I've been sitting in the back of this truck for around an hour now, when are we supposed to get to the hotel? Is there even a hotel out here? Oh my God, I'm so lost. I'm never getting out of here. Fuck… Wow, it is kind of hot out here. I wish I had a bottle of water right about now, that would hit the spot. We pass through more and more fields of brown grass and every once in a while I spy a building poorly constructed from sheets of metal stacked together to form walls. The mountains in the distance are rather ugly. They look more like bare rocks jutting up from the ground haphazardly rather than something worth gawking at. Sky's a light shade of orange as well; the sun must be setting already. I take stock of my situation just to pass the time. I'm alone in some foreign country, in the backseat of a truck to a hotel which may or may not exist, and I killed a man. Jesus Christ, I killed someone! I had no other choice though! The pilot was going to kill me! At least, I think he was going to kill me? He pointed the gun at me, the very same gun I now have in my hand. What was it called again? A Colt… something. My memory is failing me in terms of weapon names at the moment. Colt .45? Yeah, that's it. Good thing I played those old Medal of Honor games back home. This Colt .45 is what the pilot was aiming at me, but was he really going to shoot me then and there? It can't be, why kidnap me in the first place? It would make sense to put me up for ransom or something, right? Then again, plenty of people have been kidnapped only to be murdered immediately afterwards. But that's in the states! And other non-third world countries! Goddammit, what is even going on anymore?
The truck driver interrupts me from my thoughts. "We are almost there, just have to get past a couple of hills and the bridge." He is a bald, dark man and speaks with a very strong native accent. His clothes look rather worn as well; he probably doesn't make much money driving people like me around this place. Where is this anyways? Am I still in Chad or did the pilot take us out of its borders already? "Actually, I never got your name, foreigner." Oh my God, do I tell him or not? Can he use that against me? Is this a guy I should trust? I'm already in his truck, so I guess so. I hope I don't regret this.
"B-B-Browley. My name is Browley."
He responds with a nod of his head. "Browley. Mr. Browley, the road up ahead is a little bumpy, I suggest you hold onto something back there." The man isn't kidding, I nearly fall out of my seat from the shaking. With trembling hands I tightly grasp the leather seat in front of me. The bumpy road continues on and on, it never seems to end. What type of road are we driving on that could be so bumpy? I take a quick peek out the window and wish I hadn't. Bodies are everywhere. The entire road is just littered with them, bodies covered in blood and bullet holes. The bodies belong to everyone: men, women, children, even babies. This guy is driving his truck over the corpses of people! It takes all I have not to puke out my lunch, which becomes even harder when the smell reaches me. Fucking shit, I don't know how to describe the smell. Sure, it is repulsive, but that feels like a major understatement. What the flying fuck happened here!? WHERE THE FUCK AM I!? Oh God, one of the corpses still has her eyes open! At this point I'm breathing so hard the driver takes notice. He yanks my head back inside the truck and mutters something in a strange tongue I've never heard before. The truck driver once again takes a glance in my direction and his eyes are ice cold. "Shit, you weren't supposed to see that. The two factions here have been competing for control of the country." Competing is rather mild term for it! "Things get a little… messy from time to time. The Nation of the Reconciled Generation is scum." Gee, that is also putting it lightly. "The N.R.G. kills everyone who doesn't support them and outsiders like you are targeted for sport." Oh fuck. That's not good. "You are rather fortunate to have found me. The hotel I'm taking you to is in a cease fire zone. Nobody should harm you there, but keep that gun loaded." I gulp, that's only one faction. He said there were two. Who is the second faction? I never get to ask, the next moment a man with an RPG appears on a hill to our left. He doesn't hesitate to shoot and our truck is engulfed in the explosion.
