Chapter 2: Strange and Strangers
As the gray cat stared at the medical kit in his paws, he couldn't help but wonder how, exactly, his life had ended up like this. He had spent his whole life readying to become a doctor, or a nurse, or perhaps even a counselor, and yet somehow, more than a year later, he had found himself degraded to the equivalent of a janitor. Not helping was the fact that he was also getting yelled at by a fifteen year-old girl.
"Meowth, please, I'm begging you!" his minccino coworker, Minichino, exclaimed. The gray chinchlla's blue satchel was clearly heavier than his. In her paw was a plastic bottle, which Meowth supposed her satchel was too full to carry. "If you won't let me take their satchels while they're gone, will you at least let me trade satchels with you so I can fill yours up myself?"
"I'm not going to take credit for your work," Meowth bluntly replied, looking up from his kit as his paw sunk back to the side of his body. He was carrying two satchels — one around his shoulder, which Jermy asked him to carry. and one in his other paw, which Demurke asked him to carry. His own satchel was on the ground, between the two of them. Meowth protectively put his foot next to it. "You aren't getting my satchel, either."
Minichino groaned. "Then you have to clean, Meowth! That's our job! Every article of trash we miss is another step away from solving the problem. I can only do so much when our work hours get randomly cut like this!"
"Should lay off him a bit, Minichino." Politoed had been watching them bicker, sitting against a nearby tree. The green frog, taller than the both of them, was fiddling with the antique crown situated atop his head. "Not that I disagree. Just that both Meowth and the rest of us can't get a thing done sitting here."
"Well, what else are we gonna do?" Minichino argued. "If we're gonna wait here for Demurke and Jermy to come back all day, we might as well try getting our output increased in the future."
"Why did...Jer and De...even ask us...to wait here...in the first place?" Thwack! The tree branch Breloom had been trying to high kick out of boredom shook and rustled in response to a successful hit. The kangaroo with a mushroom cap for a head, as tall as Politoed, stuck the landing with her stretchy limbs. Her violet cape, held together with a sky blue gem centerpiece, slowly draped down her back. Her medallion, embedded with a different, deep green gem spotted with red, dangled from her neck.
"Nice kick," Politoed commented. He had a matching medallion around his neck, though the gem embedded in his resembled gold.
Meowth shrugged at her question. "Maybe Jermy's testing to see if we'll tear each other apart if he leaves for five minutes. My father would probably love to know."
"Oh please," Minichino remarked. "If your dad really cared about our work effort, you'd be out of a job."
Meowth stared daggers into Minichino with his green eyes. "At least I could afford to be out of a job."
Minichino gaped at him, clutching the faded yellow scarf wrapped around her neck that matched her bycocket hat. "...You really just said that."
I can't take what I dish out! How dare you?! Meowth imagined her saying.
"In his defense, Owth is the only one of us here with a specialized role," Breloom reminded them.
"In his offense, kind of a mistake to put the least eco-friendly physician-therapist on a medic job all about cleaning, isn't it?" Politoed said. He slowly stood up. "But in any case, the two of them have been gone a while. Probably should go check up on them."
"Yeah Poli, that sounds like a good idea." Breloom nodded.
"I'm coming with you." Meowth turned around and began walking away from their congregation.
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Minichino asked. "If Demurke and Jermy see half of us out and about, won't they think we're breaking their orders? If it's just one person, they'll probably accept that we're checking up on them."
Meowth almost rolled his eyes. If you leave, I can't batter you with endless criticism anymore! was what she was really thinking behind all of that mock-reason. "I don't think we're going to be fired over demonstrating concern for our coworkers. Besides, they should take these back." he raised Jermy and Demurke's satchels into the air. "Maybe they'll stop tempting you if it's back with them." Minichino scowled at him, prompting him to add, "If it makes you feel better, I changed my mind. You can take care of my satchel."
Politoed shrugged. "Not really bothered by you joining me. Just keep quiet and stick with me — don't want to catch the two of them off-guard."
"Try not to get lost out there," Breloom said as the pair walked off. The line of eyeshadow she wore made her gaze more intense than she likely intended. "We wouldn't want your parents to cry if you both never came back, yeah?"
Meowth gave a nod without looking back. "Trust me, mine won't."
As he and Politoed walked together, Meowth remembered exactly why he was still a part of this job, in spite of all the heckling, the degradation, and the time-wasting. To put it simply, it was his father. For years, Mr. Persian — curse him for using that honorific as if he was any other dad — had left him to rot. It was bad enough before he graduated from Lower Ed, but by thirteen, his father had shoved him into a cozy dorm at the Kalmwa'er Center for Higher Education and by all means vanished from his life. It was a sad reality, but it was one Meowth understood he had to accept.
Then two weeks ago, lo and behold, there he was, at his cheap apartment's front door with an offer: a luxurious condo and a mild pay in exchange for a part-time job at his new little publicity stunt, this Pick-it Up Club. Well, he didn't say that outright, but what else could it be? His father wasn't an environmentalist, or at least he wasn't a decade ago.
To tell the truth, Meowth didn't have any issues with rejecting the offer. He didn't mind his apartment and he could live with the job he had. But from the moment his father was at his doorstep, he had smelt a rat. He wanted something from him — there wasn't any other explanation. So, he agreed to his game.
When he had noticed Jermy in the resort lobby this morning, Meowth had known today was the day he'd beat him at it.
"I have great news for you four," his father had said in the hotel lobby, the Club gathered up for morning announcements before hopping to work. "Today's workload should only take an hour or two at most!"
