"Listen up!" Cracka shouts. "That twat Flygon was too much for us! And he's immune to electricity and resistant to fire!" Well fuck. That puts Boon and I at a distinct disadvantage. "Good news is-"
"This badass has his weakness!" Tyrone finishes as he pats his chest. "You bitches keep him busy and he won't cheap-shot me this time!"
"Um… sure! Let's deal with those two Raticate first!" Boon suggests. The Pokémon Flygon dropped off are brown rats with giant fangs and sharp claws. They don't work very hard on their tactics, instead opting to rush us wildly. Boon and I down a Max Elixir in time for the rodents to get within range. As electricity and fire enshroud the two Raticate, a jet of water and an Axew's horn cut through from the sides.
"They must feel assured," Cracka comments. His friend glares at the otter. "Sorry. I couldn't help myself."
"I don't get it," Boon says. Tyrone pulls himself free from his kill and wipes the blood on his horn.
"I used Assurance," he explains.
"Ah. Gotcha."
With both the Raticate dead, all the four of us have to fight now is their transport. Right on cue, Flygon drops from the sky between the entire quad. Sand somehow flies up from the grass where he lands, encircling everyone but the explorer in a thick cloud of spinning rock. It spins so rapidly that attempting to go through any of the entrapment would severely slice one's skin within moments.
"Let's see you get out of that!" Flygon taunts.
Ouch! Something gashes across my face, right below the eye. I think it was a rock. Here I am standing within the eye of a small yet powerful dust bowl as it slowly rips into me.
"OH GOD!" Boon screams. "THAT ROCK FUCKING HURT!" quit your whining and-FUCK! Another got me! Crap, this cut is gigantic! I now have an opening from one end of my chest to another. Yet another rock slams into my foot, tearing up flesh and sending me tumbling to the ground. Damn, is this thing going to be a common occurrence?
"Watch where you're shooting that Dragon Breath!" Tyrone shouts. "You almost hit me!" We are getting torn up her-OW! DAMMIT! More rocks pelt into my body from all directions, never seeming to let up. A sharp pain enters my hand, which only gets worse every second. I check the damage. My fingers are bent into unnatural positions and the top half of my palm is clearly unconnected underneath my somewhat scaly skin. My hand is broken. Stay calm. Gotta set the bones. I've done this before in Africa. I grab hold of my fingers, bringing them together into a tight lump, and then push my palm into itself. I gag on my own saliva at each cracking noise. My hand is under my control again, but incredibly stiff. Need an Oran Berry to finish the job. Or doctor. Fuck, I hope I didn't mess something up in the transition from human hand to Charmander.
"Tyrone! They're weak against ground types! Back me up!" Cracka orders. More rocks crash into me, sending me into deeper stages of pain and my vision once again pulsing. This is like… God, this is like…
==+*( |\ /| )*+==
"Poepol! Elkeen van hierdie koeëls dra jou naam!"
This is a bad position! Fighting from inside a rusty old bus without tires in the middle of a desert—not one of my better ideas! Twelve guys at least are spraying the vehicle with bullets, and most of those shots are going through the metal like paper. It's only a matter of time before I'm killed. I toss a grenade out the window, followed by a few blind fire shots from my AK47. It buys me roughly three seconds to scoot to my left and then the bullet storm picks back up. They are whizzing by me, just barely missing their marks.
"Skiet hom!"
SHIT! Something went by my arm! I blind fire a few more shots as I check the damage. There are no actual entry holes, but my sleeve is torn and my right arm has a bloody gash below the shoulder. I throw my belly on the floor of the bus and slide towards the exit.
"Don't let up on that fucker!" A DER rebel screams. "I'm moving in! Give me cov-AGH!"
More gunshots ring out from the side opposite of the rebels, replacing their assault momentarily. I quickly steal a peek out of a window to see what's going on. Christ! NRG's here now!
"You're mine, fuckers!" That sounded like it came from NRG. "Jy gaan jou poes kak!"
"Help! Ek is beseer!" And that's DER. Good news is that nobody is shooting the bus anymore. The bad news is that I have more people to fight my way through now. The bullets continue to fly, the people continue to shout, and I continue to crawl for where the bus door would be if it wasn't ripped off already. When I finally reach the opening, I switch my AK to my left hand and look to see what I'm dealing with. Five guys in the brush shooting past the bus. I line up the shots and let my rifle roar.
"Kak!" One down.
Two down.
