10.

Fourteen-Dollar Cheese

We about to get a little tangled up right about now
So girl, let's keep burnin it down, burnin it down

When Flint first saw her, she was in a booth at a coffee shop in Sunyshore City, sipping some girly tea and having a one-sided conversation with the staticky lump of an engineer lounging across. He recognized the lump, at least, so hot chocolate in hand, Flint arched his back and addressed the shadows of his best friend's face.

"Wazzup, Volknerona! Didja get some time to recharge?"

"I'm on auxiliary power," Volkner replied, not even looking at him.

"You mean coffee and sugar? That's not good for you, buddy. How about a nice nap at home? All your work won't disappear if you close your eyes. I'll watch it for you."

"Go eat a candle, Flint."

"That's your best shot? You're totally drained, aren't you."

"Go eat a bag of candles."

"I can't. You're burning 'em all at both ends."

He then caught the eyes of the giggling girl — clear and light brown like a rushing stream of meltwater in the spring, or like the smudged tip of a match just flaring into flame. In a flash, he offered his right hand and gave her his signature grin.

"Yo, I'm Flint! I'm one of the Sinnoh League's Elite Four!"

The girl just gushed. "Wow, a real Elite, up close and personal! I know I've seen you on TV before! You're a Fire specialist!"

"Sure am! They call me the Blazing, Burning Man! And who are you, letting poor Volkner have caffeine when his circuits are fried?"

"Oh, I'm Candice, the new Gym Leader from Snowpoint City. I came here so I could challenge Volkner to a gym battle. I ended up losing, and he was more interested in his tinkering, but it was super exciting! And then I tried to get him to take a nap, and he managed to get this far across town without collapsing. I call that focus."

"Focus, huh? Well I'm calling it bedtime."

"It's not even noon yet," Volkner yawned.

"It's three in the afternoon, buddy," Flint corrected. Then he slid into the booth next to Volkner and slapped a huge, warm hand over his eyes. "You're lying on the beach. The sun shines down and—"

"It's not gonna work this time."

"Shh-shhhh, listen to the waves. The sun shines down on your back. The sand is warm. Your arms are heavy. Your legs are even heavier. You hear the ocean. Shhhh-shhhhhhh, the tide is coming in. There's an Electric-Type Pokémon. A Pikachu! It sits on your head. You breathe in the sand and you're getting weaker, so much weaker, but you're so warm. Like fire. Your body's on fire. All of you is melting. You're burning away."

Candice raised an eyebrow, but Flint just kept narrating until Volkner loosened completely, blond head coming down to rest on the table and eyes fully closed when Flint lifted his hand away.

"Yo, he's out like a light."

"He's actually asleep?"

"Oh yeah. I give him a couple hours before he wakes up and drags ass back to his apartment to sleep until tomorrow. So, tell me about yourself, Candice. What Type do you train?"

"Ice!"

"Ice? That can't be right. You gotta be a pyro like me. You got that determined look."

"I wouldn't train Fire-Types in this lifetime if it means I wear both a belt and suspenders."

"Wha— Oh, shut up! My suspenders are ska!"

"Hey, relax. Don't overheat, now."

Flint couldn't help but feel the warmth rise up in his cheeks at her phrasing. A little lady who could make fire puns like that had some amount of flaming spark within. Maybe she just needed a little guidance to ignite her true calling. A battle should do it… Show her the raw volcanic power of a passionate heart in the blistering blaze of all hell's glory, and so on and so forth!

Years later, just hours before the fire at the Vermilion Gym, things were heating up on the private battlefield right outside the Ginterson Building. Literally, as Flint would have it.

"YEAH, BURN IT UP AND BURN IT DOWN! WE'RE ON FIRE TONIGHT, BABE! FLAMETHROWER, ONE MORE TIME!"

"NOT SO FAST! ICE IS TWICE AS NICE! LET'S COOL THEIR TEMPER WITH AVALANCHE!"

Mamoswine reared as a black cloud quickly whipped up over its head. Hail rained down, condensing and expanding into a massive avalanche that stifled Infernape's attack before burying both monkey and trainer in a steaming heap of slush.

