Joshua
There were some advantages to partnering up with a Joy, especially when her star was in the ascendant. They arrived in Porth Cian that evening expecting to have to camp somewhere, but there was a Pokémon Clinic here, and of course Eve got a room even in holiday season. Whichever one of her multitudinous cousins ran the place didn't like him, as usual, and he decided not to care.
The weather had the feeling of a coming storm. From a bench sat next to Eve he half-watched Ivysaur play-fighting with Megaera. She kept throwing Bullet Seeds at him, rather like a small child flicking peas at a tolerant older sibling. Meg really wanted to start battling, which wasn't going to happen, but he'd reluctantly allowed her to playfully spar with the others. Ivysaur didn't even need supervising, obviously, but Josh didn't trust Fionn's idea of fun and Screwball was being difficult.
"Screwball," he tried.
[Invalid directive.]
"Screwball!"
[This pokémon has performed an illegal operation and will be shut down,] Screwball said obstinately.
Josh decided to let that one go, and went back to his Pokédex. He was still fighting the default settings. It kept trying to give him the information it thought he ought to want, not the information he'd actually asked for.
Settings, General, Mode, Expert
There.
#329 Vibrava
Ammodraco bombilator
Typology: Ground/Dragon (Frazer-Edricson classification)
Junior morph: Trapinch (Ammodraco mymeleon)
Senior morph: Flygon (Ammodraco transcendentis)
Vibrava are predatory insect pokémon of the family Myrmeleontidae, known as the Vibration Pokémon for the ultrasonic waves produced by its wings. A rare species, its natural range is limited to the Mirage Desert of Hoenn and the coasts of the Maroc States. Primary typology is disputed, with some authorities placing vibrava among the Bug-types -
In hindsight it might have been more sensible to have bought that cumulonimbus swablu back in Goldenrod during the Hoenn Festival. A tiny raindrop plipped onto the screen. Josh looked darkly at the sky. The sun was setting between a restless sea and a black blanket of cloud.
"Livesey was right. Looks like a storm's coming. We'd better get under cover," he said out of habit. Between May Day and Lammas it was believed to be unwise for men to be caught outdoors during a storm. By some, anyway.
"There's plenty of time yet," Eve said.
"Easy for a girl to say."
Eve gave him a sly look. "You're afraid of the Wild Hunt, aren't you!"
"I ay frit o' -"
"You are!" Eve crowed triumphantly. "There's a storm coming and you're afraid of spectral huntsmen coming howling over the cliffs and using your head as a volleyball!"
"Men get swept up into joining the Hunt, too."
"Sometimes," Eve said pointedly, winking at him.
"So supportive. Time for little weeds to get under cover as well!" he said archly. "Ivysaur?"
Ivysaur casually picked up a protesting Meg with his vines. [In,] he said.
The next morning felt clean and refreshed. The storm had passed overnight with a mad fury, leaving behind scraps of fleecy cumulus and the scent of petrichor. Further than a mile or so beyond Porth Cian, Route 49 became sublimely romantic, in a wild and lonely sort of way. It was ruggedly beautiful, jigsawed by wind and wave into seemingly hundreds of coves, zawns, and skerries. The sea was mostly what you could hear, the crash and break of the surf plashing persistently against the rocks far below.
Eve was quiet this morning. That was entirely ok, because it wasn't a morning for conversation. They'd simply held hands for the past half-mile or so. #14 delicately picked his way along as he followed at a discreet distance. The gogoat reminded him a bit of Ivysaur. For now, he had Screwball at his shoulder. He gave the route map the most cursory of looks. Obviously the path only went in one direction, two if you were being philosophical, but he wouldn't really need it anyway – the shape of this coastline was coming back to him. The path here ran through a carpet of flowering heather and broom, soft purple and yellow, as it curved around the rim of a secluded cove.
"Hullo," he remarked. "Woss this oddling."
There was a shipping container washed up on the beach. Josh let go of Eve's hand and looked for a way down.
"Where are you going?" Eve said.
"To see what this oddling is."
