Chapter 1: Re:Make
I'm being digested by a stomach of concrete. There is no escape in sight, and no death in the horizon.
It's all my fault. It's taken me so long to remember…
My grandparents used to live in one of those closed apartment complexes, the ones with a courtyard in the middle and nothing but walls and doors and windows around it. You had to go up a flight of stairs to enter. It wasn't a gated community or anything. The people there were too old, and so were the buildings, back from a time where the elderly could afford such places.
Every weekend we'd go visit them, me and my cousins and Steph, their baby Houndour. We'd play in an outside that was also an inside, moving through the concrete veins of the building, chasing each other, playing hide and seek. That one was my favorite. My cousins preferred being in the open with the other kids, the children not of the elderly who owned the apartments, but their children who were temporarily living with them. They always chose soccer. During the early afternoon while the grown-ups slept their siestas, the sound of excited barking and kids kicking the rubber ball would echo throughout the courtyard.
But I didn't like it. If I ever joined, it was due to peer pressure. The courtyard freaked me out. Walls without a ceiling, no horizon, only the sky and the moving clouds above, you couldn't tell where they were heading.
And then there was the tree.
It was massive, growing from the leftmost side of the courtyard, the only spot that wasn't all concrete. Near sunset, its shadow would swallow everything and not even my cousins would want to play down there anymore.
Grandpa once told me it'd been there since my dad was a kid, that he and Roger (our old Feraligatr) had grown up alongside it. I broke down crying when I heard that. To this day I don't know why, but every time I think back on it, I feel a tightness in my chest, a subtle fear that no amount of future horrors ever managed to equal.
I stopped going out to the courtyard after that, and tried not to think about the tree. My cousins got mad that I only wanted to play inside, but I ignored them. I ignored my parents too, who were so worried about me. None of them understood.
There were no balconies, you see. When you exited the apartment, the hallway was closed off by walls and stairs that led to the other floors. Concrete tunnels connected the four buildings encasing the courtyard, and the only way to look outside was through the grates separating the staircases from the outside. It was glum and chilly, and at least to that younger me, massive. Each time we played hide and seek, it felt like hours running through those claustrophobic hallways, ending up in parts of the complex I'd never seen before. It felt like being stuck in a labyrinth.
I loved it. I loved being surrounded by flat surfaces, no way to fall down or up no matter what I did. It was the safest I've ever felt, hugged by those dark grey corners.
And then grandma died. Grandpa followed her not long after, though not before mom and dad discovered something he'd done, and no one went to visit him anymore. When he passed, dad sold the apartment and that was it. We never went back.
All the other tenants must've died in between then and me growing up. I thought maybe new people had come in, though they must've felt so terribly out of place in those apartments that weren't theirs, in concrete that they hadn't eroded with their own steps. But I didn't know for sure. It's on the northern edge of the city, and neither my parents nor I ever had an excuse to drive near there again.
I forgot about it for the most part, save for a few nightmares about that fucking tree. And that's how it should've stayed.
But it didn't. I came back. Why did I come back? I wish I knew, all I remember is driving near the place and having this… gnawing, tearing feeling of nostalgia rising up my throat like vomit. I had to check. What else was there to do? What did I have left?
I sprinted up the stairs and closed my eyes as I reached the courtyard, not wanting to see the tree, even now, even while I felt so stupid for doing so. But my feet carried me from muscle memory alone, and that's what sealed my fate, I think.
Have you ever lived with someone for so long you can recognize their footsteps? Well, the place recognized mine, and it swallowed me with a love and desperation as grinding as teeth, as sandpaper against my skin. It cried flakes of dry paint onto my head. It hugged me by closing its doors around me, and held me so tight I almost suffocated.
It had been abandoned. It was starving. And because of my stupidity, I'd closed my eyes while barging in here, failing to notice that the tree from my nightmares wasn't there anymore.
Something much worse had taken its place, impossibly tall and indescribable, a woman of bubbling, writhing steel and skin as pale as marble, bleeding wrongness into the soil beneath her. It gave life to this place. Like that thing does to the carapaced back of an evolving Paras, wriggling under its skin to kill whatever is inside and then animate the rest like a puppet. Whatever's left at that point is no longer genuine. It's just instincts, nerves moving what no longer should. It's doing it to this place now, pumping something horrible into it and relishing in the way it twitches around me with an almost pornographic bliss.
I'm being digested by the only walls that ever loved me, and there's no more sky or horizon to save me from them. The queen in the courtyard made sure to hide them from me.
Flaring, zigzagging pain courses down Hope's forehead with unfortunate familiarity, like a drop of rain hitting a window and sliding down an existing trail. She comes to herself with a jolt, rising up her chair. The taste of today's breakfast sticks to the inside of her mouth.
"Mhn… pah."
She spits out some air and rises to her feet, the legs of the chair and the table groaning against the wooden floor. All the little tools and even littler metallic parts clank together atop her desk, a few rolling under the plastic frame of the Pokegear she'd been working on, its gray guts displayed openly to the dark room. Hope grips the back of the chair, frowning, vision blurry and head still pounding. She looks at the device, then looks up at the clock.
11:30 a.m.
"Oh, bless you."
All of a sudden her stabbing headache feels more convenient than irritating. And as though appreciating that change of perspective, the pain stops only a few seconds later, leaving her only with the dizziness and the vague memory of the nightmare she was having before being woken up. Another blessing, she supposes. Those endless concrete hallways, that odd emerald and stark shadow covering the sky… it was spooky.
Been a while since I had one of those though, she thinks, tracing a finger down her forehead where the headache had burrowed into it. Maybe one of Earl's new students got a frisky psychic Pokemon with more power than common sense. Ugh, hope not. I don't wanna deal with that all season.
Sure saved her this time, at least. Mew knows what on earth possessed her to take a nap in the middle of fixing Bruce's 'gear, but it's okay, she has time to get it to him before the clockhands meet. Assuming she leaves right now. And Dad hasn't taken her bike to go talk to someone or buy groceries. And Mallard…
"Hm? Mallard, you here?"