Candice couldn't help but laugh as she watched Flint drag himself out from under the drift. He was already soaked and chilled to the bone, only shivering a few seconds before lying face-down on the rough surface of the battlefield and refusing to move. The eternal flame on Infernape's head melted a big enough hole for the Rotom Drone to determine it was down. Candice was given the win, and she cheered at the number on her phone screen finally dropping. Still lower in the ranking than Flint, but a big jump nonetheless.

She accepted the compliments from bystanders as she sashayed her way over to the other side. "Hey, thank me, hot stuff. You're not on fire anymore," she giggled, kneeling down to shake a swath of snow crystals from the bright red curls.

"I'm melting."

"Ice makes you melt?"

"My body can't take the cold…"

Candice formed a slush ball and shoved it down the back of his tank top. Right away he shot up and smacked his own wad of slush together. His elbow cracked as he whipped it at her face… and missed. He tried again. She dodged with a graceful leap. One more time, and it sailed over her shoulder, hitting a window while she sent him a V Sign and a wink.

"You know this is the part where Volkner would nail you in the crotch," she teased.

"Where is Volkner?" asked one of the other challengers who had watched the battle from over the fence. "I was wondering if he was participating too, but I haven't seen him anywhere."

"Is he sleeping?"

"He's been sleeping for like a week, if that's the case."

"I would believe it."

"Sometimes Volkner takes naps in that coffee shop by the PokéCenter."

"I checked there. No dice. Flint, you always know where he is. Can you tell him to talk some sense into those maintenance dudes trying to fix the power grid? My whole street is dimmer than it was last night. They don't know what they're doing."

"God, he could at least try around here."

"Literally Cyrus."

Flint raised himself up and shook off the rest of the snow. He returned Infernape and commanded Flareon to melt the drift. In seconds it was vaporized, much to Candice's pouting.

"Volkner's taking a little mental health break right now. He doesn't get them very often, so just leave him alone," he told the gathered challengers.

"That's a load of crap! He can't do that when there's a crisis!"

"A crisis he caused?"

"Man up!"

"Why would you stand by and let him wreck the city over and over?"

"Where is he, Flint!?

"Aren't you like Volkner's handler or something?"

"Stop enabling!"

"Better slap both your faces on Man of the Year!"

"Go get him from up in the penthouse and make him face the pressure."

"Stuff's starting to malfunction all over the city!"

"Shining, Shocking Star, more like Brain Behind the Blackouts."

"The Mad Mechanic."

"Literally Cyrus!"

Flint only stared, dazed, out at the crowd. Candice grabbed his hand. His pulse was rushing. His skin was beginning to steam.

"Ignore them," she whispered. "Relax. Don't overheat."

He felt her words, her voice. His fingers intertwined with hers, and he gripped her tight.

Far too tight.

His nails were digging deep, and she had to wrench him away from the jeering before he did something regrettable. He knew he could be like that sometimes. Damn, he knew it, and he felt the flames burning higher and hotter even now, when her touch was cool and a sloppy chunk of slush still dripped down the back of his neck beneath the obsidian choker.

With his free hand, he fingered where the black glass met his skin. Buck's mom cut it herself from the crags of Stark Mountain before fashioning the choker and two bangles for each wrist. The stuff was supposed to block negativity and disperse strong emotions. Prevent psychic attacks, even, though he had no way of proving that. There was no way to summon obsidian's magic on command, if it had any. It sure as hell wasn't grounding him now. Not when he wanted to punch that guy over there and sic a Flamethrower on those two idiots there and tirade on that woman for all it was worth… or not worth…

Candice led him inside. It wasn't until he felt the elevator floor rise under his feet when he jolted back to reality, felt the tears — no, sweat — on his cheeks and furiously wiped it away with the corner of his Slowpoke shirt.

"Are you okay? Flint, talk to me. What's going on?"

"It has nowhere to go… the heat…"

"Sure it does. Breathe it out. Focus. You can get a grip. You've done it before."

"I can't. My blood is boiling."

The elevator stopped, and they entered the private floor of Penthouse Perilla. Candice touched his cheeks and forehead. He was burning like a fever.

