Chapter Ten:
Drill and Chill
Disclaimer: I do not own the series Pokémon. Like, at all. It and all its respectable characters are © to Game Freak and Satoshi Tajiri. However, all writing contents and semi-plots here are © to me; unless it is stated otherwise. All shows/ books/ video games/ songs that are mentioned in this chapter are all © to their respective owners, I do not own them.
Notes: I am always super-careful in my battles and tend to be paranoid, so I carried a lot of things to prevent or fix status-encumbering inflictions. I also like to grind until I am a gym leader's god and not just their run-of-the-mill opponent. I see nothing wrong with that.
On another note, this is the part where I flail about wildly like Kermit the Frog, because I am so surprised at all the new followers of both my story and author page I received over the past week! Thank you everyone who has been reading! I would love to hear from you guys and how you like the story so far! Any constructive critique you may have to offer is also welcome!
One additional, and last note before we get started, I've begun a Tumblr blog for this story. So, any headcanons or ideas or even any art I do that I have for the story (that is as non-spoiler-y as possible) will be posted there! It is under the handle blue-skiesand-silverlinings for anyone interested in giving it a follow and look-see. It's still relatively new and in its infancy, so allow some time for it to grow!
Current Team: Keno the Mudkip, Sela the Poochyena, Ambrose the Ralts, Faye the Taillow
"Now on to my next task: sitting around with nothing to do for twelve hours. I better get started!"
― Mark Watney, "The Martian" by Andy Weir
"Is something wrong with her?"
"I think she's shy."
"We're not going to hurt her."
"Guys, give her some space. Let her come out on her own."
"But I wanna soak in the tub, Shay! She's taking the bathroom up for herself with all her…spores! I can't get in there when it's like that!"
"…aw crap, you're right."
The Pokémon Center room Shay and her team were sequestered in was one of their slightly larger suites. There has been a lull in challengers in the last several weeks, the nurse at the front desk had told her as she handed the key to Shay earlier that evening. So, Shay got the cream of the crop, as much as it could be called as such. The rooms she's stayed in, from Petalburg and Rustboro both, had been Spartan in accommodations and decoration. Basic necessities and nothing more, nothing less. It reminded Shay of a hotel room…or a military barrack's room.
At least I don't have to worry about random health and comfort inspections. Or uniform inspections. Or junk on the bunk inspections. Or…any inspections, really.
The thought struck her as odd in the midst of her current predicament and she shook them all away, looking at the closed bathroom door with concern.
She had caught a pokémon back in the Petalburg Woods, a mere half hour after her encounter with the Team Aqua grunt and the Devon researcher he had been harassing. Ironically, it had been a tiny Shroomish, the very pokémon the Devon researcher had been searching high and low for. The poor thing, as soon as Shay had let her out of her pokéball when they reached the room, shot a dust cloud of something into the air, and scurried away on stumpy legs to sequester herself into the bathroom. As soon as the air had cleared, and as soon as Shay found it safe to breathe without needing her shirt as a filter pressed up against her mouth and nose, had closed the bathroom door.
Now Shay was trying to figure out just how to get inside, without inhaling a huge lungful of poison or paralysis or sleep powders. Or any combination of any of them, really.
The thought of that made her shudder, but she tried to stifle them. If she didn't, she'd never get things done and she'd let fear motivate her actions.
Suck it up, Marine, she told herself.
She glanced at her team huddled on the queen-sized bed, who were staring back at her expectantly. Sela sneezed and shook her head vigorously, but otherwise, none of them moved. Shay sucked in a breath and inched closer toward the door, tiptoeing as she went. Gently, she knocked on the door.
"Hey, there, um…Shroomish." She winced. She hadn't nicknamed the Shroomish yet. She hadn't even had a chance to ask if the Shroomish had a name. The only definite thing she gathered was that the Shroomish was female from her pokédex's entry data after Shay had caught her.