Nothing for a moment. Then she catches the barest movement in the corner of her eye, turning to see the dirty ball of feathers rubbing himself against her pillow. She snorts; of course. Reaching to her waist, she unzips her bag and saunters over to the bed, picking up the Hoothoot by the head and shoving his lower half inside the bag, up to his beak. Only then do his eyes open, though barely. He makes it as far as to confirm it was her owner stuffing him into a bag before closing them again and dozing back off.
"You're a little dirtball, you know that?" she judges, one hundred percent correct. "Hollow dirtball. Not much going on inside that head of yours, is there?"
Mallard bristles his feathers in response, though he must not feel insulted enough to actually open his eyes and refute her point.
"Yeah, you don't give a crap," she whispers and looks around her, clicking her tongue. "Not even bothered by whatever that was just now. Maybe because you're not psychic type… or maybe I'm just extra sensitive to it these days." Her eyes come to rest on the clock again, then on the blindingly bright light coming from her monitor. "Hm… I think I got a minute."
She fiddles with the compartment under her desk until it pops out, alongside the mouse and keyboard. She grabs the first, opens her browser and clicks on the icon for the forum, anxiously tapping a finger against the desk as she waits for it to load. As usual, her internet isn't being very cooperative. But once the page is fully loaded, she scrolls down and notices there's only been one update since she fell asleep; Faith replied something on the thread Hunter made about that indie punk band he'd discovered a week ago. Nothing urgent.
"Okay, done." She straightens up and clicks her neck. "Let's go."
Sliding the cover of the 'gear in place takes a few irritating seconds, but after that plastic click she shoves it inside the pocket of her vest and flies out of her room, practically leaping down the stairs and emerging into a lower floor that is a lot brighter than her room. The sunlight streaming down the living door's window kicks her eyes' butt before she remembers to raise a hand to cover herself, face scrunching up.
Dad's voice calls out to her from the dinner table.
"Morning, poffin. Again."
"Almost midday," she says, walking past the windows and blinking down the pain. "How're you doing?"
"Good, good. Catching up on the news."
Odd, she thinks. "Thought you'd be out talking with the other council folk by now."
Though she's in a hurry, she's not going to speed past her dad without saying hi first. The man sits behind the dinner table with an open newspaper and a cup of coffee half-drunk that probably went cold a while ago. He's wearing his old jean jacket, so he had to have gone out at some point before she fell asleep.
"I was." He smiles, not looking up from the paper. "Norbert cut the meeting short, prob'ly for the best. Must've woken up on the wrong side of the bed today." He snorts at himself, shaking his head. "Said something about having to be home early for something. Family matters, I think".
Her ears perk up, and she momentarily forgets about her delivery. Old 'Bert? Family matters? It couldn't be… no, 'course not. His family's bigger than the whole population of Violet if what Hunter told her isn't an exaggeration, so it could've been anyone else. Besides, he would've texted her or mentioned it in the forums if he were coming home, right?
"Huh, weird," is how she expresses those thoughts verbally.
"Mhm. Oh, by the way. I heard you snoring from all the way down here," he says, glancing up for the first time. "Told you to go to sleep earlier at night. Are you good?"
She sighs, placing a hand on her hip. "I got morning breath for the second time today, what do you think?"
"Midday breath."
"Right," she chuckles. "Anyway, gotta go deliver the fixed 'gear to Bruce. I'll take the bike."
It's hard to tell due to the thick glasses he's wearing, but her dad blinks a couple times quickly before looking up at her.
"Huh. Didn't tell me you got another gig." His voice is forcefully flat, unsubtly so. "Are you still… doing those?"
Her lips stretch a bit. There's a second of silence. "Yeah… I'm hoping he'll tell his pals if I did a good job. Word of mouth."
"That why you're in such a hurry?" he asks. "Bruce ain't gonna tear into you if you're a few minutes late."
"I am not going over the deadline for my first gig in this long. I have to start on the right foot."
"Yah…" His fingers fold the top of the newspaper antsily, eyes moving away from her. "Was… meaning to talk to you about that. I don't know if you need to–"
How thankful she is to have an excuse this time. Hope grabs the keys from the rack on the side of the staircase and hurries to the door before her dad can finish the sentence. She almost forgets to say goodbye
"Right-well, yeah, see you later."
He stammers to himself, she hears him. Almost feels bad about it. But then he calls out to her from beyond the closing door and her lips quirk up at what he says.
"Making meat and biscuits for lunch, poffin!"
Mallard wakes up from the sudden growl in her stomach, betraying her yet again. She pats his head to shut him up and jumps onto the seat of the bike. Ahead near the edge of the lawn, Tiberius is spooked from the noise and looks up languidly from his spot, blinking at her with half-lidded eyes. Hope gives the old Growlithe an apologetic smile and puts her foot on the pedal.
"Sorry champ," she whispers, then looks over her shoulder and yells. "Okay, thanks dad! Love you!"
Dust from the dirt road kicks off behind the wheels as she takes off, away from the edge of nowhere and onto the city above.
Burger dripping with mayonnaise in one hand, probably the most valuable laptop in all of Johto on the other, Hunter leans back on the passenger seat of his car and helps the radio fuck the silence off the surface of Violet.
"I can't belieeeve in you!" the singer screams through the woofers.
"I'd see you another day another way!" Hunter wails, rocking back and forth.
"Nobody's standing neaaar!"
"THERE'S SOMETHING YOU CAN'T SEE OR FE-EEL BABYYY!"
Next to him, Bell's arm is a straight line as solid as a steel beam toward the wheel, while her other elbow rests on the open window, fingers massaging her temple. To her credit as the driver, she waits until the next red light before reaching for the radio's dial and turning the volume down at least halfway. Only then does a sigh of relief leave her lips.
"That's enough of that."
Hunter pshhh-es and shakes his head before taking another bite of the burger. His right leg is hoisted up holding the laptop, sole resting on the edge of the seat.
"There's still like ten minutes 'til there, no?"
"We agreed until Violet, not until we arrive home."
"Mhmm. A'ight."
