Vallion let out a small gasp. His eyes fluttered open, and it was suddenly morning. The dreamless sleep shed off of him in an instant, like a large gap in time had just passed in the blink of an eye. Even beneath this raggedy, scratchy blanket, he was no warmer now than he was hours ago. Sticking his head out from the nest he'd built on a wool-scrap cot, he saw daylight through the muggy pane of his room's window. Gloomy, monochrome daylight, tinted by the endless snowfall.

Though it wasn't much, Vallion was still hesitant to leave his rather ineffective bed. It was tough enough for him to retain heat without Panne to wrap around. Extra blankets were a bit too steep a price around here. If money wasn't currently an issue, he'd get one just to wrap around as a poor replacement for her. It just didn't feel right otherwise.

The Serperior groaned and left what little comfort he'd found in that bed behind. The inn's floorboards creaked under his weight as he at least attempted to make the old sheets for the maid. If there even was room-service in a place this cheap.

The connecting hall was made of the same dingy cedar wood as everything else. The lanterns made it bearable at night, but during the day when everything was put out, it might as well have been total darkness. Vallion found his way to the stairs simply by following the only glimmer of light there was to see, nearly colliding with a hurried Machop along the way and earning a few rude words.

It didn't get much brighter in the lobby, but at least he could finally see by virtue of the shuttered windows and candlelight. The inn's oppressive atmosphere extended into a tight-lipped silence which was constantly broken by the creaks and groans of the place. Nobody wanted to be here. And yet, here they all were. A dozen faces passed through, full of repressed frowns and sleepless eyes, all wishing they were somewhere else. At least the hearth was warm, though.

Hot water was cheap. The owner was a Torkoal who was glad to rake in a profit just by virtue of their species. Coffee, though? Tea? He might as well empty out the last of his gold on the spot for such luxuries. Vallion was more than content with just heated water.

Breakfast, on the other hand, was another story. Food was insanely expensive, and unlike the water, he didn't exactly have a choice in the matter. A small wooden bowl of oran berries and some salted bread still emptied half his purse. He hardly tasted the food as it went down, as he was too busy praying that the job today would earn him at least a hot dinner.

His wounds hurt. They were minor at worst, but these were far from optimal conditions for recovery. The Serperior shifted uncomfortably on a rug in front of the hearth, absorbing as much of the heat as he could while his bruises throbbed. He was going to need every once of warmth he could get before heading out. Though it mostly just made him drowsier.

"Hey," a gruff voice called out from beside him. "Quit hoggin' the fire. Move over."

It took a moment for Vallion to realize that he wasn't invisible to everyone else. He glanced at the Seismitoad who was hounding him, blinked in silence, then relented them a few feet to the right.

The Seismitoad grunted and settled down onto the old rug. After staring at the fire for some time, a chuckle rose from their throat.

"Didn't know there was another Serperior in town. How 'bout it, then? Come to take advantage of the chaos and cut the Master of Law down?"

Vallion kept his eyes trained on the crackling firewood, watching it crack and shatter beneath the heat. "No."

"Hmm? Then what'dya come here for? Like the scenery, do ya?" When Vallion didn't respond, the Seismitoad just shook their head and turned back to the hearth. "Damn shame, then. This place could use some new management."

The Serperior tilted their gaze. "What do you mean?"

"Oh nevermind that. Oftentimes I just go ramblin' away, saying things I shouldn't be saying. Never know who might be listening around these parts. If my wanderin' mouth puts the wrong words together, it'll sure blow back up in my face! Ha!"

Vallion kept silent.

"...I'm sure you ain't got caught up in that mean business yet, anyway. Can't have been here too long since I ain't heard of ya yet. You ain't a bit talkative, are ya?" The Seismitoad broke out into another halfhearted chuckle, the sound quickly brushing his thoughts away.

"You ain't seem like the type to care," they continued. "So I'll say it anyway. I meant it about that management bit. Livin' here ain't no way a pokemon should be livin'. Crammed into our wooden rooms, guards wagglin' their claws at you whenever you so much as trip, slavin' your whole day away for just a few bites to eat. Look at us now! We're huddling around a fateless fire in broad daylight for cryin' out loud!"

...Fateless?

The water type just shook his head. "Yeah. You don't care. You prolly just passin' through, right? It ain't on you to care 'bout the wave that's coming. Ya won't be around for when it happens, but it'll happen. No doubt about it."

"Wave?" Vallion murmured. "What wave?"

But the Seismitoad had already stood up and started to lumber away. They flagged down one of the two workers and demanded for more food. Just before they fell out of earshot across the lobby, they turned and gave the Serperior a curt nod.

"The wave a' change, my boy. By Kyurem it's comin', and when it does, everyone here's gonna get washed away."