But, do pokémon who are basically plant-animal hybrids identify themselves with gender or do they prefer some other identifying pronouns? They, them? Do they switch it up and change it on a whim? Fuck, man. I should've let her…it…them out sooner than this.
"I'm gonna come in now. Just me. Please don't…spray anything at me. I just want to talk. Is that okay?"
There was a pregnant pause, one that hung heavily in the air. Just as Shay was getting ready to turn the knob of the bathroom door, she heard a reluctant and fairly quiet, "O-Okay," from the other side. She shot the others a nervous grin and a thumbs up before carefully pushing the door open, her shirt already covering her mouth and nose.
It was still dark inside, and it took Shay a few seconds for her eyes to adjust and to locate the Shroomish, tucked away between the toilet and the vanity. The air was surprisingly clear, although she wouldn't have been surprised if there was still something lingering in the air. She sniffed, finding nothing odd or out of place and tugged the hem of her shirt back down.
"Hey there, little…um. Do you have any pronoun preferences? She, it, them…?"
"I'm…I'm a girl."
"Okay. That's a start." Shay left the door open and crossed her legs at the ankles and gently lowered herself down into a cross-legged position on the tiles of the bathroom floor. The Shroomish remained where she was, staring at Shay with wide, beady black eyes. She was a squat little thing, with fungal growths crusted over her plump body. It was vaguely reminiscent to the fungal plate growths of the Clickers or Bloaters from The Last of Us, Shay mused, before shaking those thoughts away.
"Okay, then," Shay said once more, showing her hands to the Shroomish. "Do you have a name? Or is it all right if I give you one?"
"Breela," the Shroomish replied, her voice soft.
"Breela. That's…that's pretty."
If memory served her correct, Shroomish evolved into Breloom. They were vaguely reminiscent to a two-legged dinosaur, in some respects, with a mushroom capped skull, stubby clawed forelimbs, and a long tail ending in a club of some sort. Breela would grow into the name. Right now, she didn't resemble anything like that.
Everyone's gotta start somewhere, she thought. She offered a smile and that made the Shroomish quiver, the top of her head trembling.
Uh-oh. That's not good. Shay's smile dropped away.
"Easy. I'm not gonna hurt you, okay?"
"You caught me. What else are you going to do with me?"
"Umm…well. I'm a trainer. I guess you already know that, since…I caught you," Shay reaffirmed, wincing at the awkwardness of her wording. "And that means you're on my team now. But, if you don't want to, I could either…box you, or let you go. Before you decide, though, I want to say that, if you stick around on the team, you could have a chance to grow stronger and evolve into a Breloom. In case that's something you want to do."
The Shroomish paused, thoughtful and silent. She didn't say anything for such a long time, that Shay's legs began to cramp and grow stiff in the position she sat in. She slowly unfolded her legs, groaning as her lower back gave a painful twinge in protest when she tried stretching. Her hip soon joined in and then everything just started to throb and ache. She groaned again. She was going to need to take a hot shower, stretch in full, and maybe take a pill before the night was over with.
"Sorry. Cramps and stuff," she said when Breela shuddered again. The Shroomish tiptoed her way out from between the vanity and toilet, moving closer to Shay. Shay looked at her hopefully.
"I…I want to stay. I think I want…I want to get stronger. Just enough to evolve. Is that okay?"
"Just say the word when you're done, and I'll either box you or set you free."
A craggy little smile alit Breela's squat face. "I like that."
One of the nice things about the pack Professor Birch had given Shay, was that it had a smaller one-strapped sling-pack inside it. It could be taken in lieu of the entirety of her camping gear, precisely for the purpose if she was staying in a town and needed to travel light to surrounding areas for training.