"Fok!" Three down.
A bullet hits my gun, sending it flying out of my hands. I dart deeper into the bus and yank out my Makarov.
"Is there someone in the bus!?"A NRG soldier shouts. "Kill those rebels and search!" Please no. I get off the floor and fire off more bullets though the window at the DER. Four down. All five down. Then I rush out of the bus and to its side. Past this metal scrap are more people, and I am so ill equipped! "I knew it! Shoot him!" Wish I didn't drop that flamethrower on the drive. I'm going to need everything I have now. One hand holds the Makarov while another holds my trusty meat cleaver. I slide to the edge of the bus, where a DER soldier turns the corner with his FAL rifle pointed at me. I use my forearm to push the barrel away, then slam my Makarov into his face and blow his brains out. Then I drop the handgun, pick up the rifle, and twist my body to face the men coming at me from the other edge of the bus. One dead. Two. Three. And breathe.
I hear footsteps from behind, and turn to shoot in that direction. A big guy with a skull painted on his face swings a machete at my rifle, removing it from my grip. He doesn't expect my other hand to stick a cleaver into his side. Using his moment of shock, I push him over and scoop up my Makarov.
PAFF
And he's dead. The adrenaline chooses to wear off, and that wound on my arm hurts like a mother fucker.
==+*( |\ /| )*+==
"Get up! Get the fuck up, you wanker!" The dustbowl dissipated, Cracka lifts me to my unsteady feet and drops a berry in my hand. "One of the Raticate had a few Oran berries! Just hang on and eat this!" I swallow the fruit without chewing, and already my wounds close. I experimentally flex my once broken hand, finding it to be in much better condition after eating that berry. "That was a close one. Now get back in the fight!" Cracka returns to the battle, squirting water from his mouth the entire way. Boon is already back up and paralyzing Flygon with…his...face, and Tyrone is performing countless karate chops on the explorer with glowing blue hands.
"This shit is super effective! How are you not going down yet!?" He grunts in agitation. Wasting no more time, I follow Cracka's lead and dash back into the fray as well.
"Defense Scarf,"Flygon smugly answers the rhetorical question. "Get you one." The explorer's paralysis wears off, and before Boon can reactivate it, Flygon darts backwards out of reach with beating wings. He goes into his bag and pulls out an orb. "Suck on this!" Suddenly I'm immobile.
Nothing moves.
Although I am halfway in a sprint, my limbs freeze as does my position. I should at least be toppling over, yet I'm not! It is as if I'm frozen in time! Flygon casually flies up to each one of us, giving us amused looks. "Foe-Seal. Pauses you outlaws right in the middle of masturbation for your mothers to see. Scary." The explorer lands in front of Cracka and punches the Oshawott in the face three times. Each blow turns his head a little with a loud smack, but the face remains locked in the same state it was before the pause. Flygon backs up again, counting backwards from ten. "-three, two, one."
"GAH!" Cracka wails clutching his face. Boon, Tyrone and I all trip onto the grass. "Bloody hell, I hate those things!" You're not alone. I pull myself back up and get ready to face Flygon.
==+*( |\ /| )*+==
Truck should be passing by any moment now. As soon as it does, I'll spray it full of holes and steal some of the weapons. Who says I can't get free guns? On cue I hear the hum of an engine getting closer. But then as it does I see not one vehicle, but three. One SUV and two trucks with machine guns mounted on the backs serving as escorts. How stupid could I be!? How could I not think that it'd be escorted!? I slide to the bottom of what I've decided to call 'mini Pride Rock' where I left an RPG waiting. I wasn't planning on carrying it up the rock and waiting around with it, because the thing weighs too damn much. I don't have much of a choice anymore. I just hope I can actually hit with this thing.
I pick up the launcher, slide in the explosive (which is much bigger than I thought it would be), and prop it onto my shoulder. Then I climb back up the rock, wincing as my legs threaten to buckle under the strain of the weight on such an uneven incline. Here comes the trucks. Now or never. Just got to lead the shot a tad…
CHOOOOOOOSH
BOOM
I… I hit it! Oh my God! I actually hit it! Play of the day right there! Oh fuck! Second car is shooting! Gotta duck! Okay. I slide back down, reload, and peak around the side to avoid shooting from the exact same place. I don't want to get shot by a fifty cal.
CHOOOOOOSH
BOOOM
That's the second car! And now the weapons transport is sandwiched between two burning hunks of metal and unable to move! I might want to shoot the tires for good measure.
