(A/N)

Link to Google Docs Version (document/d/1TMkZsapB7yhMWTjkseanKNfFslGa2_p0aI7WLrH3QI8/edit?usp=sharing)

(Content Warning)

Profanity: Yes

Sexual Content: No Explicitly Sexual Content

Gore: No

Writing Style: Italicized sentences are internal thoughts.

Sit back, relax, and enjoy the read!

Begonias

A Pokemon Fanfiction

Chapter I

A Simple Withdrawal

The air was as stagnant and devoid of as much moisture as it had ever been. The cobblestone road was hot, but not enough to burn the bottoms of the flareon's paws. No, instead, it brought a warmth to his body. As he walked down the pavement, he watched the quaint houses and waved to the pokemon who bathed in the sun whilst laying in the grass. And if they happened to notice him, he would pull on the strap to his brand-new satchel – made from orange, polished leavanny leaves and sewn together from their soft silk.

It was something of the latest fashion for the Fire District. Everyone seemed to want it, but they were seasonal and hard to come by. Luckily for him, his wife had bought it months ahead of time. All he had to do was wait for it to arrive in the mail.

Walking with the satchel hanging from his shoulder made him giddy: like he was a model who should be watched in all his splendor.

Passing fire pokemon would stop in their tracks, each smiling and waving at him as they clutched their own leaved bags: theirs being unique and beautiful in their own way, but nothing like his.

Some would ask about where he was headed to, or if he was off for work today: never about the bag, but he could feel their eyes would always drift down to view it with a cheerful, yet envious look to them. And it only brought more joy to him.

And why shouldn't they take envy in this bag? And why shouldn't he take joy in their envy? Life was good to him! It gave him a great job that paid a lot of money: money he used on luxuries. And he fought to keep it that way. So, why he shouldn't he enjoy the splendid feeling of making others long for his life?

As he strode down the street, he passed by the brand-new park that the Council had put in. Children were laughing and chasing each other around slides, monkey-bars, and tables. Each were grinning from ear-to-ear as parents conversed with one another from benches nearby.

He thought about how that would be him in a few weeks' time: sitting on a bench with his wife by his side. He imagined the pink bassinette where his baby would lie as they all enjoyed the sun's warmth. Thinking about such things gave him a warm smile.

"Luis!" a friendly voice hollered from the Flareon's side.

Luis turned to see the long, familiar face of his friend Max who he gave a smile before walking to greet him with a firm shake of the paw.

"It's been too long," Luis said, running his eyes across the heatmor's neck to see a pink, gleaming scarf with heart-shaped patterns wrapped around his neck. "Meet anyone last night?" he asked, gesturing to the scarf.

"Nah, I just like the pink," Max joked.

Luis chuckled aloud. It had been ages since they'd seen one another: maybe a month, now.

"We should get together sometime," the flareon said hopefully. "Say, next week?"

"I'd love to," Max said. "But me and my old lady just picked up a fresh G. T. and it isn't in any condition to be brought in the house. Gotta break it in first, wear it out a little, then put it to work, you know?"

Luis nodded, remembering the first time he'd bought one. "They're nightmares to start out with used, but yours is new?"

"It just needs to be house-broken, first," Max replied, rotating his arm. "Trust me: my dad used to work on them all the time when I was younger. He taught me how it works, and it hasn't let me down, yet."

"Well, good luck with that," Luis said. He sighed, looking down the street with a pensive look. "Well, I've gotta go to the bank before work, and I'm not looking forwards to it."

"But that road leads to the Center…" Max had a look of realization dawn on his face as he slowly nodded. "Oh. So, lightning did hit our bank did, and it wasn't just a rumor."

"Hence… why I'm going to the Center," Luis said slowly. He shuddered thinking about it as if it would shake his worries from his back. He then donned a cheery smile.

Just before Luis turned to leave, Max spoke up with, "Be careful out there today, huh? I heard something happened over in the Psychic District a few weeks back: something about a group of thugs kicking the crap out of pokemon at a bar."

