#1: Irreverent to Mystery Dungeon, a total farce, utterly disrespectful to lore, a slap in the face to true fans. Just a big ol' joke. Like, humans are in this story and it's normal. They just are! I cannot explain it.

#2: VERY GAY.

#3: The T rating is for mild cursing and some sexual humor, but nothing obscene or mean spirited.

#4: Episodic! Some episodes may be a couple chapters long, or just one chapter long, or however many they take. I just write 'em when they strike my fancy.

Hope you enjoy. c:

Gate's Open Y'all - Part 1 of 2

Mystery Dungeon Town! It's a bustling village these days, some neighborly hamlet grown over the years from all kinds of folks mixed up together, pokemons and humans alike—a busy sort of small town full to the brim with the kind of adventures that just take some good ole fashioned stirring up to uncover, where every ole street surely hides its own secrets for the folks willing to go peeking under stones for 'em. A town just waiting for the right folks to go peeking.

Please picture in your head right now the sound of plucking strings, as though some banjo twangs slowly so far over this scene—as just right now, two strangers step off the public transit of a rickety Bouffalant-drawn cart, some tiny cloud of dust billowing 'round their feet as they take their first step together into what they surely know already to be the start of their very own adventure. The Bouffalant don't bid them goodbye, as his big hooped headphones are playing their big house-trance mix loud enough he don't have to hear his charges' prattle anytime on the way, so as soon as these strangers are off the cart, he rattles on back down the road his own merry way.

Picture these strangers thusly: one of them a Pikachu, some little yellow fella with a roguish grin as smart as the flashy red bandana tied 'round his neck. Beside him, a Gardevoir lass four and a half times or so taller than he, poised exactly like how you already picture them Gardevoirs just naturally maintain, wearing that genuine smile like she understands the same adventure about to unfold here.

This Pikachu swipes a thumb over his nose, looking surely quite cool doing so, and without looking up he says, "Bar first?"

And this Gardevoir glances down his way, and she nods, hums some affirmative little "Mhm!"

Now the kind of place this town looks like, that spirit it's wearing on its brick and plaster sleeve—walking down this wide main street, it's got that short, huddled look of homely houses bunched up all side by side, no space for alleys or yards to squeeze between. Got that western sort of color set to the paint around here, muted and sunburnt, like might be in some desert town if not for those green oak canopies sprawling out from behind plenty of roofs in sight.

Might be a small town, and it surely is, but there ain't no place here for neighbors to get away with not saying hello as they pass by on their errands or their work, and as our strangers travel down this way, there's no less 'an three such folks peering back and staring at them as they pass, checking these newcomers they ain't met just yet.

Town like this, already downright cozy, it don't take no time finding the watering hole in.

'Bout a minute more, the Gardevoir's the one pushing open some old-timey saloon doors, and the Pikachu just mosies on in beside her, not even scraping his ears under that fresher red paint gussied on them doors above him.

Now, there's some folks lounged in here already at their chosen tables or hunched over the bar counter, course, and they're just a mix of the kind you might find anywhere. There's some grumpy Cacturne, some Electabuzz grumbling beside her, a Drowzee and a Ribombee both half gone, some Sirfetch'd off in the corner just sipping so far—that's them sort. On the other side of the counter serving all them sorts, there's the tavernkeep lady, some human woman with her hair tied up nice and neat, healthy and a little stocky, a look in her like Asian, could be Malay or thereabouts but that's her business, but she's wearing one of them ruffly work dresses with poofy short sleeves you only do find in such a rural town as so.

She's where our strangers stroll their way up to, the Pikachu climbing his way on up a stool of his own and making himself comfortable, sprawling an elbow over the bar and his grin all the way across it. He gives this tavernkeep the look. That mirror-practiced kind. Whatever you picture, that's surely the one.

Gardevoir stands beside him, both their luggage loaded up in an old sky blue hardshell suitcase clutched in both her hands. She don't settle just yet, just smiles that same direction as the Pikachu, a kind of smile that looks much more pleasantly natural.

Tavernkeep gives her littler customer a look back first, but she takes a good glance between 'em both before a second. She's wiping the insides of some big stein, and that's what she keeps doing.

So this Pikachu clears his throat, and when he speaks, it's something like a squeak affected down to gravelly. With that look going on.

"You're probably wondering why such mysteriously good-looking strangers such as the two of ourselves just sauntered into your establishment, eh, ma'am?"

He pushes his paw closer over the bar, wiggles his tiny digits like an invitation for contact. Tavernkeep don't oblige.

