Sketch and Itzal threw the doors open at Captain Greyson's command. A guard and his lairon tumbled through the doorway, unprepared for the sudden opening. Itzal's arbok was upon the guard instantly, wrapping around his struggling body. Flynn and Captain Greyson's sceptile went after the lairon just as quickly, sending it rolling into the wall with a crash. Paintings and portraits fell to the floor, wooden frames smashing apart and canvasses tearing.
Sketch ducked behind the door frame, bracing himself for the moment that he would have to leave the relative safety of the building. They were easily outnumbered. The only thing going for them was that the guards, as employees of the city, had to be careful how much destruction they caused. The pirates, on the other hand, would be held accountable by no one but their captain.
"By the power of the King, I hereby place you—" a man, presumably the guard captain, began to say. He was cut off mid sentence when Captain Greyson stepped forward.
Ignoring the guard captain's words, Captain Greyson raised her hand and threw the poké ball that she had been holding. It landed on the walkway just outside the doors, opening and bouncing back to the pirate's outstretched hand. The light grew larger and brighter as the pokémon took form before them.
The light faded, and all hell broke loose.
Twenty feet of cream-coloured scales ending in pink and blue had materialized on the walkway just outside of the doors. Guards and pokémon alike scrambled for safety lest they be crushed by the milotic as she coiled around to face them. The great sea serpent screeched furiously as she took in her surroundings. The guard captain was shouting orders, his voice moving further away as he fled the area around the massive water-type.
A pair of beautifly dove for her, stun spore swirling around their wings. As they drew closer, the air around Milotic's tail glowed and swirled and grew into a large twister that caught the approaching beautifly and sent them flying backward. The wicked vortex that she had created hit an unprepared swellow and golbat, ripping them from the air. All four pokémon were thrown to the ground by the force of the twister.
Guards shouted back and forth, barking orders as they attempted to manage the situation. Through the gaps in Milotic's coiled body, Sketch spotted a gallade approaching, a golbat over its head. Both pokémon's eyes glowing as they focused their attention on Milotic.
The serpentine pokémon screeched, whipping her head around as she shot a powerful burst of water from her mouth. The hydro pump blasted a cluster of humans and pokémon before the effects of Gallade and Golbat's hypnosis took effect, sending Milotic crashing to the ground asleep.
As Captain Greyson recalled Milotic, the pirates and their pokémon surged forward, exploding out of the doors with their weapons raised. Sword blades clashed and pokémon roared as the two sides came together. Houndoom bounded out ahead of them, setting buildings and trees ablaze with an inferno that took down the nuzleaf and shiftry before they could reach the group of fugitives. Gallade rolled under the worst of the flames, crashing into Houndoom's side.
The few water-types the guards had brought burst into action, fighting the fires that threatened the expensive houses lining the street. They, at least, would be too busy with the fires to get in the way of the fleeing pirates.
Sketch ducked a sword blade and parried a second blow, his attention yanked back to what was going on directly in front of him. He shoved into the attacking guard with the full weight of his body, knocking the guard backward and sending him sprawling. Sketch jumped over the man, rolling over the back of a donphan that was fighting to escape the thick toxic threads that ensnared its legs, courtesy of his ariados, Crutch.
He had only made it a few steps when an aggron reared up, towering over him. The massive creature roared, its weight shaking the ground under their feet as it braced itself and turned its attention on the young pirate. The creature's arm swung out, leaving no time to think.
A flash of brown and tan fur flew past Sketch's shoulder as Flynn barrelled into Aggron's stomach. The large armoured creature doubled over from the sucker punch — whether from pain or surprise Sketch was not going to stick around to find out. Sketch spun away from the large outstretched arm as Aggron brought it down. Heavy metal claws glanced off his right shoulder, scraping through the material of his shirt and slicing skin. The force of the impact knocked him off his feet and sent him crashing to the ground. He threw his already injured arm out to protect his face, hissing as he slammed hard against the cobblestoned street and rolled. Loose stones tore at his clothes and exposed skin, leaving bruises and scratches in their wake.
The burning pain of his shoulder barely registered as he sprang back to his feet. There was a buzzing in his ears and his heart was pounding. His feet pounded against the hard ground as he sprinted for an opening in the crowd of fighting people and pokémon. For the open street and freedom beyond.