"Wake up! I just realized something important!" A yellow rodent violently shakes me awake. Panic sets and I check the room I find myself in. Wooden walls, table, dresser, picture frame of the creature. What is going- oh. Yeah. I remember. I'm stuck on some island with this electric animal named Boon. He did take me to town and provide me with shelter, I suppose the name fits; he is something of a boon. I should probably keep an eye on him though; there is the chance that he's only helping me now so he can stab me in the back later. It wouldn't be the first time that has happened to me. Then again, it's probably true that I should thank him for waking me up from that dream. I would rather not relive my experience back in that country at the moment. I turn towards Boon and gesture for him to continue his sentence. He said he forgot something important? "Browley! We totally forgot to get some Jichi Peppers! I was even talking about them and everything!" It seems that my idea of 'important' is much different than his. "Whelp, I suppose it can't be helped. We'll just eat them for breakfast! We can stop by the bar and Simisage's store and get a smoothie and peppers and eat them and-" Boon's face fell. "-then I have to go to work. Man, I don't wanna go! Infernape's gonna kill me!" Let's hope not. As much as it pains me to admit, I'm not too sure I can get through this island without Boon. If I run into anymore giant butterflies with paralyzing powder by myself I'll be helpless. It would be great if I still had my guns, but judging by the size of my surroundings I'm not sure if I am still large enough to even hold them anymore. "Hey Browley? You ready to go get some delectable delights?" That settles it then-Boon is obsessed with those peppers. It turns out I don't have to attempt an answer because my stomach rumbles loudly enough to do my work for me. Boon is overjoyed at my body's response. "YES! Come on then, let's go!" He pulls out a handheld sack from the dresser and we walk out the door.
Timburr Town is much more visible without the rain. The sun shines all around and tiny Pokémon I assume to be children play in the streets. Following Boon's suggestion, we stop by the palm tree's bar first. The counter is around my eye level so I have to stand on the tips of my toes in order to look over it. It occurs to me that my toes are now mostly comprised of very large claws. Boon is a few inches shorter than I am, so he instead hops straight up onto the countertop in order to see. On either side of a door behind the three headed plant Pokémon running the store are five shelves packed with hollowed out coconut shells. Exeggutor greets us to his shop hosting the type of voice one uses to purposefully sound stupid. In fact, the voice is almost exactly the same as that green drill guy from the old Sonic cartoon. I believe its name was Grounder, although I could very well be mistaken. "Hello Boon! Welcome back to my store!" He locks his six eyes with me. "Did you bring me another customer?" Exeggutor uses all three heads to speak, cycling through each after every word. The head on the left's voice is slightly deeper than the other two, and the head on the right has a voice slightly higher. The difference isn't very noticeable, but can be picked up on by a critical ear. Boon chuckles out his response:
"Ha, you know it! I'm always thinking of your store! This is Browley, I found him down south!"
"Well hello there Browley! My name is Exeggutor! So what can I make you two?"
Is he asking me or Boon? Now is not a time I would like to show my lack of speaking skills. Boon is chatty enough to save me the trouble of answering. "Can we both have a mango smoothie?"
"Of course you can! Two mango smoothies coming up!" Exeggutor takes up two of the coconut shells with his left and right mouths (Ew, I'm going to have to take a thorough examination of those things in order to find out which part of the cup is safe to drink from) and heads through the door into a back room. God, everyone is so happy here. It is definitely a far cry from the African country. Back then it seemed the only time someone was smiling was when they either killed a bunch of people or were killing me in their head. Well, there was that one Australian employer who seemed to take a liking to me. To be honest, I'd be lying if I said I didn't click well with him myself. That man seemed to be one of the better people. But truthfully he was just as fucked up as the rest of them. Was there anyone else who smiled during that entire month? I don't believe so…
"Here are your smoothies, you two!" The Pokémon said to us, coming out of the back room. That was pretty quick. I take one of the coconut cups and give a courteous nod to the tree Pokémon. The movement doesn't hold much value in my eyes; it is an automatic response for me now. What he doesn't know won't hurt him. I examine the coconut shell closely, trying to find which end was in his mouth. Unfortunately I cannot find any teeth marks or saliva on the cup and I am forced to just close my eyes and hope for the best. The smoothie itself is a fine yellow-orange paste resting inside the coconut shell. I take an experimental sniff and find that the scent is faint, but unmistakably belonging to a mango. I carefully bring the smoothie up to my lips (muzzle, whatever) and sample a droplet of the blended fruit. Not bad, the taste is rather strong. Exeggutor may have used the freshest mangos he had, but it could also be possible that the fruit on this island is of better quality than the fruit back home. Even the fruit I ate last night was bursting with flavor. Delicious fruit or not, I don't belong here. I am not a Pokémon and won't be able to feel comfortable living as one for very long. In fact, I'm already uncomfortable. On the other hand, I have super powers now. Granted they suck at the moment, but if Boon can shoot electricity out of his hands then maybe I can shoot fire out of mine. That would actually be extremely entertaining-I've always been a bit of a pyromaniac. I take a larger sip of the smoothie and after handing a few coins to Exeggutor from the pouch he is carrying, Boon guides me to the store selling the peppers.