"What?! No way!" Minichino had exclaimed. "You can't just change our hours like this! I won't stand for it!"
"M-Minichino, I'm pretty sure he can," Demurke had said.
"Well, yeah, but I don't want him to."
"Minichino, please, consider this a reward!" Mr. Persian had told her. "The amount of effort you've put into each and every day is in need of returns. You've earned some time to relax." He had then turned his attention to the others. "The same goes for all of you."
"What have I done to earn a break day?" he had asked. "I just sit around and wait for somebody to get injured."
"Well, Meowth...Erm… You...play a very important role in this company! And, after all, somebody has to protect this higher-up of mine!" He gestured to Jermy. "He is very excited to examine you at work, even if his exposure is somewhat short."
Like a lightswitch, his father's face had flicked from something resembling emotion to a hollowly charismatic grin. It was the moment Meowth saw that performative smile that he knew he needed to study Jermy like no tomorrow, because whatever purpose he had here, it was certainly not to examine them. His father always made that face when he was lying.
Meowth should've guessed that Jermy wouldn't make that easy by isolating himself from the other members. For that matter, he also should've guessed Demurke specifically would've accompanied him. When she wasn't working at the Club, she was working for his father. Of course she'd be in on it. He was lucky Politoed had given him a convenient excuse to break off and try to overhear some answers.
Speaking of Politoed, there was his hand, placed in front of his shoulder. "Shh," he muttered, as if he had to be silenced. Meowth's ears heard the rustling of leaves and shrubbery and the scuffing of dirt. Jermy and Demurke were nearby...but it didn't sound like they were alone.
"You've really never done this before?" a voice said, low-pitched and loud.
"I reckon that we ain't the easiest to teach," another voice said, youthful and nasally.
"Yeah, I'm new to all this." Jermy. "David usually has me working on other things, but like I said, you guys are high profile. You'll need somebody like me around!"
The voices and noise were getting closer. Meowth moved himself away from where their line of sight would be and behind some shrubs. Politoed wordlessly followed him. David… That was a name he hadn't heard of before. He made a note to ask somebody about it later.
"And n-no worries, Joey!" Meowth could see the group walking together now. Demurke was addressing a totodile, Joey. "You and Mathew," she waved a wing towards the cubone, who was helping the totodile carry a large bag of some kind, "have me! I-I've done this whole recruitment thing a couple times before, so I...know a thing or t-two."
"You also have me, a catalog of information on the rules, conduct, and guidelines," the robot — ORB, was it? — said. "On that note, here's a pretty obvious rule number zero…" Suddenly, he stopped, whirled around, and, with his glass-frame-for-an-eye, looked straight at him and Politoed. "Don't eavesdrop on the conversation of somebody with an aura-tracking robot, you pair of numbskulls."
"Sorry!" Politoed exclaimed, acting fast. "Wanted to come over to check on you two. Been away from the rest of us for a while, you know?"
"Aw, you didn't have to worry!" Demurke exclaimed. "J-Jermy and I were just fine. As you can see, we...even helped s-some others." She gestured to the pair with the backpack.
"How much did you two hear, anyways?" Jermy asked.
"Something about conduct and guidelines?" Meowth answered before Politoed could.
"Hmm." Demurke's gaze made it obvious she didn't believe that. She wasn't angry, but she was staring at him with wistful disappointment. Meowth didn't care. She could lament how she didn't catch him listening in earlier all she wanted, but it couldn't change that he got what he was looking for: a lead.
"Uh, Jermy, Demurke, who are these guys?" Mathew asked. He set his large bag aside, prompting Joey to do the same.
"T-These are some of my coworkers!" Demurke exclaimed, shelving the previous subject of her interest. "We asked them to wait behind for a bit, b-but I guess we worried them too much…"
"Y'all would've been nice to have while we were fighting off them gulls earlier," Joey said.
"Sorry we weren't any faster to attend the fight we didn't know about," Meowth said. Joey's expression didn't change. He clearly missed the sarcasm. "It's just Meowth."
"Howdy, Meowth. And — oh!" The totodile fumbled his way to what resembled a bow. "Uh, howdy, your Highness!"
"Highness?" Politoed was taken by surprise by his greeting. "Oh, no. I'm no prince."
Joey raised his maw. "Wuh… Why do you wear a crown, then?"
"Just an heirloom. Called a King's Rock." He tapped the crown on his head. "An antique before they made crowns in gold. See?"
Politoed immediately nudged the King's Rock back into place. I care about my crown immensely, though — I'm just being modest, he was surely thinking right now.
"Huh," Joey remarked. "If I can't call you your Highness, what's your name, then?"
"Just Politoed is fine."
Meowth found an opportune time to reign the conversation in. "So have you two finished whatever you left us to do?" he asked Jermy and Demurke.
"We sure have!" Jermy replied. "Can you lead all of us back to the others?"
"Yeah," Politoed said, already turning around to take the lead. "This way."
The group slowly walked back the way they came. After two halfhearted tosses of Jermy and Demurke's satchels, Meowth took the time to process what he had overheard. 'Recruitment,' she had called it… Recruitment for what? The Pick-it Up Club?
When the lot of them approached, Breloom was the first to speak. "Welcome back! I see you found Demurke and Jermy! And…"
"Is this everyone?" Mathew asked Demurke.
"Sure is!" she replied. "There's o-only five of us. Well, I guess...that's probably eight now, r-right?"