The terms of their agreement had been simple. Bell was tasked to travel back home for League matters, but didn't count with a car to make the trip. Hunter had one, but she didn't want him driving, well aware of his penchant for ignoring speed limits. He'd shrugged and said he either got to drive or got to choose the music for the trip. After a lot of deliberation, her sister bit the bullet and chose the lesser of two evils.
"Careful with that," Bell says for the fourteenth time, glancing nervously at the dripping burger in his hand. "If you damage that laptop the League will actually, honestly execute me. They'll put my head on a spike."
He looks at her sister and smiles, cheeks full of processed meat. "Come on," he says, then swallows. "I wouldn't let them do that to you."
"Hmhmm," is all she can reply, eyes heavy with exhaustion. Her usually prim and straight blonde hair is a mess and he can tell she's got a headache from those three lines on her forehead. She's been driving practically all day. Despite his reputation for being an annoying little shit, he's not going to make things more stressful for her than they need to be.
Plenty stressful for both of us already, he thinks, glancing up the screen toward the streets past the windshield. Home… sweet home.
Nah, what's he thinking? He's gonna be there for Bell if she needs him. When she needs him. Even if she insists she's fine, which she's gonna, he'll see right through her bullshit and help her focus on the task at hand. No fucking ghosts are gonna mess with her sister, not even… him.
Hunter shakes his head with a laughing exhale and returns his eyes to the laptop screen, fiddling with the built-in mouse with his free hand.
"I'll be careful. Just wanted to check something and I'll put it back, promise."
It really is some alien shit, he thinks. He can count with the fingers of a hand the number of portable computers he's seen in his life, and this one can somehow connect to the internet without any cables. According to Bell, it's thanks to a sort of wave only the League can use. And here he is, using that amazing technology to browse his favorite forum.
Let's see… He takes the last piece of the burger into his mouth and leans forward. Oh shit, Faith replied something to the Knotlamp thread!
Swallowing excitedly, he opens the thread and starts reading.
Hunter's_Instinct Nov 05 2012 22:29
a while ago i found this band from cianwood (ok Faith found it, but i found the album ), it's pretty new i guess, since there's only one album out. I thought it was pretty fucking good, which is weird because they sing mostly in unovan and you know how I am with that. besides, since there's just one album when they become all famous and commercialized I can point and say 'I liked them before they were cool'.
not gonna bother listing genre or other similar bands, give it a listen and see if you like it or not:
here's the link for the album.
Hope Nov 05 2012 23:43
this band has aaall my approval, I head-banged my way through all of today listening to Lost Anthology
Our time is slowly breaking
Mostly_Harmless Nov 06 2012 09:15
I'm not even gonna bother testing it. If the two dolts recommend it then I'll download it straight to my phone and listen to it while at work.
Lady_Faith Nov 06 2012 09:45
I ended up downloading the whole album, all because of a single song Hunter put on while he was driving me back home.
Shamefully, I must admit that it rocks.
Fealrath Nov 15 2012 21:20
I downloaded this like a week ago and forgot to comment on it xD it's super cool, I approve
Lost Anthology made me want to start pogoing at work.
Finally, he reaches the end of the page and sees Faith's post. His eyes instantly widen.
Lady_Faith May 22 2013 10:12
HUUUUUUUUUNTEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER!
[GEARTUBE] WVtqwsZlDoY[/GEARTUBE]
NEW SINGLE OUT!
Hunter's heart leaps in his chest. Good thing he finished that burger, because otherwise he would've flung it off his hands from pure excitement. A new single dropped!? And written specifically by the guy that wrote all the other best songs!? His hands fly to the keyboard and he types every word and burst of happiness as they course through his mind and heart.
Hunter's_Instinct May 22 2013 12:25
KYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
holy shit nice! you sniped it right after it was uploaded, well done!
now I gotta go out and fanboy a little bit, if I may be excused (?)
It's decided. As tempting as it is to listen to it now, he has to wait until Hope agrees to accompany them tonight. He can't think of a better way to get a good start on… whatever the hell this weeks' going to be. Annoying, first and foremost. Prooobably not dangerous, as Violet is a pretty nice town all things considered and his dad is part of city council, but you never know. He's been bothered by people held back by much more than small-town politeness, but he's confident he can take care of himself, should push come to shove.
Though it doesn't mean the thought doesn't leave a sour taste on his mouth.
Hope! He reminds himself, the name jolting his smile back into place. You're seeing Hope again, come on man!
Yeah, that's what matters. At the end of the day, there's a lot more to be excited for than anything else, and he's not gonna let anyone who's not him ruin this week. He's back home, and he's gonna make it fucking count.
"Hey," he tells Bell, closing the laptop with a knife-sharp smile on his face. "You know what?"
"Hm?" she asks, looking like she's seconds away from falling asleep on the wheel.
"You're the fucking best," he says. "And this weekend is going to be great, I can feel it. So don't… worry about it, okay?"
A thin, somewhat saddened smile stretches across her sister's lips. Her eyes stare into the road, but they seem to be hundreds of miles and days away.
"…Yeah, well." She sighs, her fingers gripping the steering wheel harder. "No hay mal que por bien no venga."
Hope doesn't believe in god, she's pretty sure, but that damned Bellsprout tower is something else.
Not many excuses to swing by this side of Violet lately. Sprout Highs is a mostly quiet, old-people neighborhood, named after their –or just the city's in general– most well-known historical spot. The houses are old and more wide than tall as Hope believes burgers should be, made of some kinda dark wood that's supposed to be more cold-repellant than concrete. Must come in handy during winter, she thinks. And she can't deny that they're pretty too, or… more like pleasant to look at. There's the mix of dark brown from the houses with the grayish blue of the worn-out stone streets, and if her memory serves her correctly those big trees lining the sidewalk are cheri, which oughta be a spectacle all its own come spring.
No vehicles parked anywhere either, which she can't help but smile at. It counts for a lot. Especially after all the times she's almost been run over by a bunch of cars when she's had to pedal through city centre. She doesn't see the point when you can cross all of Violet in about half an hour with a bicycle.
