Latias shot into the air when the Furret within the day-care pen looked her way. The small pokémon scanned its surroundings with a mixture of suspicion and confusion. Even though Latias was invisible and far above it, she still held her breath until it returned to its prior frolicking about the water's edge.
Approaching wild pokémon, the few times she did during her island patrols, never caused her this much grief. The day-care facility's expansive enclosure was similar to the local environs, and the pokémon playing within seemed little different from their feral cousins, save a few more exotic species. Still, she knew they belonged to trainers, and she couldn't shake the fear that fact carried. She also took great pains to stay well away from the tall poles that dotted the space, forming a grid. By now she could readily recognize the purpose of such designs, and hoped none cast their invisible eyes her way as she hung just outside the area.
What did pokémon do when their trainers weren't around, how did it change the way they acted, and how did they act compared to those still free? They did a better job of staying in one place than their wild counterparts; that much she knew and lamented when she earlier tried to compare two specimens in real-time by flying rapidly back and forth. But besides a more subdued and carefree demeanor, she couldn't tell any obvious differences. Perhaps Clayton had not been entirely truthful with her about the nature of captured pokémon. If these pokémon were slaves they were very content ones, and rarely did a negative emotion about their trainers cross their mind besides a yearning to return to them.
Upon hitting an investigative wall once again, Latias found her attention returning to those matters she tried to distract herself from.
"Step onto the swim platform first, and remember to keep a hand on the rail. You could sit down first and get in that way if you want, it'd probably be easier," Michael's voice came through their bond. Latias knew Michael and Cathy were anchored just off the southern shore, and planning to take his dinghy into the beach. She decided taking a break from her study might give her a fresh perspective on returning, and it couldn't hurt to follow the pair at a distance for only a short time.
Spotting from the air proved no trouble, his vessel the only boat anchored to the south close enough to the beach to matter. At first she planned to smooth the waters for their approach, but while flying over decided that the action would be too obvious, and Michael would know she was watching them. She resigned herself to stay over the patches of dense vegetation that clogged all but a few passages up the southern hills, drifting over the obstructing shrubs as she tracked their progress to shore.
The stretch of shoreline was deserted but for two minds. Latias regarded them with some wariness, but this quickly gave way to alarm when they entered the range of her emotion-sense. A man looking to sea through a monocular overflowed with loathing, and she could glean from his mind its target even before she looked to confirm he was watching Michael's approach. The man's ire burned with purpose; Michael had taken something from him, something he valued highly. Something he meant to take back, or avenge. Beside him, a Starmie stood in its own strange fashion, three points to the ground. Emotionally, it was almost invisible beside its trainer, calm and waiting by a toppled dirt bike.
When she got close enough to get a good look at him, she realized she recognized him. It was Steven, the man from the call Michael placed a week prior.
Steven's mind was so chaotic overpowering hate quickly made her jittery. An attack was likely imminent, she couldn't rule out a desire to physically harm Michael or Cathy behind this vengeance of his. She couldn't warn Michael without him knowing she was nearby, and she couldn't generate an illusion to obscure the man's sight without physically placing herself in front of him, vulnerable to the Starmie's attacks. She looked above, and an unsullied blue expanse greeted her eyes. Even on a cloudless day, she could call lightning to distract them.
Michael would be here by the time she had to act. Her participation would be obvious to him, but by then he'd know he was danger; she'd have to trust at that point he'd understand her involvement. She wasn't going to lose her bond-mate again if she could do anything to stop it.
She drifted a short distance towards the ascending path, and looked back to the beach. Michael was stomping on some object in the sand as Cathy extracted herself from his dinghy. "If you mean the waves carrying it off, it's tied up good. The only thing we'll have to worry about is if the tide pushes it further up the beach," he said, presumably answering a question Cathy asked. After a short delay, his voice came through again. "I know so. Where're we headed?"
Latias watched Cathy shield her face from the sun and look across the low ridges, eventually pointing towards where Steven and Latias waited. Soon after, Michael's voice came through again, "What about them?" After a moment Cathy started moving closer, and Michael soon followed her. Latias panicked. Why did they have to come over here, when there were so many other ways up? The man put his monocular inside a pocket, and tapped his Starmie on its top arm. The pokémon telekinetically dragged itself through the sandy dirt a short distance ahead and to the side of him, resettling itself closer to where the path emerged. Latias started building a charge in the ground beneath it and the sky above.