==+*( |\ /| )*+==
I dive from another spray of Flygon's Dragon Breath. Boon's out of paralyzing moves, and still the flying thing isn't dead! I Smokescreen the fucker and switch to Ember as Boon returns to Thunder Shocks and Cracka swings at the explorer with his seashell.
"I have had it with this motherfucking bug on this motherfucking island!" Tyrone screams. Blue fire identical to what I used to be able to breathe spews from the Axew's mouth, setting Flygon ablaze. Cracka backs up and sticks his scallop back onto his body.
"You're on the receiving end of that dragon rage!" The Oshawott jokes.
"Cracka, you make one more Move pun I swear I will beat you with your own scalchop," Tyrone responds. The otter gulps and sprays a jet of water at Flygon. The constant abuse proves too much for the explorer, even with the Defense Scarf.
"You… can't… win…" Flygon croaks his last words as his shielded eyes close. Strength depleted, his body comes crashing down, kicking up a thin layer of dust. When it settles, the explorer whom would not die lay dead.
"One more thing," Tyrone says walking up the Flygon's face. He turns his back towards us and for roughly ten seconds I hear the sound of running water. "There. Now we're done with him."
Boon tilts his head with a look of repulsion. "Did you just… gross! That's sick!"
"Says the rat that killed all those Sableye. Where are they all anyways? There were a lot more than that one." What? I check where the Axew is looking to discover most of the Sableye corpses from our breakout missing. There is only one body remaining from the previous twelve.
"Um…" Boon is at a loss for words. If I talked more, I would be as well. What happened to all our bodies? I get my answer at that moment. The final corpse, without any visible reason, disintegrates into nothingness. "What the heck? Guys, did you see that? Browley, tell me you saw that."
"Hm?" Cracka hums from Flygon's body. He is searching through the explorer's satchel, pulling out rope and a tape recorder. My tapes! "What's this box?"
"H-h-ha-hand it h-h-h-hgk-ghk-here?" I ask. The otter shrugs and tosses me the device.
"You talk?"
"Yo, what the fuck man? We 'tot you was mute!" Tyrone shouts.
"Surprise!" Boon exclaims waving his hands. "He's vocally-challenged."
What does this recording have to say?
"-I see people turn their heads and quickly look away
Like a newborn baby it just happens ev'ryday
I look inside myself and see my heart is black
I see my red door and it has been painted black"
What the hell? I never picked up a recording of someone's Rolling Stones cover.
"-he's still not dead. I'm not sure what to make of it. Someone like that should have been found in the sand with a hole through his chest the first day, yet nearly a month later and he's still alive. And killing. Every time he leaves town, all the outposts in the direction he went are always found to been raided with no survivors. Is he even a man? Or something else entirely?"
Okay, now that I recognize. Did someone tape their stupid music over my collection?
"Fellows! I found a note in here too! I think it goes along with the sound box," Cracka says. "Footprint rune. Good thing Ty and I studied it for-ehem, work," he clears his throat and reads aloud:
"Holy crap! This is my best idea ever! You know those sound boxes that have been lying around? Well, like Frisms they don't just play sound, they record it! Best of all, playing them doesn't erase what was recorded! Imagine the potential if we can reverse engineer these things and make our own! Pokemon can buy sound recordings of things like stories, music, the news, whatever! In between bits of sound we can put in recorded advertisements! I already got the guys together to record an example. Right now it's using the recording about some place called Africa and the new sounds erased a tiny bit but it still works!"
"So what now?" Boon asks. "We were never told what to do when we finished rescuing you."
"Hey, don't say it like that," Tyrone requests. "It makes us sound like pussies."
"Okay then. Fine," Boon replies. "Anyways, I think Probopass said something about us sticking together to fight explorers. Something about wanting to double our limit? I'm not sure what he was talking about, but it sounded important. You two in?"
Cracka put a paw to his chin. "I'm not sure. I don't think we're aiming for the same goals. You see, Tyrone and I are criminals. Outlaws."
"Gangstas!" Tyrone adds.
"Quite. Our specialty is going into places, grabbing whatever we want, and leaving. And we usually do this in the most violent way possible."
"Take hostages and bust down defenses." The Axew clarifies.
"Under normal circumstances, you two would be under our watch while we steal everything of value you've ever owned."
"You'd be our bitch…es."
"So what are you after?"