There were rough steps cut into the rock. They were partially hidden beneath the stubborn coastal grasses, but they were there. He realised you'd have difficulty seeing them unless you were right on top of them. Old smuggler's steps, possibly.
The container had got caught on the rocks, the ebb tide lapping at its flanks. It was painted pidove grey, an incomprehensible serial number stencilled onto one side. The door was buckled and very slightly ajar.
"Screwball?"
[Standing by.]
"Rip the doors off."
[Initialising magnetic protocols.]
Josh stood aside as Screwball turned its magnets on the container's doors. The bars slowly bent with a drawn-out groan, bolts popped, the doors screeched and bulged outwards. The locks were ripped out of the steel. Containers were built to be strong – evidently, not strong enough to withstand Screwball's relentless magnetic pressure.
There were pallets stacked with cardboard boxes inside, wrapped in plastic sheeting. Seawater had found its way in through the buckled doors. Some of the lowest boxes were damp at the edges.
"What the hell are you doing?" Eve complained from somewhere outside. Josh was only half-listening – he'd spotted the text on the boxes. SILPH MANUFACTURING. He found his knife, cut through the sheeting on the nearest pallet, and carefully opened a box. It was full of Ultra Balls.
"The storm … it must have been washed overboard during the night," Eve said. Josh wasn't listening at all now. He stepped back onto the beach. The high-water mark was about thirty feet away – there was still a few hours left of the ebb tide. He took a photo with his Pokédex.
He released Ivysaur. "Right. Ivysaur, Screwball. We've got about six hours till the flood tide gets into that container. That's six hours to move as many boxes out and above the high-water mark as we can."
[Affirmative.]
[As you like.]
"What the hell are you doing!" Eve almost screamed.
"Beachcombing," Josh explained calmly. "We'll start with that pallet," he added to the pokémon.
"That's stealing."
"No it ay. Jetsam or derelict found on the foreshore, finders-keepers."
"You made that up!"
"Believe what you want," Josh said coolly. He ignored Eve's disapproving scowls. After a while she gave up trying to burn holes in him, and stalked off to train with her pokémon.
It was quite hard work unloading the container. Fortunately it wasn't stacked to the rafters, and it was easier to get at the smaller, lighter boxes from the top half of the pallets, anyway. The boxes near the bottom seemed to be mostly medicines, some bikes and backpacks among them.
The sea was threatening to flood the container when Josh called it quits and started to inventory what he'd found. Poké Balls, Ultra Balls, cameras of various types, some TMs, Solar Beam among them. Expert Belts, Spell Tags, Hard Stones, Red Cards, Absorb Bulbs, etc, and etc. Josh stowed a handful of Ultra Balls in his jacket pocket. He was tempted to keep two or three Expert Belts for himself as well. The other battle items might not sell for much, but the cameras were a gold mine.
"How precisely do you plan on transporting all of your pieces-of-eight?" Eve demanded. Meowth was lurking behind her legs.
"Capra pathocaballus."
"You're not using the gogoat!"
"Yes, I bloody am!"
"No, you're bloody not!"
"Back off, Eve!" Josh retorted. "Half that hire fee came out of my Gelt!"
"You bloody pirate. You made, what, three hundred dollars at White Lake, a Champion's purse worth three thousand dollars from the Tourney! Why do you even want the money?"
Josh stared at her. What kind of question was that? Obviously having more money was good. Money was options. Money didn't rust.
"See! You don't even know!"
"Thass a moot point, don't ye think?" Josh said, getting to his feet. "Because there's only one woman in this world who can talk te me like that, and you're not her! So back off, woman!"
Meowth leapt forward, claws unsheathed and spitting rage at him. Screwball instantly appeared at his shoulder. [Charging capacitors.]
Meowth glared at Screwball. Sparks crackled from Screwball's magnets.
"Meowth, enough," Eve commanded. "Mama fights her own battles."
"Screwball, stand down," Josh commanded. He went back to sorting through the boxes. "And you can stop glaring at me like that. You look like your mother."