When Michael reached the top, his mind lit up with recognition. "Steven! I didn't know you were in town." Concern quickly replaced the initial burst of excitement when he recognized how angry Steven was. "What's wrong?"
Latias noticed an alien mind probing around the edges of Michael's natural mental wall. She started pulling together the electrical charges faster while still trying to hear Steven's reply. "I'm not going to let you cost me a third job," he was saying. "I'm through–"
Starmie's mental presence reared back to strike, and Latias tripped the charges she'd drawn. From a clear sky descended a crack of lightning, crashing into Starmie and knocking it on its back while badly startling the two men. She saw its mind briefly blank from the electrical blast, and she used the few seconds the lapse granted to dart towards Michael and latch into his back. "I'm here!" She quickly sent him.
Michael could only let out a confused "What?" before Starmie had gathered it's wits again. Latias raised a golden-green Protect bubble around them moments before a psychic spear smashed into the shadow the bubble cast around their mental space. Within the near-perfect silence of the bubble, he seemed to gather his wits faster. "What's going on, what are you doing?"
"They mean to hurt you!" she sent as she watched a rainbow shimmer flash across Starmie's body, its momentarily dimmed core once more glowing bright. When the bubble dropped, Latias could see that Steven's mind had cleared beneath his sudden confusion. A killing intent simmered there, as she expected of someone in the act, along with anger that his Starmie had encountered difficulties completing its task.
Before Michael could reply, Latias filled the edges of his mind with noise, a barrier of static to blunt any assault that might breach his natural defenses. Through it she could no longer accurately read his thoughts, but she saw confusion shoot through his emotions as the act lightly affected his thinking and senses. She'd apologize to him later; it was nothing compared to what Starmie might do should it get through.
As if sensing the extra protection from outside, Starmie went back to prodding instead of trying to pierce. Latias started to accumulate charges for another lightning strike as she felt it slide across Michael's mind, over the bond they shared, and to hers. As she felt it discover the hole in her mind she never closed, where it once connected to Clayton.
Another Protect bubble popped into existence, only to fail immediately under Starmie's ensuing assault, weakened coming so soon after Latias' previous deployment. Instead she once more swung her electrical hammer, another bolt from the blue slamming into the water-type and causing it to withdraw its presence. It shimmered again, restoring its health, while Latias assembled a dense wall of noise to temporarily plug the gap. Meanwhile, Michael finally reacted, bringing his arm up and hastily punching commands into some strange gadget there.
Starmie renewed its assault against Latias as soon as the bubble again fell. It sawed through her wall of noise with a repeating signal, eroding the barrier into easily-penetrable regularity. Alien influence finally broke through, and this time many thought-vectors followed behind it, strange messages seeking purchase and resonance within her head to build a beachhead of foreign ideas. She tried uprooting them wherever they found purchase, but, Starmie was trained for psychic battle while she was not, and sparing enough effort to defend Michael's mind as well sapped her speed and strength.
Ignoring the outside world for the inner, she wasn't sure how much time she bought or how much she could continue to buy. She couldn't quickly close the hole, but she could still change the other side of the scale balance. Defending her connection with Michael would be easier than defending her whole mind. Across only that small cross-section, she could create a perfect defense.
She created another wall of noise and shoved it against the assault. Starmie immediately began to degrade it, but Latias was already withdrawing and building a bastion around only the most essential parts of her mind. She placed it before her bond to her charge, devoting all the energy she could muster to defend it and him both. Once Starmie's presence returned it blasted through the now-undefended reaches of her mind, but when it moved for its ultimate target it ran into her small and impenetrable fortress holding the bridge. She watched it slam its mental attacks against the walls again and again, feeling a distant shadow of calm satisfaction as it couldn't make a mark.
After a period of time that felt both far too short and far too long, the fruitless assault ceased. Latias spared a measure of focus to find and reassemble her emotion sense. A new mental signature had joined the group, familiar though she could not remember who it belonged to. It radiated confidence, and her bond-partner's mind blazed resolutely. They were making a fight of it then, and were sure they could stop the Starmie and whoever was with it. She could detect no other mental presence around her or her bond-partner any longer, and withdrew her noise shroud from her bond-partner's mind to allow them focus.