"Eight?" Minichino repeated. "Does that mean what I think it means?!"
"It sure sounds like y'all are gonna be working with us now," Joey said.
"Yes!" Minichino leapt into the air with glee. "I had a feeling that Jermy showing up was gonna make that happen, but it's still super exciting to hear! We can always use new hands around here."
"Yeah, can't say I mind," Breloom added, nodding along.
Minichino placed her hands on her hips. "Anyways, I'm Minichino! Co-owner of the Pick-it Up Club!"
"Hold up. Co-owner?" Mathew said. "You sound way too young for that."
"What, never seen a fifteen year-old co-owner before?" Her tone was somewhere between a genuine question and an under-handed compliment for herself.
Mathew glanced at Jermy, who mouthed something along the lines of "She can do that here." Mathew shook his head. Meowth wondered why he'd find that so strange.
"What about you, Mrs. Mushroom?" Joey asked Breloom.
Breloom stifled a laugh, mouthing 'Mrs. Mushroom' to herself. "You can drop the Mrs. First off, it'd only be Mrs. if we adopted a kid." She wrapped an arm around Politoed. "Second off, I don't go by any name other than Breloom. I'm just another worker here. You might see me whack a dungeon pokémon or two, but that's about it."
"Talk about underselling yourself…" Politoed muttered.
Breloom sighed. "Okay, maybe a couple more than two. But enough about us. What brings you two to the Club?"
Mathew took a breath to answer, but Jermy spoke first. "We can probably talk about why we're here some other time," Jermy said.
And by 'other time,' I mean never, Meowth figured he meant.
"Right now though, we should probably get back to town so we can get properly signed up."
"Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense!" Minichino said. "Just one more thing. Here, Meowth." She handed him his satchel. It was heavier than it was before he left. "Alright, let's get going!"
The group, now eight strong discounting the robot, followed the forest's path towards the edge of Kalmwa'er. Mathew and Joey were left in the back half of the group, still carrying that bag.
"What's with the big cargo, by the way?" Breloom asked the pair as they caught up.
"It's my stuff," Mathew explained. "I wasn't expecting it to end up this large, though. Or in a tree, for that matter."
"Expecting?" Meowth asked. "You're the one who packed it. How did you not 'expect' the size you took with you?"
"In my defense, I had a shit-ton of stuff to pack," Mathew said, dodging the question.
"What'd you pack, your kitchen sink?" Minichino asked, butting into the conversation. "With that much space, I could've cleaned half the planet."
"Why s-stop at half?" Demurke asked.
"Ha, maybe I would've done all of the planet if Mr. Persian hadn't cut our hours!" Minichino exclaimed.
Meowth looked at her incredulously. Did she seriously fail to see Mathew avoiding the subject of his belongings? But the conversation was already out of his hands, so any chance of pressing more was gone. He sighed to himself. Getting a word in during the workday was already difficult before he had some mouths he needed moving…
The Club made their way through the fancy upper half of town to the central edge of the cliffside, where the landing platform for the gondola awaited them. They were barely able to fit together, but carefully planting Politoed, Breloom, and Joey between the others made it work. They continued their small talk over the new employees, the job difficulty, and other menial things. Meowth tuned it all out — none of it was useful. A couple blocks and a few streets later, and there they were, standing in the shadow of Meowth's father's creation. A glass-built sliding door awaited their approach.
Mathew looked straight up. "Man, that sign still looks like shit from here, even up close."
"It's better inside, I promise," Jermy reassured as he made the doors move aside. The lobby was deceivingly cozy — the strangers were first greeted with the sight of a large room with finished wood flooring, bean bag chairs arranged in circles ripe for comfort and conversation, and a large fan hanging from the ceiling. The carpet on the sides made the wood an aisle with a straight shot towards the reception desk, backed by a wall. Two openings on the sides of the reception transitioned from wood to tile, alluding to grandeur closer to the resort's core.
"Excuse me, sirs," a voice said. Approaching them was a hulking brown bear of an ursaring. "Welcome to Kalmwa'er Resort. Might I assist you with that luggage of yours?"
"Hell yeah you can!" Mathew exclaimed, holding the backpack towards him. "Hold this for me until we come back to the lobby and get ourselves sorted out."
"Will do." Mathew and Joey were relieved of their weight as the ursaring took their burden.
"That was real nice of him," Joey remarked.
"The s-staff are quite nice here...aren't they?" Demurke agreed.
While the strangers solved their luggage problem, Meowth kept focus on the matter that concerned him most. Right in front of them, standing just ahead of the reception desk, was his father, chatting away with the receptionist. "Ah, there you are!" Mr. Persian exclaimed when he finally noticed them. As he approached, Meowth noticed Mathew fiddle with his tie, as if spotting the cute purple bow tie wrapped around the cream-colored cat's neck had activated the cubone's neckwear sense.
"Hey, Mr. Persian!" Minichino said. "We're back! Still need to head off to the dump though." She gestured to the satchel on herself.
"Excellent." His father briefly scanned over the cubone and totodile. "I presume these two came with you for a reason?"
"You could say that," Mathew said to Mr. Persian, glancing at both father and son. "So, I'm guessing you're Meowth's dad?"
"Yes, I am." Mr. Persian bowed. Mathew made an awkward half-bow in return, as if he recognized the reason for the greeting but didn't know how to do it. "I own both the Pick-it Up Club and the resort you're standing in right now."
"Wow, you built all this?!" Joey exclaimed.
"Not with my own two paws! But I did help with the blueprints...and the finances." He snickered at his own understatement.