"I'll keep it in mind," Luis said dismissively, trying to ignore the warning.

"I mean, I get that each of the fifteen districts have their part to play in keeping the city together, but damn it all to hell that most of them are meat grinders of hate and discrimination against us! I mean, one step and-"

"Alright, Max!" Luis yelled over the heatmor, rage and worry overtaking his face.

He had heard all the stories about the other districts before: "Fire-Types Murdered in the Ground District over Discrimination;" "Flying District Deemed Too Dangerous for Ice-Types to Enter;" "Child of Age Eight Taken from Parents during Family Trip to the Center." He knew there was danger out there, and he didn't need Max reminding him.

Luis felt the eyes of the other pokemon on the street turn towards him: the children who had stopped playing to see what was going on. Max even looked shocked about the sudden outburst.

Luis cleared his throat before regaining his composure. He spoke slowly with, "I appreciate the concern, but I'll be fine. It's a short trip, anyway."

As he turned from Max, he gave one final smile and a wave of his paw before making his way down the street towards a white, stone wall, leaving his friend in a state of worry and confusion.

It was a tall wall that wrapped itself around the Fire District. There was only one entrance and exit to their sanctuary, and it was through a building imbedded in the side of the wall: the same building Luis made towards.

Getting out of the checkpoint was simple enough. All he did was walk towards one of the glass exit gates situated at the back of the building, pull his card out from his satchel, and insert it into a hole in the wall. Then, with a whir from the wall, the glass doors opened into the other side of the wall.

They called this place The Center, but Luis thought it was more of a dump than anything. The government did its best to maintain the area – keep it as a place of meeting between types to lessen segregation – but that meant strict rules and Steel Enforcers constantly patrolling the streets: something Luis couldn't live with had this been his home. The thought of a bunch of steel pokemon walking around, enforcing their will upon anyone they deemed "delinquent" was one thing no fire-type could stand.

No, to Luis, the Center was merely an inconvenient stop: a culmination of tragic lives and stories shared by pokemon who weren't as lucky as he was. And that luck would hold through today. He wouldn't be here long. He was going to be fine.

From that point onwards, it was a pretty straight shot across the street towards the big, white building with the imprint of a Persian plastered to the wall above glass doors. Below the imprint sat the glistening, golden letters which wrote out: "Persian's Personal Bank."

As the Flareon walked down the street, he felt the chill of the wall which bathed the dirt road with shadows and cold. The air smelled and tasted like old sweat and feet while the walls looked grungy: like they hadn't been cleaned in months. He became very aware of the alleys which rested between buildings that rose five-stories up on all sides. He told himself that they were stable places of work for the pokemon that wanted to better their lives like him. This is only a stop before heading back into the district, he thought.

Then he noticed the six, intimidating, Steel-type pokemon guarding the street whilst lurking around the front of the bank. A couple of them paced between the Fire district's entrance and the bank, watching ahead for anything out of the ordinary. It soothed the Flareon to see them, knowing the Steel Enforcers were there to ward off anybody asinine enough to attack. Not that that meant The Enforcers could do so in the Fire District.

When he arrived at the bank, walked through the doors to the greeting of a friendly "Welcome!" and pokemon of all different types who sat in chairs, waiting for their turn in line.

His eyes set on massive pokemon who were currently sitting: pokemon like haxorus and krookodile. Their eyes were set on sports magazines the bank provided its patrons while they waited.

Luis imagined a scene that might play out before him were he not to be careful. He imagined the beady eyes of pokemon – red with malice – slowly turn from their magazines and set on him. They then stood up and walked over to him, brandishing their thick, muscular arms.

He gulped in worry, blinked himself back into reality, and turned towards a line of pokemon who waited for their turn to make deposits and withdrawals. He became very aware of his satchel as he made his way to the front of the line, skipping a multitude of pokemon. He heard one of the tellers holler "Next" before making his way towards her as quick as he could, cutting in front of a gardevoir who barked at him in frustration.

"And what can I do for you, sir?" the teller, a hitmontop with a tag that read "Britney," asked, ignoring the gardevoir's complaints completely.

