We sit in the dirt on the southeast edge of Timburr Town square. Boon finishes up the last of the many peppers I bought him, and from the smile on his face I can tell he feels better. It is a weary smile, one which signifies remnants of inner conflict, but it is a smile nonetheless. The day is still young; the sun is high and there is not a cloud in the sky. I finish up the last slice of pizza and look around me for a waste bin. The closest one is nearby Kangaskhan Storage so I tap the pizza box and gesture with my head towards the shack.
"Yeah okay." Boon says licking his fingers. "I'll be at work picking up the next order. See ya in a sec." He walks inside his workplace again and I toss the box into the trash. Moments later Boon comes my way with another stack of pizza boxes. "Hey dude, I wanna show you something." I follow him to the storage center's counter where he sets the order down. Kangaskhan runs her eyes over the pizza boxes and sighs. Appearance wise she's a tank of a monster. If a kangaroo and a bear mated and their fully grown child somehow mutated into growing an exoskeleton, it would probably look like the stall owner before me. Her child, a much smaller version of herself lacking her armored plates thereby revealing rough grey skin, happily munches on a cookie from the warmth of its mother's pouch.
"You want to send these somewhere?" She asks my compatriot. Kangaskhan voice oozes with honey. She has the quality of the sweetest mother one would ever find, almost to a sickening degree. Despite her hideous appearance, the mere sound-the mere tone of the words coming from her lips make it impossible to harbor any kind of dislike towards her. "Sorry child, but I'm fresh out of Warp Seeds. I'm afraid these pizzas ain't going nowhere." Boon's smile fades away at the news. I stand back wondering what the hell a Warp Seed even is.
"You're out of Warp Seeds?" The Pikachu parrots. He gives me a disappointed look which I simply shrug to. What am I supposed to do about it? "Aw man… I can't walk to the other end of the island in time!" Kangaskhan puffs out her chest and places her giant claws on her hips.
"Nobody can. It's a good week of a hike to get across Jichi! With all the Mystery Dungeons springing up it'd probably take longer! Ain't nobody got time for that! And don't get me started on those Explorers! I love 'em to death, but those fools can't let a Pokémon with meat by without a good ten minute lecture!" I completely forgot about Pokémon policy on meat. Also, we'd probably encounter more resistance than a simple lecture now that the body count is at-um… Okay, I lost count already. I think we're at seven-ish? The conversation between Boon and Kangaskhan becomes muffled as I tally up the bodies on my fingers, which is a cruel reminder of my lost humanity due to only having four fingers on each hand rather than five. Let's see, there was Hello Kitty, Spring-Pig, Dreidel Dude, Firefox, Sheep, Bird, Flower Guy, and the purple one. That puts the count at… holy crap, eight. That's not a bad guess Browley. Not a bad guess at all. I wonder if I can guess how many people I killed in Africa…
"Browley!" Boon shouts. I jump a little and tilt my head. "I'm going to get some more Warp Seeds. Wanna come?" He notices my gaze drift to the boxes of pizza still resting on the counter. Apparently so does Kangaskhan, as she is the next one to speak.
"I'll keep a close eye on your pizza, baby, if you're worried about that." I'm not worried per say, but Boon doesn't need to get fired while he's recovering. "If you two can be dears and get me-mmmmm, twenty-five Warp Seeds then I can get your pizzas across the island lickity-split!" She continues. Twenty-five? That's a completely unreasonable! "After all, I'd hate for you two to walk all that way and back for a measly delivery."
"Wait a second," Boon interrupts raising a finger as high as he can. "Where are going to get twenty-five?" It is nice to see even Boon thinks the task is way over our heads; it makes my opinion feel validated.
"Why in Insipid Plains of course!" Something seems wrong about that sentence. Boon and I share a look but accept the job anyways.
For the first time I get to see the interior of Boon's workplace. Immediately in front of the door is a tall counter manned by a Pokémon resembling a small horse. Although its body fur is an uninteresting tan color, the pony's mane and tail are made of fire. I'm not sure how the flames keep their shape, but by one way or another they do. I steal a peek into my guidebook and discover the Pokémon is called a Ponyta. The name is a disappointment; I was hoping for something much cooler. Behind the horse lies rows upon rows of metal shelves filled with pizza boxes. Pokémon carrying freshly cooked pizzas on wooden panels rush from the back of the store to the boxes, quickly sliding the food into a box and calling out different numbers. Upon hearing the numeric code 8008, the Scyther I recognize from outside the dojo grabs a stack of pizza from the shelves, drops a bag of money on the counter, and leaves without speaking a word. He probably has been here enough times to memorize the prices. With the customer out of the way, Ponyta looks at me then casts a shocked expression towards Boon.