She knew that she lay somewhere on the ground, without any illusion to hide her, but it seemed like a distant concern. She won. She successfully withstood her attacker, protecting her bond-partner. She couldn't save her previous – she couldn't remember how many she had prior, just that she'd never been able to save them, a fact which echoed uncomfortably across scattered fragments of memories and nuggets of foreign knowledge left behind – but she saved this one, and had thus redeemed herself. Now that they had it under control, her part was finished, and she could slip away. She'd need time to put back together what was left behind.
"Spark, Freeze-dry!" Michael ordered. Whatever noise had distracted Steven, he'd take advantage of it to get the opening move. Sparkles launched herself at the Starmie, slamming it to the ground on its back and pinning it with her forepaws. Whatever the Starmie had been doing to him failed, and the buzzing that claimed all his senses ceased, leaving his head cleared. He now realized he had felt Latias fall off his back around the time he finally managed to call out Sparkles. He turned and crouched, his leg dislodging one of her wings where it had laid against him, but was unsure what he could do beside shield her.
Michael shifted Latias's inert body and positioned himself between her and the battle, and returned his attention to it. Sparkles had her jaw open wide over Starmie's core. A heavy gust of frigid air spread from her mouth, drawing after it tendrils of frost and hairline fractures as the rime sucked out all moisture from the pinned water-type. Steven shouted and started moving towards the pair to separate them. Sparkles' head snapped up and she unleashed a blue beam at Steven, drawing a wall of ice crystals across the ground between them.
Starmie took quick advantage of her halted assault to spin its paled body on its back to throw the fox off. As Sparkles regained her footing, Starmie unleashed an extraordinarily brilliant blast of light from its core, drawing a bright white beam across her body. The blue Ninetales collapsed back to the ground unmoving, small tendrils of smoke rising from several singed tufts of fur.
It took three screen-taps to recall Sparkles, giving Michael just enough time to regret what he was about to do. Another tap-and-drag called forth a second bolt of light, and Flufftail emerged. Even from some distance behind him, Michael could see the fox tense up, claimed by training older than his ownership. Identifying his target – its color restored and frost vanished – he acted before Michael had a chance to figure out what he'd command.
At the tip of each tail grew an orb that burned with a sickening purple light. A flick of each tip sent the orbs streaking at Starmie, and despite the water-type's best attempts to dodge, each struck home. Scorch marks appeared all across its frame where the orbs hit, and what thin cracks remained glowed dully.
No longer dedicated to evasion, Starmie anchored itself and spun its rear section, trails of vapor forming a ring between its tips just before it unleashed a powerful blast of steaming water. The blast caught Flufftail square in the face. Michael had to shield his face from traces of scalding spray that didn't find its mark, and when the deluge concluded he couldn't make out his Ninetales for all the steam left behind. His resolve rallied when he saw an eerie purple glow emanated from within the cloud, matching a sickly light shining through Starmie's cracked form.
A flash of this light dissipated the cloud in an instant, revealing a soaked but still standing Flufftail. The fox wore a cruel grin, as if he was mocking his opponent's weak attempt. A purple ring of light, supported by straight tails like a wheel and its spokes, flashed once more. Starmie's body erupted into an inferno, one that quickly shifted through the spectrum from the angry reds and yellows of normal fire, through the blue of an ultra-hot flame, further into a supernatural dark blaze that not only burnt body but melted mind and scorched soul.
The glow of Starmie's core hadn't fully extinguished before Flufftail turned his attention towards Steven, now hiding behind the wall of ice he had been attempting to surmount. A single blast of flame shattered it as Michael brought up his bracer once more. In the time it took him to execute the three presses, Flufftail had gathered himself and pounced at a panicking Steven. The enraged fox almost made it level with the man's throat before dissolving into a burst of light.
For several moments the two men stared at each other, Steven shaking off his fright and Michael trying to piece together his wits after narrowly averting a bloody mess. "Get the fuck out of here," he brought himself to warn, "before I let him back out on you." A growing part of him wanted to make good on the threat right away, though he managed to restrain the urge while his foe quickly recalled his fallen pokémon and ran off.