Eve wouldn't talk to him all day the next day. And that was entirely ok, because he wasn't going to put up with another round of moral indignation. His Landranger Pokégear had shown its worth, and given him a headache, by managing to receive a call even out here.
He'd never been this far west along Route 49 before. The sea was in a serene mood today, embossed with waves like rippling sapphire. The wind had faded to a mere zephyr, leaving the cliff path feeling strangely calm.
This serene sea had a name: Landunder. Josh remembered being taken to a henge near Megavessiy one Midsummer's Eve, to see a mystery play called The King Under Water, or something. Legend had it that Cianwood Island was once the size of Hoenn, a rich and powerful kingdom. It was said the capital city of Prospero was once the envy of the Sunset Isles, with its temples and gardens, canals and hundred bell towers. But the lords of Prospero offended the gods, somehow, and so for their sins the gods sunk the land beneath the sea in a single night. It was said that on calm days like this, you could still hear the drowned bells of Prospero, ringing beneath the waves.
They made camp that evening with minimal talk in a sheltered bay, where a little river ran down from the Safari Zone and made its estuary between the arms of the bay. Josh was beginning to regret this fight. He lit a fire out of sheer habit, left Ivysaur to bask in the last hours of the sun with Meg, and wandered off down to the beach in search of shellfish. He hesitated at the edge of the foreshore, gazing doubtfully at the muddy sand, speckled with tidal puddles shining like glass in the late sunshine. From here, the surf was a distant line of blue crested with white.
Josh didn't trust it. It wasn't the threat of hidden shellder he was worried about – with Screwball at his belt an aggressive shellder would end up as a fried clam very quickly. Rather, this was just the sort of beach to hide quicksand. The sea might be far out now, but the tide was a sly thing, and would flood deceptively quickly over that flat intertidal zone. It was a spring tide, too, or near as made no difference. Reluctantly, he turned away. Having fresh shellfish at hand for breakfast was a fine thing, but not so fine as to be worth a risk on an unfamiliar beach.
At sunset he recalled the Grass-types for the night – Ivysaur, Megaera, and the hireling #14. As the dusk deepened he released Fionn for a while. Josh sat watching the tide come in, occasionally re-reading scraps of vibrava's Pokédex entry. This would be a difficult capture. Vibrava were already strong by the time they evolved. Apparently they were shifty bastards, too. Dad had pointed out he might have avoided the problem if he'd caught something at White Lake. Josh had pointed out, unconvincingly, that Water-types were the most obvious Fire-type counter there is. Well, fine, a Water-type would have worked, but he wanted something subtler and harder to predict.
Eve somehow managed to fall asleep, wrapped in her hoodie dress in front of her tent. The fire was down to dully glowing embers. Melissa Evans was Tigerlily Champion, too, but her weeks of battle weren't something he could report home. The Tourney had taught him some valuable lessons. Cunning and patience could circumvent type advantages. And a powerful Electric attack could dominate a battlefield.
Josh smoothly rose to his feet and padded off along the beach to find a bush to piss in. Scuds of inky cloud, darker than the indigo of the summer night's sky, drifted steadily in from across the sea. As he set to his task he watched the stars of Ursa Major, shining bright and hard as diamonds, disappear behind cloud. He ought to have won more than one Badge in the Orange Archipelago. A Spike Shell Badge wasn't much tangible to show for the two months since winning a Zephyr Badge. His breath misted in front of his face in the cold air. A blink later and it was gone. Just his imagination.
No it wasn't. No it wasn't! Something was amiss. Zip up, zip up -
Feeling foolish and paranoid, he hurried back to the camp. His skin prickled. Not psychic power … something else. Something was amiss.
The moon came out.
There was a small girl in a white sundress hunched over Eve, licking industriously at her face. Eve was shuddering violently. The girl looked up at him with a flawlessly symmetrical, too-perfect face, and grinned mirthlessly.
Rage bubbled up in his stomach, rising red and acidic and righteous, fighting for control, demanding to be let out, to be used. Before he knew it his fingers had closed around the hilt of his knife. Aron steel flashed in the moonlight.