...

Linoone's shifty expression never came to a rest. He peered from corner to corner, fidgeting with his claws as he sat on the edge of the street. Occasionally he would dare to peek up at Vallion, but quickly looked away whenever he did. This went on for the small handful of minutes they had to wait outside the door of this long-forgotten building. There weren't any guards. There were barely passersby at all. It was just the two of them, sitting outside some dingy warehouse, staring at the grime while they slowly froze to death.

A grating screech sounded from behind them. The rusty door had finally been opened, and from inside came a Roserade. They regarded the two pokemon with a dead look before tossing an empty pack at Linoone, who gracelessly took the bag in the face.

"Oh great," she began. "Linoone and a newbie. What a fuckin' joy it's gonna be today. I ought to have a talk with Freak. My time is worth more than this."

"Hey hey! What's yer problem, Roserade?!" Linoone shouted from beneath a curtain of burlap as he scrambled to strap the bag onto themselves. "You wanna talk big? Like you ain't goin' down to the red light for a few extra bucks every night! Who do ya think you are, actin' so high and mighty when you're always on your knees?!"

Roserade barely even seemed to acknowledge Linoone's presence, instead choosing to size Vallion up. She tapped a bud to her chin. "Tell me you're not stupid as the last meathead they sent me, Serperior. You do know what we're doing, right? And what your job is?"

He gave a shrug with his vines. "I understand we're collecting some debts that we're owed. I'm assuming my role in this is to be persuasive on the matter."

"Thank the Hollow, they're not fucking stupid this time." The Roserade started down the road, gesturing for them to follow. "It's really that simple. This isn't even a difficult route. I wish I was doing something a little more meaningful personally, but I guess this is what he chose to occupy the both of you. What a bother. Let's just get this over with already."

"Fuckin' bitch," Linoone muttered under his breath.

The streets of West District all looked the same. No matter how many distinct signs of poverty he saw, there was so much uniquely awful about it that it all blended together into a depressing sea of misery. As they followed the Roserade's haughty stride through the slush and snow, Vallion kept his head close to the ground. There was nothing to see, anyway. Best not to meet any eyes.

In spite of that, he noticed that Linoone kept shooting nervous glances at him.

"...What?"

Linoone swung his head to the side and pretended to observe the scenery, a tiny chuckle in his throat. "You know, bright-eyes, I'm happy and all ya managed to get in. Can't get much more spot-on for a recommendation. But in this part of town, word kinda...travels quick. So quick that it ends up passin' through too many mouths, eh? And you know what happens then, yeah?"

"Spit it out," Vallion said.

"I-it's just that I've been hearing some- some stuff! Word around the block is of this crazy new Serperior that- Um. They say he took down a bar full of our guys on his own. Wiped the place clean so bad that Brute was forced to let him in. B-but that's just a bunch of hyped-up shit, right? Like, some ghost story they're tellin' to get people freaked out. You ain't had the brass to actually do something like that, did ya? 'Cuz if you did, they could trace it back to me..."

Vallion chuckled and said nothing.

The silence drew on, visibly gnawing at Linoone's composure bit by bit. He repeated himself once more, but did so as if he were asking the ground.

The Serperior couldn't help but wonder just what the informant had originally thought of him when they first met in the capitol building. Perhaps Linoone saw him as another of Alexander's annoying duties? An easy paycheck, maybe? Were they completely unaware of who Vallion was before this?

"Idiot," Roserade so cheerfully chimed in. "You'd believe anything that comes out of the mouths of those fools. Nobody but Brute could clear a whole room on his own, and I only say that because saying otherwise gets me disemboweled and made into a salad. They'd make mincemeat of this new guy in a heartbeat. Now shut the fuck up, we're almost to the first place."

This neighborhood appeared marginally better than the last. It seemed to have been built a little later, judging from the relatively small size of the cracks. The faces didn't seem any sweeter, though. A Camerupt impatiently stomped on by, their humps steaming from the snowfall. A loud group of Golbat glared down at them from the edge of a rooftop, becoming ominously quiet while they passed. There was a clear gravity to Shardurr's presence on these streets. It pulled on Vallion, intensifying with every wary stare that came their way. It was like trying to wade through three feet of ice water.

Roserade came to a neat little business on the corner of some intersection. It didn't seem like a particularly busy day, but they still waited out a wagon that had parked on the side. From the crates that were loaded into its back, this shop appeared to be some sort of bulk supplier. Of what, he could only guess. There wasn't even a sign out front.

Once that wagon pulled away, Roserade started past the large loading doors as they swung to a close, heading instead to the front entrance on the very corner. She gestured for her two followers to hurry up and led them into the stinging comfort of a fire-lit lobby. A few rows of seats and some books on a table were the only inhabitants. According to the signs, this was a distributor for...building materials, it seemed? Or whatever else you could do with exact mixtures of different minerals sold by the quarter-ton.