Silence dominated the area, giving the area a disquieting peace following the battle. Michael retraced his steps a short distance, searching for his other charge, and found Cathy cowering at the base of a sandy berm. At least she had the presence of mind to find cover during the fight. "He's gone," he told her simply, and started back up the path at a jog.
"Latias?" he subvocalized. The name didn't carry the tell-tale echo of an open channel, but it wasn't quite normal; he couldn't tell if she was in some state he hadn't yet seen or if it was just hopeful thinking. He had no idea how to tell if she was okay, if she had just overexerted herself again somehow or if something more sinister happened. He fussed about her limbs and head, trying to find where he could take a pulse under her thick feathery coat. Worry gnawed at his thoughts and scattered his efforts.
He had his head near the ground over Latias' face, trying to hear any signs of breathing, when Cathy returned to view. He straightened as she caught sight of him. She looked like she would join him until she saw Latias. "What the fuck was that?"
"Apparently we were attacked, not just a normal pokémon battle." Michael swore to himself, if she was about to go off on–
"Battles are never normal!" she exclaimed. "They're symptoms of the insanity pokémon infect you with!"
"Look, I know you don't like–"
"That's just fucking it! You know I can't stand them, yet I have to share a boat with your two freak-foxes, and escape them only to be attacked by some mutant starfish. Then after it's all over, you're sitting here caring for some… thing that just fell out of the sky. Instead of, I don't know, running or calling the police!"
"She's a friend," he replied, emphasizing the last word, "and she's hurt."
"What am I?"
"In perfect health, from the looks of it. Capable enough of hiking up that hill and scolding me. I'm sorry you can't handle the fact this pokémon saved us both." A controlled deployment of sarcasm kept his rising temper in check. She didn't deserve all of his building anger, but she was reserving herself a good slice of it.
"Just call the cops, they can take it to the Center or whatever. We need to get out of here!"
"What's the law going to care? Just a pokémon battle in the wild, as far as they know. I'm more worried what he's going to do next." He looked down at Latias. He knew Pokémon Centers took care of wild pokémon at times and released them back into the wilderness, but he had come to understand Latias was a special case. He wasn't sure what they'd do to her, let alone the fact it was probably the last thing she wanted. "I can't take her in. It's complicated. I'm not going to report it, not right away."
Cathy stared at him in disbelief, and her next sentence came out very slowly and clearly as if Michael had trouble understanding. "He just tried to kill you."
"But he didn't succeed, and he's not going to stop there." Michael met her stare. "I'm going to get ready for when he tries something else."
"I was wrong before. You are crazy. You're fucking insane. Give a man a pokémon and he loses his fucking mind, nobody's exempt." She threw her hands in the air. "I'm done. We're done. This is over, I can't take this. Have fun with your big dead bird, I'm going to handle this how a rational human would." Michael watched her storm off towards the north. Part of him understood she referred to more than just this battle scene, but he couldn't bring himself to care. If this was how it ended, her fear of pokémon was a problem that solved itself.
He stared off in the direction she went, fuming. His poor mood reminded him that Flufftail needed some time to wind down himself, and he called the Ninetales back out into the open. As the fox withered and charred small clumps of wild grass, snarling at nothing in particular, Michael turned his attention back to his casualty.
He carefully scooped Latias up into his lap, both to get a closer look at her and to protect her from Flufftail's environmental depredations. A good number of feathers across her chest were marred or unseated, but he couldn't find any signs of physical injury. With her head propped up on his shoulder, he could just barely hear slow, shallow breathing. She was alive, and he couldn't see any indication she was in further danger. The sharpest edge of his fear thus blunted, he tried to focus on more productive avenues. What was he going to do next?
After further thought, he still felt his initial refusal to go to town had merit. Steven wasn't the kind of guy who gave up after hitting an obstacle, he'd come back with either more pokémon or with friends. Bringing Latias to a Pokémon Center would require him to tell this whole story, dragging the cops into it and delaying his return by hours, or possibly the night. He'd have to make do with his medical stock. In the meantime, he was convinced Steven would come at him again. His best bet would be to make sure this time he recorded their confrontation as hard evidence, even if that meant using his own home as bait.
With his rage spent, Flufftail became a totally different beast. The fox visibly shook with exhaustion and anxiety as he returned to Michael's side, his actions and the blow he took finally catching up to him. He sat next to Michael, head hung low.