"But you don't have to wonder," that Pikachu says. He wiggles some more. "I'll let you in on our secret."

The Gardevoir of the two does rest their suitcase on the floor now, clasps her hands together in front of her real ladylike and all that whatnot. But that Pikachu's got some spiel left to go.

"We've just arrived in town from the big city, y'see, and we're looking for a very specific place for our very specific set of skills. Someplace like… a rescue team. —'s headquarters."

Tavernkeep sets down her stein and she says, "You aren't actually buying a drink, are you?"

"Oh, methinks that part depends," the Pikachu chuckles. "Can you mix an Irish Car Bomb?"

"No."

"Then also no."

About now the Gardevoir pipes up, gestures her pointer finger in the air with a question toward the tavernkeep: "What about a Hurricane? Like the drink, like, rum, vodka, orange juice…"

"No."

Gardevoir lowers her finger quick, says even quicker, "Okay."

Pikachu shores himself up on his stool and waves his paw through the air like dismissing something, pshawing it. He says, "Hey now, you're a busy, beautiful lady, we get it. We won't be in your hair too long here. Not unless I… might be reading you wrong?"

"You're not."

"Okay, not a problem," he says some more, holding his paws up in surrender. "Message received. You're saying no, and I hear it loud and clear. And prolly you'll come around so whatevs it's cool."

"I definitely—"

"So are any rescue teams hiring around here, ma'am? Is my question. Which we can pay for with getting one little drink, if you insist the need be."

"Doubt it. Haven't heard they needed any more bodies."

This Pikachu grins at her 'bout three seconds more before his lips turn to sucking air a second longer. But his tone don't change from smooth as silk as he asks, "And where might we find some rescue teams to manually confirm that, would you know…?"

"You came here without looking that up first?"

"Technically that's accurate."

Tavernkeep takes herself a deep breath here. She rolls her eyes and don't hide that. But she says, "The mayor is in charge of rescue hires. Facing out from my door, her office is the first right, then another right. Then keep going down that way. You'll probably see it."

Pikachu smiles big and slaps the counter extra hard like got it! And most the whole tavern including both his Gardevoir companion and the tavernkeep jumps, 'cause that's not the sort of thing you actually do, little fella. Pretty rude.

"Message received, indeed!" he says anyway. "Thank you kindly, ma'am. We'll go see about our business there, but depending on how things go, maybe we'll find the time to stop by again sometime soon, really kick our feet up."

Tavernkeep don't say nothing about "please do" or some such. Just settles back again and frowns small enough that she can't be bothered. And this Pikachu strums his digits and wiggles his eyebrows toward her a last time before he sorts himself back on down the stool, mosies himself back the way he came.

He does that, now, but the Gardevoir stays put just a little longer here. She picks their suitcase up just as quiet and quaint as she set it down, but leans in over the bar for herself, whispers to the tavernkeep, "If you turned him down because you're gay, and he's a boy, and you're a really pretty girl who's not into boys, I'd be happy to listen to your troubles about all the inconsiderate men hitting on you when all you want is for them to leave you alone because you only like women."

She smiles big and bright and pearly white as she just possibly can, eyes shining.

Tavernkeep says, "About all I'd like right now is for you to help pay my bills."

Gardevoir shuts up and soaks that in.

"You mean, like… sharing bills…?"

"No."

"Okay."

No, all right, yeah, this Gardevoir turns back that same way toward them swinging doors too. She's the one taking a hint pretty good.

But just before she or that Pikachu push them doors back open, or otherwise get to leaving, the tavernkeep calls out, "Hey."

Both these strangers turn back, and the tavernkeep folds her arms peaceably.

"Are you two sticking around town?"

It's the Gardevoir of the two strangers who replies, "We sure want to, if we can get rescue jobs."

Tavernkeep got the look in her eye like she's holding back from rolling them again, but she sighs, and she says like angling to get two new regulars later after all, "What's your names?"

The Pikachu of the two smirks real good, swipes his thumb over his nose, poses into crossing his arms with the afternoon sun glinting over his shoulder. He don't say nothing, rather gives this excellent moment to his compatriot, and she smiles warm and extra friendly again.

"My name's Sex Machine!" she just about chirps. "Or Sexy for short. And this is my big brother Call Me Maybe. Thank you again for the directions, miss! Wish us luck!"

"Uh-ah-ah," this Call Me Maybe fella says with three tuts of his paw. "Don't wish us that. We won't need it."