After slapping the bell on the front desk, Roserade shot an expectant glance back at Vallion. There was a shuffling in the far back that echoed off of hollow warehouse walls. All they could see of the Crustle as it scuttled in was the huge malachite geode it had taken as a shell. It crawled up a ramp on the other side of the desk, laid eyes on the visitors, and immediately took a step back.

"Wha-" they started. "I- I already paid you at the beginning of the month! On the fifth-I know I did! I marked it on the calendar! You shouldn't be back for another week!"

"Yeah. I know. We're calling it early," Roserade said with a shake of her head. "Turns out it gets expensive preparing for a cold winter. Surely that's not too hard to understand. We'll bump up next month to make up for it. How's that sound?"

The Crustle slammed their claws on the desk. "You say that every other month, and yet it never happens! I've been 'bumped up' so many times that I've already paid for an extra month and a half! Why should I give you crooks anything?!"

Roserade's face contorted into a sneer. "You remember the damage that the riots caused last year? Do you want that to happen to your business? To your home? The luckiest pokemon have only now managed to rebuild. If you want to stay in our good graces and our protection, there's a price to pay. Though you're more than welcome to move shop to the east and have to suck off Rusty Mountain every pay period."

"You know what? Maybe I will! You Shardurr slime have done nothing but hound me from the day you showed up! I've half a mind to call the guards on you right now!"

A sigh slowly fell from Vallion's nose. He turned his head and set a narrowed pupil dead in the Crustle's beady eyes. "You don't want to do that. Just as much as I don't want to get my hands dirty. You deal with large sums of coin, right? You'd have to with this kind of business. Having just made a sale not minutes ago, you surely have the money we need."

The rock type jeered. "And who are you supposed to be, you overgrown green bean? I don't want to give you bastards a damn penny!"

This guy must have been fed up with being cheated. Vallion didn't blame him one bit, but sympathy wasn't something he had the luxury of expression. The Serperior nodded his head, briefly scanned the room, and extended a vine over to one of the chairs meant for bipedal pokemon. It was made of a very heavy, very sturdy wood-a stark contrast from the plywood garbage he'd seen in Shardurr's hideout. He lifted it in front of the Crustle and squeezed as hard as he could. The heavy chair whined and groaned under pressure of his vine, up until it splintered across the seat and split in two. The pieces slammed into the counter one after another.

"It's not about what anybody wants," the Serperior continued, casually withdrawing his vine. "I'm just saying, if I took that rock off of you, you'd be easier to crack than that chair was."

It didn't take long for the Crustle to muster up some coins after that. The bag Linoone had equipped was difficult to open, and presumably even more difficult to take off of his person. It was apparently designed for storing the haul which their client had so graciously offered. Once the deed was finished, Roserade clicked her tongue towards the shop owner before heading towards the exit. Vallion took the time to set the parts of the chair he destroyed back where he found them before he left.

Once they were back out in the biting cold, it took Roserade a block of walking before she finally started to laugh.

"This is supposed to be your first day? What the fuck was that? I thought I was gonna have to carry both of your weights, but I guess you got some killer in you after all."

Vallion gave a shrug with his vestigial hands. "I would vastly prefer that I didn't have to kill anyone at all."

"Fuck." Linoone spat into the snow. "Why don't ya just take this fucking bag then if I'm so useless, ya two-bit big-mouthed whore?"

A chuckle almost as cold as the air left the grass type's throat. She shot a glance back at Vallion. "Do you know why we keep this coward around? It ain't because of strength or intelligence, oh no. We keep him because he's a slippery little fuck. Plant your money bag on him and it's almost guaranteed that he'll make it home crying when trouble starts up."

"And we keep you around cuz of how far your legs spread apart," Linoone shot back. "Least I didn't fuck my way up the ladder."

"Be quiet," Vallion commanded, and so it was.

A brief stop was made near a vein of alleys. Roserade had the two of them wait out in the road and entered the gloom with their money in tow. She came back out with a significantly lighter bag and a satisfied look. There must have been a network of basements around here similar to the one of the pub he was inducted in.

Their next destination took them further into the better parts of town. There were significantly more pokemon out and about, and much less of the degradation. Streets were actually plowed and seemingly well-maintained. Winter trees and hardy bushes were given room to grow in plots between buildings. The further north they traveled, the more level the landscape became, the better off everything looked. Not to mention the new presence of guard patrols, something Vallion rarely saw in the bowels of West District.