He sat in the middle of the leather sectional across from the wall of windows, legs jiggling, while the sky outside slowly fell into a lava-red glow over the ocean. Everything was bubbling to the surface now — overflowing, smoking, sparking, bursting on contact with oxygen.

Handler.

Enabler.

Let him wreck the city over and over.

Flint ripped off his shirt, feeling the buttons pop off and plink against the windows. Then he peeled off the tank top, half-moist with sweat and meltwater and half-stiffened from the engine in his chest. He punched all the pillows. He kicked his sandals across the room. He hunched over his knees and fought to keep from crying until his eyes itched and his face turned tamato-berry red and he buried his whole head between the cushions, breathing out the heat until his nose was numb and his fingers were tingling. When the air over the leather stopped shimmering, Candice leaned over the back of the sectional and tugged at both suspenders. Flint popped free with a face morose enough to challenge that of a certain sleepy Gym Leader.

"Uffda. Do you feel cooler now?"

Flint sat up, chin in hands, and glared out at the waves.

"There's something I've always really admired about Volkner. He never has to feel if he doesn't want to. If something's bothering him, he can deflect and distract until he either calms down or falls asleep. I'm not like that. I'm always burning oil. All the time. It never stops."

Candice pressed a cool cloth against his forehead. He flinched.

"What are you feeling?"

"I'm mad!"

"Who are you mad at?"

"I don't know… those idiots down there… Volkner… myself."

"Sounds like mostly yourself."

"Yeah…"

"Are you mad at me?"

"What… no. Why would I be mad at you?"

"Because I've been crazy since I got here. I keep touching your hair and playing with your outfit. I have to pose with you every time I win a battle. I made you stuff all those éclairs in your mouth just for a quick pic. Volkner's room is overflowing with shopping bags and you know what's in them. Also I keep making the V Sign. I know it's not helping, but it's become a habit, and now I'm way too invested in getting the whole Standice gang and Raihan to do it, and I'm just… I'm not helping."

She was pursing her lips and taking in the sight of the distant and darkening sea. One of her black braids had come undone, and she let the elastic band stretch and flex between her fingers while she nimbly twisted the strands of hair back together.

No, he wasn't mad at that face…

"I've never been mad at you. I actually really like spending time with you. Like, it's only been a week, and you've somehow managed to make me enjoy shopping and taking silly pictures with pastries. I don't know how you do that, but you're allowed to keep doing it."

"I do it 'cause it works on you."

"And you're not the problem. The problem is this whole Volkner thing. I'm mad at myself for being harsh with him, and I'm mad at him for not being man enough to face up to all this crap. I can't be his handler anymore. I can't feel for both of us."

"You aren't feeling for me too, are you?"

"I don't have to. You know how to feel for yourself. You're confident and controlled, even when you're not in top shape. I've always loved that about you. It's like a cool breeze. Even when I lost that battle earlier, I loved the way you took the win. Hell, I've had more fun doing all these battle challenges with you than I've had battling in a long time. Elite battles get stressful, even when you're as strong as I am. You're just fun, Candice. You light a warm, comfy fire in me. Not a violent blaze."

Candice's smile returned. Now with two complete braids, she hoisted herself up over the back of the sectional and plopped down beside him on her knees. Her hands floated up steadily, just hovering over his bare chest. Not too muscular, but square and dense enough to draw her in as it steadily swelled and sank. She hesitated, averting her gaze, and he shifted a bit, face pinking once more.

"So, you slipped," she whispered.

"Hm?"

"Your catchphrasing. During the battle. You said, 'We're on fire tonight, babe.' You never say babe. It's always 'Burn, baby, burn' or something. Baby is just general. Babe is always directed at someone. Usually someone you like. Was that supposed to be…?"

He remained silent for the moment, and she took the risk. Both hands pressed up against his chest, then quickly trailed down along his ribs and around to his back as she sank down into a hug. His stomach loosened, and she felt his huge, warm hands close in around her back, firm arms only interrupted where the black glass bangles retained their chill. She nuzzled her cheek into the crook of his neck and let her lips puff lightly against the warm muscle of a shoulder.

"I don't want you to be weirded out by it, but… I… do like you, Candice."

"Why would that be weird?"