"Anyways," Jermy said. "We've got a crazy proposition for you." Jermy waved a hand towards the strangers. "The three of us want to join the Pick-it Up Club!"
"Oh, my! This is quite unexpected!" Mr. Persian said. "It's been some time since we've employed new staff."
Which is to say it is entirely expected, Meowth suspected he was thinking. I'm sure this is all going over Meowth's head.
"Sir, d-do you need me to go collect the job contracts…?" Demurke asked.
As she said that, Mr. Persian suddenly recollected something. "Ah, right! I remember taking out those papers when we hired Politoed and Breloom, but after I was finished with them, I forgot where to return them. I just remembered that I was going to ask you where to put them and never did. Now they're probably in one of those endless stacks in my room."
"You lost the contracts?" Minichino asked. "Twice?!"
Mr. Persian struggled to make eye-contact with Minichino, the answer clearly humiliating him. "Yes, that's right."
"Oh, sir, it's f-fine." Demurke lightly patted a wing on Mr. Persian's back. "You've just gotta tell m-me these things when they happen so I-I can fix them. That's my job, after all…"
"I'll help, too!" Minichino said. "If you're losing stuff this easy, that means your office is out of sorts, and fixing that is my job! Maybe I can straighten things out."
"Oh, you don't have to do that, Minichino," Mr. Persian said. "Your offer is absolutely appreciated, though. I can always use the extra hands."
Meowth wanted to spit in his father's face. What was all this fake mushy nonsense? Demurke only helped him because it was her job, and Minichino only helped him because it was her obsession. What was Mr. Persian achieving, making him think these were some kind of grand gestures? That he had somehow changed? He hadn't changed at all. His only friends were his most loyal employees.
"So that gives you three something to do. What about the rest of us?" Breloom asked.
"Oh, you all can stay here in the lobby," Mr. Persian answered. "Just relax for a bit! We'll come back for you after we find them."
"Put your satchels on the table to your right. I'll pick 'em up when I leave!" Minichino said as the three left them to their own devices.
Ten minutes later…
Meowth's back slowly sank into his chair. Boredom was starting to set in. Trying to listen in on the idle banter passing the group by was losing its novelty fast. Where in the world were they? Demurke surely knew those rooms inside and out, and Minichino's swift and thorough approach to everything would certainly help. Even if his father had misplaced the papers, surely the three of them together would have found them by now. What was holding them up?
To his left, Breloom was eyeing the clock hanging on the wall high above the front entrance. "Geeeeez," she slurred. "If Mr. Persian's been mishandling his docs this badly, no wonder he needs Demurke."
"What, did you expect him to be perfect and proper after meeting me?" he asked her.
Politoed answered before Breloom could. "Dunno what we expected, really." He was deeper into his beanbag chair than Meowth was, getting a good view of the ceiling. "Definitely making me wish I brought a radio to pass the time though. Can't listen to chatter like you can."
Oh, Meowth knew where that train of thought was leading. That's only because I'm not really trying to be a snooty, nosy person, unlike you, Politoed was telling himself.
"Music? That's what you guys want?" Jermy, across from Meowth, was sitting straight up. "Well, I have good news for you! We've got a music player right here!"
"You don't mean that funky little robot of yours, don't you?" Breloom asked.
"I hope he means me," ORB said. "If he made more of me, I'd sue for neglect."
"Nah, I mean you, buddy! Hit them with some nice idle music!" Jermy commanded.
"Fine. Now playing: Wilting Woes instrumental, by Dula Steppinbeech."
Dula Steppinbeech? What kind of name was that? For that matter, what kind of music was this? He understood the guitars and the drums, but this lead instrument was entirely foreign to him. It was shrill, with a twang to it that held a lot of power.
Mathew was nodding his head to it approvingly. "Oh, hell yeah, harmon-pop!" he said. "Haven't heard anything like this in years."
"Harmon-pop?" Joey asked. "Sounds corny."
"Can't you tell by the name? Harmonica-based popular music." Mathew spoke with a relaxed confidence, as if all of them were supposed to know what this 'harmonica' was. "Didn't last long, but while it did, people figured out you can pop off with a harmonica."
"I can't say I'm familiar with the style, but I don't mind the vibe," Breloom said. She was already getting into that mode Meowth was all too familiar with. Her claw-like hands plucked strings that weren't there, her observant ear helping her feel the piece out. Her hands leapt from one nonexistent string to another, following the backing track as if she was performing it herself. Naturally, Politoed followed suit, idly humming some kind of tune in-line with the song. It was a state they were always in whenever music got involved back in the day. These two couldn't just sit there and listen if it killed them.
Meowth noticed Mathew watching Breloom in wonder. That cubone was the one to recognize Jermy's music before anybody else. For that matter, before Politoed and Breloom. That was certainly unusual, considering their constant self-exposure to music of all kinds. Where did this music come from, for them to have no recognition after listening to just about every genre on Solceus? Unless—
"So tired of waiting, for something new to come…"
Meowth sent death glares at Politoed. He was finally coming to a revelation, and here he comes, crashing his train of thought! As if the humming wasn't enough, now he was singing.
"They're tired of hiding, there's nowhere else to run…" Either Politoed couldn't see him or he was ignoring him.
"Are you coming up with that on the fly? That's nuts!" Jermy remarked.
"He's got a gift," Breloom said. "I can give him a couple chords and he goes flying."