They came to an establishment that appeared to be a tavern of some kind. Or a brewery-it was hard to tell. There was a place in the front to get plastered and a warm fire to keep you from freezing to death, so it may as well have been a tavern. The pokemon there didn't pay nearly as much mind to Shardurr's arrival as those near their first stop. Even aside from those who weren't particularly cognizant at the moment. Actually, how much influence did Shardurr really have up here? Were they just not recognized?

"Ah! Roserade!" A Vileplume greeted their band of crooks with open arms and a smile. "It's about that time, eh? Let's head on back. No need to get our hands dirty in the open."

The two grass types were practically hand-in-hand as they pressed past a series of doors and down a staircase into the earth. Aside from the pungent smell of fermentation, the cellar they entered had a distinct sweetness in the air. There, kegs and barrels sat in relative darkness, waiting for their day to finally come. A lone candle at the end of a table in the corner was all that gave light once they turned inwards.

"It's been a good month, let me tell you," the Vileplume cheerfully went on. "Last few batches were extraordinary. Parasect has a good taste for these things, you know that? He's been turning us quite the profit."

"Is that so? Who would've thought, huh?" Roserade said. "I imagine you've been enjoying that extra breathing room? Or was that room already filled with that opal bracelet I knew you had your eyes on?"

Vileplume giggled and shushed her. "Hey, now! Don't go letting that spread around this early! I can't bring out opals until the spring. It'll seem just garish if people knew I bought them while they were cheap. You know I'm thinking about opening up another place? At the rate we're growing, I'll be able to buy it up by the time I'm able to wear that bracelet!"

The table turned out to be a desk, and the desk was locked up tighter than a jail cell. There was some sort of ledger and a few other documents on top, but otherwise the thing was pretty much airtight. Vileplume produced a key from between two of her petals and began to fumble with one of the lower drawers.

"If this city doesn't implode on itself before the winter's over, that is," Roserade said.

"Mhm. That's what I'm paying you for, honey. Insurance."

The shrill jingling of coins filled the air. Right on cue, Linoone unstrapped his bag and used his teeth to open a compartment deeper inside. Vallion finally saw the workings of the strange backpack up close. There were cushions of wool and fabric to dampen the sound of the money within, and several hoops to jump through just to reach where the coins were kept in the first place. A complicated system all just to seem less conspicuous.

Vileplume nodded and shut the drawer with her foot. "There we are. Should be good for a while. These days, you never know when the kingdom's gonna turn inside-out."

"I'll be in town tomorrow. Wanna go out for a drink?" Roserade continued as they collectively started back to the surface.

Vallion more or less tuned the conversation out, perhaps in an attempt to listen for the coins that Linoone had stashed away, to see if he could. His mind wandered instead, wondering how it was that Shardurr was extorting these businesses in the first place. What did they offer the Crustle again? Protection? Protection from what? From the gangsters themselves? From independent crime that might otherwise target the shop? From these riots that apparently had massive repercussions?

His internal questions went unanswered, and he was forced back out into the snow once more. The neighborhood sprawled on for a few more roads. Pleasant patches of green were intermittent between walls of red and brown brick and the ever-present white. The air was terribly cold as always, but it smelled of pine rather of pestilence.

"I have an extra stop before the final place. Other than that, we're almost done," Roserade spoke over her shoulder. "Oh shut up, Linoone. I see that look on your ugly mug. It'll only be a few minutes."

"It ain't the time that you're wasting. It's what we spent it on in the first place," he responded with a frown.

Then came a barren hill amid the sea of stone. The grass that had once covered it was totally buried beneath a pristine frosting of snow, with scraggly black skeletons of bushes as the only signs of floral life. The rises of a wide flight of stairs were all that was visible of a path around the side of the hill. Roserade seemed to know the way by heart, and led them to a vantage on the other side. There, a monolithic grey building stood in solitude, a much easier and more well-walked passage up the hill at its base.

"Wait out here," Roserade commanded them, then gestured towards Linoone. "Bag."

"Yeah, yeah! Put a sock in it, ya walking weed!" After some fiddling, Linoone undid the straps and punted their stow of coins at the grass type with a flick of his head. She lifted one of the straps with the bend of her elbow, gave him a quick scoff, and entered through the heavy doors alone.

The sound of their slithering and footsteps had ceased, allowing a bitter silence to fall upon Linoone and Vallion. The Serperior fought off the emptiness with the noise in his head, staring up at the temple in wonder. The architecture clearly wasn't designed by anyone responsible for any other part of the city he had seen. Its styling was jagged but symmetrical, and purely designed in vanity. From this angle, he could see the arched ceiling of the church through open slits in the walls. There wasn't even any glass to keep the cold out.

"What's this for?" Vallion finally broke the silence.