Hunter would probably disagree with her on that, though.
Swallowing on a dry throat, she glances up and eastward just as the massive shadow of Bellsprout tower swallows her and about half the block, despite the sun being straight above them. She can't help gripping the handlebar. Never been one to feel vertigo, but it's a guarantee every time she looks up there, every time she hears the hollow, earthy groan of its inner pillar shifting from left to right.
She's not ignorant. Dad took her to plenty of other places, she's seen Tin tower and its burned counterpart and knows what these kinda places of worship look and feel like. But there's something about Bellsprout tower. About its hollow gongs that resonate through the air every few seconds, about the lack of any connection to legendary Pokemon or just the strangeness of the monks that live inside it. It feels… empty, all-encompassing.
It rubs her the wrong way in exactly the right way, she believes. What she'd give to move to this part of town, though she knows dad would never wanna hear it.
Oh well. Maybe someday when she's fifty and has the money for it.
Turning the bicycle, she goes over the corner and emerges into sunlight once more. Her pedaling gets slower as she reaches the eastern edge of the neighborhood, where she's pretty sure Bruce's house is. She's never been here. The whole thing with her fixing his 'gear came about thanks to Bebe's recommendation, she's the one who arranged it. And if the address she gave her is correct…
Yup, there it is. Coven St. 206. Letting out a breath of relief, Hope pedals backwards to activate the brakes and stops in front of the small empty lawn, wiping a bead of sweat off her forehead. Then, she blinks and freezes at the sight that meets her.
"…Huh."
That… sure looks like there's no one home. Windows and blinds all closed even upstairs, and no light coming from inside. No, she thinks she can see some, but only on the bottom floor. Above, there's not even a speck of light to be seen, as though something other than just the blinds were covering the windows. Like they're…
"Are the windows… boarded up?" she wonders out loud, frowning. "…Hey, Mallard. Wake up, I need your eyes."
She'd been told Bruce would be home at this hour. She doesn't know much about the man except that he's Bebe's manager at the record store, but…
"Pah-rhuu…" Mallard shakes inside her bag, glancing up at her with sleepy eyes. "Phhru…"
He's not happy to be lifted up and pointed toward the second-floor windows, but he knows the drill by now. With only one chirp of protest, he opens his eyes wide and stares, and then Hope does the usual and taps into what little psychic energy there's inside of her. Light flickers, like a switch being flipped, and when she next blinks, she's seeing through the eyes of Mallard.
It takes her a moment to adjust, as always, but she's got enough experience with this by now. Though the Hoothoot's eyes much prefer darkness, he nonetheless sees much better than her even during the day, and she immediately notes that her suspicions are correct. Someone's barricaded the windows upstairs. Though with what, she's not sure.
"Weird…"
Not much time to think about it though, because she then hears the sound of a door opening and her heart jumps inside her chest.
S-shit!
Thankfully, all anyone would've seen is Hope pointing a Hoothoot upwards, so the young girl who appears from behind the door can't think too badly of her, not without context. She still wishes she could've been freaking normal and knocked before doing that, though.
"H-hi. Can I help you?"
From the girl's tone of voice, she must want to hear a 'no' from her. She's partially hidden behind the door, glaring at her from the dark living room with what isn't quite suspicion, but it sure as hell ain't friendliness either. Hope smiles, having to squint a bit to make out her appearance, what with the sun hitting her directly in the face. Can't be older than sixteen with a baby face like that, though her expression and the bags under her eyes are anything but adorable. She's wearing the kinda clothes that would also work as pajamas, comfy slippers and all. Hope remembers looking like that plenty of times when she knew she didn't have to go out all day.
Judging from the state of the girl's hoodie though, she's probably looked like that for a while.
"Hi! Sorry for…" She looks down at Mallard, then up at the girl and laughs like it was nothing. "Anyway, I'm Hope! Hope Oesterling, dunno if you maybe know my dad, he's in the… um."
The girl's face scrunches up with something like worry or irritation, maybe both, and she doesn't seem to be listening much. Her eyes keep darting from Hope to someplace behind her. Not much for small talk, this one. That's fine, she can work with that, straight to the point it is.
"Does… Bruce live here? Mr. Sterling?" She puts a sleepy Mallard back in the bag and starts rummaging through her pockets. "He told me to come by today around this time."
"Y-yeah. He's my dad." The girl swallows. "Um. He's… not here right now."
Her fingers find the Pokegear right as she says that. She doesn't pull it out, instead looking over to the girl with furrowed brows, feeling something sink in her stomach. At least she waits until there's confirmation before slumping her shoulders and sighing, 'cause if he's not here for the foreseeable future…
I could've slept 'til lunch, she thinks. Oh yeah, and no payment. Darnit…
"What'd you need him for?" the girl asks, a tinge of accusation in her voice.
Trying to put on a smile, Hope retrieves the Pokegear and shows it to the girl, whose eyes widen with recognition immediately.
"Dad's…? I thought it was broken."
"Yeah, I fixed it," she says, shrugging. "That's what I do. Your dad got it to me through a mutual friend of ours, and he told me I could bring it over today 'round midday. Is he…" She fixes up her smile somewhat before asking. "Sorry if it sounds intruding, but is he still at work or something?"
There's no response at first, but not because the girl is reluctant to answer or anything. Her eyes get downcast, lips spreading into a pale line. Seems to deliberate something with herself, until finally she steps out from behind the door and frowns at Hope.
"No, don't think so. He left yesterday… to visit somewhere, don't know if it was for work or what. Someone called."
"Ah, darn. That's a sh-"
It takes a second for the weirdness of that statement to dawn in, and halfway through her sentence Hope tilts her head at the girl, befuddled. Yesterday? That means he's been gone for over a day, and 'cause of something not work related? As subtly as she can, she glances up at the second floor, at the boarded up windows, and feels like while they still don't make much sense, something… there's something here. Weird.
"He… does that often?" she can't help but ask. "It's been a whole day. Are you home alone?"
She catches herself a second after she says that and cringes, but the girl doesn't seem to think that's a weird question and shrugs, disinterested.
