Why are they all girls?

by Arrixam

Chase Rolan is dragged out of his world to go on some adventure straight out of an RPG. He must assemble a team of little girls, travel long distances with these little girls, and train them to pummel other little girls. There's singing, dancing, too much squeaking, catfights, questionable sexual innuendo... and blood. There will be blood. (MoeMon Universe!)

1. Chapter 1

AN: Because of my lack of Pokémon after Gen 2 (I only played up to Silver but followed the modern lore for some odd reason), I'm strictly using Red and Blue game versions. There will be the occasional reference to the other games, regions, anime, manga, movies, etc. But the entire story focuses on Kanto.

Thank you.

Now on with the show!

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"Incinerate!"

"HYPER BEAM!"

Two beams of energy clashed against another. The first was comprised of fire no thicker than an adult's fist. The second was a beam of cosmic radiance of every color as large as an adult's head.

His Incinerate technique should have torn through this bullshit. He was wearing his mask. It made all of his techniques conceptual. With it, he could have been able to burn fire if he imagined it. And he was imagining his technique piercing through this creature's and turning her skull to ash.

Chase growled in frustration when the collision created another combustion that knocked him back. His Researcher coat took most of the blunt force and his reinforcements through Aura allowed him to remain on his feet. He couldn't afford to get knocked on his ass.

There! There was the gap he needed!

The creature Lance had summoned was a winged woman. Her hair was gray with each strand woven out of petrified bone. She was a gorgeous creature with a beauty as lethal as her tenacity to tear him apart.

But her latest attack had weakened her. It had cost her something immense to counteract his techniques. She fell to the ground panting and drenched with sweat. Exhaustion struck her.

Chase was hardly winded. He was breathing hard from the adrenaline pumping through him. It was making him focused in his goal.

He accelerated forward, kicking off the ground with a burst of Aura below his feet. There were two blades of ice in his hands.

He passed by the Aerodactyl girl. She wasn't his target.

Lance stared straight at him for the first time. He didn't move. Alarms rang in Chase's head with how still the man was, still comfortable where he sat at the garden table. He looked so sure of himself that Chase's attack would never reach him.

It would have made anyone sensible to hesitate. To think this was a trap.

If he couldn't see the trap, then better for it to be sprung and remove it from play than to never know what was there in the first place.

It was such a foolish mistake. He was still too young to understand anything. He thought he knew everything after spending a few short years in the SITH-Acolyte War. He had barely learned the worst of it all.

"QUICK ATTACK!" Lance announced with his calm voice as Chase approached.

Chase had the wind knocked out of him and was feeling the vertigo. He only saw a blur of something gray come from his flank. Spinning in the air in weightlessness he realized it was the Aerodactyl.

The unforgiving ground hit him like a truck. Or he hit it. He wasn't sure.

"…I thought…" he growled as he tried to get back up. "You said four moves only…"

Chase had been keeping track. Supersonic, Take Down, Bite, and Hyper Beam. All of which were a pain in the ass to deal with. Even Bite. No, especially Bite. Aerodactyl might look like a harmless girl, but her jaw had been able to pierce through his ice armor.

And now there was Quick Attack…

Lance eyed him for a moment. He uncrossed his legs and stood from the table. "A Moemon may only learn four moves at a time, yes. But as the Champion, I am entitled to bend the rules a little bit when it is necessary. Such as in the case someone doesn't play by the rules."

Chase let his head hit the ground as he sighed in agitation. There was no point in trying to take the man's life again. Not with his Aerodactyl keeping a vigilant eye on him. It would probably attack him as soon as Chase tried to draw up some of his power.

His mask dissolved into mist and disappeared. But he still had Aura flowing through his body to be able to defend himself. He did try to take Lance's life a few times. And every time he was stopped by either the man's Aerodactyl or Dragonite. Those things might hold a grudge.

"If you are satisfied, will you join me so we may talk, Mr. Rolan?"

Though it was asked, the Aerodactyl grabbed Chase by the collar of his coat and flung him around. She was not gentle. With a flap of her wings and a tug of her arm did she transport him into the chair.

Lance eyed his servant with disapproval but she snorted at him in response. He shook his head at her before taking his own seat.

She began to serve them both tea with a gentle touch as though she hadn't just tried to manhandle the boy who tried to take her master's life.

"You're hurt," Lance observed.

It was a few cracked ribs. Chase was sending Aura through them to keep them from breaking and to dull the pain. It couldn't do much against the way his body moved stiffly.

"I'm fine," he protested.

"I would be a poor host if I didn't treat you well," Lance argued with a heavy frown. "Chansey, please come here and heal our guest."

"Fuck off with that," Chase snapped and slammed a fist on the table. It got him a glare from the Aerodactyl and he may have pulled his emotions back a bit. "I don't need you to do that. So help me if she so much as—"

The pink-haired girl scrambled out of the door of Lance's mansion in a frantic hurry. It was a teenage girl in a pink dress and white apron. As she ran towards him, her hands fiddled with the front pocket until she pulled out an egg.

"Don't even think about—" Chase started and tried to rise out of his chair.

He was shoved back down by the Aerodactyl.

Before he could do anything else, the Chansey cracked the egg on his skull and let the yolk fall all over him. His scowl intensified. He could have burned a hole through Lance's brow if he drew Aura to his eyes and summoned his mask again. But the Aerodactyl would hurt him before he could try. So, instead, he was forced to sit there and let the yolk wash down his face and soak into his skin.

This was the third time this Chansey had done that to him. And it was the third time she patted him affectionately on the head before bowing to Lance and returning to whatever duties she had in the mansion.

"You get a kick out of this, don't you?" he accused of Lance.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Lance said with a grim tone. Except, Chase could see the flicker of a smile in his eyes. "You're hurt and it's my responsibility as host to see you are properly taken care of. Moemon are not used to battle against humans. That would be against the League rules."

Chase wiped his face with his hand and flickering the rest of the gunk that didn't seep into his skin.

The Aerodactyl placed a cup of tea in front of him and went to her master's side. She stood at his back and slightly to the right. Her eyes never left Chase's profile.

"This is the third attempt," Lance began. He crossed his legs once more and cupped his hands onto his lap. "When I said you had to defeat me I didn't mean in this fashion. Are you willing to listen to the rules this time?"

"You dragged me out of my world and tell me to beat you," Chase growled. "Fuck your rules. I was going to beat your ass just for bringing me here. I have my own problems to deal with, Lance. I don't need to be playing your stupid game."

"The outcome will always be the same," Lance shrugged. "I have sealed all of your powers. You cannot use your Flame and Frost without using that mask of yours. I understand how expensive prolonged use of it can be."

Chase grumbled something incoherent under his breath. The man was right. The mask was one of his trump cards. It focused all of his Aura into a tight container. It was a catalyst that made his affinities for fire and ice into conceptual expressions. He could burn and freeze anything.

But, yes, it was expensive. It was like constantly trying to lift the maximum amount of weight for as long as possible.

He should have used his Crest. And, if needed, the Shadow. He wondered how they would have fared against the man's Moemon.

"Are you willing to listen to my proposal, Mr. Rolan?" Lance asked after his words had settled.

"Not particularly," Chase snapped… but then eyed the Aerodactyl. "But… I doubt I have much of a choice. What am I doing here?"

Lance nodded with approval, "This is the Kanto region. I am the League Champion of this select region. In this world, all matters are settled in a contest against Moemon. There is no human on human violence these days."

Chase blinked at that. "So… say if Bob slept with your wife. You're not going to bash his skull in with a bat? You're going to get your slave here to do it for you?"

"I'm neither married nor do I know who this Bob character is…"

Chase raised a brow at that.