No matter how much I tilt my head that monkey still looks like a simian version of Elvis to me. It isn't just the hairstyle though. The shoulder tuffs resemble the giant collar the man would wear late into his career and the puffs of fur at the wrists look like the sleeves of an oversized performer jacket. Simisage's voice only sweetens the deal.
"Hey Pikachu. What's swinging?"
He sounds exactly like the singer! Maybe Elvis really didn't die; he somehow found a way to this island and turned into a monkey. How old would that make him though? He was born in January of 1935 so that means…
"Come on Simisage, you know it's Boon." Boon rectifies, his long ears drooping ever so slightly.
"Shucks, sorry brother. So how's it hanging?"
"Great! I made a new friend! Wanna meet him?" Oh God, what is he doing? The Elvis impersonator takes a glance at me and recoils a touch. Rude.
"Wooooaaaaahhhh. That's kind of freaky, man." Very rude. "Your friend doesn't look natural." Up yours, you cunt.
"What do you mean?" Boon asks. I wish he sounded angrier about it. It'll save me the trouble of wiping the floor with this prick. To think I was comparing him to Elvis a few seconds ago.
"Look at how he's standing! He looks more like a combat veteran than young 'mander." I am a combat veteran. I didn't realize we all stood a specific way though. Boon scrutinizes my posture with confusion clearly etched into his face.
"Erm, I don't see it. I guess he has that 'don't fuck with me' aura, but I think that's 'cause you called him freaky."
"He just doesn't look right! It's sad; I think your friend had a bad childhood." My childhood may not have been perfect but it has nothing to do with my posture! And at least I keep my mouth shut. This monkey doesn't even apologize. "Sorry if I offended you." Never mind then. I nod my acknowledgement. The dick is still in my bad books. My Pikachu partner stops staring at me and turns his attention back towards Simisage.
"Right… Anyways! Can we have some Jichi Peppers?"
"Nuh-uh."
Boon practically topples over at the blunt response. "What do you mean, 'Nuh-uh'?"
"Kecleon's supply cache was robbed! I don't know all the details, you better ask him." The supply cache was robbed? By whom? I need to stock up if I'm going to be running around this island. Timburr Town is not where I want to spend the rest of my life. Boon seems eager to find Kecleon for some other reason. I suspect it has something to do with peppers.
"Where is he?"
"Last I heard, Kecleon was heading to the Post Office's bulletin board to put up a notice. I bet he's offering some fine rewards for helping out." Now I'm interested. If the rewards are something worth talking about then I want in. Being stranded on an island for an indefinite amount of time is much easier if I can be stranded with style. I roughed it in Africa, so I should be entitled to getting as comfortable as possible for this journey. Boon and I share a nod and rush to the Post Office. It's one of the better buildings. Many seagull-like Pokémon behind desks all over the single room diligently sort envelopes into organized stacks. In the back of the room are counters ran by rather large pelicans. As one flies out of a hole in the roof to go deliver mail another flies in to take its place. On the far wall to the entrance's right are two boards covered in tacked papers. A purple chameleon stands crossly in front of the closer board and I assume that is Kecleon. We approach the lizard and I wave a greeting to get his attention. Recognizing Boon, Kecleon groans in exasperation with a voice I cannot seem to accurately describe. It is rather high pitched, yet not squeaky. Kecleon sounds more like the stereotypical annoying salesman. He looks us straight in the eyes and asks: "What do you want?" Boon leaps in front of me to answer.