"Feeling better? We'll get you patched up back on the boat." Flufftail whined and stuck his nose under one of Latias' wings, resting his head on Michael's thigh. "If you're worried about her, this wasn't your fault. You did well, I'm sorry I had to put you in that spot." He let the fox rest for a few moments, feeling his breathing with a hand on his side even while listening to Latias' next to his ear.
Only a few moments could be spared, because Michael wasn't sure how fast Steven could rally, and the trip back along the coast would already be long enough. "C'mon, now that that's out of your system, we need to get back, where I can fix you up. Make sure I don't trip over anything, alright?" He shifted Latias in his arms to allow himself to stand, and followed Flufftail back down to the shore.
Fortunately, the tide hadn't much time to shift in the short interval since they made landfall, and his dinghy remained at the water's edge. He placed Latias in the footwell of the forward compartment, and retrieved the painter and spike. He lashed the painter line through a set of forward eyelets to hold Latias down in the compartment, then placed his socks and shoes beside her. After Flufftail jumped in and settled down beside the control station, he shoved the small boat back into the surf, spinning it around and jumping in once he stood in knee-deep water. He started the engine as soon as the propeller lowered, and made best speed out to where his cruiser waited in deeper waters.
Flufftail jumped to the swim platform as soon as they came alongside. Michael followed him aboard, unlashing the painter to tie it to an aft cleat; hauling the dinghy up on the davit would take too long, and in waters this calm he had more than enough power to just tow it. Unloading Latias with wave action was a challenge but not insurmountable, and she was soon lying on the makeshift bed behind the wheel in the pilothouse, once more wearing the diagnostic collar from the boat's first aid kit. After pulling the anchor, Michael started it on the trek up the island's eastern shoreline.
The long trip gave him plenty of time to think.
He felt himself on the verge of once more losing everything, running back as fast as his engines would push him to protect what was supposed to be a fresh start. Not too long ago he retreated to this boat, and he hadn't found his way out for two years. Two weeks ago that finally changed, but now that new refuge was threatened. He established two new connections, possibilities of a new family, but he lost both when his lack of attentiveness pulled two individuals he cared about into the crossfire of a conflict he didn't even know existed.
Or did he care? Looking back so soon, he found himself untroubled by Cathy's departure. He'd been chasing what she represented, rather than her; the concept of a relationship instead of a specific person to involve himself with. Over the past few days he'd struggled to make himself see her as any more than an overeager friend, and today's collapse of that mission brought him surprisingly little grief. He blamed himself for not devoting more time to her, that maybe his distance caused his detachment. Perhaps it was merely delaying the inevitable, seeking something that wasn't there.
In the other's situation, distance came from without rather than within. Today Latias showed that she was willing to risk to protect him. Risk what he couldn't know, but her mystery condition still gnawed at him. Almost a week ago he had threatened her and pushed her away. Even still, she was willing to help him, both with his projects and his safety. So typical of him that he had something this good, but didn't know it until it was gone. Their brains were somehow fused, but in the end she was just another being held at arm's length.
All this misery was self-imposed and he had no right to feel sorry for himself, he thought. Mara had always told him that he spent too much time running and avoiding problems, ignoring them until they became overwhelming. She became a victim of this tendency, along with his kids, when his stressful marriage pushed him further into work rather than family obligations. He'd been running ever since; selling the house haunted by their memories, avoiding the type of vehicle that lead to their death, even selling the business he threw himself into after, pinning the blame on it. Everything gone but this boat, Flufftail, and Sparkles. One his final bastion, another his sanity, and the last his hope better days may come.
Better days would never come if he kept fleeing, only history repeating itself. He had to salvage what he still had and stand, unless he wanted to find himself adrift directionless again. When Steven showed up, he'd defend his new home, instead of just gather evidence. When Latias woke, he'd discuss with her how she really felt about the two of them, instead of wait for her to find out on her own. Just because his storage system was ready didn't mean he had to pull the trigger just yet, not when he could take a break to actually interact with his new hometown in some way besides a morning coffee ritual. Maybe he'd even find a woman who held his interest, instead of half-heartedly pursuing the first one to latch onto him at Latias' insistence. If he wanted new connections in his life, he couldn't just sit passively by and wait for them to come to him, especially not if he would just watch them drift away again.