Mathew looked even more awestruck than he did before. "You sing...and you play guitar." The cubone paused, listening to the music building up to a clim— "I see songbirds in green, two golden gleams — la la la-la, la la la-laaa…"
Meowth sunk deeper into his chair. Now the cubone was singing, too, and he didn't even seem to have the rhythm down. He wanted to shut them up — he spotted people staring — but didn't have the guts to go through with it.
Politoed, on the other hand, laughed at the cubone's attempt at song. "Not bad for a newbie. Lots of room for improvement, though."
"Newbie?!" Mathew straightened himself. "Boy, I've been in the industry longer than you've been alive. I'm just rusty, is all. If I was more ready, I'd make up lyrics a shit-ton better than yours!"
"Quite a big challenge you're making there." Politoed was clearly bemused, as if this comparison somehow meant something.
"Yeah Math, don't bite off more than you can chew," Breloom advised.
"What did you just call me?!" Mathew asked Breloom, bewildered.
"I take it that means you would prefer Mat?"
"N-No, Math is fine, I guess…"
Jermy leaned towards his creation. "Hey ORB, could you start the track over?" In no time at all, the song stopped abruptly. The same intro as before started playing again. Meowth wasn't sure what that was for, but he imagined it wouldn't do much for getting eyes off of them.
Mathew rose to his feet, a wry grin on his face. "Hey, Politoed. I know a way we can figure out who's the better song-improvisor."
Politoed, seeming to catch Mathew's drift, followed suit. "Oh, it's on, Mathew."
The two planted themselves across from each other. The cubone tried to make himself look tall and confident, while Politoed remained calm and unfazed.
Hold on. No, they aren't — "Oh, you have to be kidding." Meowth threw his head back, dread and embarrassment already overtaking him.
"Wait, what's fixing to happen right now?" Joey asked in blissful ignorance.
Meowth gave the simplest answer he could. "It's a song-battle."
"I've banked on chance, I got nothing left to lose." Mathew brought the blunt end of his club close to his mouth, using it as a makeshift microphone. "Your kingliness, I don't get to pick and choose."
"You'd change your tune if you saw the things I've seen. (You saw the things I've seen, yeah.)" Politoed's singing voice, as always, was controlled, clean but not overpowering. "That cracked mask blinds you just like a muddied screen!"
"Frogger, don't act like I've got innocence, I'm older than you know." Mathew's singing voice, on the other hand, was voluminous but shaky. It was obvious he hadn't practiced recently now that he had reached the point in the song he had improvised last time.
"It seems for all that talk and all that walk, you've got so far to go!" As Wilting Woes barreled into the chorus, Politoed took notice that they had attracted a small crowd. That seemed to embolden him.
"Set your crowned ass right down, 'cause you have lots to learn," Mathew sang. "Torching up all that pride will be one big slow burn."
"Dance in your masquerade, I can't be one to judge," Politoed fired back. "Just know I think you'll end up deep within the sludge!"
The song put an end to the chorus. The harmonica paused to give the guitar a solo, one Breloom was clearly enjoying. During the clear break, the crowd gave Mathew and Politoed a modest applause, with some whoops and hollers to boot. Joey and Jermy clapped with them. "Wow, y'all crack lines harder than an egg scrambled in a weasel's arms!" the totodile remarked.
Meowth couldn't understand their enthusiasm. He, for one, hadn't cringed more times consecutively in years.
"Thanks much!" Politoed said, aimed as much to the general audience as it was to Joey. "Got an opinion on which one of us did better?"
"Oh yeah, we never actually picked a judge, did we?" Mathew asked.
Meowth propped himself up in his seat. "If you're looking for a judge, you'll have one when my father comes back and gets upset with you for making a scene."
"Oh, no, we're giving attention to his business. You know that's what he wants, right?" The layer of sarcasm dripping from Politoed's tone was palpable. He turned to Mathew and noted, "Got a candidate in Meowth. Certainly does a great job figuring out which things he doesn't like."
Meowth refused to take that sitting down. Not when he just said such a thing in front of an entire audience. "Don't act like you know a thing about why my father does what he does. You know him as well as I do. If you really care that much, we can ask him if he's bothered when we're not surrounded by a crowd!"
"And there's the fun police." Breloom's arms were at their sides, having all but given up the air guitar. "I had a sneaking feeling they'd show up eventually."
The cues for Wilting Woes' second verse came and went. Mathew didn't sing, too frazzled by this exchange. Any excitement in the bystanders was all but lost. Jeers sputtered from their lips — some disappointed, some irritated — as they slowly dispersed. Meowth didn't care. He let Breloom make his point then and there.
Joey was left disappointed. "Agh. People have gotta learn how to be nice…"
"I'll say," Mathew said, not taking his eyes off of Politoed. His grip on his bone club slid back to the sharp end. "That's a little bit overkill, isn't it?"
"Maybe. I don't really care at this point," Politoed admitted. "We've been at this for years now."
Jermy once more tapped ORB's side. "Hey ORB, can you…?"
"Way ahead of you." Wilting Woes cut out. "I can sense the tension in everybody's auras, but even if I couldn't, I can tell just by how much crowd they just repelled in the last twenty seconds."
Mathew continued to press Politoed. "Years?"
The crowned frog sighed before elaborating. "Meowth and the two of us have a bit of history. The three of us were all roommates back in Higher Ed. Always cooped himself up in our dorm. Can't ask him to join us for anything. Was like he didn't even exist."