Lance waved it off, "No, Mr. Rolan, I would do none of those things. First for the matter, if this wife of mine protested, she would challenge Bob to a Moemon Battle. If he was the victor, then it would be within his rights to sleep with her. If she won, then he must leave the premises and never try again. In the outcome if he were to win and proceed, then I would challenge him to reclaim honor. As Champion, I would devastate any opposition."

He said that with a feral grin.

Chase was scratching his head furiously. "Fucking seriously? You say that like you're ruining this guy for life."

"I would be," Lance responded with a clear and level voice. "Moemon Battles here mean everything. Perhaps to you, as you come from such a chaotic world without rules, it might seem like a silly childish game. To us, it is the law. To lose a Moemon Battle would be equal to… a thug losing credibility on the street, a lawyer losing a case, an athlete losing an important match… do you understand?"

"You're all crazy and stupid," he snapped back. "Seriously. What's stopping that one guy from getting angry and punching another guy? Or getting desperate and robs a store? Or, I don't know, starting a war?"

Lance looked at him with a wry smile, "We do have those disputes. But they are controlled. Very tightly controlled. Our society thrives off of Moemon Battles. It is a part of culture that reaches to all corners of the world. You may use violence one way, we use it our way. As for war… War was the reason why this system exists. It is why the League was formed and why Champions were made."

He paused to let those words settle.

"Rather than critiquing our world…" Lance uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. "Perhaps you should be looking for a way to return to yours."

"By beating your ass," Chase retorted.

"In a Moemon Battle," Lance raised a finger. "As I said, all disputes are settled through Moemon Battles. If you wish to return home, that will be how it must be done."

Chase glared at him, "In case you can't hear yourself talk, I'm not from around here. I don't have these things. I can't challenge you to a duel if I don't have any cards in my deck, Lance."

"Fortunately, there are ways to remedy this," Lance said without losing pitch in his voice. "Everyone who becomes a Moemon Trainer must start somewhere. We have facilities in every town that grants them one starter Moemon. From there, it is up to you to capture more on your quest or trade with other Trainers. Train your Moemon, have them grow stronger, and challenge Gym Leaders. Collect all eight Gym Badges within the Kanto region Moemon League and you will have a right to challenge the Elite Four."

Chase's scowl deepened, "And why, the bloody fuck, would I challenge them?"

"Because in order to challenge me you must defeat them," Lance answered with a solid face but another smile in his eyes. The fuck was enjoying this. "I am a Moemon League Champion. I can only accept the challenges of those who have defeated the Elite Four. My time is valuable and cannot be wasted accepted the challenges of novices."

"So you mean I have to literally grind from the absolute bottom of the shit hole and climb my way to Olympus?!" Chase roared.

"I am no god, Mr. Rolan," Lance said a little too casually.

"Fuck off!"

Lance looked at the watch on his wrist. A brow was raised. "I'm afraid that's all the time I can spare for you. Professor Oak will be able to explain the rest in detail. Aerodactyl, please take him to Pallet Town so he may begin his journey."

"Hey, asshole, I still haven't agreed to go with this."

"Then by all means…" Lance stood and pushed his chair in. "Keep trying through your usual methods. Next time I will not defend myself with just one Moemon. Perhaps I will use my full team. Let us see how you fare against six draconic Moemon. Aerodactyl, take him."

She moved faster than Chase could get out of his seat. For a girl whose hair was made out of bones and wings out of stone, she was impossibly fast. She flapped her wings, grabbed him around the waist, and yanked him out of his seat. Before he could react, they were already several feet above ground and only accelerating. In a matter of seconds, Lance was the size of an ant.

0-0-0

As expected, she was not gentle. Nor did she stop to let him land.

She threw him at her top speed. She was aware of his capabilities and wasn't worried about injuring him. Or, rather because it was him, she wanted him hurt.

"YOU STUPID BITCH!" he shouted after she took back to the skies. He was sore. She threw him to the side of a hillslope. At least the grass and dirt were soft. He couldn't imagine what would have happened if he landed on a pile of rocks.

It took him a few minutes to hike the rest of the way to Pallet Town. It was a small town, more like a villa than anything. The houses were small with large open spaces of land between them, the busiest street was the market area that also held the town hall, and there was a school off to the side. A single school that looked like it taught all grades.

With such a small town, sneaking in was out of the question. Someone had already noticed the Aerodactyl soar through the air and dump him in the outskirts. There was a bit of a commotion at the town entrance. They asked him questions— mostly things regarding the status of his health and if he was okay and if they were under attack.

It took him an hour to make his way to Professor Oak's laboratory. It was one of the largest buildings of the town; it oversaw the town at the top of a hill. It was a two-story building with an observatory at one side, a bunker in another, a greenhouse, a storage unit, and the actual laboratory and office space. Behind it was a large ranch with acres of open land.

Chase stopped at the gates to see out into the ranch. There was a river running across of it, a large red barn with the doors open, stables under a shade, and a series of fences that divided the creatures roaming around.

They were all those strange sub-species things Lance called Moemon. They were all humanoid with the exception of a few appendages found on monsters, pets, plants, and the earth. Most of them looked as young as toddlers while the oldest he spotted was a teenage-looking boy but a few years younger than Chase.

"Arf, arf!"

He looked down to see another one of those toddlers had run up to him. It was a little girl dressed in a brown dress with a fur coat over her shoulders. Her hair was brown with a pair of dog ears flipped upwards. And… she had a tail. It wagged animatedly while her mouth was open in a doggy grin. She stood on her toes to peer over the fence to get a better look at him.

He chose then to walk away from this madness and get this over charade over with. He had no intention of actually getting a Moemon, going through the League rules of battling Gyms and challenging the Elite Four, and then facing their Champion in a final showdown. No, playing games like these was what got him caught up in this mess in the first place.

Lance didn't take away his weapons. He might have sealed his powers but he didn't take away his knives, his guns, the grenades, and the other nasty surprises hidden within his coat. He also had his Crest and the Shadow if things became dire enough.

He was here to gather information. It was within his core as a Researcher. If he could talk to this Professor Oak, who was going to give him a lecture on the ins and outs of Moemon, then he would reap for information on how to get around Lance's omniscient defenses.

Chase entered the front of the laboratory. The doors were automatic and the waiting room was chilly. It felt more like he was visiting a dentistry than some Moemon researcher.

The receptionist wasn't at her desk. Nor was there a bell to get her attention. Or… a telephone. The only thing placed at the front desk was a computer and it was turned off with a plastic cover over it.

He should have figured. For such a small town there were hardly any visitors to see the Professor. He probably didn't have the budget to afford a receptionist or said employer was busy taking care of the ranch. Or elsewhere with an actual daytime job.

"Hello?" he called out. There was no answer. He didn't wait for one anyways as he circled around the desk and pushed his way through the dividing door.

"Hello!" he called out again with a bit of edge in his voice. He was getting impatient already the more he wandered down the hallway. There were a few doors with labels on them. He made sure to read them and mark them. He made sure to keep a steady flow of Aura through his body as he passed by each door. He didn't want anything to surprise him.

"Is anyone here?" he called out one last time.

He heard the sound of rummaging and footsteps coming from one of the doors ahead of him. He decided to stand back and wait.

The door opened and out stepped a young man, still older than Chase, with black hair slicked sideways and large glasses that magnified his eyes. He blinked a few times as he looked at Chase.

"Professor Oak?" Chase asked while eyeballing the young man.

"N-No…" the man exited the room, making sure to close the door behind him and jimmy with the knob until it clicked. He had done so that suggested the door had been broken for some time. "Stewart, actually. I am the Professor's assistant. Is there something I can do for you, um, sir?"