Linoone grunted. "Eh? It's for nobody, you garden hose! Roserade's dropping off good money to the church for no reason! Freak's direct orders, so it ain't like we have a choice in the matter. Waste of time and effort, if you ask me. Not like these buffoons can't scam their way to riches on their own!"

"I mean, to whom is this temple dedicated to? I can't tell from here."

"Huh? Oh, you ain't even from around here. I forgot." Linoone shook the ice from his fur. "They call it 'The Hollow' or whatever. Well, they call it a lot of things, the bunch of fuckin' loons. I think it's name is supposed to be Kee-you-ree or something like that. Folks that worship anything like that are just a crock of halfwits if you ask me. I ain't the type to care about that sort of nonsense."

"Clearly," Vallion said, glancing back at the temple. "It seems you don't much care for a lot of things."

"What's that supposed to mean? What, don't tell me a guy like you's kneeling down to some shitty altar back home, talkin' to some imaginary friend in the sky?"

The Serperior exhaled. "Not an hour ago, you were afraid of me because you heard I had taken a room full of your gang on my own. You do realize what you're saying? Or how I might respond if I were the...zealous type?"

Linoone immediately started stammering. "Uh- I- Y-y-you know I'm just joking about all that, right? Like come on, who's gonna take me seriously, eh? No one ever does! We're pals, right?! Partners in crime?! I ain't got nothing against religion or anything like that! I got something against that whore Roserade! I-it's all just a misunderstanding between you and me!"

"I'm only kidding," Vallion cut him off, if only to get him to shut up. "My god is not the kind you worship. Point is, I don't really care what you think. I just think it's funny how much you speak and how little you say."

"I…" Linoone started to mutter to himself. "Son of a bitch, I really am surrounded by a bunch of loons."

Humming, Vallion lowered his head down to the Linoone's level and lowered his voice proportionally. "Make no mistake. Amusing as it is when you run your mouth, it is also a liability. To Alexander's directive and to me. I expect you will stay in line, unless you'd like me to make the same proposition to you that I made to that Crustle. I'm not about to play nice with anyone in this city."

Linoone finally shut up after that. It was rather peaceful for a time, at least until Roserade left the temple and tossed the bag back to its owner. They wordlessly began the journey to the third and final stop in their quest for extortion.

Interestingly enough, this would take them even further into northern Paradise, along the side of a cliff that overlooked the center of the city. From here, Vallion could see that lake he passed by on his first night here. The surface was well and frozen by now, though the edges still appeared a bit discolored from the varied thickness of the ice.

"So…" Linoone eventually got around to saying. "What's up with this route, Roserade? We ain't ever had to go this deep for a place before. Don't you think we're gettin' a little too close to some...places we ain't welcome?"

"I was told this was a new addition, and I'm not about to disobey an order straight from the Swellow's beak. Though I'll complain all I want," Roserade said. "So what if we've got some strong-arming to do? I've only seen this new guy's bark so far. If he's got any bite, this is the opportunity for it to shine. And it better fucking shine."

"Okay, I'm pretty flighty when it comes to this shit," Linoone continued. "But you do realize the territory we're about to walk into, right? With a bag half-full of money? Lookin' for even more trouble? Shut your trap about being a coward, I know when something feels off, and this shit's more crooked than the snake at the foot of the throne."

The grass type rolled her eyes. "I'm going to throw you off this fucking ledge. Just finish this job and let me leave already. It's one stop out of the countless others we've done in the past. It's not gonna go wrong."

The quality of the surrounding suburbs faded back into their natural, cramped state, seemingly draining into what was supposed to be their final stop. The funnel of wealth had a tall wrought-iron fence around its perimeter, beyond which was a rather sizable estate-that is, compared to the rest of the surrounding area. Having space for a garden at all was surely a sign of luxury around here. According to Roserade, this was supposed to belong to someone who owed quite a bit.

"I don't wanna sound like a broken fucking record," Linoone started to say. "But-"

"Then don't," Vallion interjected. Roserade shot him a smirk, then continued circling the border trying to find the front entrance.

The gate was wide open when they found it. A cobblestone path egged them forward, practically inviting them straight in. It was hard to admit, but Linoone was right to feel uneasy. This didn't feel like a good idea at all. Still, what other option was there? Maybe this pokemon was expecting them and wanted to get this deal out of the way as soon as possible?

...The further they traveled into the estate, the less likely that seemed.

It wasn't quite a mansion or anything. A cabin, maybe, but it was a damn good one at that. Two floors, presumably a cellar beneath, with a great deal of room to breath. They found a wooden porch with the same slanted roof that every building had, beneath which was a door clearly built with a quadruped owner in mind-more horizontal than vertical. Roserade walked up to the entrance, gave it a courtesy knock with her foot, then pressed on the handle. Even that was unlocked.

