It knocked Rocky's stuttering protests back down his throat. She then remembered the grunt's presence and abandoned her smile faster than her patience. "You're still here?" she barked.
Rocky jumped to attention. He glanced at Angel, weighed his options, and quickly slapped Bullwinkle into retreat. The two withdrew their pokemon and shoved their way back into the crowd. Vermillion's frown remained, the mere memory of them a bad taste in her mouth. "I don't want a single backwards glance," she ordered. Sableye accepted the task with a hollow scratchy chitter. He spiraled down her leg where he hopped off into the shadow of the crowd in pursuit of the two grunts.
Angel sat John upright against a booth previously vacated by the owner. Sableye wouldn't be the only one on the hunt. Locals took their festivals very seriously and it wouldn't be long until Sheriff Cewalski's hat bobbed through the crowd in their direction. Angel needed to keep his promise before that happened. He kept one hand on John's shoulder and used the other to find the plastic case on the ground. He clicked it open and held up an injectiion pen filled with a foggy liquid. One click of the epipen would administer a critical dose of an anti-status effect cure all, good for every pokemon status condition known to man. It was worth more than the average man's weekly salary and the last of Angel's personal stash.
"Sorry, Champ, but you can't fall asleep just yet," Angel said before he stabbed the pen into the side of John's neck. The needle pricked in a short decompressing pop. Angel didn't move when the medicine was administered. Nor did he smile until John fluttered open his eyes again a few seconds later. They brightened in a curious twinkle. Angel smiled and lightly patted him on the cheek. "Atta boy," he whispered.
"You know, I still haven't gotten an answer yet," Vermillion exclaimed. Her voice was sultry, seductive, and right behind Angel. Treating John had cost him his guard. Angel slowly set the pen back in the case. He kept his eyes on John's condition although his hand drifted towards his pokebelt. Two long silver claws stopped it in place. Sneasel narrowed a suspicious glare from beside him. Angel closed his eyes and his lips turned up in the slightest of smiles. Fate had a way of tickling his cheeks. With the grunts gone, he was the only one left to answer Vermillion's demands and refusing her now would lead to an unfortunate and untimely end.
Angel slowly lifted his hand away from his pokebelt and stood up. Sneasel disagreed with the increasing distance of her claw from his juggler but she didn't have time to complain when John suddenly sat up beside her. She didn't flinch but her ear did twitch in surprise. He greeted her with a peculiar arch of his brow that matched her own.
"I'd be happy to give you the details about our friend here," Angel exclaimed, "If only I knew them." He slowly turned around and lowered his hands. Should he die, he would do so with dignity. Vermillion stayed where she was. She was in a good mood after all. John would never know how his antics just saved his life. Vermillion crossed her arms over her chest and swaggered closer. She looked down from her heels at Angel, although, she could do that even if she was thirty feet under. Angel's muscles twitched lightly under the pressure despite his statuesque composure. It was enough to satisfy Vermillion's need for intimidation. Startling marble was quite the miracle.
"Relax. I'm not here to kill you," she said. Angel visibly lightened but still fought the urge to put a hand to his pokebelt. "But I did hear that you made quite the impression with the Jewels," she continued.
Angel shrugged with causality rather than agreement. "A good fight naturally draws attention," he stated.
Vermillion glanced at the crowd now running shoulder to shoulder with them. The noise between the bodies hid their conversation. "Shove it," she said. "I don't care why you did what you did. Leaving is always a choice . . . if you accept the consequences." Vermillion pointed an intimate finger at Angel's chest. It might as well have been filled with gunpowder and lead. "We have a lot in common," she said as she walked her fingers up his jacket.
"Oh? And how is that?" Angel asked without moving a muscle. Vermillion's hand jumped up and grabbed the lower half of his jaw. Her grip stayed loose to avoid disturbing the handsome features between her fingers. She leaned in with a snarl like upturn of her lips. "We both like to fuck with people, especially those who think they are in control."