She wished she'd known this back in Petalburg, but she was glad to know it at all now. She packed up essentials—a few bottles of potions and several vials of paralysis heal, awakening, and antidote alike. In a secondary pocket, she packed as many pokéballs she could stuff inside. Their plastic carapaces clinked and clacked softly against one another, like marbles, as she fastened the zipper over the track until it was closed tightly. In a smaller side pocket, she had some Tylenol and her painkillers. She'd already taken some earlier that morning during breakfast. It was helping ease the pains that had plagued her most of the evening before.
It was a fresh new day, and as much as she wanted to head to Roxanne's gym, settled at the northern end of town, Shay knew she'd have to train the newer members of the team. Even if they don't get to battle in the gym in this town, who's to say they won't in the next.
Again, she was going off of memory, but she recalled that Brawly, an avid user of fighting-types on Dewford Island, was the next stop. Faye would be her best fighter in that gym, and as powerful as her moves were…
Well, they had consequences. Faye's strongest attack, Brave Bird, had one major drawback: its power will rebound and hurt Faye, an if she took enough damage to make a deep dent in her health during a battle, it could knock her out of the fight or worse. It was perhaps the only reason she was able to catch Faye in the first place. Shay was reluctant to let the little Taillow use it in a gym-sanctioned battle, never mind any other kind of battle. Only in emergencies, she's reasoned. It was too powerful to have Faye override it with a new move, but it was too risky to use too often.
She'd focus on other flying-type attacks. Hit hard, hit fast, hit enough times that it ensures a victory.
It's the way she'd always played in the games. Perhaps that strategy would work well enough here, in the actual world of pokémon as well.
Or so he hoped. It's worked so far, in the dozen or so pokémon battles she's already underwent. Each time got her blood pressure rising, her gut clenching into knots, and her mind racing faster than she could comprehend. Attack sequences went tumbling out of her mouth quicker than her thoughts could, and by the time they did catch up, the battle was over, and her pokémon stood tall and proud on the makeshift battlefield, towering over their fallen foes.
She was cautiously optimistic on the matters, although her entire body, right down to the core, felt braced for a losing blow.
Let's just hope we can keep up this winning streak.
Taking the hike out to the northeastern end out of the city, where the grass and woodlands were aplenty and filled with both trainers and wild pokémon, was a welcome start to their training. It was also refreshing to not have to lug around her heavy pack. Her aching shoulders needed the rest.
Several times, she gained stares as she went through Rustboro City. Halfway through, she realized why. Not everyone who wandered the city to their next destination had their entire pokémon team out. Most had no pokémon out, and those that did only ever had one at a time. Shay had all her team members out, trailing after her like little ducklings as they went. She decided "fuck it" and kept going about her business.
If they want to stare, let them. Not gonna stop me.
She didn't have time to wonder and worry about what people thought of her. She had training to do. Or rather, her pokémon had training to do. Leading them on a hike through the city as a warm up would do them some good.
Nothing got the blood pumping than a little old hike.
It was midmorning by the time they managed to get to the outskirts of Rustboro, the open fields and long grass windswept and tangled, reined in only by the gnarled trees on either side of the fields. The same trees funneled further east of the city, and she recalled not only from memory but from the x-transceiver's map that it'd lead straight to the unfinished Rusturf Tunnel.
…at least, she was certain it was unfinished. She only assumed as such—
—because that's how the game goes, she finished the unbidden thought and scowled. She wanted to up and deny the thought, banish it completely. Just because I fought that Team Aqua grunt doesn't mean this is like the games. May is gone. I didn't fight Brendan at all.
She winced, her body on autopilot as they continued their trek into Route 116.
But I helped Professor Birch when he was attacked by wild pokémon, with one of the three Hoenn regional starters. I helped Wally catch a pokémon—a Ralts, of all things. I fought the damned grunt in the forest and ran into that Devon researcher. Norman even admitted he won't battle me until I've earned at least four badges beforehand. Just like the games.
The trademark signs were clear as day, and she wanted to deny it. She truly did. Things were changed, true, but they were mostly mainstay points that ran along the main vein of the Hoenn story.