He thought about it for a moment. He could have asked this guy the same questions he wanted from Professor Oak. It might have been possible Oak would have still reported back to Lance on everything exchanged. But details would have slipped if it had come directly from his assistant. He looked young and innocent enough to not understand the deeper schemes of subterfuge.

On the other hand… he might not know what Chase wanted. It might have been better to hear the finer details about this world and its ludicrous system from a professional rather than a student. It would have been like asking Janice about the physiology of their species versus asking a Blueblood like Gabrielle or Colonel.

"I'm looking for… Professor Oak," Chase decided to say. "I'm… new. I have a few things I wanted to talk to him about."

"O-Oh…" Stewart looked unsure of himself. "I see now. You must be a new Trainer. You're a bit older than the average— N-Not that there's anything wrong. I personally never passed the exams after five years of trying."

Chase never took any such exam. He knew jack-shit about this world and their Moemon.

"Unfortunately…" Stewart tightened the bow of his tie, unsure of what else to do with his hands. "The Professor is out on an errand in the next town over. Viridian City, I'm afraid. He won't be back until another week. I don't have the authority to give you a starter Moemon. I'm sorry. You'll have to come back when he returns."

A week? No, no, no, fuck the living shit out of that idea.

"Maybe you can help me then," Chase said with a level voice. His eyes turned from brown to red and blue. They began to glow as he channeled Aura through them.

Eye techniques weren't his forte. He may have been a Blueblood Acolyte but that didn't mean he had their centuries of practice and education. He was barely sixteen and the only ones he could practice on were the second generation Researchers (who knew less than he did about Blueblood and pureblood abilities) or on the Tactical Hunters who were mostly immune to them.

He wasn't even sure if these people could be affected by them. But he'd rather try here in this enclosed space with no one else around.

He sent Aura through his eyes. He couldn't expel it out of his body but he still had access to his physical augmentations. He could activate eye techniques. Now all he had to do was make sure Stewart never looked away.

Like every other eye technique, the first thing he had to cast was Allure. It drew upon the target's interest and the connection flickered whenever the target blinked. Or if anything at all got between their vision. And it could easily be broken if there was a distraction large enough— that could have been between the pain of a bee sting to the alarms of something life-threatening.

So long as the connection was kept and Chase never lost focus, he could apply a second eye technique.

This one was the first he'd learned. It was called Persuasion. And like the name suggested, it applied strong suggestions to the target and made Chase's intentions that much more convincing.

"I strongly suggest you go through the same procedure Professor Oak would," he invoked.

Stewart stared directly into Chase's eyes without blinking.

"I would like to help you, young man," he frowned with an apologetic and nervous look. "But it's not my place. I'm just an assistant. Besides, Professor Oak is the one with the authority from the League to handle Moemon transfers. You'll have to wait until he arrives."

Chase's brows fell into a flat line. He shouldn't be surprised. He didn't have high expectations his technique would have worked. Yet he didn't expect it to fail completely. Steward was acting as though nothing unusual was going on.

Lance didn't just get rid of his ability to use his Flame and Frost affinities; he had also gotten rid of eye techniques. Until he could experiment further, Chase would assume all of his other abilities as an Acolyte were shut off.

He wouldn't be surprised if he found out Lance had, indeed, negated his Crest.

But there was no doubt in his mind the Shadow was still accessible.

…The damn thing was still watching him. He could feel their connection beneath his feet.

"I can't wait for a week," Chase growled. "You know what? Fine. What can you tell me?"

Stewart adjusted his glasses after blinking once. "Uh… T-That would be everything reviewed in your lessons and stated in the exams. Since you're here you must know all these things. I wouldn't want to bore you in a review."

Chase debated for a second whether he should ask for it or not. On one hand, he would have easy access to the bare minimum requirements needed for these Trainers to get their shit together. On the other, since he did not take any such test, Stewart might start to raise suspicions.

If the man suspected something, then there was no way in hell he was going to help him. If anything, he would bar him from any other useful information and kick him out of the laboratory. In worst case, he might call the authorities for impersonating a Trainer.

…Chase could always gag the man and threaten him for information. The guy looked too weak-willed for torture to be needed.

But that would still take time. Someone might come along like another lab assistant or someone Stewart was affiliated with. Plus, Stewart had seen his face. Nothing save from killing the man would keep him from talking.

Killing him wasn't beneath him. But the rest of the town had seen Chase. No one was stupid enough to not suspect the mysterious man was the one who killed Stewart. Also, Lance knew he was here. If the Champion learned someone was dead because of Chase…

Fucking hell. This was getting way too complicated too fast.

"Is there a Gym here?" Chase asked instead.

"No, sorry," Stewart answered without suspecting anything. The town was either painfully boring or the man was obnoxiously oblivious to the world outside these walls. "The town's too small and we don't get as many visitors as some of the other towns— it's too out of the way from the main roads, you see. The nearest Gym is in Viridian City."

"Also where Oak is," Chase muttered with irritation.

"Professor Oak," Stewart corrected with more confidence in it than he probably put in his entire life. No, he had to have some confidence if he had the Point Dexter appearance.

"Can you tell me how to get there?" Chase asked next.

Now, Stewart suspected something. He raised a brow and fixed his glasses. "Huh? You mean you didn't come here from Viridian? That's strange. The only way to reach Pallet Town is from Viridian. Unless… you came on the ferry from Cinnabar? Is it that time already? The month sure came and went…"

Chase chose to say nothing. He gave a look of expectancy.

"In that case," Stewart came to his own conclusion. "Head north. There's only one road. But be careful! Avoid the tall grass if you can— you obviously know this so excuse me. It's dangerous, especially when you haven't received your starter Moemon. Once you reach Viridian, be sure to stop by the market and purchase some Moeballs. Capture yourself a Moemon. I would advise you from going but… you seem capable enough. You managed to cross the sea without a problem."

"North, got it," Chase nodded. "I don't suppose there's some sort of transport that comes around here? Like a bus?"

"We're a little out of the way," Stewart repeated with a more embarrassed look. "Might want to ask one of the farmers to see if they're going to sell any of their produce. They might give you a lift. If not, it's a good six hour hike."

"Six hours?" Chase blinked at that. He knew he saw nothing but grassland for as far as the eye could see. But, if traveling by foot, the nearest town was six hours away?!

"Convenient, isn't it?" Stewart nodded with a proud smile. "We're closer to the main cities than most others. Like between Viridian and Pewter. It's going to take you at least three days to cross through the Viridian Forest. Let's not even talk about reaching Cerulean through Mt. Moon."

It's a good thing Chase wasn't going to go through the whole adventure as a Trainer. He was going to find Oak, gag and interrogate him on everything about Lance, and assassinate him.

Chase didn't need his powers to sneak into the man's room while he slept and suffocate him.

"Thanks for the help," Chase said without really meaning it.

"Of course," Stewart smiled without noticing a thing. "Glad to be of any help with a new Trainer. Good luck on your quest! Are you sure you don't want to wait for your starter Moemon? We have quite the exotic selection you'll never find in your travels."

"I'm sure," Chase retorted. He turned and walked back out through the hallway.

0-0-0

The farmers couldn't help him. No surprise there. They didn't plan a trip until the end of the month. Harvest would be any day now, they would need a few extra days to sort things out, and then be off to sell their produce. One of them even offered him a place to stay. The man mainly wanted to introduce his eldest daughter to a mature Trainer like Chase.

But it was going to be a full week, which would make the whole point moot. Instead, he decided to start hiking towards Viridian City. It was still early afternoon from what he could tell. He'd be able to make it by nightfall. He'd probably make it in half the time if he wanted to use any of his Aura.