Beside him, Flynn shook his head, looking slightly dazed from the impact with the aggron as he raced along at Sketch's heels. His furret veered off, tearing a hole in the cobblestone street. He disappeared underground just in time to avoid a diving swellow.
Nearby, two guards had Itzal trapped with his back to a building. Sketch side-stepped as a mightyena crashed into the ground directly in front of him, its paws pulled out from under it as toxic threads bound its legs. Crutch scuttled past him, purple eyes glowing as she picked up the mightyena with psychic and tossed it at a nearby sandslash.
A second mightyena crashed into the ariados, sending her sprawling. The dark-type was upon her in seconds, scrambling to pin her against the hard ground. Sketch recalled her as he ran past, not pausing to watch the mightyena crack its muzzle against the ground when its quarry vanished.
He reached Itzal in a few strides, slashing his cutlass upward along a gap in one of the guard's leather arm guards. The man dropped the sabre he was wielding and doubled over, clutching his bleeding arm. Pain shot through his own arm as the movement pulled at the gashes in his shoulder. He ground his teeth and drew in a deep breath through his nose as the pain dulled back to a level he could ignore.
Itzal lunged forward, slashing at the second guard while Sketch recovered, pushing him back. "I had it handled!" the pirate shouted over his shoulder at Sketch. He ducked a blow from the guard before kicking him in the knee and sending him to the ground with a curse.
"Sure you did," Sketch shot back, inhaling sharply as he dove under a swooping golbat.
Nearby, Itzal's arbok untangled itself from an unconscious breloom and slithered after Itzal. Its mouth parted, thick black smoke erupting out of it and surrounding them. Sketch ran through the haze after them, squinting as he struggled to see what was around him.
Overhead, the golbat screeched as it whirled around and dove at Sketch again. The young pirate swung his cutlass in a wide arc over his head in a desperate attempt to fend off the massive bat pokémon. At the last moment, the golbat cut sideways through the air, dodging around the blade and disappearing into the haze on the other side.
Sketch burst out of the smoky wall just in time to see Itzal and his pokémon disappear around a building down the street. The other pirate's croconaw was nowhere in sight. Sketch could only hope that it had been returned to its poké ball earlier in the chaos. With most of the guards now behind him, Sketch chased after Itzal.
Ahead of him, standing between him and an empty street, a zangoose spun to face him. Its fierce expression turned to one of confusion as the ground beneath its paws shifted. Dirt and cobblestones erupted as Flynn emerged from the ground below it. Zangoose tried to get out of the way, but it wasn't fast enough. Flynn slammed into Zangoose, sending the white-and-red pokémon tumbling. Its long claws flailed as it went down, catching the furret's side.
Flynn's side was starting to darken with blood when Sketch recalled him, barely having to pause to grab the poké ball as he ran past. Guards shouted behind him, but he dared not glance back as he heard the thundering steps of larger pokémon giving chase. Beside him, his sneasel bounded past, running just ahead of him. Despite looking rougher than normal, Fray looked to be having the time of his life. The brief glimpse Sketch caught of his face revealed a wicked grin and bright eyes, his long claws stained crimson.
"Turn right," a ragged voice behind him ordered.
Itzal had turned the other direction, but Sketch dared not disobey the order — he would know his captain's voice anywhere.
He ducked around the corner, feeling a scorching heat against his back as he narrowly avoided a fiery blast. Captain Greyson's Houndoom raced past him, panting heavily and fire-resistant fur looking slightly singed. Which could only mean he was not the fire-type that had nearly set them all ablaze. Sketch cursed, he had not noticed a fire-type in the mad dash to escape the guards.
Ahead of him, Fray took on a bright blue glow. He turned sharply, leaping at the closest wall and spinning around as he kicked off from it. Jagged ice shards materialized before him, shooting out at opponents behind Sketch and Captain Greyson. The sneasel's paws hit the ground again and he spun back around to run alongside Sketch.
Thud! Sketch dared a glance back, watching for a brief second as one of the mightyena chasing them went down hard, ice stabbing out of its forelegs. The sight was not comforting, though, for the mightyena had not been giving chase alone. Had his heart not already been pounding, the ninetails, aggron, and donphan giving chase would have set it racing.
And they were catching up far too quickly.
