2.4 - Especially You

The adrenaline in me petered out soon after my hands returned to their normal shape, leaving me wasted on the side of the street while Sim lectured his friend. A lot of fellas bombarded me with questions about my climbing trick, but explaining it was like explaining a good joke, so I waved them off. Meanwhile, that makuhita brought down some of those doily napkins for my nose.

("need anything else?" He joked. "Know where the bathroom is?").

And yup, Junnie was a friend. Sim pleaded the aipom's case to me while he waited for backup: the monkey shivering in the snow mound came from one of the six districts of Xanadu. It was called Breathers, since its territory licked along the entirety of a river called the Breath.

"To be honest," he said, "Xanadu is a city with five districts and a jungle-you ever hear a human term, concrete jungle?"

That was the first euphemism I'd hear for the place. When the Void War sparked, the west side of the city realized they had a defensible position sandwiched between the ocean-where I hopped in from-and the Breath. Anyone who wasn't able to cross the boundary lived or died, or lived then died, in the concrete jungle.

The survivors grew up to be complicated cases, unable to cross the river, but for different reasons.

Sim and I didn't need a long, protracted conversation about why Junnie freaked out when the sandslash didn't appear for their meet-up. The boiled-down version was he got scared, then vengeful about being made scared. The ingredients that went into that boiled dish were far too shitty to think about.

A Corvisquire arrived and plucked Junnie into the air. We both watched as the regretful fella took to the sky, bundled up in some blankets to fight off the cold.

Simmons patted my back. "Mind if I bring you back to your place? I'm not doing too hot."

We walked back through the streets. Hopefully, the hot question on my mind helped the sad pile of ice warm up. I went um, and uh, trying to decide: was it better to ask him, or to risk going right to the source?

"What is it?" He asked.

It shot out of me. "Is Quil from Breathers?"

"Yeah. She was a Junnie, once. Did she say something?"

"I pieced it together."

We trudged on. I fought to follow up, my floppy, useless yellow tongue unable to snap to life and ask, once?

I ran out of pathway to figure myself out. We were back at my place. I dipped right into the hall to escape the cold.

The walk had fixed up Sim's mood, the moping lost in his smile.

"By the way." He came in a step, bringing our chat indoors. "We haven't talked about it, but what you did…"

I sighed. "Yeah, yeah, it's not allowed."

"Well, yes. But it was quite the spectacle. Both the climbing and the–" he shook his claws around.

"Oh. Yeah, just a few things I've picked up."

"Would you consider becoming a patroller?"

A patroller? I considered it. I would have a license to run around, climb, crimefight… sprinkled in with the spice of meeting some new faces and helping introduce others back into society. The job demanded what few skills I offered. And I could do the search for Lora through an organization, rather than relying on just Quil and Sul. I'd be able to go on those outings Sim mentioned… the pay might be good… the title of patroller… sounded neat…

"I don't get it," Sim growled. His smile was shattered. "Or, I guess I do. Ten years following and fighting under someone else's orders. Or surviving in constant fear. I get it! I seriously do. I understand. But when you make this city into your playground without thinking how much work you're placing on everyone else… no, I don't get it. You should ask Quil where she was before she turned into that brute's hired goon. See ya, Grungy."

I barely grunted a syllable out, and Sim had enough. He spun back around the door and slammed it in my face. And when I flung it open, he was already storming off to who-knows-where, his back a wall of ice, his shoulders looking pretty damn cold.

"What the fuck!" I shouted after him. "You didn't even let me answer, weirdo!"

He ignored me and waddled into the beyond.

"Jerk!"

I swung the door shut and stormed up the stairs. The empty room had waited for me. Its floors belched dust as I threw myself inside, and the murmur of the afternoon became swallowed in its empty muffle.

I was going to answer hell yeah, I want to be a patroller. Instead, instead he jumped down my throat and wouldn't let me choose. I was ready to join. If he had a fucking badge with him, I'd let him pin the stupid thing right onto my–

I ran my jacket sleeve over my nose and eyes. Dried blood flakes and tears.