Tavernkeep makes this real thin line with her lips. She don't give a goodbye after all. She's got some other stein to polish.

But for Sexy and Maybe, they push them swinging doors open, and it's back out into the wild new yonder for them, wherever their adventure takes them next.

And some few steps back out in the street, balancing that suitcase along in both her hands, Sexy says, "She was kind of out of your league, anyway."

Maybe pshaws again, fiddles his bandana straight after all that shuffling about up and down the stool.

"Well our Mom is outta our Dad's league, but here I am. Sometimes you just gotta shoot your shot."

Sexy don't say nothing to that, but she mutters with a queerer smile fading on her lips, "But I guess that means she was out of my league anyway, too…."

Don't take 'em no more time than that to get a move on, and barely longer than that is finding the first right, then another right they take toward—some little market district down this way, looks like. Got more signs and nameplates printed up over the businesses and open-gate storefronts as they pass, and most the buildings are a floor taller for homes sittin' above the stores, plenty of space to live and work no matter the work. Got that shopper's ambience here, surely, sounds of chatting and haggling from down most the street as Maybe and Sexy weave somewhat around these other pedestrians about their business.

And there's even a printing press down this way, look at that! Maybe and Sexy both stop to gawk at that a minute, just getting a look. It's about the biggest operation on this street they can see, not just some skinny shop but a big wide garage-looking interior full to the brim with some well-loved industrial printers, and the big ole gate out front's rolled up so it's all on open display while a few technical workers tend these machines, not minding nobody watching.

Now it's a neat sight to be sure, but there just ain't enough there to gawk at more than a minute. So Sexy's the first to turn back toward the street, looking around some more—until Maybe taps her shin, pauses her.

He's looking next to the presses.

Right beside, there's some office entrance—a newspaper's, looks like, some scratch-marked glass and metal door leading inside with some kid-made paper decorations taped up near the top of the glass, real small-town sort of charming. "MDT Sunday Bugle Offices," what it says on the sign above the door.

And right underneath that sign there's some littler one put up that reads "また、町長の事務所 ↓", and one last littlest sign right underneath that one that reads in one long scrawled line "ALSO MAYOR'S OFFICE ↓", and it don't look nearly as legible that small as it must so appear here.

Well, Sexy squares right back up after all and Maybe fixes his bandana real straight again, pulls them little creases tighter so they don't show so much. Him in particular, don't got that sense he's playing around no more. Time for business.

"How do I look?"

Sexy looks him down, and she just kind of…

"Like a boy?"

"Like a boy in—charge…? Like a—forget it, I'm know I'm lookin' good," Maybe mutters, and his grin's already coming back up good and smug.

He gets the door this time—braces his feet, takes a breath, hops up real good and nabs that metal bar. Dangles from it a second, scrabbles his feet against the glass, don't do nothing.

Hops back down. Points that grin up at Sexy.

"Gave it a shot. Your turn."

She shuffles their suitcase into one hand again and pulls the door right open.

Just following the directions from one more list of nameplates by the skinny little stairwell that's all there is inside leading to the offices, Maybe and Sexy both tromp up the two flights of creaky wood stairs to the very top floor, slow and loud. Pass by some real nicer-looking doors on the way, but up at the top, here's where they want—Unit 3A. And this door's already open.

Poking their heads in, it's not even wider than the stairwell in here, kind of place must be tough finding somebody willing to rent it. Most either wall's stuffed with filing cabinets, and sprawled on them is messy binders of every color available, messy as in some of the papers clipped inside weren't laid just right so their crisp tips are poking out the binder's sides every which way, so whatever them important documents may be, now they're dogeared forever, ain't no smoothing out ever goin' fix 'em later.

Middle of this little office there's some tall scooted-open room divider hiding the far wall from view, and before that's a cute little desk squeezed in between two such filing cabinets where a secretary-sort human's got herself sat, somebody real put together, somewhat Caucasian, maybe a little bit of Turkic, by her look? Got these cheery dimples on show as she types away on some typewriter like secretary folk don't do much these days just about anywhere.

Well, there's some couple of spindly folding chairs shoved in the closest corner for visitors, at least, though nothing fit for wider-bodied pokemons if they ever come to visit. But Maybe and Sexy ain't here to wait for reception.

Sexy pokes a hand in too, knocks on the door anyway. Secretary lady glances up at her and her big brother both, then looks right on back down toward her typewriter business. She holds up a pointer finger to the visitors real quick before darting it back down.