There really wasn't much of a road to begin with. It was a winding dirt track surrounded by tall grass and the occasional random tree. He had a clear view of the mountains in the far north, the sea behind him, and a few hills he needed to hike.

He ran into the occasional Moemon as he walked.

They were just toddlers. There was a pack of them, all dressed in purple onesies, running on all fours. They spotted him, hissed at him, but ran away in fright once he shot them a glare of his own.

There were a flock of flying toddlers. Those all had wild brown hair and were dressed in brown and red sacks. They cawed at him… and fled like the rest once he glared at them.

It made him realize he wasn't in his world anymore after watching those specific toddlers fly off like a flock of birds. They didn't even have wings like Aerodactyl!

At first, the scenery was peaceful. Relaxing. Welcoming. Beautiful even.

…And then it quickly turned boring after two hours of hiking. He wanted to get to the city as soon as possible. It wasn't in view yet, which irked him. He would use his Aura to dash ahead for as long as he could, lightly jog at a normal speed to recover his stamina, and then repeat the process.

Three hours and he was starting to get hungry. Burning so much energy was exhausting him. And he couldn't remember when his last meal was. The protein bars and emergency rations in his pockets didn't provide much. Especially when he quickly burned through them with his Aura techniques.

The trees didn't have fruits. He didn't trust the nuts and berries with their odd coloration. And like hell was he going to cook one of the Moemon.

Instead, he snapped off the twig of a tree, tied some steel wiring around the tip, and tied his Crest to the other end. The metallic charm of a shooting star glinted in the light.

A moment later, he squatted in front of a pond and began to fish.

Luscious was probably rolling in his grave right now. Using a godlike weapon with the heart and soul of an Acolyte legend as bait.

But it worked. The Crest, having the soul of a Gravity Acolyte, had been able to pull in something. Not even a minute after tossing it into the pond did something grab ahold of it.

He took a deep breath, drew on some of his Aura, and yanked. Hard.

A large splash erupted. Something flew through the air.

He caught yet another toddler as it came arching towards him. This one had orange hair, bright blue eyes, and a white and orange dress that matched her hair. She even had a plastic yellow hairclip over her brow.

…And she was flailing around like a fish.

He could only stare at the thing with disgust. Not because of what she was. But more out of sheer spite of the situation.

Of course even the fish were fucking Moemon!

He watched a little longer as she began to gasp for air. She couldn't breathe. Like any fish, she couldn't stand being out of the water.

He groaned… and then tossed her back into the pond.

"Nuts and berries it is," he muttered, unclipping his Crest before tossing the rod away. His eyes looked at his feet. "If I get poisoned, I'm counting on you to purge it."

The Shadow didn't respond. As if it ever would for casual conversation.

He took a few steps away from the pond before hearing the sound of water shifting. He looked over his shoulder to see the same Moemon climb out of the pond… and picked up his fishing rod.

She trekked over the grass, her feet making squeaking noises like a rubber duck at every step, put the fishing rod in his hands, and smile up at him.

…And then start to choke.

"For fuck's sake…" he grumbled, lifted her up by the collar of her dress, and chucked her back into the pond.

He turned and started to walk away again.

He stopped after hearing the water shift again followed by the sound of squeaky footsteps.

He turned again to see the fish-toddler. She was looking up at him with angry eyes. She pointed at the fishing rod in his hands, then pointed at the pond, and then crossed her arms while giving her meanest glare.

…With her face starting to turn blue the longer she stared. Her brows were twitching.

"Look, I don't know what you want but…" Chase muttered. She wasn't going away no matter how vicious of a glare he sent towards her.

Suddenly, she made gasping noises. Her hands shot to her throat. She began to panic and flopped to the floor. She flailed and flopped around like any other fish would when out of water.

He wasn't going to be gentle with her. She wouldn't learn her lesson. Instead of picking her back up, he pulled his leg back and kicked her all the way back into the pond. A very loud squeak came out of her from the impact and she was sent flying until making a splash at the center.

He didn't turn around right away. He waited this time.

She came back. Instead of anger for getting the wind knocked out of her, she looked excited and happy. She threw herself onto the ground in front of him and waited.

He could only stare at her.

She tugged on his pant leg and pointed to the pond.

She wanted to get kicked again. She probably thought it was some fun ride!

"…I don't have time for this," he grumbled and turned away. Fuck food. He just needed to get away from the pond.

The Moemon got up to follow him.

It didn't last very long as it began to pant, make audible gasping noises, and fall onto its hands and knees as though it had ran a marathon. Choking noises began to form soon after.

"I'm not going to save you this time," he said without stopping or looking her way.

He heard a splash a moment after. He looked over his shoulder and found the girl had leapt back into the pond. Her eyes were peering over the surface to stare at him.

He looked away and went back to the road.

He heard her surface again followed by the squeaking footsteps. He didn't stop walking. He didn't look at her. Soon, the squeaking began to retreat until there was a splash. Then, soon after, the squeaking returned.

He kept walking. Squeaking came and went. And the longer he walked, the more he realized she was increasing the distance to and from the pond.

When he was at the top of the hill, she rolled all the way back down, ran as fast as she could, and dove back into the pond.

He descended, thinking this was the last time she was going to follow him.

It wasn't. He heard her footsteps approaching, climbing over the hill, and meeting up with him. He expected her to immediately run back for the pond.

She didn't. She was smiling up at him. There were no signs of her suffering from asphyxiation this time.

He looked down at her. His glare was more at the situation itself rather than at her. Once again, this world was going to fuck him over. Regardless of the terrible shit he's had to do for the war, he wasn't going to kill this small creature just because she wanted his company.

"Well, it looks like I'm stuck with you, Squeakers," he groaned.

Squeakers continued to squeak with every step.

0-0-0

"Fan-fucking-finally," he swore as he crossed over the invisible border from the wildlands to the metropolitan city that was Viridian. There was no welcoming sign, no postman or border guard, not even a damn fence.

Then again, traveling from some farming village to any bustling city back in his world wasn't any different. But he'd thought there would be some sort of security measure in order to keep out the stray Moemon out of their city.

Or not. He spotted the flying toddlers perched up on rooftop edges and powerlines as though they were actual birds.

Fucking hell.

What he was most relieved about wasn't getting to his destination. While, yes, it was the worst four and a half hours on foot he'd experience in his life, the boredom in the same scenery wasn't what drove him crazy.

Squeakers' squeaking footsteps was what drove him crazy. He eventually got so fed up with it he put her on his shoulders… as opposed to killing her. But that didn't work. Whenever her shoes (yes, she was wearing a full fucking outfit in that pond) kicked against his chest, they would squeak. So he held her legs down.

But whenever he took a step, the bouncing would cause her to squeak still. It wasn't as loud as with her feet. But it still happened.

Now he couldn't hear her through the bustling noise of the city. He put her down and let her walk now that the madness was overshadowed.

"Alright," he said while looking around. "First thing's first. I need to get some cash before finding the Trainer's market. Hopefully other Trainers are there and they'll lead me towards Oak."

He heard her stomach growl. She blushed and put her hands on her stomach.

He tried to not let it bother him. But the headache was making things worse.

"Cash, and then food," he corrected. "Nuts and berries aren't very filling. Fine. Stick close to me before I lose you."

She stepped a little closer to him and grabbed the hem of his Researcher coat.

Half an hour later, they walked into a diner. He found money by a standard stealing tactic— bumping into someone and stealing their wallet. He made sure to throw away the wallet before pocketing the cash. He also didn't expect the man he bumped into to apologize instead.

What was he in, Canada?!