"Get… get off," I muttered, swinging my arms out from underneath the leather. It spilled across the floor, its black texture spreading like oil. Five heads stared up at me.

"Seriously!" I snarled at them. "I want to join. I'm gonna catch up to him."

They asked: when?

"After I'm done crying-I wish you were the thing she painted over. I wish she covered up you, and you, and you. Especially y-you."

The Linoone stared at me. Never caught without his game face, this fella. His beige stripes dragged the sky blue of his eyes into dullness, his muzzle set in a permanent rest. A smile, or frown, I forgot what I requested.

I spotted my claw moving towards the glum face. The curiosity snuck up on me. The spark in my fur, my color bristling to life, the beaming white shimmer of my transformation… I stretched toward my jacket, and that face…

"Easy does it."

Decimal's gentle voice coaxed my claw closer to the metal contraption on the table. The Linoone balanced it upright, aiming the circular band and its splintery green studs towards my trembling paws.

"I'm trying," I growled. "These stabbers on the end of my arms make it a tad… difficult…"

He spoke softly, his voice as steady as his grip. "I know."

Inch by inch, I conveyed the glowing orb to its new home. The closer it came to the studs, the more the entire contraption trembled. The smooth, blue sphere wanted to leap right away from me and onto the floor. It already boasted a couple victories over me.

But not this time. With some pluck, I kept my arms steady while bending forward. The orb repulsed against the metal for a brief, heart-wrenching moment. Then, it clicked in.

A blueish light broke free of the orb, nearly blinding me, before Decimal brought down the intensity by clicking a clawtip on the contraption.

"Woo! Eat shit, orb. I win."

Decimal rewarded me with one of his classic smiles. "Excellent work. Grungy, we used the principals of chimera manufacturing to produce a UV lamp."

The nerd had run me through the ingredients. Sunny orb, whole. Two align orb splinters attached to the bottom and top of a focusing ring to "manage the spectrum" (whatever the fuck that meant), and three cleanse orb splinters flanking each side to provide a type-infused oomph to the insane science.

"An empowered lamp like this one can disinfect food and water." Decimal turned it off and moved it to the end of our workbench-a slab of mostly flat rock in our hidey hole. "More importantly, when shone upon a paste made from oran berries and sap from tailset willows, it turns that mix into a fast-acting coagulating agent."

"Hux has been putting the sap on our breakfasts," I whined.

"Tell him to not do that."

I rolled onto my back. "Uh, but scientifically, tailset willow sap, er, reverses the… um… annealing process that our hardtack has underwent."

Decimal sniffled. "Counterargument: you are all capable of eating hardtack in its natural state. I can say this with confidence because of how often you all exercise your mouths. Especially you."

"Jerk."

I looked over to him. He was already playing with something else on the bench. Playing. Outside our dirty-encrusted lab was our camp. Outside the camp was hell. Maddened creatures who mindlessly attacked and never left their rage, statues of pokèmon who were once their victims-now sent to a place called the Void. Or, if they were extremely unlucky, converted to Dark Matter's court: stained.

But here, it felt like I could steal bits and pieces of the real world back. I never imagined I would be the type to learn all this science. I definitely never intended to embarrass myself practicing something like Decimal's 'parkour' bullshit. He could swear up and down it was some neat human martial art, but most other martial arts I knew existed involved fighting the enemy-not fleeing in style.

But it was fun. I had fun, and that fun helped me stay alive.

"Thanks," I breathed.

Decimal set down a mine and cocked his head.

"I, I was wondering. What will you do after this?"

He looked up to the wood hatch leading out of the hideout. "I am due to become an authority. I will hold a senior position within a governing or policing force."

I snickered. "You're gonna go fight crime?"

"I shall advocate for policies that attack the existence of crime by targeting its motives."