"It's fine. Now I know he didn't write 'cause he left his Pokegear with you," she says. "I-er… he didn't leave money for that, but I got some. How much…?"
Hope makes a face and raises her hands in front of her, immediately shaking her head. The thought didn't even occur to her.
"Oh no, haha, nono it's fine," she hurries to say with a smile. "It's fine, really. Here…"
She raises the pristine Pokegear to the girl, who cautiously takes it after a couple seconds, eyes going from Hope to the device in quick succession.
"Bruce is a friend of a friend," Hope explains. "I'm sure he'll get that money back to me later, so no worries really."
"…Ok."
Something to talk to Bebe about later, Hope thinks in the back of her head. She should know if he showed up to work today. If not…
"I'm sure your dad'll be back home soon," she tries reassuring her. "No need to worry."
"I… wasn't worried."
Now that's a lie, as clear on her baby face as those heavy bags under her eyes. Hope raises an eyebrow, but doesn't call her out on it.
"That's the spirit," she nods. "There's no bad that doesn't come from good… wait, no. That sounds bad, darn…" An embarrassed look appears on her face. How'd she mess that up? "It's a saying my brother used to… ah, can't remember how it goes in Johtonian, y'see it was originally from another language so…" After a few futile seconds of trying to remember, she just shrugs and laughs nervously. "Yeah, sorry."
Hope's cheeks flush a little. The mortifying silence lasts for a few moments before the girl breaks it. "Well… okay," she repeats, looking down at the device in her hand, turning it around and feeling its weight. "I'll tell him if-when he comes back, so-"
"Do you know who called him? Why he could've left?"
Hope can't stop herself from blurting that out, really. It was fine at first, but the more this conversation proceeds the more anxious and concerned she feels, as little to do with her as this got. Bruce, the boarded up windows, this girl who looks like she hasn't slept or showered in days… it's weird, she knows. Probably comes off as creepy, but she can't help feeling instantly protective over her.
It's not very appreciated. The girl lowers the Pokegear, a shadow falling over her face.
"Dunno. Some guy… city council or something," she spits out. "Ginger guy, the scarecrow, no idea what his name is."
A light bulb turns on inside Hope's head. Ginger? Scarecrow-looking? That's gotta be Hunter's…
"Oh, Norb-I mean, Mr. Myers!" she blurts out. "Yeah I know him, he's my friend's dad! Works with him at city council actually." She can't help falling back into her small talk tone of voice. "Known him all my life."
"O…kay?" Her eyes seemed to say 'So?'.
"I can ask him if he knows anything 'bout where Bruce is," she says. "Just in case, y'know?"
The girl's eyes narrow like she's blinking through a sudden migraine. Seems on the verge of groaning. "N-no, that's not-"
"Oh, and here, you can have this."
Suddenly remembering that, oh yeah, she has these now, Hope opens the front pocket of her waist bag and takes a small plastic card from the pile, extending it toward the girl with two fingers and a practiced smile that oughta make it hard for her to say no.
"What's that?"
"Business card," she says. "Feels weird to carry them around, but you gotta grow your business somehow. Oh yeah, my number's in there." She points with her eyes at the front of the card. "So if stuff comes up or you need something, anything, feel more than free to call me. I live just twenty minutes away."
"What?" spits the girl, clearly overwhelmed. "Wait no, fuckin'… hold on-"
"Just in case?" Hope pleads, giving her best approximation of puppy eyes. "It'd make me and this little guy feel a lot better."
And she points her chin down at the snoozing Hoothoot, who so clearly doesn't give a crap about whatever's happening around him, but is adorable enough to mask that fact. The girl looks at him, then at Hope, and makes a face like someone who's seven hours into their twelve-hours shift.
"I-ugh… why're you even…?"
She doesn't finish the question, running out of energy beforehand. Reluctantly, she reaches over and takes the card from Hope's hand, groaning in annoyance as she does so. From this close, she can see the heavy bags under the girl's eyes, a darkish grey, almost purple.
"Fine," she whispers, pulling back. "Bye."
"Wait!"
Her eye twitches. If she didn't have a headache before, she's for sure got it now.
"What?" she asks, almost spitting the words.
"You… didn't tell me your name."
That catches her off guard. She leans back, blinking, and though she opens her mouth no words come for a few seconds. There's confusion in there somewhere. After a moment, she puts a reply together and says it to her like she's got little choice in the matter.
"…Peggy."
And she slams the door shut. Not hard enough to wake Mallard up, but enough to give Hope a good scare. She blinks at the sudden solitude she finds herself in, then shrugs and exhales something akin to a laugh. Teenagers. She doesn't remember she or Hunter being like that at Peggy's age, but that's probably more their fault than it is hers. In any case, she did as much as she could here, even if that doesn't help the worry gnawing at her stomach. Now, though…
Returning to the bike, she kicks up the… thingie, the wheel-protruding stick doodad she never learned the name of that keeps the bike from falling over, and jumps up to the seat strongly enough to wake Mallard up. He blinks, gnaws at his feathers for a second and then looks up at her with those big ol' eyes, frowning.
"Sorry, but we got one more stop to make," she tells him. "Dad's for sure not finishing lunch for a while, so we have time. Let's see if we can find Mr. Myers."
Unfortunately, uptown district is sufficiently suburban and thus car-populated that Hope can't just control the bike with one hand while absentmindedly looking at her Pokegear. So instead, she does that while on the sidewalk.
'tis the price of civilization, I guess.
In exchange her Pokegear gets signal for once, so she takes the chance to open the messenger function and check if Bebe sent anything overnight, which she has, obviously. The wall of text that pops up causes her eyes to glaze over. Sighing, she breezes through most of it, scrolling fast to get to the bottom so she can ask what she wants to ask.
~ You know that I would nail you if I could nurse my pride says:
Yesterday during the late hours of the night I found myself watching league matches' loser interviews while I waited for the sleeping meds to take effect.
~ You know that I would nail you if I could nurse my pride says:
By far the one that has most occupied my brain during waking hours was the one where they interviewed this guy who, mind you, was on full control of his mental faculties at the time. I assume. He specialized in steel types, because that's something that people do even when they're not Gym leaders, apparently.