"Wow Pikachu, color me surprised! I didn't think you could make a friend!" She says.
"Just ignore her." Boon tells me as he guides me to the back of the store with him. "She's always like that."
"And he's always a fag. I just take the liberty to remind him from time to time." Ponyta adds. She leans in close to me and whispers loudly enough for Boon to hear as well: "I'm sorry about your friend; someone dropped his egg a couple of times. I think it was his parents." As we get further away, she calls after us from her post. "By the way, I talked to Infernape! Guess who gets to clean out the ovens tonight!"
In the back of the store are roughly twelve rows of iron ovens. Each oven has two slots with wooden handles on them. A Pokémon pulls open the top slot, places uncooked pizza on the tray, and slides it shut. Then a Pokémon capable of breathing fire pulls out the bottom shelf, revealing much firewood. The fire-type then ignites the wood and closes the panel shut once more. When the pizza is finished, the closest Pokémon slides the pizza out from the top panel and rushes to box the pizza at the shelves. Ovens are not the only thing back here however. There is a lone opening in the rightmost wall—two curtaining cloths acting as a door.
"Come on, I might need another mouth to get permission from my boss." Boon says. We step into a rather spacious room on the opposite end of the flaps. On my right is a wooden bookshelf packed with various texts of different height and thickness. On my left is a small round table complete with potted plant and doily. From the walls hang awards the business has won and a diploma certifying Infernape as an official Rescue Team member. Lastly is the Pokémon's desk which is positioned in the back of the room where he can see everyone coming into and leaving his office. It reminds me of the stereotypical principal's office. Upon noticing our presence he looks up from the paperwork he was filling out and removes a pair of eyeglasses from his face.
"Why hello Boon." He greets. Infernape nods his head at me and says hello as well. His demeanor is so calm, nothing like the monkey from yesterday. It is as if he is an entirely different person-er, Pokémon. "What do you need?"
"Kangaskhan ran out of warp seeds for her storage. Can I go get her more?" Boon explains. His boss chews the tips of his frames in contemplation.
"I assume you already told her you would."
"Er-no I...yes." The Pikachu admits slouching. Infernape rolls his eyes and places his glasses back on, going back to his papers.
"Fine, if you already made the promise then go ahead. We can't deliver the customer's order if you don't fix that issue. I'll put an apology message in the mail when I get the chance."
"Really?" Boon asks surprised. "Wow... thanks sir."
"Check in with me first next time." He orders. The fire monkey looks up from his work towards me this time. "And Charmander? I wish to apologize for our first meeting." This guy is definitely bi-polar.
Outside of the Pizzeria there is a commotion in the town square. Various Pokémon are gathered around large slabs of meat hung within the skeletal cage of wooden carts. There are Scyther, Pinsir, Mienfoo, Hitmonlee, Quilava, Magmar, so many types I'm unable to find them in the Pokédex quickly enough. Regardless, there are many Pokémon focused on three carts of meat. A lone Mienshao positions herself in the center of the commotion and raises its arms for attention.
"May I have all eyes and ears?" She calls in an elderly—yet still powerful—voice. The various sounds of excited Pokémon quiets down, allowing the speaker to continue. "At long last it is once again that time of the month, and Timburr Town has the fortune to receive three Tauros from Nơi Cát for consumption!" The Pokémon in the crowd all jubilantly cheer at the news. Even Boon is throwing in his shouts. "It is with great joy the dojo will now cook!" Various fire-types spew hot flames from their maws at the meat, and just as suddenly as they started, the flames stop. There is not much evidence of cooking; the end result is only slightly less red than it was a moment ago. Boon elbows me in the ribs.
"Bet you can't wait to do that, can you?" He asks out the side of his mouth. Mienshao bows to the cooks, who return the gesture and step back.