Which meant now he wasn't fleeing for safety, he was moving forward towards his next battle. He wasn't sure what spurred him to fight rather than flee back there, if it was Cathy's defenselessness or Latias latched to his back taking charge, but he was now convinced it had to become just the first of many battles, literal or metaphorical.
Once they reached their personal jetty, Flufftail leapt to the dock with a line in his jaws, half-wrapping it around a cleat and struggling to lose as little ground against it as possible. Though they came in fast, Michael managed to stop the boat from simply bouncing off the dock. By the time he came ashore himself, Flufftail had made two more trips running lines to dock cleats. Michael only had to wrap a final twist in each line to secure it, something the fox couldn't do.
He looked down the pathway to the house. No angry visitors yet approached. "Stay aboard," he told Flufftail. "Watch Latias. I'll be right back." As Flufftail jumped back onto the boat and he made his way toward the house, he allowed himself some satisfaction. Giving commands and seeing them done felt like he was already accomplishing something, no matter how small.
Inside the house, he ran a mental inventory. He had enough food aboard for a couple days, an emergency provision he took whenever he left the dock, so that wasn't an issue. He pulled a couple extra revives and restores from his medicine cabinet before heading towards his workroom. He could take advantage of Latias' unconsciousness to complete his side-project.
Tossing all these supplies into a box, Michael made his way back to the boat. When he entered the lounge, Flufftail poked his head around the pilothouse door, and jumped down the split-deck to join him. Michael punched in a command to the storage controller on his wrist, and a bolt of light from a black bar above the lounge door brought a fainted Sparkles into existence on a nearby couch. One revive and full restore later, she was at strength and ready to go. Fluff got a restorative spray of his own, to heal his battle-fatigue.
"We're staying aboard, just for a little while. If they come while we sleep, it's harder to torch fiberglass than wood," he explained to them. "I'm going to put you two on rotating guard shifts. Spark, you're first; I'll let you out onto the flybridge. Come down and let me know if you see anyone coming. I'll send Fluff up to replace you when it's time." He turned to the other Ninetales. "You get yourself some rest for now. Good job back there." Michael then beckoned Sparkles over as he headed for the pilothouse. He made his way around his patient in the middle of the area, and opened the hatch in the roof on the other side. Sparkles bounded up and through to the flybridge.
He turned to Latias, laying on the pilothouse couch, its table once more dropped down to a makeshift bed. Her diagnostic collar kept cycling through different condition messages; [FNT], [SLP], and [PAR]. Michael plugged a revive capsule into the medication port on the collar, but the device refused to administer it, claiming it unnecessary. He couldn't decide whether this was a reason to hope or a reason to find a new collar.
He carefully bundled Latias in his arms once more and returned to the lounge. Flufftail dutifully backed out of the way as Michael made his way around the galley, and the Ninetales followed him to the lower deck. Once in the stateroom, he claimed the bed before Michael could put Latias down, but he crammed himself against the headboard to give the injured dragon room. After Michael finally had her settled in what he hoped was a comfortable resting position, he had to ward off the concerned fox so she could have a little space. Flufftail huffed and curled up across the bed from her.
After retrieving the box of supplies, he placed it on what small portion of the bed wasn't claimed by a pokémon. From inside, a laptop displaced Nola's book from where it sat on a desk in one corner of the room. Ultra Ball components followed, along with the remains of a silver pocket watch. If Steven found success, at least Michael could leave behind this gift to Latias, and repay her for what she'd done for him today.
Cathy had already ran halfway across the wilderness back to town before she realized Steven had probably gotten there on a bike she could have used. Her head was still spinning, trying to see from every angle what just happened. Michael turned out just like the men she'd approached before, not even a foreigner could escape the unflinching grip pokémon-madness held over Manisees Island. Another new realization struck; she could have been attacked at any time during her flight through the island's southern wilderness.
Fear and exhaustion colluded to bring her to her knees.
A shaking finger punched a number into her phone. She couldn't summon the strength to bring it to her ear, so she thumbed speaker mode on while the call tried to connect.
"Cath!" Nola's raspy voice sounded out. "How's the date going?"