"One moment, please, just finishing this scene."

She tippy-taps a bunch more, just a few seconds, and—grins to herself, pulls her hands back into twining 'em nice and neat, switches to looking up more pleasant at Maybe and Sexy both.

"Yes? How can I help you?"

Don't let that stop him—Maybe pulls a fist to his mouth and clears his throat, steps right inside ahead of Sexy now.

"We're here to see the mayor," he do declare. "We don't have an appointment, but it's about rescue business, ma'am. Won't take long, I'm sure."

"Oh-h-h-h," this secretary says long and careful, like sort of curious, that kind of way. And she leans back in her squeaky swivel chair toward the room divider, and she knocks twice on that, rattling the whole thing. "Two visitors, mistress. Send them in?"

Not skipping a beat, it's some real pristine voice coming from the other side that says calm and quick, "They may enter."

Secretary lady smiles real professional back at Maybe and Sexy. "Y'all can go on in."

It's just—well it's one little moment of hesitation, but okay, Maybe and Sexy get on that. Maybe at the lead, so he leads them 'round this divider into the true office, the head honcho's space—

It's a card table. It's a card table and another folding chair and that's how the mayor's got herself set up.

But besides that little touch, there's a genuine copper nameplate sitting up front her table-desk—Mayor Akinyele Back, that says—and this mayor's bent neatly over some real paperwork, scribbling between some big stacks of looseleaf documents on her either side while her massive floppy ears spill down beside her button-nose face. Just a glance up at her guests, and it's clear pink irises spooled up in deep black eyes that meet their gazes, sharp and serious.

This here's a Mega Lopunny. Her glowing mega stone's sat right next to her nameplate.

Well, Maybe don't let that sort of intimidating presence stop him. He speaks up real confident anyway, says, "Ma'am—"

"She said mayor."

Maybe shuts it a second. Kind of halts. Mayor's already looking back down at her papers, scribbling some more before really getting to it. So, uh, Sexy says for her and her big brother both, more not that confident, "Hanh?"

Mayor points back through the divider with her available hand. "My assistant. You misheard her a moment ago. She said 'mayor.'"

Nowhere for guests to sit over on this side of the office, so Maybe and Sexy both mostly just stand there, not thinking much of how to respond now. So Maybe says, "Oh."

"Mhm," mayor says. She uncrosses her legs from under her table-desk and just crosses 'em back the other way, giving her tights-lookin' right leg a turn on top. And now she sets her pen down, looks up at her guests proper. "What had you been saying? Continue, please."

Well that regains their senses. Sexy pulls herself up as straight as is relatively possible for her, and Maybe cools back off and lifts his voice, squeaking real smoother now, "Right, that! Y'see, Mayor Back—"

"Mayor Akinyele."

"—Mayor Akinyele, you can call me Maybe. This is my sister—she's Sexy. We've just arrived in your fair town, ma'am, and a little birdie told us that you're the one who—"

"It was a human, actually," Sexy adds.

"—Okay well yes, a human lady told us that you're the honcho to see about something very important to us: rescue business. You're the management, right? The boss. For hiring on new rescuers."

Mayor stares them both down.

"That would be me, yes."

Maybe opens his yap to keep talking, but the mayor holds up one authoritative finger to stop him. She's not done.

"You want to join a rescue team?"

She lowers the finger and motions back toward Maybe, clasping her hands over her paperwork now.

Well, Maybe says, "That's absolutely right, ma'am. We're ready to accept the heavy responsibility and the very genuine danger that comes with a job like that. We've trained for it! We're ready."

Mayor just blinks. Stares. She's one of them stoic ones.

"Why?"

Maybe chuckles, crosses his tiny arms real smug and good. He nods up toward his little sister, says, "You explain."

Sexy says, "We've always thought it sounded really neat! Ever since we were children."

And she don't say nothing else. But her smile's a gem.

Maybe says, "Okay, I'll explain."

He clears his throat again, raises a lazy paw and swirls it around like gesturing real clever, and he says, "Ma'am—"

"Mayor."

"—Mayor, my sister and I grew up back in the big city. It's where we're from. But that's not our blood, not really. Ever since we were little tykes, we've had a purpose burning in us that we could only do something about in a small town like yours, someplace with mystery, with danger, where it takes real training and a true willingness to risk—"

"Nyit. No. Start over."

Mayor shuts him up with a gesture, too, lifting her hands beside either of her long floppy ears.

"It's going, just—in one ear and out the other. Too many words. Let's get to the point."