"Next," the elder sensei says, "The dojo will season this fine bounty!" Grass-types step forward and release various leaves from their bodies which home in on the slabs of flesh as if by magic. It is quite the surreal experience as a matter of fact. Once again Mienshao and the trainees bow to one another and the show carries on. "Finally, the dojo will cut the meat!" Fucking finally. Two Scyther and a Pinsir line up in front of the slabs and on the count of three proceed to cut so quickly gravity has yet to make an impact. The bladed and clawed Pokémon backflip away and a Mienfoo is joined by two Hitmonlee in launching the meat towards all of us with astonishing precision. A chunk slams into my chest, dropping into my outstretched arms. I turn towards Boon who is happily stuffing his face without surfacing for air. How can he still eat after all that pizza? Mienshao bows to the rest of her trainees and then to the crowd. "Thank you, today's festival has been a success!"
I stare at the hunk if meat still in my arms and shrug; might as well try to eat this. I chomp down with my new fangs and tear off a mouthful. My tongue runs over the texture and the juices fill my taste buds. This...this meat... I never had anything so... delicious. It has to be a sin to describe it as such. I don't know if it's the seasoning, the taste of Tauros, or simply attached Charmander instincts (although I hope to God I'm not starting to think like a Pokémon, that would be fucking terrifying), but this meat is simply...
"MMM, Orgasmic!" Boon moans from within his food. "Only thing this needs is a Jichi pepper!
After eating we leave Timburr Town and are back in District 2. According to the map Insipid Plains should be the very same Mystery Dungeon we passed between Pachirisu Pass and the first outpost. The travel time shouldn't take very long at all—we are practically there already. I fold the map into a tiny square and stuff it back into our bag, swinging a hand to signal Boon to follow me. Within minutes we stand before the entrance to the Mystery Dungeon. The same effect of mismatched images over a bubble covering exists for Insipid Plains, but due to the lack of trees or other obstacles nearby for comparison, it is significantly harder to notice the displacement effect. Nevertheless, the stretched nature of the grass as well as some pieces of the sky seemingly existing within the ground signifies that a Mystery Dungeon is here. I still feel uncomfortable entering the distorted dome but I reason that because I was okay (if a little nauseous) last time I entered one of these things, I should be fine a second time. Boon leans backwards with his hands digging into his spine, creating a faint popping sound.
"You ready for Dungeon numero dos?" He questions. It takes only a simple nod for us to walk inside Insipid Plain's sphere of influence. I'm still unable to keep my eyes open during the transition; the blur combined with the inescapable sickly feeling is too much for me. The feeling subsists and I check my surroundings. My jaw drops at the sight of more cliffs funneling me into different corridors of earth. The walls look as if some force literally shoved sections of the plains out of the ground and patted the layers of dirt into a smooth yet compact plane. The worst part about it is the lack of ceiling—every room, every corridor lacks a ceiling—turning each tunnel into something more along the lines of a ridiculously deep trench. What is with Mystery Dungeons and hallways? Even Boon is frowning as he pokes at the walls confining the two of us. "Aw man, how the heck am I supposed to climb this stuff?" He shoves a hand into the wall and pulls out a palm full of dark brown soil. "Yeah… I can shove my paws in here but it's not strong enough to hold me, just enough to make a pretty decent wall. I can't show you any of my sweet parkour skills in here." Well that's not a huge lost. "Maybe I can backflip for you, but I think you already saw that."
Insipid Plains really lives up to the name. I lost track of how long we have spent walking through here, but there is unfortunately nothing noteworthy in the entire area. Much like Wieldy Jungle, all I can find are tunnels and the occasional hostile Pokémon. But even that is rather dull due to the ease of defeating said opposition. I swear to God those things literally walk up to us and die. They have no tactics, no sign of intelligent thought, nothing. When I was in Africa I noted what I thought was a lack of strategy from the various men attempting to shoot my brains out. This Mystery Dungeon however shows me what true lack of strategy really is. There is a rather monotonous pattern to combat: Walk, spot, wait, attack, rinse and repeat. I could listen to an IPod and be perfectly fine. My boredom is so great I'm relying on Boon for entertainment.
"Anyways," Boon continues talking. "Like I was saying, Jichi peppers are the fruit of the island. You can barbecue them, boil them, broil them, bake them, sauté them-there's pepper-kabobs, pepper creole, pepper gumbo—pan fried, deep fried, stir-fried—there's pineapple pepper, lemon pepper, coconut pepper, banana pepper-" He pauses to electrocute what is possibly the thirtieth Hoppip we have come across. Much like its brethren, it disintegrates in only one zap. I'm surprised how normal that type of death is becoming to me. The talkative Pikachu wipes his hands and goes right back to his list as if nothing happened. "-shrimp pepper, pepper stew, pepper salad, pepper and potatoes, pepper burger, pepper sandwich, pepper pizza, pepper pepper." He locks eyes with me and his right ear twitches nervously. "That… that's about it."