Sketch fumbled for the untouched ivory poké ball still at his waist, catching the clasp that held it and tossing it out ahead of him. The banette that appeared hovered just ahead of him, facing him as she floated backward. Her head tilted to the side, purplish-pink eyes taking in the pokémon chasing after them.
"Haven, double team and shadow ball," he shouted, his voice raspy as he panted for breath.
The banette's eyes glowed and she stilled in the air. Sketch ran past her as more and more banette's appeared in the air around Haven. Each one was a mirror image of the original, moving in perfect unison as they turned on the approaching pokémon with a fierce cry.
Behind him, the donphan squealed with pain and anger as the real Haven landed a direct hit. Sketch glanced back to see the ninetails and aggron run past the halted donphan. They completely ignored the ghost-type and her duplicates attacking the ground-type as they pursued the two pirates.
"Hold your breath," Captain Greyson ordered, catching up and running alongside him. "Smog!" she shouted.
One look at the thick, black smoke spewing from Houndoom's heavy jaws was enough for him to know how important it would be to follow her command. Beside him, Fray surged forward, leaping over the growing cloud of smoke to run ahead of it. Houndoom's pace slowed, allowing the humans to catch up as the cloud grew all around him, engulfing the street.
Sketch drew in a deep breath moments before entering the thick smoke, sheathing his cutlass as he did. His lungs burned and he could feel his eyes watering as he fought to see where he was putting each running step. He urged his muscles to carry him even faster, terrified of running out of air before he had made it to the other side of the cloud.
Somewhere to his left, he could hear a poké ball open. There was a flash of light through the thick smoke, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. Sketch ran past a dark shape, its form unmoving. He had no time to think about it, his lungs desperate for air as his feet pounded against the hard ground.
He burst through the other side of the smog, drawing in a deep breath of air and coughing. His throat and lungs burned from the exertion. But he kept running. The heavy footsteps of the aggron somewhere on the other side of the black cloud more than enough motivation.
Around him, the buildings had begun to grow closer together, each passing building less impressive than the last. They were still too nice, though.
They were still too far from the ship.
Haven descended from the sky above him to float along at his side, while Fray bounded ahead of everyone. Captain Greyson had gotten several paces ahead of him while her houndoom had fallen back. A few last trailing bits of smoke escaped his mouth. His job was done, the thick, black cloud behind them blocked them from their pursuer's view, and the toxic smog would, at the very least, slow them down. Houndoom was returned to his poké ball, leaving only the two pirates, Fray and Haven. And whatever the dark figure in the smog had been.
Screeee!
Sketch clamped his hands over his ears and gritted his teeth against the horrible noise that rent the air. It was as if someone had taken both the sounds of zangoose claws to a chalkboard and metal against metal and mashed them together. The grating sound echoed off the stone walls of the buildings around them. The sound abruptly stopped, and Sketch pulled his hands from his ringing ears.
There was a crashing sound and a yelp, followed by a high-pitched shrieking from a pokémon somewhere behind them. The hairs on Sketch's arms and the back of his neck lifted while a shudder ran down his spine. The sound was familiar.
It sounded like laughter.
Captain Greyson reached out, grabbing him roughly by the arm and yanking him down a different street. Fray and Haven followed, easily keeping pace with the tiring humans. The cobblestones under foot ended, changing to hard-packed earth.
"We need to keep moving, there's a swellow overhead that's been following our every step. It will alert the guards wherever we go," Captain Greyson informed him, her pace slowing to a steady jog as she released Sketch's arm.
Sketch slowed his pace to match hers, his burning muscles protesting slightly less at the slower speed. The throbbing pain in his shoulder was beginning to make itself known, and his lungs were on fire. Every move he made pulled at the shirt cloth plastered against the gashes in his skin.
He cast his gaze upward, spotting the dark-blue and white speck in the sky high above them. None of their pokémon would be able to catch the large bird no matter how hard they tried.
"Hopefully the crew is ready," Sketch hissed, clenching his fists. They should have left the moment the king's advisor had told them she had called for the guards. Yet here they were, running for their lives.
"They'll be ready," his captain replied evenly, sheathing her cutlass.
Sketch did not share her confidence.