Maybe takes a deep breath, okay. Ain't no problem. He cools his jets just what he needs and says clearer, "We want to make a difference with our lives, mayor. We trained at an accredited dojo back in the city, and we're ready to face the danger that joining a rescue team brings. We want that chance! We can take it."

"We're also college-educated!" Sexy says. "Maybe didn't bring his resume, he said he wouldn't need it, but I did just in—no? Is that a no…?"

Mayor's expression don't much change, staring down Sexy right now. But then she stares down Maybe, and it still don't change, but at the same time it's a real firm look she's giving him.

"You kept saying 'danger.'"

Now she narrows her eyes.

"As though you have any idea what kind of danger we face here."

Maybe holds his grit, and Sexy gulps a real lump down her throat.

Just as calm as she do, the mayor says, "There are only two rescue teams left in my town. The rest have disbanded. I suppose word doesn't reach the city so often of what we face out here, so close to the wild—the two teams we have left are the only ones capable of withstanding the monotony of the job."

Maybe blinks now. Sexy says for the both of them a little higher pitched this time, "Hanh?"

"There is zero danger here," mayor says. "Extremely none. In our town, the most that rescue teams usually have to do is rescue all of the cat pokemon who scramble up trees chasing god knows what, and then they look down and they see how far they've climbed, and they sob and they cry and they scream, 'I have no idea how this happened, it's a great mystery, please save me!' Again. Three times this week and counting, that ridiculous child."

Maybe licks one dry lip and stutters, "Well, okay, um, what—what about the wild? Dangers out in the wild?"

"What about them?"

"Are there any there?"

"No."

Maybe purses his lips. He could be staring dead into the mayor's eyes or right through 'em, hard to tell. Sexy opens her mouth a second, says—nothing really, can't figure it out either. She zips it, twiddles her fingers around the handle of their suitcase.

But the mayor brightens her tone real quick now. "But if joining a rescue team is your goal, that's fine. I have room for you both in the town budget. Approved."

There's still a waver to his frown, but Maybe catches up to that quick, snaps to it. "Oh—really? I mean, yeah, that's what we want! But, I mean, when you say 'usually' have to do…?"

That slant to his brow, too, the mayor sees that. She says more casual, "There are actual missions to complete as well, occasionally. I can't think of any of those off the top of my head, but we keep teams on hand exactly for such. Someday you'll provide a civic service if you keep with it."

All right, well, Maybe ponders. He clicks his tongue, looks to the floor, looks up to his little sister. Gives her that anxious kind of frown, more like…

"We do, right…?"

"We'd still like to join a rescue team, yes!" Sexy do declare as well, squeezing their suitcase tight, baring down her most focused look across that table-desk. "Thank you very much, Mayor Akinyele! Where should we go to—meet our new teammates, or something like that?"

Mayor's already leaning back in her chair and stretching her back real graceful, wincing and humming through it a second. But then she says, "Mm? Mm. Regarding that, I suppose you two should join… Rescue Team Beethoven, I think. Fewer complications with them. It's a short way there, but I don't wish you to make a wrong turn—"

Leaning forward normal again, now the mayor closes a fist and raps on the room divider with the back of her knuckles, shaking it real bad.

"Miss Down In It? Write them directions to Beethoven's headquarters, if you would, pet."

Some 'nother hum comes from the other side, then the little noises of some typewriter bits clanking and paper r-r-r-ipping away off it and some fresh tippy-tapping from them keys—sounds like Maybe and Sexy got their directions coming. But they don't really—just can't figure out what they're supposed to say or do next, sort of looks on their faces.

So Maybe, he just kind of says, "Should we… get that from her? Just grab that from her, and… should we go?"

"Mhm," mayor says, settling herself back in already for wrangling her documents, writing down sumpin 'nother important in 'em. Ain't looking back up to her guests no more.

Except right when Maybe and Sexy both turn again for slipping around this divider, getting a move on—

"I didn't call her that. You're incorrect."

They pause, both look back to the mayor with—still not sure what look to make, about. Mayor only glances back over at them between scribbling.

"I'm somewhat concerned with your hearing, at this point," she says, swirling a finger by one floppy ear. "You keep hearing things. It's concerning. It concerns me."

Just can't figure out nothing more to say to that.

Mayor gets back to her papers, anyway. Not looking up again, she says just as plain, "Oh well. Enjoy our humble town's hospitality, we all hope you'll love it here. Do tell your friends. Ta ta."

Like that—that's about it.