Did I replace May? Shay thought with her gut clenching and she almost felt ready to purge her stomach right then and there. Oh, god. What if I did? What if she died and I replaced her?
"Shay? Shay, are you okay?"
"She's going to be sick, Keno, I wouldn't stand by her if I were you."
"Does—does she need a healer?"
She jolted out of her thoughts when a pair of sharp claws dug into her shoulder and a hard, pointed something slammed into the side of her face. It was super effective.
Shay ducked her head and yelped, holding the offended side of her head as wings beat mercilessly at her to flutter away. Faye whirled in the air, circling lazily into the field to land beside Ambrose, Keno, Sela, and Breela. She observed Shay with one eye, her head tilted. Shay, with her heart racing and her blood pounding, stared with all the grace of a dumbstruck Slowpoke.
"I…what? What? What the fuck was that for?"
"You didn't replace anyone," Ambrose announced, causing Shay to flinch, as though he had just struck her. He pressed on, undeterred. "Accidents happen. Just because someone is not here, doesn't make it your fault. You had nothing to do with her death."
"Wha…?"
"That gym leader's daughter you were thinking about. She died in an accident. You didn't replace her. You didn't even know her. Stop feeling so guilty. You're starting to make me queasy."
Shay continued to stare but meaning began to slowly trickle into her head. Ralts flourished under positive emotions. If their trainers felt upset, so did Ralts. She eyed the pink horn atop Ambrose's head and frowned, feeling another wave of guilt wash over her.
"I'm…I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"
Ambrose waved a dismissive paw. "Cheer up. That's all I ask, okay? And maybe don't beat yourself up for something that isn't your fault."
Keno stared at Ambrose with more scrutiny than the others. "What're you talking about? Who died?"
"The gym leader we saw in Petalburg," Shay explained. "He…he had a daughter. And a wife—a mate. They both died when they were traveling to come here to Hoenn. In an accident. They were flying here, and…the plane had a malfunction. It crashed. Norman said there weren't any survivors."
Keno stared at her, while the others ducked their gazes. Ambrose kept his head tilted in her direction, waiting.
"Oh…that's so sad. But what does it have to do with you?" Keno said, his voice small and quiet.
"Nothing." Shay answered honestly. "I just…feel really bad for Norman. His daughter should have been…doing this. What we're doing. And she can't, because she passed away, and a part of me feels guilty. Like I'm someone I'm not, because I've been staying at his house while he's helped me become a trainer."
She sucked down a breath, and it tasted as bitter and acrid as bile at the back of her throat.
"I just feel like…I'm replacing his daughter. I know, logically, I'm not. But that doesn't make me feel any less guilty for being here."
"He's helping you of his free will, isn't he?" Sela inquired, staring Shay down with those ruby red eyes of hers. Shay nodded. "Then stop feeling guilty. You're not his kin, but he chose to help you regardless."
"Yeah. Yeah, I guess."
There was more to it. More than she wanted to say out loud, like how this entire world was fictional where she came from and…
She could already feel that telltale itch along the innards of her skull, a brief sign that Ambrose was there. She knew scowling in his direction wouldn't do much, given his blindness. She tucked away those thoughts, trying to banish them as she shook herself and tried to focus on what needed to happen now.
They had training to do. She was here, she was a trainer, and she had a team to look after.
Evening was dawning on them, slow and steady. The blanket of blue was bleeding with ribbons of red and purple and pink and orange as the team trudged back toward Rustboro. Shay was clenching a pokéball in hand, still trying to process what the hell had just happened.
Thin cuts, like red ribbons, decorated her arms, shoulders, and even some on her face. She stared at the pokéball in hand. Her mind was drawing into a blissful blank as she regarded what lay inside it.
She wasn't angry. At first, she had been, sure. But she reneged on it in the end, giving in to understanding.
In all fairness, she and her team are trespassing on wild pokémon territory.
It was only a matter of time before one of the wild ones got a little too frisky.