They took a seat at a booth; Squeakers choosing to sit next to him instead of on the other side. He didn't care. He looked over the menu tucked away at the side.

"Hi there!" a chipper teenage waitress approached him with a smile full of sunlight. It hurt his eyes to see someone so… innocent. "What can I get you started with— W-Wha?! M-Mister! Is that… Is this your Magikarp?!"

She gestured at Squeakers.

Chase looked down at the Moemon before looking up at the waitress. "Are they not allowed in here?"

The waitress grew flustered. "It… It's not that. Our policy is… so long as they're tame. But… M-Mister. It's a Magikarp…"

"What, are they dangerous or something?" he asked with a raised brow. He can't see Squeakers being harmful in any way.

The waitress blushed. "T-That's not what I'm… S-Shouldn't she be in a tank or something? Doesn't she need to be in water? How can she be out of water?"

He looked down at Squeakers again.

The Moemon, a Magikarp, he assumed based on the waitress, beamed a smile at him. She was completely oblivious to the conversation.

The waitress' reaction was perfectly reasonable. Squeakers was a fish. Fish need water or they die. It was a common principle even back in his own world. But, from all his experience, there was always one exception that could break any rule.

"I personally like to believe she's too stupid to realize she needs water," was his blunt reply.

Beings like Isaac and Monk were prime examples. Isaac could ignore fatal wounds and Monk devolved from one of the celestial affinities to become a basic Air affinity bitch.

Another example was Squeakers. There was no doubt she needed water. It wasn't a ruse on how she was choking on land those few times.

The Moemon continued to kick her feet against the booth's edge in the rhythm of the soft music playing from the ceiling.

The waitress put up a smile and let out a few laughs, not fully accepting his reply but being forced to. She held up her notepad and pen, gesturing for him to make his order.

"I don't suppose you have Coke around here…" he muttered while flipping open the first page.

"Sorry, but we have Pepsi," she answered.

The menu fell flat on the table as he gave her an incredulous look.

"I know!" she said with exasperation. "I told the manager not to switch but he got a better contract with Pepsi. So all we serve now is Pepsi products."

No, that wasn't the part he was surprised about. While he accepted this world had technology that rivaled his, he didn't expect it to rival brand-name products as well.

"Cup of coffee, please," he muttered dryly while looking back into the menu. "Um. And a glass of water for her. How good are your burgers?"

"They're great!" she said while making quick notes. "We use Tauros meat grown here in the Kanto region. If you like, you can also try our Miltank burgers instead."

"…Is Tauros a Moemon?" he was almost afraid to ask.

"Yes," she answered, not once thinking his question was strange. "They're a Moemon found mostly in the Safari Zone in Fuchsia. Miltanks are mostly found in the Johto region. Where are you from, mister?"

"America," he answered while trying to fight back the cold sweat. These people were serving Moemon meat. Now, he had no right to say anything to them. To these people, they were animals. His world slaughtered animals for meat and leather.

But he couldn't eat them. Moemon looked too much like people. It was why he couldn't eat Squeakers.

"Do you have anything not made with Moemon?" he asked while skimming through the menu.

"We have a vegan selection in the back," she answered in a sweet and innocent voice.

His brow twitched as though her words were an insult. If Marla ever hears about this…

"The tofu burger," he ordered while trying to push back the pain in his voice. "And a salad."

"Salads are made with Oddish leaves," she said while jotting down his order. "Is that fine?"

"Make that vegetable soup instead," he said, now with his brow twitching violently. "Oh. And do you have anything for her?"

He gestured at Squeakers.

"Yes! We provide Moemon food."

"One order of that. Just don't tell me what's in it."

"Sure thing. I'll be back with your drinks."

She scurried off to quickly assist another table before heading towards the kitchen window and sticking his ticket onto the order rack.

He let out a sigh and almost wanted to sink into his seat. He didn't for the same reason he couldn't stop channeling his Aura. There were no hostilities surrounding him. There weren't any Tactical Hunters in disguise who were going to shoot him without warning. But it didn't stop him from keeping his guard up at all times.

He had also gotten the attention of some of the patrons. They were looking his way. They were looking at Squeakers in particular. They were all marveled by the idea of a Magikarp being outside of water. They were watching her, expecting her to suddenly start flopping around in need of water.

The eyes doubled when the waitress returned with his coffee and Squeaker's cup of water. Her eyes were transfixed on the Moemon, even forgetting to bring Chase creamer— which was fine since he always drank it black. The kitchen staff were huddled by the window to observe this phenomenon that was Squeakers.

The entire diner held their breath as soon as they watched Squeakers pick up her glass, take a small sip, and put the glass down. Nothing happened.

"It's rude to stare," he said aloud with a blunt look.

Everyone quickly looked away and went back to their business. But every now and then would they look his way.

Squeakers continued to squeak to the beat of the next song.

0-0-0

"Is that… is that a Magikarp?!" asked the clerk with bafflement.

"For the love of… Yes," Chase growled from the counter.

Squeakers had her face pressed against the display case, looking at all the different shades of Moeballs sitting on velvet pillows.

After some directions, he found the shop Stewart had mentioned. The shop read MoeMart. No brand name since it was managed by the League. It was a small shop the size of a convenience store with shelves full of supplies all dedicated to supporting Moemon and their Trainers. From health potions, to repellents, to essential camping gear, to food rations, and… Moeballs.

They were spherical devices with a button on the center. They reminded Chase of those super annoying plastic capsules from the coin machines at the car wash. The kind that were impossible to open and twice as much to shove the useless trinket back inside. The bottom of the Moeball was always painted white while the top was either in red or blue.

"How is she out of water?" the clerk asked.

"I'm going to get asked that a lot, aren't I?" he retorted.

The clerk wasn't the first to point out the obvious fish out of water. From the diner to here, people gawked at Chase and Squeakers.

"Don't you have a Moeball for her?" the clerk asked instead.

"I was told to come here to buy some," Chase said while looking down at the display case. "But after seeing these prices… I think I'd let her dry up."

Squeakers was now tugging on his pant leg while tapping on the glass. She wanted the red one.

"If you're a Trainer, I can offer you the League discount," the clerk offered.

"I thought you only sold to Trainers," Chase blurted out.

"Not always," the clerk shook his head. "Everything in the front is for everyone. Some people like to keep Moemon as pets or use repels to keep the insect type Moemon out of their homes. Everything behind the counter are for licensed Trainers only."

Chase looked up. He raised a brow. Some of the things behind the man were some items needed to be locked up. Like blades from knives to machetes.

"Don't they have MoeMarts in… where are you from again, son?" the clerk asked.

"America," Chase answered while examining the contents. "And no, we don't. But what you're talking about isn't that much different from the sports goods stores we have. The only difference is we need to be a certain age to buy some of this crap."

"Really?" the clerk asked with genuine fascination. "I've never heard of a place. I wonder if it's near the New World east of here… And how old exactly do you need to be?"

Chase's eyes flashed. Finally, he could use this to his advantage.

"Eighteen," he answered honestly and watched the man's reaction.

"Eighteen!" the clerk repeated with astonishment. "Wow! By that time, a Trainer would almost be done with their pilgrimage. I had my seventh badge by the time I was eighteen."

"…How young do Trainers start here?" Chase asked.

"You can take the exams as early as ten years old," the clerk answered, intrigued with the conversation.

"Ten?!" Chase said, slamming his hands onto the counter and startling the man. "You mean the League let's kids out into the wilderness that young?!"

"While that is the legal age…" the clerk put up a reassuring smile. "That's not often the case. Usually a Trainer doesn't leave their home until either eleven or twelve. Sadly… I failed the exam a few times so I didn't get to leave until I was fourteen. All the other Trainers made fun of me for having such a late start."