Grab that paper the secretary lady hands to 'em with a smile, wave some polite goodbye, clomp on down them stairs back out onto the busy street, and there's some faint buzzing noise in the air now from those printing presses beside.

But out here, back under the sun, they don't really get a move on nowhere else just yet.

Muggy out here, did they notice that before? Getting muggy.

Maybe's the one hanging on to this crisply-typed sheet of paper, giving it a look-see, and there just ain't no excited look he can give this thing as he reads down it.

Sexy holds on to their suitcase in both hands again, just clutching it for something to do with her fingers, looking down at her big brother with an expression like she'd rather something else be cheering them on about now, too.

Well, she musters some positive tone anyway.

"I guess it's not that way in stories…" she starts, "but I feel like in real life, at least, the grandest adventures really do come to those who—who, um, like—I mean, come to those who want them, but not just want them, like—I mean—"

Stumbles through the kind of pause she don't mean, and her lips stutter through all shapes looking for the words.

"More like—you know? The kind of people who are really willing to, um, wait patiently? But not just wait for them, that's not what I mean. The grandest kind of adventures, um, for those who aren't expecting them—well, more like—it, um…."

A tiny paw pats against her knee, how high it can reach, and that's Maybe. Sexy halts, and Maybe looks back up to her with something like a wry smirk, some softened brotherly now that's my sister.

"Adventures don't just get mailed out," he squeaks all gravelly, like there's a higher spirit back in his voice. "We gotta go and find them ourselves."

Sexy's whole face perks back up, no mustering about it.

"Right!"

And Maybe grins. Like he's just full of himself again, just like he should be, he offers his open paw up toward his little sister and says, "Shall we?"

And Sexy droops her own grin back down some, says, "Well, no, that'd—I'm not a Kirlia anymore, big brother, that would just strain my back now."

"Right," Maybe says just as confident, withdrawing that offer. He smacks his paws over his hips and swings on his tiny heel back toward the street. "Let's just—okay then. Let's go."

And just like that, they're off!

With Maybe leading their way, they trot on down several more roads following this personal sort of treasure map, winding their way down main streets and then side streets until they're surely not in the center of town no more, and pretty soon they're pattering past the last of these bunched-together shops and apartments into a wider sort of space.

Right here, what stretches before them is a wide open field. The outskirts. Just one giant oak tree sprawls out nearby from the side of this bumpier dirt road ahead, and still off in the distance is what farmland belongs to the town, not too far off, but a couple farmhouses and the phone lines trailing off toward 'em are all the structures or objects they spy yonder. Nothing headquarters-lookin' nowhere.

Here, as brother and sister both putter down to the pace of a leisurely stroll, Maybe lifts and lowers his gaze between the field and their directions, narrowing as he goes.

"…'left at the blue-brick apartment, then continue on straight for forty meters until you're at the big tree past town. You have now reached your destination,'" he reads off real careful.

He and Sexy both stroll to a stop right below this tree, all right, and the both of them look around pretty empty about here. With nothing else to see, Maybe glares right on up this massive thing's trunk.

"Unless they set up shop in some kind of treehouse, these directions are borked."

"Oh, what if they did?" Sexy says. "That'd be… neat, at least. Maybe they really did? The only other thing I see here is this lemonade stand—wait a minute."

"Oh goddammit."

Well, technically, there is also a little lemonade-lookin' stand next to the tree, yup, one nice shady branch hanging over it. And now that either of them are paying this thing any attention, there's some block text written on the front of it, little placard hanging at the end for the last word of it, and that reads, "The Rescue Team Is [Out]".

Sexy peers dead on at that stand and its sign a long time, just like Maybe does. Long time. But then Sexy bursts alive again saying, "Oh-h-h-h, I get it! It's a reference, Maybe, I get this one—"

And just now, just loud enough to interrupt her, there's some other voice piping up from behind these two, something naturally lower, a friendly sort of voice that don't take no affectation to get it that low.

"Hello there? Uncommon that we get visitors, and I haven't seen you two around town before. Do you need some rescue help?"

Maybe and Sexy turn back toward the road, and here approaching them is not one but three folks ambling down their way—and by the sight of them it's a queer group to be sure, thank god.

Walking at this party's left is a Lucario, long flat tongue lickin' on an ice cream cone he's got held up high enough for somebody else to be lickin' the same, a tiny li'l Joltik hanging on his shoulder. On the right is a Spinda, this fella struck with a long old scar down one eye, downright cinematic, although it's somehow—it ain't clear if that eye… works, if it still works, or not, somehow…? Or it don't…?