"What?"

"I shall make up rules."

"Ew!" I rolled over and stared at our new UV lamp. When shut off, it hummed a gentle purple. "Cool, I mean. You've got such a good plan. Mind if I tag along? I could be your muscle. I… wanna do good deeds, too."

Decimal nodded… then froze in place. He looked away from me.

"My dream isn't optimal," he admitted.

Dec did this sometimes. He would glue that stupid word, optimal, onto the most random things.

"A dream doesn't need to be optimal," I said.

He shook his head. "Think about this: we are in a war with maddened Pokèmon, yes?" He put on his teaching tone.

I groaned. "Sure, yeah."

"Dark Matter is a force we cannot negotiate with. It is evil in its vilest, most absolute form. Pushing back against it, even if just to survive, is thus heroic in itself. Do you agree?"

"I'm a hero, baby."

"Following the war, we will be in a world full of heroic pokèmon. It is likely most of them will continue to do good deeds. Do you agree?"

"Stop asking if I agree. Just talk, Dec."

"If the question, 'who will be good?' is inundated with answers, the real, pressing question is… 'who will be bad?'"

I drew in close. "What?"

"The world will need entertaining villains, Grungy. I… am set in my path. Anyone else can fill the role, though. Especially you."

I felt as if I was supposed to laugh. I didn't. My beige buddy and I sat there. Our eyes met, and for the first and last time, I saw sadness in Decimal. Sorrow and hope.

Finally, I did chuckle.

"Sounds like a blast, Dec. After this war wraps up, you join up with the goodies. And meanwhile, I'll start fucking stuff up! Just telling ya, you'll need more than UV lamps to stop me."

In another first, Decimal laughed. He moved a paw towards me. I took it in my own…

My own…

"Grungy," A voice grunted at me. "What's going on? You were crying."

I blinked awake. I'd fallen asleep right there on the floor. Of course, my jacket had found its way onto me again. In my blurry vision was my paw… no, Decimal's. I could tell by their superior curves.

"Did Sim not take you out to eat? Asshole," Quil cursed.

Sul-who knew how the giant made his way up my stairwell-sighed. "His nose is bloodied."

"It is," I whined, curling in on myself. "S-Sim took me out to a coffee shop. And while I was there, I had, I had a bad reaction to a mocha."

Quil shoved her foot against my side. "I'm sure the punchline to this is awesome, but get up."

"It's not a joke!" I cried. "After I drank the mocha… my precious paw… turned into a hoof!"

I spun around and presented my hoof-hands to her. Her bored, grumpy face exploded into shock.

"W-What in the… Sul?!" She stepped back, as if my condition were contagious.

Sul leaned in and inspected me closely. "Goodness. Guess chocolate really ain't good for your health."

"Am I t-turning into a girafarig?" I asked. "Buddies, I-neigh! Whinny!" I planted both hooves over my snout and looked at them with pure panic.

…Unfortunately, that last bit lost Quil. She glared at me. "You have five seconds to explain what actually happened to you, dumbfuck, or I'll rip your hands off and send them off somewhere for research."

Of my own volition, and definitely not due to how much she terrified me, I ended my little trick. "You should have seen your face."

"My face will be the last thing you see. My friend is missing, and you'd waste my time with a prank–"

Sul dangled his giant paw in between us. "Enough. You two can hash it out over dinner."

Dinner? I'd lost several hours to a nap. I realized my new trick might be a bigger drain than I knew.

"Grungy," Sul said, "I tried to call in my favor, but my boss said it'd be a favor to him if I brought you by tonight. Somehow, Lora's disappearance is a big problem to him. Quil will teach you how to conduct yourself."

"What, is he fancy or something?"

Quil shot me a… fairly odd look. She was pissed still, sure. Also worried. The only reason my prank worked, I saw now, was because her nerves were shot before she ever stepped foot in my place.

Sul shook his head gravely. "No, he's downright dangerous."