"I'm from the fire district," Luis explained nervously, telling himself that this was already soon to be over. "And our bank was struck by lightning a few weeks back."

"And you need to withdraw some money from this one?" Britney the teller asked. She then pointed towards a wooden door with a frosted-glass window on her left. "The manager of the bank is in that room taking requests for pokemon of your district. He's meeting with a few pokemon now, but if you'll wait by those doors, he'll be sure to help you when he's finished."

"Thank you very much," the flareon said as he left the counter, making his way for the door.

As he approached, he took a deep breath to try and calm down: something his father had taught him as a way of calming himself. He stood by the door, waiting anxiously for it to open. As he waited, he caught the gardevoir give him a murderous look as she walked up to the teller. Looking around, it seemed others had seen the altercation, burrowing into his nerves with their merciless scowls. It made Luis nervous enough to set his paw on the door.

You're fine. No one's going to attack. The stories are just stories.

He wondered what would happen next. Would his name just be one more on the morning's paper? Would memories of his life be the only things left for him? It was getting to be unbearable.

He glanced towards the door as if it were an escape from this place. He… probably wouldn't mind if I waited inside, he reasoned.

His grip tightened on the door and pulled it open, quickly stepping into the room beyond.

"Mr. Manager, sir?" Luis said, finding himself in a room with orange wallpaper and potted plants placed in the corners. There were no windows, the only source of light being a chandelier and lamp resting on a mahogany desk. Behind the desk sat a very pale, sweaty, white sandslash who wore a black vest – obviously the manager – as what appeared to be a giant lizard (dusty, olive with a steel-blue stomach and jagged spikes protruding from its shoulders and the back of its head) stood above the him, wearing a brown cape that wrapped itself around his broad shoulders.

A… tyranitar? Luis thought in awe. He had heard stories about the pokemon – how it was a powerful beast of incredible stature – but had never seen one before, nor did he think he ever would. He continued to stare in wonder before his eyes drifted down to what appeared to be a rusted, rapier sword clutched in one of its stony hands – the tip of the blade leveled with the sandslash's chest.

Luis immediately froze in place, confused for merely seconds about what he had walked into before he went to scream, taking a step backwards towards the exit. A set of red claws wrapped around the scruff of his neck, yanking him left and out of view from anyone outside the room before his jaw snapped shut as his captor covered his mouth with its black hands.

He heard the door close behind him before the sandslash took in a panicked breath of air.

"Well, that complicates things," a voice said from the corner of the room. Luis looked to find that, hiding along the wall just out of sight from anyone opening the door, stood a short, female meowstic. A golden chain encircled its neck, contrasting her tattered fur with its luster. The meowstic was currently glaring above Louis' head, though Louis could care less why.

Standing relatively close to the meowstic next to some houseplants was a granbull whose face appeared meaner than any granbull Louis had encountered. Its arms were almost as bulky as the tyranitar's, though it hunched over defensively. A torn, red bandana rested around its neck while a beaten bag swung at its side.

"No shit it complicates things!" the pokemon holding Luis said, its head curled over him in annoyance. Luis squeaked in fear when he realized he was in the grip of a full-grown Noivern: one with gnarled teeth and a scar across its right cheek.

"Calm down," the granbull urged the noivern. "No one else saw anything." It looked towards the Meowstic for confirmation, her ears slightly perked as her eyes glowed a bright shade of pink.

"At the very least they're not panicking outside," the meowstic replied, returning to normal before scowling at the Noivern. "But that's only luck."

"Just keep him quiet and out of the way," the tyranitar said calmly. "The plan will work."

"And how long is this plan going to take now that there's another witness?" the Noivern said impatiently.

The tyranitar looked back at the Bank Manager, prodding him with the sword. The manager gasped in fear as the sword's tip punctured his vest.

"My associate has a good point, sir," the tyranitar calmly said. "Keep in mind that we're all busy pokemon."

"You won't be able to get into the Safety Despite Box!" the manager sputtered worriedly. "Even if I gave you the key, you won't be able to get it out of here without being caught!"