The reassuring smile wasn't as reassuring as his words.

Even fourteen years old was far too young. Chase was fourteen when he was tossed into the war and that wasn't by choice. These kids could choose to jump from city to city as early as ten years old. And their parents were okay with this shit?

This world was far too peaceful.

There needed to be a genocide or something to teach kids not to leave home that young.

"I'd love to talk but I'm afraid I need to close up soon," the clerk went on. "However… if you're planning on staying at the MoeCenter for the night, I'm sure my wife wouldn't mind having you over for dinner. We can continue our conversation there."

It was a promising proposal. He could get more information out of the man. But he'd also increase the possibility of slipping out something he shouldn't say.

For example, he had no idea what the MoeCenter was or what it provided besides shelter for Trainers.

At the same time… he should accept the man's offer considering he wasn't a Trainer and didn't have anything to prove he was. The MoeCenter might outright reject him.

"That's nice but I'm going to have to refuse," he said. "I'm meeting up with others after this. I'd like to buy one Moeball. The red one."

Squeakers leapt up and down in excitement. It made her squeaking louder than ever before.

"Of course," the clerk didn't pick out the one from the display case. He opened a cupboard from behind the counter and pulled out a smaller version. It was twice as small as the one in the display case.

"Uh…" Chase's brows furrowed. He pointed at the larger capsule, "I wanted to buy that one right there."

"Oh, that's not actually real," the clerk answered as he punched in a few commands into the register. "It's a plastic model."

"So it's not set to scale?" Chase asked, picking up the smaller capsule. Seriously, it was the size of a grape.

"You must have the older models in… America, was it?" the man repeated. "Click the button in the center."

Chase did. The Moeball expanded until it reached the size of an orange, fitting perfectly in his hand and up to scale with the one in the display.

Well. That was convenient.

"Every year they come out with some new way to mess with those things," the clerk waved his hand at it. "Anyways, that's 200 zen."

What a pricey ass piece of garbage. But it wasn't his money. And he could always get more.

"Oh, and I'll need to see your registry," the clerk added quickly.

Chase was counting the bills when he looked up. "My registry? I'm not a Trainer of this region so I don't have one of those. You can charge me for the full price."

"I trust you," the man smiled. "But I'll still need it to register your ID to that specific Moeball or you won't be able to trade or transfer your Moemon."

Trade he could understand. But transfer? What the hell did that mean?

Chase nodded, feigning understanding, while reaching for his back pocket. He frowned, switched the bills in his hand, and patted the other pocket. His brows furrowed further as he patted his coat.

"Shit," he swore. "I don't have it on me. I'm going to have to return tomorrow."

Squeakers deflated.

"That's too bad," the man frowned but had an understanding expression. "It happens. I open up back again at eight. Maybe then we can finish our conversation if it's not too busy."

"I'm going to have to," Chase replied while tucking the money away. "Before I forget, do you happen to know anyone by the name of Professor Oak?"

"But of course!" the clerk's eyes widened. "He's a famous Moemon researcher. There's hardly anyone in Kanto who hasn't heard his name. Maybe in all the continent."

"I'm supposed to meet with him," Chase crossed his arms. "I'm supposed to get my Trainer's permit from him but the details were a little vague. You wouldn't happen to have heard anything from your customers today, have you?"

"As a matter of fact…" the man rubbed the bottom of his chin. "He ordered something not too long ago. We just got the shipment. He said he was going to be here first thing in the morning."

How fucking convenient.

"Then it's a good thing I'm coming back," Chase said, though he didn't plan on doing that before. Now he didn't have a choice. "See you in the morning."

"Goodnight," the man offered him a smile while Chase walked out.

"…Come on, Squeakers," Chase called out when he noticed the Magikarp Moemon was still glued to the counter.

Squeakers looked at him with pleading eyes. His glare was leveled and unflinching to her tears. She sulked, threw the upper half of her body forward in a slouch, and dragged her feet across the floor.

The squeaking of her shoes were long and whiny as though a rubber duck was slowly being squeezed and just as meticulously released.

0-0-0

"Hey, you, kid," someone called out to him.

Chase put his hands into his pockets. They wrapped around the hilt of a combat knife and a pistol while eyeing this man leaning against the wall. He was at the diner before and was now waiting outside the small shop.

Chase didn't reply. He just stared at the man.

The man gave a crooked smile, "You're not a Trainer, are you?"

Again, no reply.

"It's alright," the man shrugged. "I'm not a Trainer either. Least not of the League's. But you didn't hear it from me."

"What do you want?" Chase demanded in a low voice.

"Thought you'd be interested in a business deal," the man's smile shifted. His eyes looked around. There was nobody nearby. "Come with me if you're interested."

He got up from the wall and began to walk down the alleyway.

"Stay close," Chase muttered quietly.

Squeakers grabbed the hem of his coat as she walked with him into the alleyway.

The man led them around a few corners until reaching the backdoor of another building. He knocked a few times. A peephole opened up with someone peering through. It only lasted an instant before closing and the door opened wide.

"Come on in," the man said with a wave. "Make yourself at home. Our boss would like to meet with you."

Chase followed, sharpening his Aura to retaliate the instant he sensed something was wrong. He sent out little pulses of it to detect the signatures of the building. He could map the layout of the building plus the underground as well as mentally follow everyone within.

It was a perfectly square room. There was a couch against one wall, a television on with no one watching it, a water cooler in another corner, and a table in the center. Besides the man sitting in the chair at the door and the man Chase was following, there were two others playing cards at the table.

"Oi, he was serious," one of the players put his cards down and pointed at Squeakers. The other thought it was a trick at first before rolling his eyes and looking away.

"Arceus Almighty!" he swore and nearly fell out of his chair. "Look at that! A Magikarp on open land!"

"I told you!" said the man Chase had been following. "Now go get the boss. He's gonna want to see this."

The second man got up from the table and exited the room from the door at the other end.

Chase chose to stand closer to the TV. Not because he was actually interested in… whatever ludicrous game show being played— though Squeakers took a delight in it. She plopped onto the couch while leaning over the armrest to face the TV.

He chose this corner of the room because if a fight were to break out then he'd have a clear view of everyone, wouldn't be surrounded, and be able to break for either exits once an opening presented itself.

A moment later, the man came back with someone else following behind. It was a young man in his early twenties with black hair and a narrow face. He had a bored and slightly annoyed expression on his face as though he couldn't be bothered by whatever his goons had dragged him out of.

He was dressed in mostly black. Black shirt with a bright red 'R' on the front, black pants, and a black beret. In contrast, he wore white gloves and white boots.

Chase noticed immediately on his belt were three Moeballs. The man wore them like weapons— ready to be drawn at an instant.

"I see," he said in a sharp tone while examining Chase. "Good evening. You are indeed the young man I've heard so much about. The entire city is echoing with your arrival."

He did not give a command. He simply walked over to the table and the remaining goon gave him the seat without needing a gesture or word. The man took it as though it were his God-given right.

He gestured for Chase to take the other seat.

"I'll stand, thank you," Chase replied.

"Very well," the man wasn't offended. He cupped his hands together and let them rest on the table. "You have something my associates and I would be very interested in obtaining. I'm sure you've heard of us? The infamous Team Rocket?"

He asked with a sarcastic smirk as though it were the most common knowledge on the planet. And perhaps it was. But Chase didn't know.

"…Go on," Chase said, trying to not give anything away.