"Just… I'm like six years older. And you like Raihan, er, Volkner… you flirt with everybody."

She grinned at that thought. Oh, Raihan was just some parasocial fling. He probably had three different girlfriends and twice as many scandals already. And liking Volkner… She was lost in a sea of blue. A heart that pounded like thunder. Wires and nodes and monitors sticking to skin while the EKG machine drew fractured lightning bolts on parchment. Nights grinning and tipsy and rattling off zoning codes and loopholes and Wouldn't it be cool if we could shoot people through tubes around the city? An electric cycle of coffee and sugar and wild days blurring into dreams.

"Volkner's my best guy friend, but I know too much about romance to fall in love with him. We'd rile each other up and then no one would get any sleep."

"So then, what would you know about falling in love with one of the Four?"

"If it's the man I'm thinking of, I know he needs to chill out."

"Yeah, he does. But what do you think of him?"

"Mmm… "

"What?"

The sky outside was dark, and without the sun, the room was so much dimmer, the LED bulbs in the sculpted green ceramic overhead flickering an odd yellow. The protesters were right about the malfunctions. It was hard to tell by now how much was Volkner's negligence and how much was the incompetence of the repair team. Positive feedback, probably.

"We'd be fire and ice," Candice whispered, squeezing him tight. "Kinna cliché, but I like the aesthetic."

He lifted her chin up so their eyes met. Cold, steely, smokey gray. A warm cinnamon brown, full of life. Candice's hands crawled up around the bulges of his shoulders. A few fingers tangled themselves up in red curls while others glided along the smooth, glinting glass of the choker. Her phone didn't lie. He was into this…

"I wanna be more than your aesthetic."

His voice was deep and scratchy and she brushed their foreheads together.

"Then what are you gonna do, hot stuff?"

"I think I'm gonna dim the lights and pour you a glass of girly wine."

"You are?"

"Yeah, I am. You like sweet or dry? I'm guessing sweet."

"I wanna try something spicy."

"Try this."

His lips were on hers, and she was freewheeling. Plunging down through powder snow to where the earth buckled and split under pressure and the deepest, hottest red glow of sparks poured forth. She felt the flavor of blistering flames blended with sweat and toned with woodsmoke. Sunyshore mornings still cool under the rising sun, then flaring into triple-digit temperatures in the blue afternoon. Hands calloused and stained from falling off a bicycle. Soaked with dust. Pouring lemonade softly over her tongue. Lukewarm and spiked with cinnamon. Or something with a little more heat. The far-off poetry of a world called Perilla. And Just call me when you need me. I'll be there. Call me ahead of time if you need fireworks.

Fireworks, smoldering against her skin…

She was in his lap when he pulled away. Her hands had traveled down around his hips, gently caressing the suspenders — a texture of woven hemp, all frayed and tempered by the sand. Flint was undoing the buttons on her summer blouse, slowly exposing the light teal camisole beneath. She playfully leaned back beyond his reach.

"I'll take a slow burn, if that's all right."

"What kind of wine, then?"

She smiled, glitter-bronze lip gloss all smudged, (that of all things finally did it,) and his heart was molten.

"You were right before. I like it sweet."

"Do you like stuffed olives and fourteen-dollar cheese?"

"You have those!?"

Flint quirked one angled brow and pecked the closer shoulder as he shifted to rise.

"Elite Four, babe."

Rounding the circumference of the main living area, only interrupted by the gear door and the wall of windows, a strip of glass paneling contained a very long and skinny alcove of highly-realistic glowing kindling and a digital flame display. Flint said he wanted real flames in his pad. Volkner said not after the recliner incident. Flint argued he had real flames in his arena at the League HQ. Volkner reiterated how the Ginterson Building would be several people's pretentious summer pad, not just his, and then went back to installing the bidet.

It was midnight in Penthouse Perilla. Thanks to the discreet speakers, the soft roll and crash of waves droned from every corner of the room, while the flickering yellow flames reflected off the seafoam linoleum tiling of the floor, bringing the gentle hour to a hush. The LEDs overhead were even dimmer than the flames now — another brownout rolling around the city, most likely. No reason to wait for repairs. Volkner had vanished. The environmental controls had closed the windows and brought the thermostat down to a comfortable sixty degrees, and Candice was curled up in Flint's arms on the sectional, mind floating in space from the oak and pecha berry still sparkling on her tongue.