The tyranitar grinned down at the sandslash. "If there's no scene, the tin-heads won't stop us," it said with an almost believable sincerity to its voice. "But even if there was, believe me when I say we can take care of things on our end."

It leaned in, removing the sword's tip from the manager's vest, tapping the blade on his shoulders. The manager looked away, his breath shaking with fear as he shut his eyes tightly.

"The key," the tyranitar insisted calmly.

"Alright!" the manager cried, quickly reaching into his vest's pocket to produce a ring holding a massive array of keys. He reached down and plucked one of the keys off the ring and held it up to the tyranitar. Yet it didn't make a move to take the key.

"Sir, you have to understand that, as first-time customers to the bank, we're not entirely sure where to find the box. And you're still on the clock, are you not?"

"Th-the safety deposit boxes are numbered!" the sandslash yelped. "You don't n-need me to help find it!"

"Change of plans," the tyranitar said, turning to face his compatriots. "Randal, you and Joy stay here. Me, Pat, and the Manager are making the withdrawal."

"You've got to be joking, right?" the Noivern protested. "This Spitfire isn't going anywhere! I say we leave him here!"

"We can't trust him to make it into the vault without doing something reckless." The tyranitar seemed to direct that comment towards Luis which made him shrink in fear. "And if things go south and we get separated – which let's face it, they usually do – you're going to need backup."

The noivern shook his head, grumbling something to himself about hating babysitting. The granbull nodded to the tyranitar as the meowstic walked towards the manager.

"As for you," the tyranitar began, smiling at the manager. "You're job's… pretty simple." He nodded assuredly before saying, "All you need to do is walk with us through the vault door, open the safe with your keys, and then sit tight. We'll do the rest."

"I know what you're thinking," the meowstic said sassily. "You're hoping the teller asks you about us, wondering why you're taking us to the vault. Then, you'll tell her a phrase that says, 'Help! Robbers!'" She threw her arms up dramatically, making a low, screeching sound in the back of her voice.

The manager's eyes widened as his teeth started chattering in horror at the meowstic.

"How did I know?" she asked. "Even an ice-pop like you should realize that we meowstic are psychic."

Luis saw the tyranitar sneak a glance of confusion at the meowstic.

"A-alright!" the manager said, standing from his chair swiftly. "I understand! One option left for me, so I'll help!"

"If you don't, we'll eat you," the Noivern said with a grin. His comment attracted stupefied looks from all three of his compatriots. Even the manager seemed to look at him, dumbfounded by the statement. The noivern's smile faded into a confused look of his own as he asked, "What?"

"And what about the Spitfire?" the granbull asked, nodding towards Luis who whimpered in fear for being called to light. As the tyranitar looked at him, Luis began shaking in fear, his eyes widening as his mind brought his family to the forefront of his thoughts. Was this his imminent death? Would they kill him for catching them in the act?

The tyranitar sighed as he looked down to the meowstic. "I know it takes a lot of energy out of you, but could you-" he began.

"Of course," the meowstic said.

She began raising her paw towards Luis. He started to panic, struggling to get out of the Noivern's grip. He shot embers from his mouth in a last-ditch effort to get the beast off him. Tears began pouring down his cheeks as he realized this was the end. "I have a family!" he tried to plead, screaming through the Noivern's claws, but it came out no louder than a whisper. "I won't say a word! Just please! I don't want to die! Let me live!"

The meowstic's eyes widened quickly as its rabbit-like ears flopped open, revealing a new set of orange eyes which pierced through every emotion the flareon had. It shredded all his doubts and worries, leaving an almost calming feeling originating from his brain and spreading its warmth throughout his body. It was a strange feeling: like an inescapable ecstasy.

Colors began to blur together before his eyes, leaving images of splotched browns, blues, and yellows. He felt his legs go numb and limp before he collapsed. He knew he should have been falling forwards, but he didn't. And he didn't care. Strange as it is, he felt like a child again: enwrapped in a new world full of new, exciting places to explore and vibrant colors to see.