The girl pounced at him. There was a blur of white cotton and flying hair – Josh instinctively raised his knife. The girl impaled herself on the blade. Vanished.
Thoughts sizzled in his mind faster than he could make conscious sense of them. He carefully turned his knife into a reverse grip. She wasn't gone, merely disappeared. He didn't fight the rage, he let it sharpen his thoughts, let it do this -
He stabbed out right. Ghosts always thought you'd assume they would attack from behind. The steel thumped into the girl's chest with a puff of dark ectoplasm. She let out a startled shriek, writhed on the blade, and vanished.
"Cold be heart and hand and bone," a cold voice growled from the darkness.
A knife wouldn't be enough. He wasn't even sure why the knife had worked at all. "Fionn!" he commanded. She wouldn't have gone far, she -
She was floating over the dead fire, semi-conscious and semi-corporeal. The ghost must have ambushed her, Fionn would have harrowed her with her screams otherwise. He had to recall her. Soon.
The ghost reappeared, gazing steadily at him, still wearing her little girl guise. She licked the air with a soft, pink tongue, a gesture of contempt and a threat.
"Let's have it, then," Josh snarled. "I'll carve that thing from your head."
He moved his knife to his left hand, waiting. The ghost's patience failed first. She made her move – Josh threw an Ultra Ball at her. She disappeared in a flash of red. As the Ball frantically leaped and rattled he recalled Fionn. Safe. You're safe now.
The Ultra Ball's capture lock gave in. It wasn't a sham girl that escaped from the Ball. Gone was the cute veneer, the faux innocence. The wraith was all mirthlessly grinning mouth and gleaming eyes and disarticulated hands like curled talons. Josh might have felt intimidated even through the red mists of his rage – but now he had a Poké Ball in his hand.
"Screwball! I'm relying on you!"
[Charging capacitors. Initialising magnetic protocols. Target identified and locked.]
Haunter flung a Shadow Ball, the roiling globe almost invisible in the night. Screwball destroyed it with a burst of Charge Beam – a retaliatory flicker of Night Shade caught it a glancing blow.
"Magnet Bomb!" Josh snapped. Screwball hammered Haunter with a dazzling fury of steel-blue explosions. Josh tried to blink away the glowing afterimages. Haunter was gone again.
"Cold be heart and hand and bone …"
Josh's head snapped round. Haunter was stealthily sliding towards the sea, trying to get behind him.
"Magnet Bomb!" he commanded.
[Confirm target.]
"What? There, there, left!"
Screwball just stared wildly into the night. Night Shade, red-edged and malign, slashed across the moonlight. The impact sent Screwball whirling away with a wailing drone.
Haunter fixed her attention on Josh. Her Jack o'lantern grin stretched wider. He stepped back uncertainly. A cold shiver of dread was trying to struggle up through the anger. She was looking at him like food. Like prey! Josh changed his knife back to his dominant hand. How dare she look at him like prey! Haunter started to conjure a Shadow Ball.
"To me!" he roared. "Thunder Wave!"
Haunter threw the Shadow Ball. Somehow Screwball appeared right in front of him. The Shadow Ball broke over them both in a deluge of dark energy. It was like being smothered in black fog; stars like diamonds wheeled overhead; there was a sensation of falling …
The world returned with a jolt as he thudded onto the grass. An inexorable, bone-deep, chill had seized hold of his right arm. His knife had slipped from his grasp.
The battle was a confusing amalgam of blazing attacks. Josh tried to will his chilled and deadened fingers into gripping his knife. Out the corner of his eye he saw Eve shuddering in the mouth of her tent. Amid a bursting Shadow Ball there was a pure white light. Screwball was evolving.
It smoothly divided, mitosis-like, into three. A triumphant halo of electricity thundered from its triple body.
[I am three. We are one,] it declared. [Directive?]
"Kill."
[It will be done.]