And so the seed was planted. Now that Mathew knew where all the beef came from, he would soon grow to detest Meowth just as much as everyone else. No point trying to prevent it from happening — if somebody else didn't do it, he'd eventually plant the seed himself, intentionally or otherwise. That was just how things were.
So why was Mathew looking at him like that? Where was the contempt in his eyes?
"Okay, but is that really a bad thing?" the cubone asked. "If I had to go back to academia, I wouldn't mind a roommate that kept his head down."
"I reckon there's a reason he keeps quiet all the time," Joey added.
"He just doesn't know what he's missing out on," Breloom said. "We've tried to help him out dozens of times and he just rejects us constantly. It's anything but fun to live with somebody like that."
Neither Mathew nor Joey responded, but somehow Meowth still sensed something between them. What was this? Disagreement?
"Ready to talk about something else…" Politoed remarked, slumping back into his beanbag chair.
"Uh, yeah, sure." Mathew was seated as well. Just as quickly as the feeling had appeared, it was gone.
"Did a nice job with the song-battle!" Politoed said. "Was a lot better than I thought it'd turn out."
"Thanks!" Mathew smiled warmly. "Usually I'm the one strumming along, so I'm a little rusty. That means a hell of a lot."
Breloom perked up, an eager glint in her eye. "You play?"
"Sure do. I haven't in a while though."
"Nice! You'll have to show us sometime. I'm always down to listen to somebody else shred for once."
"Can see the whole 'rusty' element you were talking about," Politoed said. "Normally I'd advise reading lots of books to get a bigger vocabulary in that noggin of yours, but you're an engineer. Of course you read."
"For that matter, I caught a couple phrases in there I don't think I've heard of before." Breloom put a claw to the bottom tip of her mouth. "What's 'crowned ass' mean to you, by the by?"
Mathew was flustered by the question. "It...uh...means donkey. I was calling you the king of the donkeys."
"Me, dirt-ridden like a busy mudbray? Now I see the insult." Politoed nodded in approval. "Clever! A real talented one, Mathew. Where'd you learn so much about songcrafting?"
"Nowhere in particular." Mathew was quick to shut down the subject, his tone suddenly drained of that curiosity it held before. Meowth couldn't help but wonder why. Did it have to do with the previous tension?
Politoed opened his mouth to ask another question, but he was interrupted. "We're finally back!" Minichino's voice reverberated through the lobby, grabbing everyone's attention. The Club met all together in the center of the room, letting the bystanders move to the sides to avoid them. In Demurke's wings were a set of papers. Meowth noticed she was carrying more than just three.
"I'm so sorry for the delay," Mr. Persian said with a heavy apologetic tone. "I didn't anticipate finding those sheets would be such a hassle…"
"Did we m-miss anything interesting?" Demurke asked.
Mathew and Politoed passed looks to each other. "We wasted some time having fun and that's about it," the cubone explained. "Are we getting hired now?"
Mr. Persian smacked his front paws on the floor eagerly. "Absolutely!" He turned himself around. "Follow me."
Mr. Persian led them deeper into the lobby. Past the wall dividing the reception desk from the resort was a large, open area coated with black and white tiled flooring, in stark contrast to the smaller, more homely lobby area at the front. The aesthetic of the building was a clever blend of comfort and spectacle — that was the one thing Meowth would give him credit for.
To their left, the wall opened up to a sizable restaurant area. The white cloth layered atop the tables suggested its fanciness, as did the empty podium in the back awaiting late-night performers.
"Oh, wow," Mathew muttered.
"I see you've noticed our dining room," Mr. Persian commented. He paused in front of the entrance, giving a small bow to the receptionist. "It seems rather nice, yes? It's much like a mini-Silvalla's, if you've ever eaten there. Our catalog is rapidly growing, though — perhaps we will outmatch it someday."
"Maybe we should eat there!" Joey exclaimed.
"I've seen the menu," Meowth commented. "The food here is more expensive. I hope you're prepared to break your banks on it."
Joey's enthusiasm dropped. "Oh."
"I suppose you'll just have to give both a try sometime. Now then, let's not lose focus." Mr. Persian proceeded in leading the strangers onwards.
"Yeah! The sooner we get you hired, the better!" Minichino exclaimed.
The group was filtered into a hallway with glass walls presenting treadmills and weights for bipeds and quadrupeds alike on the left and candle-lit beddings ripe for massages on the right. The trio of new employees just kept on marveling, easily impressed. Go figure — this path to application also seemed to double as a tour of the hotel.
Just as they arrived at the back of the hotel, where a door between them and a glistening pool begged to be pushed open, Mr. Persian veered left into a narrower hallway. "Here we are," he said, pushing a different door ajar.
Unlike the lavish interior they had just passed by, the office before them was much more akin to the rest of the resort. A number of bean bag chairs were similarly splayed out in front of a mahogany desk. The green walls were lined with picture frames holding photos of people Meowth didn't recognize. Two clear windows, close enough for a view of the pool area, brought in rays of warm light. It was one of those rooms that feels like home, until you try to sink your paws in the carpet floor only to find out it's layered too thin for comfort, reminding you that this is an office that conducts business and the home you were thinking of was just a distant memory.
Yeah...one of those rooms. And what better to couple the twisted memories it drew out with an assembly of every person he had ever faced a scuffle with all packed into one room? His father and Demurke, Politoed and Breloom, Minichino… The whole menagerie was here. In the two-week life span of the Club, this was actually a rarity, since Mr. Persian seldom chatted with them outside of his business conduct. All of them, brought together by a trio of strangers who hadn't found a reason to hate him...yet.