And the best part was that this room provided exactly what he sought. Every wall seemed to be flowing with colors which snaked themselves towards the center of the room, blinding his sights to all the pokemon around him. He tried to think of a word to describe it all – one to tie these feelings with – but he found he could care less. It was too mesmerizing: almost overwhelming.

Luis limply lied there in the noivern's arms, astounded by everything that was happening in his mind.

"Remind me again why we can't just leave him here?" the noivern asked as the meowstic leaned on the table for support. The tyranitar's face winced in worry for the meowstic.

"I'm fine," she assured him with a small smile.

"What did you do to him…?" the bank manager asked, looking at the now drooling flareon.

"Same thing she'll do to you if you don't cooperate," the granbull said flatly. "So, move."

The bank manager didn't need to be told twice, making his way quickly for the doorway. He reached for the handle before the tyranitar placed its hand on his shoulder.

"Relax," it assured. "We'll be out of your hair as soon as you give us what we came for, understand?"

At roughly 1700 Hours, the Center's Department of Law Enforcement received a frantic call from a bank located on the east side of the Center: right next to the Fire District. The call went out that there was a group of unidentified thieves who had robbed the bank and were out on the streets. The owner of the bank insisted on the Sergeant coming down and investigating herself.

She heaved a deep sigh, walking past the array of Steel Enforcers, knowing full-well that those Chrome-Heads were the reason the criminals got away. They were the reason she was called away from her usual routine and forced to mop up a mess that wasn't hers.

"Fifteen years running this town as Peacekeeper Sergeant, and the Council thinks they can do better with a militia?" the ursaring Sergeant asked as she reached down into her brown, cloth satchel, taking a handful of black berries and popped them into her maw. "What a fucking joke."

The ursaring removed a pair of sunglasses from her face and set them in the collar of her white uniform before walking into the building. Looking around the bank, she was starting to understand why this was as big of a deal as they were making it out to be. If the manager hadn't reported the robbery, this might have gone completely unnoticed. If only he had included who did the robbing before the shock of almost dying settled in.

A pignite wearing a white vest and a silver badge quickly waddled next to the Sergeant. Sweat beaded his face as he looked cautiously around the room. The Sergeant chuckled to herself. Looking at him, it was easy to tell he was a rookie: one she decided to train herself.

"Look around the room, Spitfire," she said. "What do you see?"

The pignite nodded once before carefully observing the room.

"Well…" he started, hesitating to give an answer. There was nothing unusual about the room as far as he could tell. "I see… a bank's lobby."

"And is there any blood in this lobby?" the Sergeant asked.

"Not that I can see."

"And what about the chairs?"

The pignite looked at her with a bit of confusion. "The… chairs?"

"Look at them," she said, pointing to the rows of cheap, metallic seats which had been repainted white multiple times, giving it blotches where the old coats had rubbed off.

The pignite shook his head. "I don't know what you're getting at. They're just chairs."

"What's the first rule about crime scenes?" she urged, attempting to lead him into the answer she was looking for.

"Don't touch anything that you don't need to," he answered.

"And look: no touching has been done. Everything's the same as when we arrived: minus the keepers inside the building."

She walked over to one of the chairs and hovered her hand over the surface, petting the air around it as if it were a cat.

"The chairs are lined up perfectly, the glass is intact, there's no damage done to the safe, walls, or floor."

The rookie's eyes tensed in a knowing look. "No signs of a struggle."

"Or a panic. They got in and out quickly and smoothly, no one even noticing."

"Quickly?" the pignite asked. "How do you know?"

"The Chrome-Heads interrogated everyone who was here, and hardly any of them remember seeing a group of four."

The pignite looked back cautiously towards the bank's exit.

"Don't worry about it," the sergeant said with a smile. "They won't attack a peacekeeper for name-calling."

"Still…" the pignite said with a pensive scowl before turning back towards the bank.

"As for this robbery," the sergeant said, grinning widely. "This was professional. They came in quietly, forced the manager to work with them for a few minutes, then locked the vault door behind them as they left, trapping him inside. They left without anyone suspecting a thing."