The streets grew busier the longer they ran. Shops and taverns began to pop up among the buildings. Carts and carriages rolled past them while people parted, stepping out of the way of the two bedraggled pirates and the sneasel and banette that followed them. The sounds of ocean waves carried lightly over the wind. They were nearing the water, and the safety of the ship.
Overhead, the swellow still tracked their every move.
Sketch pulled out Haven and Fray's poké balls, recalling them in the hope that he wouldn't need them again before they reached the ship. They reached the outskirts of the city without any more trouble. Sketch wasn't sure if Captain Greyson had just been lucky or if she had somehow known, but every street she had led them down was free of guards.
Sketch and Captain Greyson crashed through the trees, choosing speed over stealth. With the swellow in the sky, there was no point in trying to be sneaky.
"There they are!" a voice behind them shouted.
"Stop them!" a second voice ordered.
Sketch glanced back, spotting flashes of blue- and silver-painted armour between the trees. "Aw, hell," he muttered, picking up his pace.
They fought through the dense brush and burst through the tree line. There was a flurry of movement on the beach as they emerged from the forest. Half a dozen swords were directed at them, each pointed end dangerously close to their necks.
"Captain!" Garnet shouted, immediately lowering his blade.
"We weren't sure you were going to make it. When Itzal showed up without you two, we thought the worst might have happened," Connor informed them, stepping back.
The rest of the crew lowered their weapons, moving back out of their captain's way. Behind them, Sketch spotted three people that had not been with them earlier that morning. He was pleased to find that he recognized one of the three at least — Theresa. How Victor had convinced her to return to the ship he did not know, but he was glad for it regardless. The other two were younger, closer to his own age, and looked uncertain about their current situation. Neither looked particularly impressive.
"The guards are on our tail," Sketch told them, bending over and bracing his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.
"You should have gone back to the ship without us," Captain Greyson added, eyes of steel focused on Victor when she spoke.
The scarred man simply nodded, the amber beads in his beard swinging as he did. "To the ship, lads," he barked out.
Connor and Piper hurried to the water's edge to climb up onto their individual lapras'. While they helped the rest of the crew up onto the transport pokemon's shells, Captain Greyson pulled out a poké ball. Before her, her kingdra materialized, half of its blue body visible above the waves. Captain Greyson waded out into the water and climbed onto the large creature's back, gripping the spines of the fin on his back for balance. They drifted quickly out to deeper waters, the kingdra never turning its attention away from the shore.
Following his captain's lead, Sketch pulled out Hurricane's poké ball, releasing her into the water with a small splash. The mantine glanced about with some confusion, but cooed happily when Sketch climbed up onto her back and gave her a soft pat as she followed after the kingdra.
One of their new recruits, a boy, hesitated on the beach, his hand on his own poké ball. A look of resolve crossed his face before he threw the ball, releasing a wailmer into the water beside Hurricane. Sketch spared the round water-type a quick glance as the boy climbed aboard, pleased to see that both pokémon and trainer looked practised on water as they cut through the waves beside him.
The last of the crew had just climbed aboard the two lapras when guards erupted from the brush running along the beach. They were shouting for the pirates to stop, throwing poké balls and barking commands when the pirates kept moving.
"Get to the ship, and get. It. Moving!" Captain Greyson shouted at Connor and Piper. Without waiting to make sure that they obeyed, she turned her attention back to the humans and pokémon spreading out along the shore. "Draco meteor," she commanded quietly of the kingdra, Sketch barely catching the words as they were carried across on the ocean breeze.
The kingdra's body glowed orange as it focused its energy. A glowing orb rapidly took form before it. With a furious cry, it fired the blazing orange orb of energy into the sky. It shot through the open air, growing ever larger as it travelled, until it came to a sudden stop over the beach.
Bang!
The orb exploded as suddenly as it had stopped. The sound echoed over the waves as dozens of energy orbs rained down on the beach. Guards and pokémon ducked under shields, both metal and those created by the pokémon, while others ran for the cover of the trees as the orbs crashed to earth. Sand erupted from the ground where they hit and large pits formed from their impact.
The two lapras carrying the rest of the pirates cut quickly through the water, passing by Sketch, Captain Greyson, and the boy on the wailmer. They did not pause or hesitate, nor did they look back at the destruction on the beach behind them as they headed for the ship.
"Hurricane, psybeam," Sketch directed, spotting a swellow that had evaded the kingdra's attack and was swooping down toward the pirates on the lapras.