~ You know that I would nail you if I could nurse my pride says:
Anyway, when asked why he thought he lost to Bruno so badly, his response was, and I quote:
~ You know that I would nail you if I could nurse my pride says:
'Yeah, well-you know. Fighting types are hard enough for us to deal with, and we didn't expect for half his team to know fire moves too. Steel types are weak to that, obviously.'
~ You know that I would nail you if I could nurse my pride says:
Inspirational.
~ You know that I would nail you if I could nurse my pride says:
Every day, I wake up in an apartment that smells like mold and hear my neighbors bickering through the paper-thin walls and trudge along to my shit job, yet through it all I remain stalwartly positive, taking solace in the fact that I'm flameproof. After all, it's not like fire is everyone's weakness.
~ You know that I would nail you if I could nurse my pride says:
I'm honestly curious. Does this guy think the rest of us get hit by fire and are… just fine? When a Pokemon that's not 'weak' to fire gets hit by it, does he think it's like a nice hot breeze and that's that? Is he aware of what fire actually is?
~ You know that I would nail you if I could nurse my pride says:
Type effectiveness is complete bullshit. No wonder we all failed our trainer journeys so badly.
~ You know that I would nail you if I could nurse my pride says:
ok meds taking effct. nghit night, talk to you tromorrow
×÷·.·´¯`·)» Hope «(·´¯`·.·÷× says:
hey did bruce go to work today?
×÷·.·´¯`·)» Hope «(·´¯`·.·÷× says:
also hope you slept well .w.
To her surprise, Bebe's reply comes almost immediately, despite the fact she's supposed to be working.
~ You know that I would nail you if I could nurse my pride says:
Nope, but I think he had the day off. Wasn't that why he told you to give him the Pokegear at this hour?
×÷·.·´¯`·)» Hope «(·´¯`·.·÷× says:
oh, yea. it's just that I went to his house and he wasn't there. his daughter answered.
×÷·.·´¯`·)» Hope «(·´¯`·.·÷× says:
she looked scared, like she didn't know where he was either. think he talked to Hunter's dad yesterday, going to ask him rn.
~ You know that I would nail you if I could nurse my pride says:
Hm. I could ask my boss, see if he knows anything.
×÷·.·´¯`·)» Hope «(·´¯`·.·÷× says:
ok thank u thank uuu .3.
~ You know that I would nail you if I could nurse my pride says:
…You're worried sick, aren't you?
×÷·.·´¯`·)» Hope «(·´¯`·.·÷× says:
a little bit.
~ You know that I would nail you if I could nurse my pride says:
It'll be ok. Just think about the Lance except his cape is made of lettuce image and you'll feel better.
×÷·.·´¯`·)» Hope «(·´¯`·.·÷× says:
jsjksjskjsd ?
~ You know that I would nail you if I could nurse my pride says:
I'll send it to you later, I don't have enough reception here.
After typing out a few more question marks for good measure, Hope exits out of the chat bubble and proceeds to click on Hunter's profile. She has to turn right on the next street, so the sun suddenly appearing behind her makes it difficult to read what he sent, but she somehow manages. She starts pedaling slower, knowing from a glance at the nearby water tower that she's getting close.
▁ ▂ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ яυℓє σf α ѕєℓfιѕн gυу █ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄ ▂ ▁ says:
3 am newsflash, cocksucker: I thought it over while I slept and you're still wrong
▁ ▂ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ яυℓє σf α ѕєℓfιѕн gυу █ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄ ▂ ▁ says:
if a guy gets chosen as a gym leader in unova, then you know he's wasting tax money that woulda otherwise gone to military spending
▁ ▂ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ яυℓє σf α ѕєℓfιѕн gυу █ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄ ▂ ▁ says:
so that's good, hes pretty much good to go on the morality standpoint
▁ ▂ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ яυℓє σf α ѕєℓfιѕн gυу █ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄ ▂ ▁ says:
if he then decides to go and spend that money on walls of honey that you HAVE to go through to advance in his gym, then thats his fucking sin to bear. its up to god to judge him, not us
▁ ▂ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ яυℓє σf α ѕєℓfιѕн gυу █ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄ ▂ ▁ says:
and if he wants to throw some honey-covered clowns in there then whatever. just another trial for trainers to overcome. whatever he does with those clowns and that honey in his free time is none of our fucking business, I think
▁ ▂ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ яυℓє σf α ѕєℓfιѕн gυу █ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄ ▂ ▁ says:
so fuck you, this burgh guy is great and I support him
▁ ▂ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ яυℓє σf α ѕєℓfιѕн gυу █ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄ ▂ ▁ says:
ok falling asleep again, gotta wake up early tomorrow. love youuuu
×÷·.·´¯`·)» Hope «(·´¯`·.·÷× says:
o.o ooooki doki
×÷·.·´¯`·)» Hope «(·´¯`·.·÷× says:
hey btw you never told me what you had to wake up early for .w. and dad said something today that gave me some ideas… hmmmm…
Of course no reply comes, and Hope doesn't expect one until later tonight at least. For living in a city with actual reception, Hunter is rarely online. Whether due to him having a job and a busy social life now or just because he's a scatterbrained mess, she doesn't know, but it sure makes her days duller, now that he's not here.
Don't… get your hopes up, she chides herself. He would've told you something if he were coming over.
Rolling that sour thought 'round her mouth and then swallowing it for good measure, Hope turns the next corner and rides through the street right as the lights go red, finally reaching Hunter's block. A row of mismatch houses and two-floor apartment complexes meets her eye, all made of dull red brick, all with big porches and tiny garages that were built when vehicles were a lot rarer, and smaller. Elms in bloom are scattered through the sidewalks, providing some nice shade and an even nicer view.
It's an old neighborhood in Hope's mind, having known it since she was a baby, but a new one in the town's history. Far as she can remember, it was built a good twenty years ago following the end of the recession, when all that horrible stuff seemed just like a distant memory, and everyone had started to hope again. Money had come rolling in once more, and the government was feeling both generous and pressured (mostly the second) so they built this neighborhood for those who couldn't afford living in the rest of the city. Hunter's dad was part of the group that pushed for that bill, she's pretty sure.