Linoone made a nervous grumble as they entered. The atmosphere inside was just as cold as it was out, bringing Vallion little comfort. Nobody came to the door that they so brazenly barged through, and it was suspiciously silent. The small pits on the Serperior's nose were too stunted from the wind to pick up any outstanding heat signatures.

"Hey!" Roserade shouted out loud. "Beartic! You know why we're here! Hurry this up!"

Surprisingly, a shuffling answered. A Beartic did indeed come around the corner from the top of the staircase, slowly shuffling down on all fours, their beady eyes not friendly in the least. They were in no hurry to answer the gangsters, nevertheless. Once at the base of the stairs, they stood on their hind legs and leaned upon the bottom pole of the banister.

"Shardurr," Beartic spoke with a slow drawl. "You were dumb enough to come, after all. I can tell it was stupidity and not bravery that drew you here. A brave pokemon would have a completely different angle than the one you're looking up at me from now."

Roserade tilted her head. "The fuck are you on about, Beartic? Whatever. My boss tells me you happen to owe us for some smuggling gigs we did for you in the past. Judging from your home here, I'm certain you've got some gold laying around that could help settle that debt. Why don't we speed this along?"

"Ohoho. No, no. My debts to Shardurr are insignificant at best. Any fool off the street could have done what you people have done. But you came here, waltzed straight into The Family's territory, and tried to collect on that insignificant sum? It's stupidity."

The already cold air seemed to become absolutely frigid. Linoone unsurprisingly froze in place, but even the stoic Roserade was taken aback.

"This is the-" she tried to say, but lost her breath. "I didn't get the wrong place? No, Freak definitely meant to send me here. He meant to collect from you. Why would he lead me straight into The Family?"

"A suicide mission?" Beartic suggested. Just then, more shuffling came from the nearby rooms. Heat signatures Vallion hadn't noticed appeared from behind chilled wooden walls and stepped out into the open door frames. A Graveler and a Granbull surrounded them as the ice type continued. "They're not wrong. I do owe Shardurr. I just intended on never paying it, and if anyone ever tried to see to it, well…"

"I told you! You fucking shrub, I told you I had a bad feeling! You didn't listen!" Linoone's frantic breathing caused his shouts to waver. "I- I'm outta here. I can't afford to be here. You keep me around to run away, eh? Then dammit I'm gonna do exactly that!"

Linoone didn't make it far. As he swerved around and made a mad dash for the door, a Lairon had already stomped into frame and blocked the exit. He tried to make the jump, and it was an admirable try at that, but there just wasn't enough room. The Lairon reared up and smacked the Linoone back into the entryway with a reverberating thud.

"How?! How is there a trap?!" Roserade started to yell now, but her voice still sounded quiet. "You shouldn't have known we were coming! There's no way you could have known!"

With a chuckle, Beartic waggled a claw. "You'd be surprised. I've known since this morning. It was very easy information to come across, handed to me on a silver platter by some fool who spoke too loud as he walked past, almost like they were trying to give it to me. It's a wonder how you morons have the pride to compare yourselves to us."

Cracking his neck, Vallion flexed the rigidity out of his muscles. The weather certainly didn't leave him in top condition, but you should never expect optimal conditions anyway. "I would vastly prefer to just leave and not have to deal with any of you," the Serperior said. "It's cold. It's miserable. It's a waste of my precious energy to do this. Can't we just settle on a draw and make our separate ways."

Shuddering, Linoone coughed. "We're dead, bright-eyes. Toast. Done. Cleaned. We're utterly fucked. Cut the act already."

It seemed to amuse Beartic, at least. The ice type got back down on all fours and raised a brow. "You won't go down with dignity, will you? You dregs are all the same. Loud and flimsy. Granbull, make an example of him."

The immediate difference between Shardurr and "The Family" was immediately apparent in just these grunts. This Granbull took him for a real threat, wisely slowing their approach to wait for an opening rather than foolishly making one of themselves. The two of them sized each other up for several long seconds.

Granbull, under pressure from their orders, charged first. It was an experimental movement, meant to probe for any weaknesses or elicit a reckless reaction. Vallion gave them nothing, rearing his upper back above his head and preparing to strike. His vines took both a high and a low position, reinforcing his defensive stance. He could practically feel his eyelids draw back in the reflexive glare he shot at them.

"Look, newbie," Roserade hyperventilated as she spoke over Linoone's broken muttering. "If you've got any fight in you at all, you better fucking bring it out. Otherwise we're really dead."

The Serperior bore his fangs. "Relax. It's like you said. Nothing's gone wrong yet."