"That Magikarp is exceedingly rare," the man gave no indication he noticed Chase's bluff. "There are some water type Moemon that can survive on land, but not all. Magikarp cannot, plain and simple. Yet what you have might be rarer than a Shiny. We are willing to pay for it. Handsomely, I might add."

"That's very civil of you," Chase returned with his own bite of sarcasm. "But she's the only one I have at the moment. I'm sure you can buy Moemon with the money you'll give me. But money isn't my problem."

"You are an unlicensed Trainer?" the man did not ask as he more so stated. "We can provide you with forgeries that will even fool the League database. Acquiring more Moemon through capture, trading with other Trainers, or even through us will not be a problem."

"…My god," Chase swore with genuine astonishment. "Fucking finally. People on this god-forsaken wasteland I can actually appreciate! I was seriously starting to think crime didn't exist. Hello, I'm Chase. And you are…?"

The man frowned. He thought Chase was being sarcastic. Really, he wasn't.

"The other option, Chase, is if we take it by force," the man went on with a sneer. "The choice is yours. Either accept our kindness or leave empty handed."

Chase looked around the room once more. He noticed none of the men had weapons and there were hardly anything they could use against him. His Researcher coat could protect him from bullets and knives. Hell, it had protected him from direct blasts from Aerodactyl.

None of them were fighters, either. They all looked tough… but their entire body language screamed they hadn't been in anything worse than maybe a high school wrestling match.

"And what if I choose to just kick your asses instead?" Chase retorted.

They all laughed at that.

"If you insist," the leader smirked. His hand whipped out a Moeball from his holster, clicked the center button, and threw the capsule onto the floor.

There was a dim flash of light as soon as the capsule burst open. It flew back into his hand. From within the capsule came a stream of white light that became a humanoid silhouette before solidifying.

A woman stood in the center of the room when the light died down. She had long purple hair in a matching purple Arabian exotic dancer's dress. A thin veil covered her beautiful face.

Her serpentine eyes were the giveaway she wasn't fully human. She was a Moemon.

Oh. So that's how the Moeballs worked. He didn't think they were actual capsules like from the crank machines.

Before he could decide whether to carry on with his threat or not, Squeakers leapt in front of Chase. She had her hands spread out with a fierce look of determination as though she was the one who was going to defend him.

The goons laughed. Chase almost joined them.

"Is this how you want it, Chase?" the leader spoke softly with a smirk. He crossed his legs under the table and propped his elbow onto the table. He rested his chin on the back of his hand. "My Arbok against your Magikarp? Surely you know how this will play out."

"…A Moemon Battle…" Chase grunted more out of irritation than anything.

The headache was coming back.

Squeakers was ready. The look on her face went from determined to absolute murder. She stepped forward. She did not cower from the significantly taller and more mature figure. She began to crack her knuckles, cracked her neck, and then spat at the Arbok's feet.

The Arbok's eyes narrowed.

Squeakers raised her fists, about to throw the first punch.

…When all of a sudden, she flopped onto the floor. Her body jerked up and down, rolling from side to side, and flailed like a fish trying desperately to get back into the water.

The only difference… she was doing it intentionally.

Squeakers continued to have the look of murder in her eyes as though doing this was equal to stabbing the Arbok repeatedly.

Chase could only stare at her. He didn't know why he actually expected her to surprise him.

Well. She did. Just not in the way he would have preferred.

The men in the room laughed.

"Look! Look at her!"

"She only knows SPLASH!"

"It did nothing!"

The leader didn't look amused. He only looked down at Squeakers with pity. "Arbok, use BIND."

The Arbok moved with fluid grace befitting of a dancer. She lowered herself onto the floor and managed to time Squeakers' flopping perfectly for the fish-girl to land between her legs. The Arbok pincered her by the neck between her thighs.

Squeakers did what she could best… besides flail. She squeaked. She continued to squeak as the life was being squeezed out of her. Her arms flailed around as she tried to get out of the vicegrip. Her face was starting to turn purple.

Chase, very calmly, as though he had all the time in the world, pulled out his right hand from his pocket. He examined his pistol, cocked it back to check if it was loaded…

And then he blew a hole through the Arbok's chest.

Her body fell back and her muscles relaxed. She gasped and put a hand to her chest. Her hand pulled back, shaking, and full of blood.

Her eyes widened with absolute terror as though she had never seen this amount of blood before.

The room was completely silent except for her gagging on a punctured lung.

Once Squeakers was able to slip free, Chase fired another shot. The bullet flew from the bottom of the Arbok's chin to the top of her skull. She went still immediately after.

He'd have liked to have killed her with one bullet. Bullets were extremely valuable. He didn't know if he could get more in this world. But, blowing her brains out first wouldn't let her muscles relax. Squeakers would have passed out and probably be choked to death.

Maybe he should have let the Arbok bleed out? She'd sooner die choking on her own blood than bleeding out.

"…Arbok?" the leader spoke quietly in a shaken voice.

They all were. All the men had backed up from the noise. Their eyes were wide as they stared at the corpse of the Moemon.

Squeakers was the only one not frazzled. She looked down at the Moemon for a moment… and then raised her fists as though she were the victor of the fight.

For some odd reason… Chase could hear the ping of some generic Level Up RPG go through his head.

"You… You killed my—" the leader began.

"Quiet," Chase said, pointing the gun at him next. Everyone froze while Chase put a hand on his temple. The headache was stronger than ever. "When I said I'd kick your ass, I was being literal. I didn't mean to challenge you to a Moemon Battle. I meant for me, with my fists, to beat the living shit out of you all. I had thought— hoped, as criminals, you weren't entitled to obey Lance's bullshit rules and come at me like real thugs.

"But, lo and behold, even underground back alley dealings are determined by Moemon Battles. I thought he was just exaggerating. This is a joke. It has to be. There is no way everything is determined by Moemon Battles. Even if you're going to rob me? What's next, I roll a natural twenty and get a rare drop item from your Arbok's corpse? Do I get to keep her skin and make a belt out of it?!"

There was a look of horror on all their faces.

"You're insane," the leader dared to speak as though they were his last words.

"I like to think I'm practical," Chase retorted while letting his hand rest. "And I'm robbing you. Get up from the chair and face the door. The rest of you face the wall and put your legs together. I'm going to tie you up so you can't run."

"You'll do no such thing, Mr. Rolan," the voice of Lance spoke from the other side of the door.

Chase's eyes widened as he spun around. The door blew open and Aerodactyl flew in faster than humanly possible. He could only swear as he knew what was going to happen. Trying to shoot her wouldn't do anything to this monster anyways.

She slammed into him. Her hand cupped his face and drove him back until his head hit the wall. Even with Aura softening the blow, it made his head spin. She pried the gun out of his hand and crushed it in her grip.

He heard the footsteps of Lance enter.

"Leave," he commanded to the men within. "Forget what you saw here tonight."

No one would dare to question the League Champion. The goons fled without hesitation. The only one who did hesitate was the leader. His eyes remained on the corpse of his Arbok before he too fled.

Squeakers was trying to attack Aerodactyl. She continued to flop around with her… Splash.

"It hasn't been a day, Mr. Rolan," Lance spoke with disappointment.

"Fuck off," Chase bit back.

Aerodactyl squeezed a little harder. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of grunting in pain.

"I had thought sealing your foreign abilities would have taught you some form of humility," Lance began. He stepped in front of the cooling Arbok, just an inch away from the pool of blood. "And prudence. Yet you are just as rash as you were when we first met."

"I can't imagine why," Chase groaned.

"Aerodactyl," Lance commanded.

She didn't obey right away. There were two seconds of intense pressure before she let him go. He almost fell to the floor. She stepped away from him, never looking away while handing Lance the crumbled scrap that was once his pistol.