Hurricane turned in the water, finding the swellow as it dropped lower in the air. Sketch shielded his eyes with his hand against the vibrant light from the multi-coloured beam that Hurricane shot at the dark blue bird pokémon. The beam hit the swellow directly, sending it crashing toward the water below. At the last moment it stopped just above the water line, its wings beat unevenly and it squawked furiously as it turned back toward the beach.
The group was closing in on the ship as the guards on the shore regrouped. A glance back over his shoulder showed the pirates had started climbing up the rope ladder from the lapras below. Pokémon were materializing in the water and sky around the ship as the crew on the main deck took up defencive positions. Pelipper and pidgeotto cut through the air, circling around the masts, while tentacruel and sharpedo ducked below the waves around the ship. Damian's gyarados roared as it materialized near the front of the ship, its tail slapping hard against the water as it dared the guards' pokémon to approach.
"Get on board." Captain Greyson's words pulled Sketch's attention back to the rope ladder. Connor was just climbing over the side of the ship, the last person off the pair of lapras.
Sketch waved the boy on the wailmer ahead of himself, urging Hurricane to follow him to the side of the ship. Sketch grabbed hold of the rope, steadying the ladder as the boy started to climb. As soon as the other boy was far enough up, Sketch started to follow, wincing at the pain that lanced through his shoulder as the effort of climbing pulled at the muscles where he'd been cut.
The main deck was organized chaos as he climbed over the railing to stand on solid ground. The sailors had unfurled the sails, and he felt the ship shift as the anchor came free from the seabed far below. Damian was barking orders at his sailors as they hauled on the braces and adjusted the yards.
Captain Greyson climbed up behind him. "Down to the sick bay," she ordered, hardly sparing him a glance as she walked past, heading for the quarter deck.
Sketch hesitated, glancing back at the waters below. They were teeming with pokémon. As he watched, the red tentacles of Victor's octillery wrapped around an attacking azumarill, dragging the round blue-and-white creature underwater. Unless more reinforcements arrived shortly, they had the guards outnumbered. After a moment of indecision, he recalled Hurricane. If the ship was moving and he wasn't going to be above deck, he wouldn't risk her safety — not while they had the upper hand.
With the pain in his shoulder making itself known, Sketch followed his captain to the aft of the ship. Rather than follow her up the steps to the quarterdeck, though, he veered off and ducked through a small doorway tucked away in the port-side wall of the steps. Through the doorway was a narrow set of stairs that ran down to the berth deck. Sketch had to duck to get through, the ceiling above the opening and first few steps uncomfortably low before opening up the farther down the stairs one went.
The sick bay was located at the aft of the ship, beneath the navigation room and captain's quarters, with the door at the bottom of the stairs. Within only that single room of the ship did one person ever outrank the captain; the Sea Phantom's doctor and surgeon, Brenna. Few other pirate ships were fortunate enough to have an experienced doctor, let alone one as experienced as her.
The room itself was rarely empty, and that day was no exception. As Sketch slipped quietly through the door, he spotted Striker sitting on one of the half dozen cots bolted to the deck floor. Only three others were in the room. Krystina, Brenna's assistant — or a carpenter's mate, depending who needed the most help any given moment — was wiping down Striker's arm with a bloodied cloth. Her aipom hung off her shoulder and Brenna's lopunny stood at her side, the two holding fresh cloths and a bowl, respectively. Brenna herself was nowhere to be seen.
Sketch weaved around the tightly-packed cots to the cupboards on the starboard wall, grabbing the half-empty bottle of rum off the counter there. Tipping the bottle back, he took a swig and leaned back against the counter to watch the brunette woman work on the gunner's arm.
"Put the bottle down, Sketch. Brenna doesn't appreciate you drinking her supplies," Krystina called over her shoulder to him.
"She's gonna give it to me when she sees my shoulder, anyway," he muttered, scowling upon hearing the waver in his own voice as he spoke. It might have been the pain or it might have been the blood loss, but he was certain the room was tipping, and not in the way that he had grown used to on the ship. He took a second swig just for good measure before setting the bottle aside. His left hand remained on the counter, bracing him there as his balance no longer felt trustworthy.
Krystina did not reply, though the scowl was easy to see despite his eyes playing tricks on him. Her attention was focused fully on Striker as she set aside the bloody cloths and directed him to lay down.