There was one thing she knew and that she was never going to look at cats the same way again.
The Skitty had come out of nowhere and had scratched Shay to hell and back before any of her team could respond. It was Faye, the wonderful little bird that she is, who managed to yank the perfunctory little pink kitten off of Shay before she had lost something really important—like an eyeball or her dignity.
The cuts decorating her weren't all that bad. They weren't as deep as they could have been, and they weren't serious.
Ambrose was perched in the crook of her other arm, leaning into her shoulder as they trudged back into Rustboro. Breela was conspicuously absent from the parade of pokémon trailing after Shay. She had worked hard, and it took quite a lot out of the poor Shroomish, who had elected to take a ride in her pokémon in the end. Her pokéball sat snugly along Shay's magnetic belt for the time being, until she was healed back at the Pokémon Center. The rest elected to stay out. Faye had enough energy to keep flying, but Keno was draped over Shay's unscratched shoulder, snuggling into the warmth of Shay's neck. His skin didn't feel quite rubbery, but it didn't not feel rubbery either. It was a strange juxtaposition. Sela trotted alongside Shay, unhindered. Her coat was shiny and slick-looking.
From her research in the pokédex, it was a good sign of health for a growing pokémon. The little Poochyena had a gash on her flank, but it didn't slow her down much, and the bleeding had stopped a while ago. It didn't stop Shay from spritzing her with a potion spray-bottle, and in the end, she knew it helped. Potions and their stronger tonics helped speed up an already accelerated healing process in pokémon, but only by so much.
It was still always recommended to take a pokémon to a center, to ensure a full recovery.
When they stepped through the doorways, it was a little more crowded, and there was a line at the counter. She waited until the person in front of her stepped to the front desk before returning everyone to their pokéballs. Ambrose was the last and he patted Shay's cheek gingerly.
"You're good people. Don't stress too much about us, okay? We'll handle anything the world throws at us," he told her with a sincere grin. She found her lips twitching in return before recalling him and stepping to the counter, gently slipping each miniaturized pokéball into a proffered tray from the nurse manning the desk.
Ten minutes later, she was crashing on the bed, a set of dishes in one hand, a bag of pokémon food in the other. She rolled onto her back and winced at length as each cut protested at the rough movements. She filled each dish with food and water, then released her team, who blinked into the soft lighting of the room, then at the readied trays of food and water.
The only one to withhold was the newly attained Skitty sitting on the outskirts of the team, staring at Shay with a narrow, yet curious gaze. Her tail flicked back and forth in mild agitation, her coat of pastel pink fur was lightly bristling upwards. Her yellow gaze eventually strayed to the others gathered in the room. Sela looked up to meet the Skitty's stare, who woofed softly at her, before returning to her meal.
The Skitty looked up at Shay.
"So. I was caught. How…unexpected."
"Yep."
"You're going to make me fight?"
"Only if you want to."
This surprised the little pink cat. There was a short pause before the Skitty spoke again.
"I don't really have a name."
"Would you like one?" Shay replied earnestly. The Skitty looked away and toward the window. The curtains were drawn back, revealing the night skyline of Rustboro. The city lights drowned out any hope of seeing the stars in full, but the moon, half-ripe and glowing, was peeking out from the corner of the apartment building just across the street from them.
"Moony?" she offered to her new trainer.
Shay winced and pulled a face. "How about Luna?"
The Skitty twitched her tail once, twice. Then she twisted to look over her shoulder at Shay and offered a cat-smile to her.
"I like it. Luna it is."
Extra Notes: I would feel overly guilty about "replacing" someone who's place was to be the big hero of a big story. I don't think many touchy-feely pokémon would appreciate the overload of ANGST but Ambrose is a good sport. MY TINY GREEN SON, YOU DESERVE BETTER. (I have also been working on art for Ambrose, I shall have to direct you lovelies over to it when I'm done with it and it's been posted.)