But on their approach, it is exactly this Spinda smiling broad and gentlemanly at their visitors, another ice cream clutched more leisure-like in his paw, and he's the one whose mouth ain't full of a big lick of it just now.

So Maybe squares up, takes a deep breath. And he takes one step ahead of Sexy toward this new group, and now he's the one do declaring again, "We're not looking for any help, sir—we're looking to help. Just came from the mayor's, and we're here to sign on with you! She said yes."

None of these three much react to that. Nonplussed, the look they all got. But a second for it to soak in, and that Lucario in particular frowns, rubs his free hand over his neck like shucks. More country-boy tone, or some cosmopolitan mixed in there, he's the one who swallows down his licking and speaks up now.

"Oh, I'm sorry… this isn't a lemonade stand we're running, you see. We're actually a rescue team."

Maybe keeps his grin up and, uh—peeks up at Sexy, who just shrugs back down at him. So he just grins back toward the party of three. "Mmm-hm? Right. That."

"Right, that," the Lucario repeats slower, lifting an eyebrow. "We're not the viable business we look like. We're just a rescue team. We can't hire you to sell lemonade because we don't sell any ourselves. Do you see what I'm saying?"

Just to himself Maybe mutters, "Oh it's like a bit, no, I get it now. Okay. No I get it. It's good. Good one."

And Sexy bends down a few inches closer, saying just to her big brother, "I don't get it."

Well, louder again, Maybe crosses his little arms and says to everybody, "Yes, thank you, we want to join your rescue team, is the end of the joke, is the thing that I'm saying. We got credentials, permission, and we are horny for teamwork, there's a frickin' reference for you. All good?"

By the face he makes, reality now dawns upon this Lucario. Goes from this quick awe to this big ole friendly smile, but beside him, that Spinda takes back up the conversin' mantle.

"Truly?" he says, just this real pleasant depth to his tone. "Well, that's quite a treat. I'll be honest, it doesn't happen very often."

Just this small tic to his grin, but Maybe says, "I definitely believe you."

Don't notice no hostility between nobody, so the Spinda steps on up and offers the paw of his not dripping ice cream down his knuckles. He says, "My name is Legend Has It. As its leader, allow me to welcome you to Rescue Team Beethoven. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss and Mister…?"

Maybe shakes paws first. "Call Me Maybe! Or just call me Maybe. We plan to make waves around here, so we're ready to work hard."

"I'm Sexy," Sexy says, leaning farther down and taking the Spinda's paw next. "Sex Machine, technically. I'm his sister! Nice to meet you… is just Legend okay?"

"I prefer it," Legend says. Quicklike he motions back toward his companions with the paw holding his cone, splatting both its scoops into the dirt. "The tall strapping one here is my gorgeous husband Death Yon, and that's our dear teammate A Pearl. It was only the three of us before you two came, so you've now met the whole team."

That Lucario, meanwhile, ambles on around everybody and flips their little placard proper over to "[In]". Then he stands back tall, offers a single cheery wave to Maybe and Sexy with that great big smile of his. "Just Yon, here!"

And that li'l Joltik skitters around over onto Yon's other shoulder, keeping up a long look at these newcomers, particularly Sexy, and now she speaks up with this mild squeak she don't affec-tate none. "And I'm—well, he said that already, so, um, nice to meet you, I'm Pearl! I mean, but he already—okay never mind."

Her eyes don't wander too comfortably as she sucks on her tiny lip, ponders her choices a second—'til she thinks to say toward Maybe, "Oh, I liked your frickin' reference!"

"Thank you ma'am, 's a little cliquey but I feel good about it," Maybe sniffs. And at Legend, he says, "So what's left on the agenda? The rescue agenda? What do we… what's left today, what's the plan?"

"Nothing much now," Legend says. But he ho-hums, too, thinks it over a little careful a second. "The most we usually have to do is decide someplace nice to brunch, if we feel appropriately boujee for it, or else just get a snack, as so today."

"Well," Pearl squeaks again, looking away bashful somewhat from Sexy now, "on weekends I work over at the used book store, too, so. If you… read much, I mean, then that'd be where—I'm there, too."

To that, Yon pipes back in and says, "And she's got great recommendations, even the weird ones. Classic bookworm!"

"–spider," Sexy whispers.

Missing that line of talk, seems, Legend at least don't get distracted none from what's on his mind as he offers over his cone between Maybe and Sexy with that same gentlemanly smile. "Speaking of it, I wasn't likely to finish this anyway if either of you—dear god, it's gone…!"