Lance observed the weapon with an aged look, "Weapons like these are forgotten. They belong to an age before this one. We put them down and fought with Moemon for a reason."

"I'm sure there's a really rich history about it all," Chase said with venom. "But I really couldn't give any less of a fuck. What are you going to do? Arrest me? I don't think that'll work with your plan."

He took a shot in the dark. There was no way someone like Lance would make Chase go through this episode for shits and giggles. The man was too stern for something like that. There was a deeper purpose.

"There is no law against these weapons," Lance didn't go for it. "I cannot arrest you, even as Champion. You complicate my position, Mr. Rolan. Especially after murdering an unregistered Moemon. I would like to punish you… but she is considered wild despite having a Trainer."

"Your laws are bullshit," Chase snapped. "No, it's less of a law than it is fanatical worship. Lance, if I wanted to murder someone, would I initiate a Moemon Battle? If I win, the guy gets ganked. If he wins, I just walk away?"

"…Murder is still illegal, Mr. Rolan," Lance sighed while pocketing the weapon into his coat.

"That doesn't answer my question."

"This is our civilization," Lance turned and snapped. "This is how we settle matters. It is how we achieved peace while you and your planet continue to destroy another."

"So what? If we continue will we end up like you guys? Using humanoid slaves to fight instead of solving the problem myself? You know, even in my world we have something similar. They're called pit fights. And they're highly illegal."

Lance took a deep breath to force himself to calm down. Chase had managed to strike at a sensitive topic. The other prove was the way Aerodactyl was on the verge of ripping out his throat.

Squeakers was shaking and using Chase as a shield this time. Not even someone as stupid as Squeakers was stupid enough to fear Aerodactyl.

"I'm not apologizing," Chase said next.

"Why weren't you in Pallet Town?" Lance demanded.

"Oak wasn't there. His assistant said he wasn't coming back until a week from now. So I decided to come meet with him."

"…You will miss your chance to get your starter Moemon," Lance said, crossing his arms and studying Chase. "The Charmander, Bulbasaur, and Squirtle are exceptionally rare."

"I think I'll live," Chase replied bluntly.

"There is more," Lance shook his head. "Professor Oak would have provided you with all of the information you would have needed for your journey. He would have answered any question. He would have given you all the identification a normal Trainer would receive. You wouldn't have had to snoop around and get involved with these kinds of people. And look what became of it."

He nudged his head towards Arbok.

"I'm not waiting a week for any of that," Chase argued.

"I put you in Pallet to show you patience," Lance said, starting to lose some of his own patience. "It is a tranquil town with the folk as friendly as you can imagine. It would have been a week of paradise compared to your normal lifestyle, Mr. Rolan. The journey to become a Moemon Master is long and perilous. You would have looked back on that week with nostalgia."

"Lance, I do not have time for this," Chase growled. His Aura was seeping through, thickening the air as his frustrations rose. "I have my own problems back home. I have a war to fight. I have comrades who need me. I am the Second Symphony, Commander to the Researcher Symphonies. You can't keep me away by shoving some bullshit quest that will take me years to complete."

"Evidently, I already have," Lance pointed out. "You will carry on this quest, Mr. Rolan. The only way home is to defeat me. However you achieve it depends on the Moemon you raise. None of your abilities will help you. Nor will your weapons."

He snapped a finger.

Chase felt the shift of weight. His hands patted where he had stored his weapons. Everything was gone. All of his pockets were empty. Everything he had carried over from his world had vanished.

Mostly everything. Lance didn't take away the Crest strapped to his wrist. It was possible Lance didn't recognize it as a weapon.

"At least let me keep my knives," Chase growled.

Lance gave him a look.

"They're knives," Chase argued. "I'm not asking for the guns or the grenades. I'm not even asking for the wires or the last protein bar. They sell knives in the MoeMart anyways."

"I'll let you keep one," Lance said. When he uncrossed his arms, he had the six inch tactical knife in its sheath. The kind that could be used for camping instead of the combat knife used for specific use of carving people. He tossed it casually to Chase.

It was still better than anything the MoeMart sold. This one was at least military grade and illegal to sell over the counter.

"One more thing, Mr. Rolan," Lance fully faced him and spoke firmly. "Killing me will not send you back to your world. Only I can. My only condition is for you to defeat me in a Moemon Battle. So stop these attempts to find information about me."

Chase grimaced. The fucker already knew what he was planning.

"The MoeCenter is down the street from the MoeMart," Lance said. "Speak with Nurse Joy at the front. She will know about you and will give you a cot. Now leave. I have a body to clean up and you have an early morning. It's better to cross through Viridian Forest as early as soon as the sun rises."

"The forest?" Chase asked. "Don't I need to tackle the Gym here before heading off to Pewter? And why are all the cities named after colors?"

"The Viridian City Gym is the last and final Gym before climbing Victory Road," Lance answered plainly.

Chase stared at him for a moment. "The last? Then was I supposed to go the other way towards… Cinnabar?"

"That would be the seventh Gym," Lance shook his head. "Pewter City is the official first Gym a Trainer goes to once they start their journey."

Chase stared a little longer this time. "Just… why did you put me in Pallet Town instead of Pewter?"

"Because Pallet Town is the starting point for all Trainers," Lance answered as though it were as plain as day. "They receive their starter Moemon from Professor Oak as well as a Moedex to archive their findings. As he is the inventor it is his facility that produces them."

"Why the hell is the starting town between bosses seven and eight?!"

"The Gyms were not determined until after the League was formed. Viridian City is the only city connected to Victory Road, which leads to the League's headquarters. The only way to access it is to achieve the eighth and final badge. As for Pallet Town… Professor Oak retired there to become a Moemon researcher because he found the town to be peaceful. We did not argue with his decision."

"…Retired from what?" Chase couldn't help but notice the underline in Lance's tone.

Lance did not respond to the question.

"Will I even need to talk to Professor Oak at this point?" Chase asked.

"Not any longer," Lance shook his head with finality. "You have started on your quest. The Magikarp seems to be your first partner. I will see to it you are registered. You will receive everything you require first thing in the morning. Good luck, Mr. Rolan."

He was done with the conversation. He would not answer anything else with the way he turned his back on Chase. Even Aerodactyl dismissed him completely.

"Come on, Squeakers," Chase patted the top of the Moemon's head. "It's past your bedtime."

Squeakers looked up at him with defiance. But he could see how much effort she was putting to fight off the slumber.

While Chase was exhausted from such a long day, he would not sleep. The Shadow wouldn't allow him. He could rest but never enjoy the peaceful narcotic that was deep sleep.

At the doorstep, he paused to look over his shoulder.

The body of Arbok was gone. As well as Lance and Aerodactyl. There was no trace they were ever there.

"The fucker is probably watching my every move…" Chase muttered as he looked up at the sky. He didn't know what exactly the role of a Champion detailed… but it seemed to include more than to be the best Trainer in this region.

Lance was something else. He was more liken to those defenders of the planet Colonel had mentioned once. Beings who were a part of the world itself who did everything in order to preserve all existence within it.

If that were the case… what did it mean for Chase to be in this world, to go on this quest, and beat the Champion at his own game?

Beating the Champion… Wouldn't that make Chase the next Champion?

…Was Lance looking for a successor?

Could Chase really go home?

The sound of a single squeak pulled him out of his thoughts.

Squeakers had fallen asleep waiting on him. Her head rested against his thigh while she slept standing up. She snored lightly… making little squeaking noises while doing so.

Even if he could sleep… he wouldn't be able to with her horrendously obnoxious snoring. Even asleep she squeaks!

He sighed, picked her up into his arms, and carried her towards the MoeCenter.