"What about cameras? Wouldn't they have caught the perps?"

The Sergeant chuckled to herself. "Spit-fire, you might come from a place where fancy things like cameras are easy to get ahold of, but most of the city can only afford to put food on a plate."

The pignite frowned slightly before sighing.

'Don't worry about it," the Sergeant said. "You just need to keep in mind-"

"Sergeant Lynn!" one of the peacekeepers called from a room to the left of the counter.

The Sergeant heaved a sigh. She gave the rookie a look that said, "See what I have to deal with?" before walking into the next room.

"What is it?" she asked, finding a bidoof peacekeeper looking seriously at a flareon who wore an orange-leaved satchel. It seemed to hardly be conscious, blinking frequently and holding its head with a paw.

"Who's this?" the ursaring asked.

"Luis…" Luis said wearily.

"What happened to him?" Sergeant Lynn asked.

The bidoof frowned at the flareon in pity, saying, "One of the robbers – a meowstic, he said – used some sort of psychic attack on him: made him feel like he was on drugs. It really messed him up, but he'll be fine."

"He was there during the attack," the rookie realized, turning towards his Sergeant. "He saw who did it." He leaned towards the flareon in curiosity and intrigue. Since they had arrived, not much had been made available to them in terms of evidence. This might be the witness they needed.

"Was one of the robbers a tyranitar?" the sergeant asked Luis.

Both peacekeepers looked towards their sergeant with surprise. Luis, however, shut his eyes tightly, curling himself into a shuddering ball on the floor.

"We're done here," the sergeant said as she turned to leave the room.

"Wait, what?" the rookie asked, walking by the sergeant's side. "But you've only asked one question, and he didn't even answer you."

"Then was it an indoor breeze that made him curl up?"

The pignite's face froze, feeling foolish for his statement.

"He gave us all we need to know," Sergeant Lynn said, her and the pignite exiting the bank into the street, the air chillier than usual from the setting sun. "We know there was a meowstic, and by the reaction to my question, a tyranitar."

"So?" the pignite asked.

"You haven't been outside fire-type territory for very long, so I'm letting you off the hook this time. But something you need to learn about the Center is it's notorious criminals: four of which are exceedingly dangerous and very good at getting out of tough situations."

"They're the ones that robbed the bank?" the pignite asked.

"A meowstic, a noivern, a granbull, and a tyranitar – their leader."

"I'm finding it hard to believe that last part," the rookie said. "I thought the tyranitar population was killed off when…" He trailed off at the end, finding it hard to get the words out.

"While that may be true for most, there are still pokemon that survived the purge: dangerous pokemon that shouldn't be taken lightly. Understand?"

The pignite nodded quickly. "So… there's a tyranitar," he said. "What now?"

"Now?" Sergeant Lynn asked calmly, putting on her sunglasses. "Now, we do nothing."

The pignite reared his head in slight shock. "Nothing?" he asked. "But ma'am-"

"I know this group," Lynn interrupted. "They're smart, trained, and organized. If this was them, then all we can do is wait for some evidence that was left in the bank and hope it tells us where they are in this massive city."

"We're not following them?" the rookie said frantically.

"If you know where to look, then lead on."

"We could…" he began, visibly racking his brain for an answer, but couldn't think of one.

"The city's too big, and they're too smart for us to just run into them on the street. Looking without evidence isn't going to do anything for us."

"So, we wait…" the pignite said with a sigh, wearing an irritated scowl.

"That's all we can do," Lynn said. "Just wait."

(Author's Notes)

Loving that I'm back to writing again! And I'm excited for you guys to get invested in everything!

Not much to say other than what's above.

Leave a comment and a favorite if you can!

Thanks for reading, everyone! I'll see you guys in the next chapter!

P. S. I'm connecting my DeviantArt account with this one for anyone interested in the art I've been working on. Link:

Google Docs Link: document/d/188KuaJam9mKY4XNIEMS7sYeakDJQbXiQZzFsH97mMso/edit?usp=sharing)