Angel turned his eyes to hers and found them a deep green, devastatingly beautiful like the poison on her lips. Even he couldn't stop his heart from racing as they slipped closer to his. Vermillion stopped a tease away from torture and flicked Angel away with a snuff. He shuddered but channeled his desires with the power of flirtation.
"Not your type?" he asked.
"I'm not into pure blood," Vermillion mused with a lick of her lips. "Too cold. Burns like bad vodka on the way down." She then looked down at John who held up his wrists to rediscover the silver bracelets he acquired earlier that night. He then looked at Sneasel's claws floating near him and held his wrists up to it to see if they matched. "I'm into the red hot kind of man myself," Vermillion explained. She silently popped her lips in a fantasy Angel was too embarrassed to imagine. "I'll take that sugar sweet tea any day." But today, she had enough foreplay to sweeten her tongue. She turned away with one last perk of her lips. Sneasel eagerly hopped away from John to follow.
"Think carefully about what you do from here on out," Vermillion warned as she walked away with her pokemon in tow. "The next messenger the Royal Jewels send might not be so nice."
Angel believed it. The next time Vermillion crossed his path, it wouldn't be on accident and she wouldn't be a messenger. Both John and Angel had been lucky, far luckier than they realized to come across her unscathed, but it wasn't the thrill of escape that put a smile on Angel's face.
"May I ask one thing before you go?" he called out to her. Vermillion turned to the booth next to her, picked up a treat on a stick, and slipped off a piece between her teeth. She was listening. "Why are you here?"
"That's exactly why you're in this mess right now," Vermillion informed with a stroke of her tongue along her lips. She turned to him in a pose worthy of a biker's magazine and wagged her empty stick in turn with the click of her tongue. "That curiosity will get you killed."
Angel sheepishly shrugged but there was nothing bashful or innocent about it. He was guilty of her judgement. Vermillion smiled hard enough to show her fangs again. "Well, it will kill you or your friends."
Vermillion nodded. Angel suddenly remembered his responsibility. He whirled around faster than if God had yanked him by the halo and looked down at John. The trainer sat with his legs sprawled out in front of him and his hands were loosely lain in his lap. He looked up at Angel and furrowed his brow until something clicked and he relaxed again. John then looked beyond Angel with a lean. He smiled at Vermillion, the silent conversation in his mind now complete. He waved. Angel wanted to snap his hand off at the wrist. Sneasel crossed her arms in a huff. Vermillion chuckled and stroked the pokemon's ear.
"I hope you make the right decision," she said. "Because I like that one." Her gaze lingered before duty turned her around again. "Oh, and don't worry," she added with a less than concerned wave. "I won't tell Hellboy that you're cheating on him."
Despite the way her hips knocked men off balance with her stride, Vermillion quickly disappeared into the crowd without so much as a brush of clothing. Tourists quickly filled in the gaps. The fight was officially over. Angel watched the street to make sure no ghost pokemon double backed. A flutter of feathers drew his attention away from it. Athena, his pidgeotto, circled around the pair. Angel followed her flight back to John who already had his own bird pokemon perched on his shoulder. The trainer admirably winked an eye against the second set of feathers as Athena landed on the other. Many would have flinched against her talons.
"Do yous 'ave my feather?" he asked the bird.
"I think you have both of them," Angel answered before he squatted down and adjusted the line of John's now ripped dojo jacket. "And I think it's about time, I held up my end of the deal. After all, what is a gentleman but his word?"
John suddenly became very tired very quickly, the drugs losing their effect in the heat of his adrenaline. In a spurt of defiance, John quickly lifted his chin. He glanced between the two birds and looked at Angel again. "Who are you?" he asked.
Angel's heart thumped with the damage his decisions had done but he managed to hold up his smile, weak and guilty as it was. "Where are my manners?" he quietly said, fulfilling the role of guardian as he should have from the very beginning. "We haven't been properly introduced." Angel then took John's favorite gesture of the night and pointed at himself in only the most professional of manner.
"My name is Liam. Liam Valenis," he said.