Flint was still fully awake and alert. Wine did nothing for him, save for a few extra giggles and an appetite. She ate all the dark chocolate, of course, but he frisked most of the crackers and cheese, and his stomach was punishing him. There was no chance now to get cozy in bed when she looked so pretty in the fake firelight. He squeezed her like a pillow and sighed.

Tomorrow they'd battle their way to the Great Class and then some. Maybe he'd follow her back to Snowpoint, going up against other Gym Leaders along the way. He'd been in Sunyshore all summer. Soon he'd have to travel anyway. League ambassador responsibilities and exhibition battles and all that.

Maybe Volkner was in Snowpoint.

Why would he be? He hated the cold. He drew up a whole blueprint for a warming pod and never got around to building it.

"My gym has a hot tub in the back," Candice murmured.

"Go to sleep."

"I wanna see you in swim trunks."

"You have. Multiple times."

"In the snow, silly."

"Candice, it's late."

"Fuh-lint."

DING…

Flint's eyes snapped to the back of the room. That was the private elevator. He saw the gray doors shrouded in shadows, then moving, as a sliver of light opened upon the floor.

"Somebody's here," Flint whispered. He shifted, but Candice was intent on remaining where she was.

"Is it your grandma?"

"She's still supposed to be in Veilstone."

"What if Volkner's back!? Volkner! Me and Flint kissed and had snacks! Hehe, Flint, we had… we had snacks."

Flint finally shrugged her off and stood, replacing the beige tank top he'd slung over the back of the sectional. The light in the elevator had closed up, and now a figure stood in the notch of a hallway. It was slightly hunched, its hands in its pockets and grim shadows marking its face.

"Volkner. Where the hell have you been?"

Volkner shrugged, stepping into the light of the flames. He eyed the shifting blankets on the sectional, then scrunched up his nose at Flint's nonchalant pose. Without saying a word, he slipped off his blue jacket and tossed it to his friend, then slunk over to get a better view of Candice and the open bottle of wine still idling on the coffee table. He picked up the bowl of crab dip and quickly licked it clean.

Flint tossed down the jacket and scowled. "You had me worried sick. Why did you disappear like that? And that note? 'Don't follow me?' Like I could follow you anyway when I had no idea where to even look! Don't tell me you were in Sunyshore the whole time. I scoured this place. Candice and I have been taking on challengers while you hid your face from everyone. I never thought you could be so immature."

Volkner shrugged again. He fished out the remaining olives from the jar and gulped them down, then reached for the wine. Candice marveled at his presence, too shocked to move.

"You're really back. Where did you go? Your hair's not so spiky anymore."

"Volkner, will you cut your crap and talk to us? We're your friends. Whatever's going on, we can work it out. I know it's difficult for you right now, but you've gotta stop deflecting. Tell us what's wrong. Please."

Volkner's blue glare seemed to bore right into Flint's soul. His lips parted, and he shivered as he spoke.

"I've been… working on projects."

"Projects in Sunyshore, or elsewhere?"

"In… Sunyshore."

"You've been here the whole time."

"Sometimes… or not… I have been in different places. It's difficult for you — me — right now."

"Why do you sound weird?" Candice asked, slumping over the sectional arm. "Do you have a cold? You have been in Snowpoint!"

Volkner nodded. "Yes! Snowpoint! I have… been there! And… you… Flint. Flint, you are my friend. I will talk to you. You can come with me downstairs. I will tell you where I have been."

"You can start right here and now by admitting you came back here at least once to get your jacket."

Volkner lowered his head. He raised his hands and pawed at his temples as if searching for the right words. His nose scrunched, and he growled in his throat.

"Volk? You okay?"

Candice bolted upright where she sat, accidentally tumbling off the sectional in the process.

"Flint, don't."

Flint stepped over to Volkner. He raised the man's chin and peered into his eyes. The pupils focused. It couldn't be a concussion. Or could it? His balance had seemed way off walking in. Was he drunk too? Flint eyed the jacket where it lay crumpled on the floor.