It could wait no longer. The Granbull charged again, this time with real intent behind their legs. In such a small space, there was little time to react, making it even more difficult for his attacker to dodge the vine that wrapped around their forearm. He forced them forward, carrying their momentum straight past him and into the adjacent wall. The Serperior twisted the Granbull's arms behind their back and slammed into them for good measure.

In the chaos, Roserade dashed away and launched a volley of petals from her blossoms, embedding themselves in the Graveler's shielding arms. Roaring in pain and rage, the rock type still chose to free their associate than pursue their attacker, forcing Vallion to release his grip and fall back. Meanwhile, Linoone tried to scramble to his feet and edge past the Lairon once more, failing all the same. This time, the Lairon stepped in to press their advantage.

The problem was that the Serperior had turned his back on Beartic. Creaky as the house was, the ambush came loud and clear, but he could do little to prevent it. Vallion swiveled around and took the brunt of a frost-covered claw to his mid-side. The force sent him back into the wall and knocked the air straight out of him.

Another volley of rose petals became impossible for the Graveler to ignore. The thug rolled backwards to smash the floor where their attacker once stood, but Roserade wasn't a complete pushover. She danced to the side and took off into an adjacent room now that the way was clear. At the risk of becoming a pincushion of steeled flower parts, the rock type had no choice but to lumber in after her.

It was still two against one in the entryway. Vallion contended with the Beartic's snapping maw while he slipped away from the Granbull's grip, who attempted to wrestle him into submission for their boss. The Serperior managed to use the Granbull as a shield to absorb a few of the blows, their grip weakening while a pair of icy talons raked across their back. Vallion coiled and pushed off the wall, knocking both of his opponents into one another and launching through their stumbling legs towards the banister.

Upon earning the high ground, Vallion launched a few jabs with his vines into the Beartic's center of mass, but they were too densely built. He fell back onto the stairs when the banister was smashed apart below him. Beartic gave chase through a shower of debris, inhaling through a gaping maw as an ominous mist boiled at the back of their throat. A howl of icy particles and sub-zero winds crashed into the Serperior like a shower of knives.

In spite of the blinding gale and the pain, Vallion sent a vine straight into the eye of the storm, stabbing straight into the back of the ice type's throat and retracting before their jaw could slam shut. They rightfully recoiled, claws clutching at their neck. A single whimper poured through their clouded fangs as they fell into a fit of pained gags.

The Granbull jumped straight over their master's crumpled form. Vallion narrowly avoided their crushing tusks and retreated further up the stairwell, nearly reaching the top. The fairy's next attack came in a predictable manner, allowing the Serperior to slap them away with his tail and follow through with the rest of his body afterwards. He wrapped around the henchman and squeezed, positioning himself so that there was no chance those jaws could come even close to his body. The choke-hold would take care of the Granbull within half a minute.

In the meantime, still resisting the struggling pokemon in his grasp, Vallion struck at the reeling Beartic while the opportunity was there. A strike to the face, two more to the sides of the neck, and one to the joint of the shoulder managed to convince the ice type to fall back. A vine at their hind leg tripped them at the same moment, causing them to tumble down several steps backwards and slam their head into the tiling at the bottom, cracking both the stone and their skull. Two down.

Linoone continued to shout at the top of his lungs for help as the Lairon made a very genuine effort to stomp on him. They were so focused that they didn't realize Vallion had finished off two of the attackers and was on the approach. Their steel armor was mostly impregnable, naturally, but there were plenty of joints to exploit between the plates and underneath. Caught unaware, they didn't have time to defend themselves when a pair of vines slipped into the pits of their legs and flipped them onto their side. Several solid strikes underneath their chin did the rest of the work.

"Help! I don't wanna die yet! I got so much to live for!" Linoone screamed as the toppled steel type nearly came down on him. He continued to zig and zag around the entryway, dodging imaginary feet.

"Do you always make this much noise?" Vallion asked, still catching his breath.

"Aaah! I'll give you all the money! Everything I've ever made! Just don't- H-huh? What happened to-?"

One last crash came from the adjacent room, followed by a very audible sigh. What was once a rather homely den was completely destroyed beyond repair. The furniture was reduced to piles of nondescript rubble-wooden shards and cotton puffs and fabric scraps. The air was murky with dust and pollen. A thoroughly beaten Roserade stood triumphant over the Graveler. The rock type had a fresh crack across their head, and was riddled with petals and vines.

Roserade's eyes practically bulged out of her, but it still took her quite a long time to turn towards the Serperior in the doorway.

"The others-!" she managed to gasp. "Where are-"

"Down for the count," Vallion immediately answered, idly brushing a layer of frost from his scales. "Not dead, mind you. I'm not into that business. Seems you did a number on that Graveler as well. Maybe we should slip him the address of that Crustle. They're gonna need to eat a lot of minerals to heal that wound."