"Arceus' sakes, woman," Striker hissed the moment she began moving his arm. To her credit, she seemed to completely tune out the string of curses that followed as she popped his shoulder back into place.
The young woman offered Striker a bottle of rum that had been sitting on the floor beside the cot. He snatched it from her grip, draining the last couple of mouthfuls before dropping the bottle back to the floor and collapsing back against the cot.
"Ah, well done. Now that that arm is back in place, let's show you how best to wrap it in a sling." Sketch and Krystina both turned their attention on the doorway as Brenna swept into the room carrying a bundle of supplies, a chimecho floating along just behind her. Her salt-and-pepper hair was knotted on top of her head, pieces beginning to fray and come free. Lines fanned out from her eyes and her tawny skin was tanned and weathered from many years in the sun.
The older woman turned her attention on Sketch, spotting him standing against the counter as she stepped further into the room. Her eyes focused immediately on the wet shirt cloth clinging to his right shoulder, the blood soaking it turning the navy blue material an inky black colour. Brenna made a clicking sound with her tongue as she strode over to him, her hand gentle but firm as she turned him to get a better look at his wound.
"Striker. You will lay on that cot and not move until we have had time to bind that shoulder of yours, do you hear me?" she called out, not bothering to look back at the man on the cot.
"Aye, ma'am," Striker grunted, not looking terribly disappointed at the news.
"Come. Sit." Brenna set the supplies she had been carrying on the counter and guided Sketch to an old chair, her steady hand holding his good arm.
The older woman turned to give Krystina directions while Sketch took a seat straddling the chair. While he listened to the two women move about discussing and grabbing what they needed, Sketch began unbuttoning his waistcoat and shirt. The waistcoat was easy enough to slip off so he dropped it to the floor in front of him. The cuts in it were noticeable, but the edges were clean. Salvageable. The thinner material of the shirt, however, was plastered to his back, pulling at the wounds when he moved.
"Here."
The bottle of rum he had been drinking from before appeared before him. He accepted the drink from Krystina, swallowing a mouthful before setting it down within reach.
"Careful," Sketch hissed as they started pulling the shredded cloth of his shirt out of the cuts.
"You have made a mess of this," Brenna informed him, her voice matter-of-fact as she finished freeing his shirt from his skin. The tattered piece of clothing was dropped to the floor, leaving Sketch bare from the waist up. "Were you aware that there is gravel in here?"
"This is going to hurt," Krystina warned him as one of the two women poured rum over his cuts.
The pain was searing and instant as the alcohol ran over the open wounds. Sketch's knuckles turned white as he gripped the back of the chair. Had he not been clenching his jaw so tightly he might have shouted at the pair for their poor idea of a warning.
While they continued to work, cleaning out the wound with more alcohol and damp cloths, Sketch bowed his head and tried to focus on anything other than the fire in his shoulder. His hands were becoming numb where they gripped the chair, a combination of the rum and the tightness of his grip. Below him, he could feel the ship as it leaned with each wave that it cut through. They were still moving. They must have been at least a few miles off the coast by that point, heading whatever direction Captain Greyson had in mind now.
Thinking about the ship's direction turned his thoughts back to the captain and their trip into Lilycove City. It had been enlightening, but he was certain the captain had taken far more away from it than he had. He had questions for Captain Greyson, not the least of which being how in Groudon's blazes she knew one of the king's advisors. He had been on the ship nearly six years, working his way up from cabin boy to first mate, and he had never heard any of the crew mention such a relationship.
He likely wouldn't get any answers from the captain herself, either. She would tell him whatever she wished to share and keep her secrets to herself.
Brenna was in the middle of demonstrating the proper way to stitch wounds when he heard boots on the steps outside the sick bay. At least three sets. The door opened, and Victor's three new gunners walked through.
Theresa leaned against the wall while the other two milled about awkwardly. They were waiting for him. Likely Victor's idea to send them to him first. Sketch sighed, reaching down for the rum bottle. All he wanted was a nap, but when Brenna was finished, he would have to walk them through their orientation to the ship.
He could only hope that Victor had not chosen poorly.
Credit for the character of Krystina and her pokémon goes to Shadow Serenity 57. :)
Thanks for reading~