I cough into a closed fist to try to clear my windpipe and respond. There is a question which has been lingering on my mind ever since we cleared the first explorer outpost yesterday. "H-hey Boon?"
"Yeah?" He responds. My throat feels extremely dry and my words habitually catch in my windpipe. I find myself gagging on absolutely nothing, yet it takes swallowing to resume asking.
"I-I n-n-noticed-" Come on man! Out with it! "I n-no-you kill in Dungeons j-just fine. W-why the dr-drama with killing Explor-Explorers?" Boon sighs, twirling a finger through one of his large ears. The Pikachu shakes his head as if in disbelief.
"Wow. You really are a human aren't you?" I would say something along the lines of, 'I thought I made that clear', but unfortunately I can't without becoming the biggest liar in Insipid Plains. "Not that I thought you weren't!" He reassures. "You have the signs, you know? What with the confusion and the strandedness and the memory loss—even if yours is minor—and you looked like you just woke up when I landed on ya so I guess that counts kinda-not-really-maybe." Slow down, there are signs? This kind of shit happened before? "I think that makes you like, the third human to turn into a Pokémon. Or maybe the fourth-I don't know. I think there's a rumor going around about another human popping up a couple of months ago in another country. Something about making a pair of dice and catching a cold. It's just a rumor though—I give it another month or so 'till we know for sure. Anyways! As for your question..."
Boon climbs the next set of misplaced stairs until actually getting around to what I asked him. The information about other humans is interesting though, so I'm not too annoyed. "Look, Mystery Dungeons have been around for a loooooong time. I never paid much attention to the history of these things, so I don't know all the details. But a bunch of nerds have been studying this stuff and get this—according to them, the Pokémon in Mystery Dungeons aren't real Pokémon at all!" The two of us quickly wipe out a trio of Deerling who stumble into our path. Boon picks back up where he left off as we continue our trek. "The Pokémon in Mystery Dungeons are actually created by the Dungeon itself, which is why they never run out, no matter how many thousands of Pokémon wandering through here get killed. I guess it's also why they always show up just out of eyeshot even when the spot was clear two seconds ago. And why they are so dang stupid-have you noticed that?" Perhaps it also explains why they freaking fade out of existence when killed. The projections are simply destroyed and shut off to be replaced by another later. "I heard about Rescue Teams recruiting Dungeon Pokémon though, so you got me how that works. Maybe bits of real Pokémon imprint on the fakes or something? But that's why I got so worked up over killing Explorers. They're not just… things looking like Pokémon. They are Pokémon. I'm okay now, at this point I should just get used to it." It may be faint, but Boon then mumbles ever so bitterly: "Stupid Spoink's fault."
We climb five more sets of stairs before we finally exit the Mystery Dungeon. However, one quick look around reveals a distorted barrier all around us. Insipid Plains is shaped like a ring, circling a center point of non-corrupted soil. The two of us are surrounded by more Dungeon, meaning the only option out of this contained area is to go back into the Twilight Zone. Nothing but fertile dirt, much like that found in the Mystery Dungeon's walls, can be seen within the enclosed prison. My eyes dart across rows upon rows of tilled earth; there is something being grown below. Kangaskhan said Insipid Plains is where we could find Warp Seeds, so it stands to reason this is what she meant.
Boon is already digging through the loose dirt and stashing the seeds he finds. I like how he's not wasting any time; that kind of attitude will get me off this island and back into my own body in no time, although I will miss shooting fire out of my mouth. I am about to join him, but I spot something coming out of the wall we entered this enclosed space from. It has blue skin, feathery ears, and large shell, and-oh fuck! Before I can even try to call to Boon for assistance, Wartortle blasts me point-blank with a gush of water, the resulting impact forcing me onto my back where I choke for oxygen. The water-type's movements are robotic; he face shows no emotion and every action is completed without passion, without drive. Boon hears the commotion and stops digging, his ears cartoonishly springing erect in what is either fear, shock, or both.
"Oh shit!" He squeals back flipping to his feet. I attempt to get up but Wartortle stomps onto my face. My vision turns blurry at the first stomp, Boon charges at the turtle keeping me pinned. My hearing becomes muffled at the second; Wartortle lobs a glowing orb he held within his shell at the Pikachu. By the third stomp I am forced into a black void of nothingness unable to continue watching the battle.