Now, for some "light" terminology!
Health and Comfort Inspections: Just another way for the Powers That Be in the Marine Corps to have an excuse to rifle through your personal shit—if you live in the barracks. They technically could go to a Marine's house and do so, if they live out in town, but that's usually reserved for cases where they suspect something shady or suspect is going on (depression, suicidal tendencies, drug trafficking, shit like that). If it isn't locked up or nailed down, it's going to be scrutinized for legality or cleanliness. I've had people in previous units who've been caught with all sorts of paraphernalia that's Not Okay to have. Example? Male Marine with a shit ton of dildos and lube. I don't have the full story on that one, but I'm sure it's a fucking delight. I can only hope it was for him and whoever he was romping about between the sheets with.
Uniform Inspections: Just what it says on the tin. Units that aren't immediately deployment ready or are mainly or even entirely logistical, tend to have nothing better to do than make the unit stand in formation for a uniform inspection, PT, or training. The first and second are the most common. Uniform inspections are also conducted for upcoming events, like Marine Corps Birthday Ball celebrations (typically around November 10th, the day the Marine Corps was officially "born"), Mess Nights (can be set at any time, and revolves around formality and military traditions, not an actual specific event or date), or because the Commanding Officer is feeling super fucking motivated and decides to do them. Or because someone with more rockers or a shiny collar said so. It's all up to the command and their discretion, really.
Junk on the Bunk Inspections: Another inspection, as it says on the tin. Basically, you take all gear issued to you, minus the rifle, and place it on your bed, arrange it the way they want (leaders can be super relaxed or super anal about how they want it to look, in order to ensure absolute checklist completion). This is another way to ensure nobody lost something as trivial as a canteen or something huge like a set of Gortex pants or jacket, and believe me, those things ain't cheap. To be fair, the companies that sell and cater to the military price gouge the shit out of the government, overcharge their products, and in turn, if someone loses an issued item, that military member has to pay it back out of pocket, but even that process isn't just whipping out a credit card, it's a literal paperwork process that includes going from here to Mordor to get admin and a fucking Bulrog to sign off on everything so that the military can take the money straight out of your paycheck. It's an unncessarily complicated shitstorm.
There are several other types of inspections, believe you me. There are literal guidelines, orders, and booklets filled with exact details and directions on how to conduct these kinds of things. The reason we're so much stricter or crack down on things harder and faster on these sorts of issues before other branches of military is because, somewhere and at some point in time, a Marine has fucked up and became That Guy. That Guy who brought to light the shady shit he's been doing, and has been exposed for, and higher ups, all the way up to the Commandant of the Marine Corps and the Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps have to set the example and direct their underlings to craft new rules and amendments to orders to correct such foolishness.
This has also set the precedent for Marines to find loopholes around these rules and try even wilder, stupider, crazier shit.
Seriously, it can range from duct taping someone to the ceiling of an auto mechanic's work bay to throwing helpless puppies off of cliffs. Yes, both incidents have happened. The puppy-killer was, to my knowledge, being videotaped and that evidence got him thrown out of the military. The duct tape incident happened while one of my Marines worked in his previous shop before moving over to another work section that was closer in proximity to my warehouse. I guarantee crazier shit has happened. When Marines are bored, we do stupid-ass dumb shit. It's wild. I kind of miss it.
Getting back to pokémon stuff, I find it unreasonable and ridiculous that a cat pokémon such as Skitty doesn't know Scratch. It's a fucking cat, it has claws. WHY IS THIS NOT A THING? Ahem. Anywhoodles, let's welcome our newest team members!
Pokémon: Breela the Shroomish, Level 5
Nature/Characteristic: Modest/Likes to thrash about
Move Set: Tackle, Stun Spore
Pokémon: Luna the Skitty, Level 8
Nature/Characteristic: Impish/Sturdy body
Move Set: Growl, Tail Whip, Tackle, Foresight