"Flint," Candice snapped. "His jacket was hanging in the closet when we got back tonight. I wet the cloth for your face in that bathroom. Get away from him."

"What? Candice, you're saying… oh crap… How did you even get in here?"

"K-keycard reader broken. Lots things broken in city," Volkner replied, lips stretching into a wide smirk. Then wider… too wide to be human. The white teeth stretched into fangs, and the corners of his lips began to flush.

"What do you want? Food? You want me to make you a pizza or something? You can have anything in the freezer. Just… Candice, they don't eat people, do they?"

"Don't eat my boyfriend, you meanie! And get out of Volkner's shape! He's too handsome for you!"

Not-Volkner nodded. A dull fuschia glow flickered under his skin, and his body began to distort. A sickening crunch brought the jaw stretching forth and reforming into a pointed muzzle. The arms pulsed and squelched as they slimmed down to the bone. The wrists puffed up and tightened into dense cords of muscle, ending in hands that bubbled and crackled into paws with three blood-red daggers each.

His chest seized, and his stomach clenched, gurgling, as it underwent the same awful thinning. Three claws reached up and tore off the black t-shirt, which puffed away in a shimmer of purple. The creature hunched, gray fur erupting from its spine and spreading to cover every inch of skin. Two great black tufts fluffed up around a too-thin neck. The blond hair, never spiky to begin with, now lengthened, fading into a shadowy crimson tinged with black.

Pointed ears sprang up. Blue eyes bled into a wicked turquoise. Red lips parted and legs spread apart while the hips swelled and the feet lengthened with a gruesome crick-pop! No more jeans. Or shoes, when the claws tore through imaginary leather and perfect, sculpted ankles thickened into furry slabs of pure dark power.

Zoroark, with its ponytail of fur and tricky-fox gaze, suddenly lunged forward, snatching up Flint between both paws. There was no time to fight, or even reach for a Poké Ball. In half a second, its steely muscles launched it straight through the wall of windows. Shards of glass rained down from the top of the Ginterson Building and tinkled far too faintly on the blacktop down below. Eyes wide with terror, Flint took in the shrinking silhouette of Candice standing precariously in the center of the shattered hole.

Don't fall out. Please. Don't you dare get hurt…

WHUMP!

Zoroark landed on the beach, grunting as its claws sank suddenly into the sand. It darted forward, plunging into further darkness. Flint struggled, sickened and punching at the fiend that had worn his best friend's face. But the claws clutched him fast, and the creature just gave him an animal cackle.

"Where are you taking me? Did you take Volkner too!? Let me go! Candice! Infernape!"

His pockets were weightless. Crap. He'd left Infernape's Poké Ball on the recovery station. He was rich. He had one of those. Goddamn fake fire and fourteen-dollar cheese.

The creature slowed. Its claws crunched on blackened sand. Flint recognized this place. The cove destroyed by his last battle with Volkner. The growth was all still crinkled, and the water was fizzing and choking with leftover ash.

"Good work, Zoroark. You pinched the right Elite. It wasn't too much trouble for you, right?"

It was a woman's voice. Acerbic, like vinegar. Flint whipped his head around and was startled by a pair of deep purple eyes sneering at him in the darkness. She wore a black beret, and a red R was emblazoned clearly across the black jacket over her breasts.

"Good evening, Mr. Perilla. My name is Matori."

"Team Rocket."

Something pricked at his neck.

"Precisely."

Sunyshore City dimmed, dimmed, fell off, and went dark.

~N~

See why it was supposed to be a two-parter?

Zoroark's just an illusionist, I know, but if you've read some of my other stories, you know how much I love to write weird transformations, and I was gonna get one in here somehow. ;p Just to clarify the ages as well: In this story, Flint is 27, Volkner 26, Candice 21, owing to around four years since the events of Sinnoh League Victors. Ash stays Ash-age. Time warps around anyone who comes into contact with him.

Candice looks at people and sees Pinterest boards. Wouldn't that be a cool superpower?

Published by Syntax-N on FanFiction . Net March 12th, 2022. Reviews are nice as ice! Reposters Sunyshore-bURNED!