Within the darkness I hear a voice. An unclear message, yet a message I have heard before. It is less jumbled this time than it was before; I can make out a few additional words.
"This...my...here. You...that...left. I'm...contaminated...got inside. Inside of...all on you...I gave...find Brooke... explain everything." What the fuck are you talking about? What do you mean you're contaminated? What is all on me? What did you give? Who is Brooke? Is it Brooke who will explain everything, or do I have to? Why can't you? What did you do with my stuff on the beach, you asshole? I never get the answers to my questions; I can feel myself slipping away from wherever I am. My senses slowly return to me, and although my head is ringing and I cannot quite recall how I got there, when I awake I know I'm in trouble.
I find myself sitting with my back against a wooden structure, my hands tied firmly by rope to a plank above. The room is dark, dingy, and a thin haze of dust floats through the air. The fire at the end of my tail is miniscule, barely lighting a damn thing. In all honesty it looks about ready to go out. Boon said something important about my tail but my I'm drowning in my headache too much to recall. Speaking of the yellow guy, where is he anyways?
"He's alive!" A grating voice screams in my face. I feel cold scaly hands pick up my tail, and as they lift my newest appendage the feeble light somewhat illuminates the face of my captor. Wartortle. He is close enough for me to feel his breath; the turtle is actively trying to invade my personal space. His smile stretches across more than I thought possible, his small fangs visibly poke though his lips. Around his nostrils the light from my flame causes white powdery crystals to sparkle. There are signs of disconnect in his bloodshot eyes—disconnect from reality. He is in his own little world right now, not fully aware of what he's doing. Or maybe he is aware, maybe he's enjoying himself too much to care. He giggles like a schoolgirl. "You like murder? Hm?" Wartortle tilts his head at such an exaggerated angled it should snap off. "I asked you something—just now—for you to answer. You like murder? You like to kill my friends? A little boy's mommy?" Um... what? What are-shit, the elephant. I feel I made a terrible mistake.
"Tropical islands, man." he muses. "Bring out the savage in you." The evolved turtle finally pulls his face further from mine still smiling like a maniac. "Guess I shouldn't expect less from Jichi; this fucking island has a habit of killing Explorers." I need to look into that. Wartortle sits down and pulls a satchel from the darkness, talking as he digs through. "So tell me, Pokédex number four, my dick is in my shell, where's yours?" The fuck kind of question is that? "Do Charmanders have sheaths or some shit? I wanted to make you a pretty little girl while you were out, but I can't find the fucking thing!" He laughs more as I stare at him in confusion. Wartortle suddenly stops searching through his satchel and sings in soprano: "Oh shit! I think I found it!" In his hand he pulls out a small box of cardboard which fits snugly in his palm. The top flap is lifted open with a single finger, and when he brings it close enough for me to see there lays several matches ready to be lit. He pulls out all of them at once, lights them, and proceeds to walk away from me up a hill, dropping a lit match every couple of steps. It is then I clearly see exactly where I am. I'm on a track, and at the opposite end is a mine cart filled with ore. "And Charmander? You might have wanted to get that tail looked at. It doesn't light shit!" Wartortle stands with an arm holding the cart in place, ready to release and let gravity do the rest. In his free hand he carries an Escape Orb. "Guess you weren't on the right track, were you motherfucker?" He warps away leaving the cart barreling down the hill.
Author's Note: When I had Browley make the guess that the body count was at "seven-ish" I was actually making a guess myself. You see, I wasn't keeping track of how many Pokémon died so when I had the thought pass through Browley's head I knew I needed a number but I was too lazy to read through the chapters to find the exact one. I also thought it would sound more realistic for Browley to not know for sure the exact number. My curiosity got the better of me, so I had Browley count them from memory like I then decided to do and discovered how close my random guess was. I considered rewriting the scene so that Browley's number would be further off, but then decided to leave it the way it was because if a guy sitting in front of a computer screen writing fan fiction when he's not playing Fallout and S.T.A.L.K.E.R. can mentally keep track of death counts without even trying, surely someone like Browley could.
Additionally, I just barely got this chapter out by the skin of my teeth. You see, I technically finished writing it three days ago and revised it the day following. But due to a few complications and other priorities, I didn't upload. Then today when I finally decided to bend over backwards to upload this chapter, I discovered the file and its backup had been corrupted somehow. So I spent hours on various programs attempting to recover the file, and eventually was able to get it through email. I am glad to be able to upload this chapter and be done with it. It has taken far too long.