Funny to think these were seen as humble back then, Hope thinks, not without a tinge of sour irony.
Jumping out of her bike, she brings it along as she turns the corner again past the old ice cream store, toward Hunter's street. And there, only a few houses away, she sees the man she's looking for standing in front of his porch, and he's not alone. Hope's eyes glint, and she smiles at the sight of the man chatting with Norbert.
"Hi, Norbert!" she waves at them. "And Mr. Dervish, hello! Long time no see!"
"…ecessary to strong-arm them, should it come t-" Norbert stops mid-sentence, barely turning his neck to look in Hope's direction. "Oh."
"Wh-Hope! Is that you?" says the large man next to him, his mustache twitching up with a surprised smile. "How are you, champ!? Been so long since I seen you, two growth spurts ago or somesuch!"
Hope laughs, somewhat earnestly though it's not that funny, but Earl's the kinda man that makes you want to laugh at his jokes regardless. He's not wrong, either. She hasn't been around the old trainer school ever since Hunter left, so she hasn't had much of a chance to chat with him.
She stops beside the two men and rests her bike against the nearby wall, flashing them both a polite smile. They could not look more different. Earl is big and exuberant in both body and personality, and he's got the easiest smile of any teacher she's ever known, with a sense of humor to match. Norbert, on the other hand, has very little in the way of smile lines, or any other lines on his face for that matter. He looks young for someone his age. A pale scarecrow of a man with short ginger hair and a pretty face that could make him pass for the singer of a punk pop band, were it not for the business suit he's wearing. A single look at him may make you think he's a since-reformed musician or bad boy, but that couldn't be farther from the truth.
Once, in her presence, Hunter had seriously questioned the notion that her father had ever had fun in his life. Hope's known him all her life, and she can't think of a single counter-example to that notion.
"I think I'm done growing now," she tells Earl. "Same with Mallard. Hey, say hi! Don't be rude!"
The ball of feathers gyrates himself inside the pocket of her bag, only stealing a glance toward the two men before falling asleep again. Earl breaks into appreciative laughter. A tiny smile even appears on Norbert's lips.
"If only we could all be as comfortable in our lives as Mallard," he says. "Not planning to evolve anytime soon, is he?"
Hope shrugs. "If he didn't during my trainer days, then he ain't doing it ever I reckon." Which, honestly, she's okay with. She's not sure she could fit a Noctowl in a bag. "Er-sorry, was I interrupting something by the way? Sounded like you two were in the middle of some business."
At that, Norbert makes a dismissive sound from his throat. The hand in his pocket digs out a cigarette, and he proceeds to light it without sparing a glance for the thing, eyes set on her instead. He does it with such practiced aloofness, it's impossible for it not to look cool, even if Hope wishes he'd warn her, or at least wait until he's alone to smoke. She despises the smell.
"We were talking in circles, you didn't interrupt anything," he says. "Matter of fact, I was about to say we should finish this discussion. I'm waiting on someone."
Hope tilts her head, but before she can ask who it is he's waiting for, Earl chuckles and shakes his head, then proceeds to explain.
"It's like he says, nothing serious. Just town matters," he shrugs, much worse at projecting aloofness than Norbert. "You know how it is, League business and all."
Norbert's eyes narrow in annoyance, but Hope can't not ask at this point.
"League business? What's it about?"
To his credit, Earl sighs and makes it look like he's not dying to talk about it, for a moment at least. "Oh, you know. Rutger's finally ready to retire, and you know how it is with Gym leader replacements…"
For a moment, Hope forgets all about Peggy and Bruce and Hunter, and her mouth falls open in a tiny O.
"Ru… Mr. Zephyr?" she asks, shocked. "Wait, does that mean Falkner's going to…?"
The sharp, sour laugh that leaves Norbert's lips, alongside a mouthful of smoke, tells her it's not as easy as she imagines.
"Ah, that's the thing," says Earl, thinning his lips and shaking his head exaggeratedly. "The League seems to be searching for other candidates. Doesn't seem like they consider Falkner a good enough fit for the role."
Hope gasps in indignation. Falkner, unqualified!? That's about the stupidest thing she's ever heard in her life. He's the best trainer she ever saw, and while yeah, she hasn't seen many, it's still true that Falkner is more than good enough to take the job. He's Violet's pride; has been ever since he came back from his trainer journey with all eight badges in tow, and a certificate saying he even managed to beat one of the Elite Four members. First Violet citizen to do so in over twelve years or so. So how on earth can they…?
"Agh, that's absurd!" she says, imitating Earl's shake of the head. "Who else would they pick?"
Earl sighs. "That's the question, isn't it? Falkner's quite clearly the best choice, he's qualified, charismatic and beloved by everyone, but according to the League he's still… well, inexperienced. Too young, or so they say."
"That's…!"
She's left without words, too stunned by how dumb that notion even is. What's the League thinking? Earl seems to read her mind, and just shrugs. At his side, Norbert exhales a line of smoke and speaks.
"Like I said, talking in circles. There's no need to worry," he assures her. "Lots of the old guard are stepping down, and I reckon the League's worried these new younger Gym leaders will make the region look weak. They complained the same when that Blackthorn girl took over, but just like then they'll end up giving in. They're stubborn, but not stupid."
Hope blinks, momentarily silenced. It's been a long time since she's heard him speak this much all at once.
"You… really think so?"
He nods imperceptibly. "'sides, the League's about to owe us a big one. Won't be able to afford to say no."
Funny that, thinks Hope, because that's a really odd thing to say with a sinister tone like that, and also because she has zero of the context necessary to understand what it means. She tilts her head in almost the exact way Mallard would. But when she's about to ask, the man turns to look at her so sharply, yet so casually, that her heart jumps to her throat, and he interrupts her question with his own.
"What are you doing here at this hour?" There's no accusation in his voice, nor curiosity. "Did your father need something?"