And he retreats his cone for sudden investigation, so Yon perks up again in his stead, says, "But hey, that's not all we do—sometimes we snack, and sometimes we spar! When the mood's right. Pearl doesn't like sparring with me very often, so if either of you are up for a round, I am. Now or anytime."

Oh, see, Maybe's grin fades quick at that idea—and a smirk replaces it. He squats his little legs just that bit lower without bothering saying nothing. Don't need to say nothing.

Sexy keeps smiling just perfectly nice, don't seem to get involved in this one, or else even notice the invitation.

And Yon—he smiles slimmer too, more focused, circles back onto the road across from the newbies. Pearl—she more like rolls her eyes just a little, springs off his shoulder over onto the rescue stand while she still can. And Legend's already out the way from between everybody, retracing his steps toward the other direction from that comin' battlefield.

"I like that expression," Yon says as he crouches deeper. "It tells me you're ready in the only way that matters. That's good! Show me what you can do."

And beside Maybe, Sexy raises one hand flat and psychic rocket-blasts Yon in an instant, blows him down half the road toward them farmhouses in the distance, tumbling and rolling and pluming up big ole clouds of dirt the whole way he goes until he lands in a giant dusty heap, like a cuter sort of bomb gone off.

Uncommon look of surprise all over Maybe's face, staring through the path of dust and debris, before he turns that look up at Sexy, smiling all dandy at her work, wrapping both hands down 'round their suitcase again.

Turning that look into a big ole frown, Maybe either squeaks or hollers too, "What the hell, what was that for? I was fighting him!"

Sexy pouts all of a sudden now, just some. "Oh… it wasn't a two-on-one?"

"No it wasn't a two-on-one, how is that fair?"

"I thought he was—it seemed like he was implying it, right? Like 'I can take you both on'…?"

Maybe gawks up at her and lifts his paws up by his head like how could you think like how you're thinking, and Sexy looks back toward the road, calls out down to Yon, "Sorry!"

But Yon picks himself back up just fine way over there. Pushes up off his butt, dusts his shoulders, calls back, "No, fair enough, uh, I didn't specify who I meant should show me what they could do! I'm okay…!"

"Well, look at that. Good to know it's two more fighters we have on the team," Legend chuckles from behind, just nibbling now at his damp empty cone as he comes back. "Don't worry about Yonny, he's quite durable—he has me well outmatched in that regard."

And meanwhile to that, Pearl's keeping an eye the other way from the action, something else catching her senses. And wait a second, is it—? By golly, it is.

Real cute for how much of a squeak it still is, Pearl looks back to the rest of the team and hollers, "Hey! We might have something to do today after all, look!"

Don't take convincing for everybody to turn that way the same, spy someone else coming through town right toward 'em.

Just puttering out now past the last of them closest apartments is a Pelipper on some sleek little motor scooter, kicking up a new little dust trail behind himself as he scoots along, and this fella's machine is painted red white and blue with a logo spelled out down the side in two separate lines, a thick ole "INSTANT MESSAGE SERVICES LLC." Got a little burlap satchel packed on the rack behind him, that kind for carrying hidden goodies.

Seeing that all on the way, Sexy smiles real big and turns down toward Maybe, lifting her pointer finger high like she's—

"Not mail!" Maybe says, folds his arms. "Doesn't count."

This Pelipper throttles to a slow by the rescue stand, anyway, right specifically by Legend. Not saying nothing, doesn't care that much, but the bird flips his satchel open and takes his good time rummaging through what little's in it before he flips a single envelope out, hands that down.

Yon jogs back 'bout just in time, and as that Pelipper's scooting his little mobile back 'round and puttering up to speed back into town, Legend hands this envelope on up to his hubby, who slits it open on his chest spike and hands it right back down.

Everybody gathers 'round for this. Pearl springs back on up Yon's shoulder to get a look, and Sexy comes up behind Legend's other side to read with him. Maybe ain't tall enough even to read over a shoulder, so… he don't do that, mostly just waits, frowns.

"Ahem," Legend begins, "'Dear Rescue Team Beethoven: Help, I am trapped in the mines, help. Please come quickly in order to save me. It is so scary down here. Help.'"

Pregnant pause sort of thing after he's finished reading. That's it.

And a little too excited for such dire news, just perhaps, Yon's the one smiling real big, and he do declare for the whole team assembled, "It's a rescue mission!"