Meowth was the first to drop into one of the beanbag chairs, promptly sinking into it just the same as the one in the lobby. Next to him, Joey stretched out his arms and fell back into another chair as if to trust-fall it. Mathew and Jermy presumably took the other chairs, though he couldn't be bothered to double-check. He didn't need to look up to know Mr. Persian took a seat behind his desk, with Minichino and Demurke surely at his sides, leaving the couple two chairs in the back.
The cat's eyes glazed over as the others jubilantly talked all about the Pick-it Up Club's activities and requirements. What was there for Meowth to learn that he didn't already know? They visited mystery dungeons based on Minichino's ability to sense the aura of Solceus itself or whatever, then cleaned the dungeon. The whole process was officially endorsed by the Kalmwa'er Service Guild, who provided them with some supplies and staff so long as they also cleaned the town from time to time. All merely on-the-tin—
"Uh, I have a question," Joey said. "What's a mystery dungeon?"
Oh, now that was a question indeed. How didn't you know that, Joey? he was so tempted to ask, but not now. He'd need Joey alone for a question like that.
"I can explain that!" Minichino said. "Mystery dungeons are these weird places that totally change at noon and midnight. There are two kinds, based on how much the dungeon will mess up your mind if you get stuck in it!"
"Huh," Mathew said. "So people in there just go crazy, like those wingull we—"
"Exactly like those wingull you escaped from," ORB said.
"…Oh." Something about that clearly made Mathew as uncomfortable as he was when Politoed had asked about his history with music.
"No worries," Jermy said, soothing Mathew's concern. "With a bit of practice and experience, you'll get along in dungeons just fine!"
"Okay, that's good," Mathew said, dispelling the stress from his voice. Meowth thought he heard Breloom whisper something to Politoed, but couldn't make it out from this distance.
"Anyhow, now that our explanations are out of the way, we have one more matter to discuss." Mr. Persian leaned in slightly. "The matter of living accommodations. If you are going to stay here for some time, you two most likely need a place to stay, yes?"
"That's right," Jermy answered. "The three of us will stick together!"
"In that case… I'd like to make an offer. There are a few rooms on the upper floor of my resort prepared for fellows staying long term. Would you like to stay here? For a small price, of course."
So that was his game here? He's going to provide Mathew and Joey living accommodations. There was the missing link he had been looking for — his father had shattered all doubt in his involvement. Whatever this was, it was something greater than just the Club.
"Trust me, g-guys, the rooms here are lovely. The staff works really hard on them…" Demurke said, pretending like Mathew and Joey had a say in the matter.
"Sounds convenient enough to live and work at the same place," Mathew said.
"Yepperoni!" Jermy agreed. "So, what kind of price are we talking about here?"
Mr. Persian reached for a pen and clenched it in his mouth. As his father punched the numbers, Meowth realized that he had come to a crossroads. He could either keep quiet about how much he had figured out, or he could try interrupting this plan. Regardless of his choice, Mathew and Joey would be valuable assets. Since they're so new to the job, they were more likely to have loose lips compared to, say, Jermy. That meant he had to keep those two's opinions of him as high as he could until he got what he needed. He had already made one scene today, so it'd be wise to—
Mr. Persian paused his scribbling for a moment. The two of them locked eyes. The pen in his mouth couldn't hide the expression.
That smile. That stupid smile. Taunting him. Telling Meowth, I'm about to slip this part of my master plan right in front of you and you won't even know.
Forget subtleties.
"Why don't you three stay at my own home?" Meowth proposed, rising. The room went quiet, processing what he had just said.
"Wha- why would- I-I-I don't understand…" Minichino was dumbfounded. "Why are you offering them a place while they're clearly looking at something else?"
"Yeah…" Jermy fumbled for a statement. "Meowth, that's really nice of you, but—"
"What kind of house do you live in, Meowth?" Joey asked.
Interest. There was the momentum he needed. "I live in a condo in the upper side of town, which you seemed fond of earlier," Meowth began to explain. "I have enough spare rooms to fit all three of you. You would lose out on the proximity to the job, but you'd get back a clear view of the town, a filled kitchen, and individual rooms. You'd have a short walk to the gondola, so the beach and the rest of town are always within reach. And, most importantly, my father already pays the expenses for the condo, so all three of you would live rent-free."
Mr. Persian, finally broken out of his stunned silence, spoke first. "Well, Meowth, that's certainly a very generous offer. Unfortunately, these three cannot take such an offer because—"
"I'll take it."
Now it was Mathew's turn to hold everyone's attention. The cubone rose up, joining Meowth.
"Now wait just a minute," Breloom said from the back. "Don't tell me you don't remember what we were warning you about earlier. Are you sure you want the fun sucked right out of you?"
"And you'd mess up our schedule living somewhere else!" Jermy proclaimed.
Rather than Mathew, it was Joey who piped up, asking ORB, "How much do you reckon Mathew and I would actually mess it up?"
"The primary interference would be more limited access to Club facilities for recreational purposes. Aside from that, alongside increased travel times to and from the resort lobby, interference would be relatively limited."
"ORB!" Jermy exclaimed. "Why would you encourage them?!"
"I'm a fact-checker, Jermy, not a brainwasher," the robot snapped back.
Mathew listened to all this, nodding away, before answering Politoed's question. "Look, I don't mean to be rude, you two, but I've literally just met Meowth. All I know about him is that he was thoughtful enough to come check on Jermy and Demurke, voiced when he felt we were making a scene, and offered us a house for free. Before I call him a piece of shit, I want to know he's a piece of shit. Does that make any sense?"