"Er-n…"
But she clamps her mouth shut before she can deny that, a light bulb flashing inside her brain. That might be a good excuse, actually. Norbert's not the type to bother with useless questions or to suffer fools gladly, so if he thinks this inquiry came from her dad…
Well, what's a little lying between friends?
"Yeah, actually…"
She explains the thing with Bruce, remembering to mention Peggy's words that Norbert supposedly talked with him the other day, which is why she's asking him. She also spins a lie about his dad telling her to come to him with this, which is what he would've done had she asked him about it, so no harm done in her eyes.
Earl, despite not being part of the conversation anymore, scuttles a bit closer and can't help but listen in, which Hope doesn't mind. Maybe he knows something too.
"…and it just worried me a little," she shrugs. "Do you know where he could be?"
There's a moment of silence. Norbert looks down, brow furrowing like he's deep in thought, and Earl twirls his mustache with a similar look on his face.
"Bruce… Bruce…" Earl's beady eyes narrow into slits. "It rings a bell, for some reason. Hmm…"
Norbert raises his eyes to her, a tired look suddenly upon his face. "I… do recall speaking with him, yes. We were discussing his daughter, actually."
"Peggy?" she asks, surprised. "What…?"
It's then that some realization dawns on Earl, evidenced by him gasping and slamming his fist into his palm. Though the triumphant gesture quickly sours as he remembers what he was supposed to.
"Ah, right… I remember now," he laments, pursing his lips. "That Peggy…"
"Earl." Norbert shoots him a glare she would hate to be on the other side of, and the man falls silent. "Better not to talk about matters that ought not to be divulged."
"Right, right." Earl chuckles nervously, shaking his head at himself. "I forget myself sometimes."
That's… not the reaction she expected to her question. Matters that shouldn't be divulged? That sounds… serious, much more than she prepared herself to handle when she took on this little quest.
"What…?"
"It's nothing serious," Norbert hurries to say. "Trainer school drama, I'm certain it wouldn't interest you. And it is also confidential."
"But-"
"I'll ask about Bruce," he says, in a way that makes it clear there's no more to discuss. "And you should take whatever that girl told you with a grain of salt. Neither I nor your father would want you to…" He catches himself, looking frustrated with himself. Hope can only imagine what he was about to say. "Never mind. There's no need to worry."
"Um. Okay, so…" Hope thinks for a moment on how to say it. "No offense Mr. Myers but that sounds like complete bullcrap. Are you um-hiding something?"
Contrary to what she expects, that draws a small chuckle from the man. Earl laughs as well, drowning the smaller one with his own as he tends to do.
"It's alright, Hope. I promise," he says, producing the tiniest of smiles. "Besides, you won't have much chance to worry about Bruce or anything else soon."
Laughter ceases. A grim, scared look falls on Hope's face.
"A… are you going to kill me?"
"What? No, I-" That catches him off guard, until he sees the smile Hope's trying to contain. "Ah… ha. I thought you were serious there for a moment."
"So did I," she says. "You can be intimidating when you want to."
Earl widens his eyes and shakes his head as though saying 'Don't I know it'.
"I didn't mean it like that."
"Then-?"
Her question is not exactly answered but addressed a second later, by pure and beautiful chance. It's a small sound at first, coming from north of town. One Hope normally associates with frustration and scorn, but just familiar enough that she freezes and tries listening in, just to make sure… but no, it couldn't be. Car engines all sound pretty similar, don't they? It could be coming from any other–
Then she sees the look on Norbert's face, staring over his shoulder behind him, a mix of happiness and irritation. A gasp leaves her mouth. Confused, cautiously euphoric adrenaline shoots through her veins and her heart jumps in her chest. It's…! Is it really…!?
"This is what I meant," says Norbert, just loud enough for her to hear over the roaring of the approaching vehicle. "I was going to tell you, but S… Hunter asked me not to."
Hope doesn't catch how he trips mid-sentence, nor the expression he makes as he corrects himself, because she's too busy having her heart jumping inside her chest, eyes widening at the sight of the car coming down the street. It's an old model, long and flat and painted the ugliest shade of green known to man, though apart from that it's been very well taken care of.
And if there was any question before, it's put to rest as soon as one of the people inside turns the dial all the way up and a choppy, bitcrushed version of that familiar punk song blares through the speakers, hitting her in the face like a pleasant breeze. Both Earl and Norbert make faces, and so does the woman at the wheel, but Hope doesn't notice. All of them disappear from the face of the planet as far as she's concerned.
The car turns to park in front of them, but the person on the passenger seat opens the door and jumps out of the seat while the car's still moving, literally unable to wait another second. Hope can tell, because she feels exactly the same. He hits the ground hard, but jumps up to his feet without a second thought and half runs half skips the few yards between them, arms extended and waiting.
"Hope!" he yells.
"Hunter!" she replies.
"Hey, don't jump outta the fucking car, dipshit!" Bell screams from inside the car.
Only later would she notice just how different he looks. The shorter hair, the stubble on his face, the baggier clothes… and the sheer sunlight breathing through his skin and eyes, the joy in his smile… Hope has seen pictures, but they were just that. It's been over a year since they'd seen each other, and Hunter is almost unrecognizable. There will be congratulating and awkwardness later, but right now all she can do is throw herself at his arms, their bodies clashing hard enough that it'll definitely hurt later. Hunter lifts her up into the air and they spin around for a few moments, laughing, before he takes a bad trip and almost sends them both plummeting to the ground.
Hands on the other's shoulders, holding each other like they're trying to keep from falling, they laugh in unison for a moment before Hope looks up at him, and manages a few words through the smile plastered on her lips.
"What-!? How're you…!? Why didn't you tell me!? I didn't know…!"
With a glint in his eyes Hope's missed so friggin' much, Hunter grips at her shoulders and does what he does best, which is change the subject and punch right to the heart of the matter.
"Before I answer that, I got a question for you, Hope," he whispers, trying to sound serious. "Two questions."
"What!?" .
"First, what are we having for lunch at your pop's place?" he asks, casually, because he knows he's already invited. "And second…
"Have you ever wanted to see an Unown?"