"We heard your peppers were stolen!" Enough about the fucking peppers already. "What happened?"
"If you must know, I was making my delivery like I always do, just minding my business. I stop to take breaks every now and then, and when I do I leave my wares out on a carpet in case anyone passing by wants to buy anything." I raise a brow and Boon angles his head. One of his ears sticks straight up into the air and the other bends to the side.
"Why would you do that? That doesn't sound safe." I ponder the question as well. Throwing items out in the public is not the brightest move to make as a delivery boy. Kecleon puts his purple claws to his hips in response to our inquiry.
"Do you know about the many Exploration Teams operating on this island?"
"Exploration Teams are here!? You mean like the ones who saved the future!?" What does that mean? What else could one possible save other than the future? The act of saving takes place in the present so that events in the future may be prevented before they can occur. Isn't that the point? Or am I looking at the issue wrong?
"That is correct. Rumor has it that even the Wigglytuff Guild itself is on an expedition on the island. They must be searching for the Lost Treasure." Lost Treasure? What is that all about? Meh, I can't waste time on a wild goose chase. If I find something along the way by any chance I could hold onto it. "I thought that those teams would need some extra supplies, so I laid out my wares on the carpet if any crossed paths."
"Well did they?" Kecleon's eyes narrow and his voice drops to one of malice. Each word the chameleon creature utters is pronounced slowly and venomously.
"Yes they did." Then in a roar: "The bastards robbed me!"
"Woah! The Wigglytuff Guild did!?"
"No! Some solo Exploration Team hotshots did! They were a Wartortle and a Vulpix, actually. The fuck-faces used a Stun Seed on me and ran off with all my supplies!" The enraged Pokémon's voice reverts back into its bone chilling tone. "When I find those two, there will be hell to pay… Mark my words you two, Mayor Cinccino is going to receive a strongly worded letter about this. In the meantime, I'm putting up a request for anyone to help me. Are you two interested?" If there's a decent reward, you bet. The request is placed a little too high on the board for me to see with my new height, so I hop up and pull the paper down.
'URGENT: My Shit Was Stolen!' Not very professional wording, but I shrug it off and read on. 'A Wartortle and Vulpix, both part of a so called "heroic" Exploration Team, robbed me of my wares at Route 6 by Wieldy Jungle at approximately 6:35 PM on June 12th. I am offering 1000 Poké and a Reviver Seed for their defeat.' Defeat? Does he want them captured or just beat up? Kecleon must be able to read my mind, because he says that it doesn't matter if we bring them in or just cream the two. I take a moment to study the rewards once more. Poké is this place's currency; I learned that from our shopping at the drink bar. What I don't know about is the Reviver Seed. I point it out to Boon and he lets out a quiet gasp of awe. Whatever it is, that seed is something worth getting my hands on. Kecleon stares at me expectantly when I lower the paper.
"Well? Are you up for the task?" Wordlessly I nod confirmation and Boon and I walk towards the exit. Before we leave I spot a stack of newspapers and grab a copy. 'Explosions Above Jichi' is printed in the headline using those strange letters with the eyes. In fact, the entire paper is written in the peculiar font. It takes a while to read due to the text, but I check the article over the explosions. 'An hour before midnight on June 11th, loud explosions roared across the Jichi Islands. The source of the noise was confirmed by Exploration Teams to be located in the sky, safely out of the range of citizens-flying or otherwise. Authorities are currently investigating the issue further and we will report their findings as soon as they are available.' There is a column in the corner from the Exploration Team Federation addressing the citizens of the islands. 'Dear Jichi Residents, we mean you no harm. Your island has been selected by a great many Exploration Teams for a treasure hunting expedition. We at the E.T.F. would appreciate any and all support in discovering the Lost Treasure spoken of in your island's legends. If you know of or find any information or clues relating to the Lost Treasure, please report to the nearest Exploration camp in your area. Thank you and have a wonderful day.'