"Did you really..?" Roserade tried to say, but ran out of breath again.

"He did it!" Linoone pranced around the Serperior and into the destroyed room. "He really did it! We ain't six feet under! Oh, bright-eyes, if I wasn't a married mon I'd kiss ya! And if you wasn't a snake that could swallow me whole if I got too close! I never thought I'd see the light of day again!"

A look of disbelief on her face, Roserade limped up to Vallion with a raised brow, then pressed past into the entryway to gawk at his handiwork. The labored breathing of every pokemon in that house filled the following silence.

"...How the fuck? You- You really beat all three of them, didn't you? And you've barely got scratched from it, 'cept for that gash on your side. That's not fucking normal. You're insane…"

The distant flapping of a pair of wings. Vallion raised his head and listened as the sound suddenly came into existence. It came closer with each beat. Another ambush, perhaps? Maybe it was just someone flying overhead? He readied his vines and poised to strike nevertheless. His reflexes were rewarded as a blur of motion shot through the open front door, snapping up the avian before it could strike at anyone's eyes.

The Swellow squawked in surprise, then started to cough from having been jerked out of flight so suddenly.

"Holy hell!" Linoone exclaimed, jumping back another two feet. "What in the-? Did you just catch a flying type out of thin air? Oh sh- Bright-eyes, let him go for crying out loud! That's our fucking boss!"

Sure enough, the Swellow didn't try to struggle or slash at him, yet they did shoot him the nastiest of looks they could muster. It was difficult to tell in the strained light, but the flying type's plumage was discolored compared to the norm of the species. The deep blues of their flight feathers were instead an iridescent green, and the naturally crimson plumage of their face and chest down was much brighter and more orange.

After a few moments, Vallion finally released his grip. The Swellow struggled to pick up its flight where it left off, flapping rather clumsily over to the remains of the banister and landing with a thud. Some upset preening later, they clicked their beak.

"Fine," they said. "I came in suddenly. I underestimated your reaction speed. We have not yet met before. So, I'm giving you this one time. After today, you will never touch me like that again, or there will be very real consequences."

Roserade pushed right up past Vallion and raised her bud towards the Swellow. "You've got a lot of nerve sending us to die in this place, Freak! Just what did you expect to happen?! If not for this new guy, we would've been red paste in the snow by now!"

Freak disinterestedly continued to preen, shooting the grass type a sideways glance. "Perhaps that'd be true in a separate line of fate, but you are in this one. Beartic does owe us a debt, and we are still taking it, with interest. You and Linoone better start sifting through this place for pocket change. I want to speak with Serperior outside, alone."

"Is this any way to treat me?! After everything I've done for you people?! There's gonna be a target on our heads now! What's this fateless job worth to you, anyway?!"

The Swellow chirped. "You'll want to hurry. One of these buffoons is bound to wake up before long."

"Y-yes sir! We'll get looking!" Linoone gave Roserade an encouraging nudge and took off in the opposite direction. Aside from a nasty glare, Roserade eventually relented and limped past up the stairs, carefully stepping around the two unconscious pokemon that laid there. Luckily, they hardly stirred at all.

Vallion wasn't pleased to be back out in the snow. Freak landed on the branch of a nearby tree and shook more of it onto his head, much to his irritiation. The Serperior brushed the snow from his nose and grumbled.

"I'm guessing this wasn't an accident?" Vallion said.

The Swellow apparently known as Freak ruffled his feathers. "Chenza told me about what you did the other day. You can thank her for this little change in the route. Seems she had the right mind to put you through another trial, perhaps to see the extent of your abilities. If I had to guess, I'd say that you passed with flying colors. I just stopped by to confirm your cooperation."

"The Family, was it? Is that the name of the rival gang whose toes we just stepped on? They were warned of our arrival ahead of time. I assume this wasn't an accident, either?"

Freak narrowed his eyes. "Rival? That's a bit of a stretch. Roserade was right in the severity of this play. Your actions will not go unnoticed. It appears that Chenza's intentions were to stir up some trouble, with you acting as the pawn. We can't do much else other than trust her instincts. She always has schemes in play, and the best thing we can do is play our parts."

"Schemes?" Vallion scoffed. "I've never been a fan of shadowy plans at my own expense, personally, but there hasn't been a situation I couldn't handle yet. I suppose I'll play along for now."

"Yes. You will. And you will soon realize that these choices weren't yours to make."

With that, the Swellow crouched and launched into the air, catching a breeze after a few moments. As swiftly as he made his entrance, Freak rocketed into the labyrinth of a city without a sound, leaving Vallion with four unconscious foes to watch and a house to loot.

You know, this situation wouldn't even be half as bad if it wasn't so fucking cold.