Infused with new power Screwball burned into Haunter with Charge Beam, electricity searing her like a laser. The Charge Beam transformed Haunter into a jagged shadow bathed in incandescent light, her cries of rage and her cries of pain fused into one long scream.
Charge Beam snapped off as abruptly as if something had thrown a power switch. [Charge Beam offline.]
Disable. Not a problem.
Hands wreathed in flame, Haunter seized hold of Screwball in a double-grip. Crackling strings of Thunder Wave made it look like she was squeezing electricity between her fingers. There was a sharp tang of hot metal and ozone and as its steel skin started to glow red Josh realised Haunter meant to kill Screwball.
"No! Screwball, return!"
Haunter's attention turned to him. There was something like contempt in that steady gaze. She bore down on him, taking her time, as if she knew he couldn't go anywhere. He couldn't release Ivysaur into the fire. Eve's pokémon were out of reach on her gilet. He managed to pick up his knife. How dare she look at him like prey …
"Cold be heart and hand and bone …"
Haunter's mirthless Jack o'lantern grin eclipsed the moon. The last of the red mist of rage cleared. He was in real trouble. Josh desperately fumbled left-handed for an Ultra Ball.
A sudden ache pressed at his temples. Haunter froze. Witchfire limned her with a dancing blue glow.
"Calidore, Assurance!"
Something black-furred tackled the ghost in a smear of luminous yellow, snarling as it swiftly and thoroughly savaged her. Hardly a moment later its unseen trainer threw a Dusk Ball and captured her.
"Operations: CG 156 Madison, hostile in custody. Are you hurt?"
Josh could only just feel the hilt of the knife in his right hand. Every other limb was trying to quiver like a poplar leaf. He realised his breathing was ragged. Josh looked up. There was a pokémon ranger standing over him – stocky figure, austere haircut, slight frown on her face. The sergeant's insignia on her epaulettes glinted a dull bronze. Her pokémon appeared at her side, an umbreon, with the Dusk Ball in its mouth.
"It's gone," Madison said, shrewdly. "You're safe."
"No, damn it, not me!" Josh almost burbled. "Eve, over there, help her!"
Madison took one look at Eve and knelt at her side. Josh bullied his legs into behaving, rose unsteadily to his feet and followed suit, cradling his deadened right arm. Eve was still trapped in a deep sleep, shivering as if terribly cold.
"What's your name?" Madison asked quietly.
"Cook. Joshua Cook."
"And her name?"
"Evelina Joy."
"Tell me what happened."
Josh took a breath. "Eve was asleep. I went to take a piss, felt apprehensive. When I got back the haunter was – was there. I battled it, I lost. Then you showed up."
"And what happened to your arm?"
'Nothing', Josh was going to say. "Shadow Ball," he said shortly.
"I see," Madison said. "I wonder if it used Dream Eater," she murmured.
"It didn't."
"How do you know?"
"I would have felt it," Josh replied flatly.
The sergeant gave him a brief, searching look. "Britomart," she commanded.
The pokémon that emerged from the night was a waif-like humanoid, pale skirts floating gracefully with telekinesis, almost luminous in the moonlight. Its huge, red, feline eyes stared from a delicate face.
"Heal Bell," Madison said. Britomart bowed elegantly. It began a lilting plainchant, high and sad. Josh felt his arm regain some feeling, little needles of pain shooting in his fingertips. The violence of Eve's shudders subsided to a constant fluttering shiver.
"She needs to go to the hospital," Madison said decisively. "Operations, Operations, this is CG 156 Madison, I need an immediate hospital Teleport, priority one. Two patients, one stable, one critical. I will. Understood."
"Do you need to take anything with you?" Madison asked Josh abruptly.
"Er, no!" Josh said.
"Good. Calidore, guard the camp. You'll feel disoriented for a moment after teleporting. That's normal, it'll pass. Britomart, in five seconds, if you please."
Britomart bowed again. Josh felt the psychic pressure building in his temples. His skin tingled with witchfire.
"… three, two," Madison counted sotto voce. Josh grabbed Eve's hand.
"One."