"It's not, mom. I need your help. Can you pick me up?"
Despite its cigarette-induced hoarseness, Nola's voice clearly carried her concern. "Sure, what's wrong?"
"I'll tell you when you get here. Meet me at, uh…" Cathy tried to clear her mind and recall where she might be. What was the name of that street that ran along the southern edge of town? The one with the two service roads branching further south, she probably wasn't far from one of them…
"Cathy?"
"Hold on mom. Sorry, I… Trying to think."
Parkline. Parkline Road. She'd been heading straight north and passed one of the island's larger lakes, so that meant—
"Service Sixteen-C. I'll meet you there, but I don't know how far down. Just keep driving. I'll explain everything then, but I gotta go. All this tall grass is freaking me out, who knows what's behind it."
"Stay safe!" Nola called out as Cathy's thumb passed over the [END] button.
After spending a few minutes to reassemble her wits, Cathy stood once more. She looked at where the sun was in the sky and regained her sense of direction, turning northwest to meet up with the specified dirt path. Hopefully the inescapable tobacco smoke smell on her clothes would keep wild pokémon at bay. If her mother's disgusting habit had any benefit, may it aid her now.
Whether for fumes or not, she completed her journey to the end of S.16-C unmolested. Two ruts of regularly-trampled grasses gave way to a hard-packed wide dirt road. After several minutes of walking along it, Cathy spotted her mother next to one of the café's mopeds, parked off to the side of a wide circle near a sign suggesting all cars turn back there. Of course, the elderly woman had a cigarette hanging from her mouth. Cathy would tolerate the smoke for the relief the sight brought her.
"What happened to you? Where's Mike? If he hurt you, I swear I'll—"
"No! No mom, he didn't. Someone else tried, but he fought them off."
"Where is he then? Does he need help, do we need to go get him?" Cathy knew Nola's nerves were probably shot from waiting for her to show up, if she wasn't buried in a book she always had to be doing something.
"He's fine, I think. I don't know. I left him where he was. He was more concerned about his pokémon than me anyway."
"You got caught up in a pokémon battle?"
"I think the guy tried to attack us with one. Us humans. Some guy Mike knew from an old job, I don't know. We need to get to the police station to make a report, Michael chased him off but said he was going back home, that's when I left."
"Then the police is right where we'll go." Her voice trailed off as she turned towards the moped, muttering to herself more than speaking aloud. Nola turned back and handed her a sky-blue helmet, and Cathy looked at the café's logo on the front. Her home, sanity behind a 'No pokémon allowed' sign. A bastion in this monster-crazed island. She couldn't wait to get back.
"You left him over caring for his pokémon? I told you he had his two Ninetales. He seemed pretty attached to them," Nola said as she got back on the bike.
Cathy followed her on, sitting behind her. "It wasn't them. I mean, they were there, but not the one he was looking after. I think it was hidden or invisible, I only saw it afterwards, when it was knocked out."
Her mother looked back at her. "He told me he only had two, and he wasn't interested in trainer things. He didn't say anything about a third." Revelation flashed across her face, and she got that look Cathy knew meant she was chewing away at some mystery. "Can you describe it?"
"It was, uh, red and white? It had wings, I think. I don't know, it looked all weird. Almost like a plane."
After gritting her jaw, Nola turned back to face forward and keyed the ignition. Over the moped's engine starting, Cathy could hear her growl to herself, "That bastard kept it from me this whole time. Right under my nose!" She then raised her voice to call back, "Hold on tight!"
It only took forty seconds for Cathy to regret imparting a sense of urgency. Nola drove like a maniac when she felt it was important, and judging by their sheer speed, this was the most important trip she'd ever made. On the other hand, Cathy felt relieved just being here with her. Sidetracked by oddities she may sometimes get, but the old woman knew her priorities.
This strange mixture of comfort and terror lasted almost all the way into the heart of town
They stopped in front of the police station, where they'd surely be taken in for arrest should anyone learn the record time in which they'd made their journey. Cathy got off and handed her helmet back, but Nola grabbed her arm. "Are you sure you don't want me going with you?"
"I'm fine, I can handle this. Just needed to calm down. Despite your driving, I managed to."
Nola didn't laugh at the joke, concern still dominating her features. "Are you going to stay here or go home? I know they have rooms for some people if they need them."