"You want to see for yourself if he's as bad as we say." Politoed nodded. "Kind of get that. Just try not to get burned."
"Oh, trust me, I can see scum from miles away." Mathew turned to Jermy. "Here's the deal. If Meowth ends up being scum, we can go with the plan and live here in the Resort. Got it?"
"I'm like that deal, Mathew," Joey said.
"Uh… Um…" Jermy was clearly not in approval, but lacked the spine to tell them no. The three of them were playing right into his hands. Meowth tried to hide a grin.
"…Excuse me," Mr. Persian said, standing up. "Meowth, could we speak for a moment in private?"
Meowth shrugged. "Sure."
Mr. Persian and Meowth vacated the office room, returning to the narrow hallway.
"Before I say anything, I want to say that your pitch was incredible and I'm very proud of you," Mr. Persian said quietly. "That being said… What are you trying to do here, Meowth?!"
"What does it look like? I'm taking matters into my own hands," Meowth said. "I've made my case and it sounds like they liked it."
"Please, can you go back there and retract your statement?"
"No."
"Meowth, you don't understand. I have to—"
"Make more money? I get it. It's all you ever do these days."
His father looked like he was about to blow a gasket. The expression was gratifying. "Meowth, what in the world made you think all this was about—?!"
"Mr. Persian, sir!" Suddenly, Demurke stumbled into the conversation, driving a wedge between them. "I… I think we should a-allow Meowth to take Mathew, Joey, and Jermy in."
Mr. Persian was taken aback. "But what about the…?"
"Meowth m-made a good case. Mathew and Joey would probably be a lot b-better off there…" Demurke nodded, as if trying to assure herself of her own stance. "It wouldn't be h-hard to work around them being a couple minutes away. Besides...it might be better for…" Demurke refused to finish her sentence, but with the way she and Mr. Persian were looking at him and each other, it sounded like the conversation had finished in their eyes. Better for what?
Mr. Persian sighed. "I'm still not sure, but you have final say. I suppose you can take them, Meowth."
"Thanks," Meowth said. "They'll prove of great help to me." He turned around to open the door, leading the three of them back into the office.
Behind him, his father mumbled lament, louder than he probably intended. "Oh, Meowth… Why must you torment me in the strangest of ways?"
Meowth didn't bother to entertain him with an answer.
"Here we are," Meowth said, pushing the creaky door open. "Make yourselves at home."
"Guys," Jermy said. "Are you really sure this is what you want to do? We can probably still go—"
"Don't wanna hear it!" Mathew stormed into the condo, sending the backpack flying out of Joey's hands. "I didn't lug this giant-ass thing all the way back up just to go back down!" Awaiting him was Meowth's kitchen with a table surrounded by drawers, sinks, and microwaves; beyond that, the house opened up to a cozy living room with a couch and a television. The back wall was composed entirely of glass, giving a full view of Kalmwa'er's lower half.
"Wow, this is real nice!" Joey said behind Mathew, taking in their new living accommodations. "Er… You have two microwaves?"
"One of them was a birthday gift, the other came with the condo," Meowth explained. "Don't question it."
Jermy sighed. "This is really what we settled with…"
"Didn't you let this happen, Jermy?" ORB said.
"I did, I did…" Jermy conceded. "But only because I didn't want to play the bad cop!"
"Come on…man!" Mathew exclaimed, dragging his backpack into the living room. "He gave this…to us…for free!" Meowth watched as Mathew paused and whirled his head around the living room. The floor plan was L-shaped — branching off from the main living space, there were two rooms blocked by doors on the side walls, and a staircase on the right led up to more. "Hey Meowth, where can I settle down?" he asked after soaking it in.
"The room to the left is mine, and the right's a supply closet. Take one of the three rooms upstairs."
"Got it!" Mathew continued to lug his belongings to the corner, then slowly and steadily up the staircase. Meowth quickly slipped into the closet and grabbed a nest before giving chase.
The second floor was a smaller living room with a few proper Meowth-sized chairs, another television, and three doors, one at each wall. Mathew struggled towards the door across from the back window. Three doorknobs awaited him: one his height, one slightly above Joey's height, and one above that. Turning the one at his level turned them all.
The room Mathew stumbled into was modestly sized, with orange walls and a dark wooden floor. The walls were lined with unremarkable white cabinets, and the side facing the neighborhood had two small windows which brought in just enough light to be tolerable. To the left was another door, attached to a washroom. It wasn't exactly an area Mathew would spend all his time in, but Meowth supposed it was better that way.
With one final tug, Mathew let the backpack stand. He absentmindedly began to unpack. "Hey Meowth, would you mind if—" Mathew stopped when he looked up.
"Yes?" Meowth asked.
"What the hell is that?" he pointed towards the disk-shaped conglomeration of strand and straw he was dragging behind him.
"I'm bringing a nest for your room. Sleeping on the floor isn't very comfortable."
"We're...sleeping in nests." Mathew's expression went unread beneath his mask, but Meowth could guess what it looked like. "Do you sleep in a nest?"
"I do," Meowth answered. "Do you not where you're from?"
"Not at all." The cubone stretched his arms. "But I guess I'm gonna have to get used to it. I need a nap…"
Meowth turned his back on Mathew to get nests for Joey and Jermy's rooms. Yeah, you should get used to it, Mathew, he thought. You three need to get relaxed if I hope to learn anything from you…