"No, I'll be home. I don't know when, but tonight. Thanks for getting me and bringing me here, I'll call when I'm out."
"I'll have your brother whip up something nice for when you get back, end a bad day on a good note. If you don't need me with you here, I just found out I have some unfinished business to attend to."
Nola finally took the helmet and turned to drive off. The two exchanged a parting wave before Cathy turned to the station door, wondering just what business her mother was talking about. She hoped Nola wasn't about to get herself into trouble on her behalf, but that seemed the likeliest event knowing her. Cathy tried to put it out of her mind as she walked into the station.
Fourteen years. Fourteen years they'd been together, and won far more than they'd lost. But today, their most important battle, Starmie failed him.
Steven sat at a desk in his hotel room, turning the occupied Dive Ball over and over in his hands. Flash on ice, Scald on fire. It was a simple plan, and it almost worked. That basket case of a Ninetales didn't drop when he should have, and Steven didn't see the Hex coming. Why did Mike even know to run it? He was no battler, he knew nothing about competitive pokémon training. And that Ninetales was far too strong for 'guard duty'
As it had a dozen times before in his circular train of thought, his mind returned to the first pokémon Mike had out, the one he couldn't identify. Whatever it was, it was pathetic, hardly making any progress with repeated Thunders after Starmie's Recover. Ultimately, it was a non-issue; the Protect-stalling was a temporary nuisance, and the wretched thing dropped as soon as Starmie could get a swing in with Psychic. Steven didn't even have to tell it to do so. At least the thing proved itself good for something today.
He couldn't stop now. Three times in twice as many years was too tight to be a coincidence. For some reason Michael had it out for him in a big way, or maybe he was just the malicious-type of newly wealthy, who took petty vengeance on those who used to be his friends. Steven was going to run out of jobs in four regions before Michael gave up, he knew it. That man was an evil kind of creative type.
It was looking like he'd have to invest money to save money. There were those sketchy guys who always went in a group, cleaning up tournaments he was sure was rigged. He'd gotten in good with one of them after a few upset wins, maybe he'd be willing to throw a match or three for their crazy schemes in return for some help. If not, there was always cash; a hired gun is better than no gun at all.
Steven called up a number to his phone, one he'd only used to figure out where not to go on a given night of battling. It didn't take long to connect.
"Yo, Sirama. What's up?"
"Looking for some help, I think you can provide it. Want to go on a trip tomorrow, see a beautiful island, all on me?"
"Depends, what do you need done?"
Drumming his fingers on the table, Steven thought of how to make it sound as innocent as possible. "Got some guy crawling up my back about a battle, know-nothing full of bluster. I'm strong but you know I've only got one, he's got three. I need someone to even the odds so I can thrash this snob proper."
The ensuing pause ran Steven's nerves up. "I got the rest of the week open, but what's in it for me?"
"I'll give you an all-expenses-paid three-day vacation to sunny Manisees, and I could probably do a few things for you after if you need something done yourself. We can talk more when you get here."
"Send me a pre-paid round-trip ticket and we will."
"Will do, thanks man. His strongest is a Ninetales, bring something that can take heat."
"I got a pair I think will give you a good showing. I'll pack."
The phone clicked off, and Steven smiled to himself. He'd been so close, with help victory was assured. The phone replaced a folding knife in his pocket. Steven inspected the blade while idly spinning the Dive Ball on the desk's surface. He wanted Starmie to make the kill, psychic powers leaving no evidence. If the thing failed him a second time, he'd have to finish the job himself.
He stopped the spinning ball. Starmie never lost two in a row. If it did here, that couldn't be coincidence either. Enemy action. This pokémon swept entire tournaments solo, but couldn't beat three chumps who'd never fought? Maybe Starmie lost today because it was already turned against him, throwing the match just as Steven planned to in the future. He picked up the knife and held it, blade-down, over the top of the pokéball. He felt a sudden urge to drive it down right now, end the traitor's existence before it could stab him in the back.
No, he still needed it, even if just for this fight. He could always start over with a new pokémon later. He'd taken this one to greatness all on his own; he'd have no problems raising one more loyal than it.
His thoughts found a new circle within which to endlessly travel, and like the ball, once more started spinning.