Boon scratches his head and points at me. "Um… I'm just helping him find some 'Brooke Hotel' place. Because it's important."
Cracka frowns. "That is where the issue is. We don't give a fuck about your overdue rent. If you want our help, we're going to need compensation. Monetary compensation. We want mounds of pounds."
"Pounds?" Boon asks.
"Oh for fuck's sake!" Cracka exclaims. "Do I have to spell everything out for you twats? WE. NEED. POKÉ! Is there anything you have to offer?"
Well this has been a huge waste of time. If these guys aren't wanting to help us out after we bailed their asses out of going to prison, then fuck them. Let's kill them and get on with it.
"The Lost Treasure." Boon says. What? "We'll help you find Jichi's lost treasure if you help us. The explorers are looking for it, so we already have most of our work cut out for us. All we have to do is take some of their documents every so often—which we needed to do anyways to find an outlaw, and they'll do all the heavy lifting."
Tyrone takes a step forward. "How much bank we talking?"
"I don't know," Boon truthfully states. "It's lost for a reason. But it must be worth something if the ETF wants it so badly."
Cracka crosses his arms. "Who is the outlaw you're looking for?"
"A Wartortle. He used to be in an exploration team called Shellfire."
The Oshawott blinks and his eyes widen. Very carefully he asks us, "On a scale of one to ten, ten being very and one being not at all, how insane is he?" Oh wow. They know something. Boon pops a bottle of Max Elixir open and chugs the contents.
"He blew up a wall in my hometown, kidnapped a child, tried to give him a slow death, left me hanging upside down in a mine, did something to Browley, and threatened to cut off both of our dicks. By now I say eight." It's about a six and a half for me. I've seen worse.
"Son of a bitch," Tyrone mutters. "I think we know that guy. Yeah! That mofo rolled with us once on a jewelry heist! He completely failed at his job! We said 'Keep the hostages safe.' You know what he did? He took a bag full of diamonds and dropped it on a Smoochum's head! Then he got so freaked out he bailed on us! Just took off running and got arrested! Last time we checked, one of his friends paid the fine all by herself and they joined an exploration guild to 'start over' or some bullshit."
"Now he's an outlaw again?" Cracka asks. "Some Pokémon never change. Okay Pikachu, I'm in. What about you Ty?"
Tyrone gapes at his friend. "Just like that? For realz?"
Cracka nods. "For reals. We never got payback for fucking up our robbery. We lost twelve thousand on that deal. And the Lost Treasure? Ty, if we find this we'll be the richest Pokémon in the world! Besides, four heads think better than two."
The Axew appears to ponder this for a moment before nodding his head and replying. "What the fuck? Let's get rich."
"Then it's official!" Boon declares. "We're all working together! So um… what's the rope for?" Yeah, Cracka still has a bunch of rope with him.
"I take it you got here from the only entrance remaining?" He asks. "First rule: never escape the way you came. I can guarantee you that entrance is packed with ground reinforcements. We're going to rappel down the cliffside and get to the nearest town. You chaps do know Explorers don't go in there, correct?"
"That's right," Boon answers. Cracka smiles.
"Good. Then we'll stay the night there and move in the morning. Nothing says the explorers can't go into town. They choose not to. We dilly-dally too long and they're going to invade regardless," That or Wartortle will. He's already attacked once. "The cliffsides might have some resistance too, but nothing we can't handle. Just make sure you shock the birds on our way down."
==+*( |\/| )*+==
Are you serious!? When I heard that some 'toys' would be coming into the country, I expected that to mean guns! These are… these are literally toys! Broken Happy Meal toys with paint peeling off, but toys! This is not a weapons transport, this is a fucking donation van! I thought the driver looked out of place when I shot him… Wonder what organization this is coming from anyways? Well, I guess the children are going to be bored a little longer, because I am going to launch an RPG so far through this box's window that-I don't even know! Mother fucker!
==+*( |\/| )*+==
We pushed Flygon as close as we could to the cliff's edge without risking it falling off, then tied our ropes to its body. To protect our hands, we grabbed scarves from the explorer's bag as well.
"Any of you ever rappel before?" Cracka asks as he backs to the edge.
"No." Tyrone answers.
"Yep!" Boon exclaims. "When I was a Pichu I got stuck in a tree and the police came and threw me a rope. It was scary."
I frown. "C-c-c-couldn't you p-par-par-par-k-"
"This was before I started training. In fact, that was the reason I decided to learn parkour in the first place! Ha! Look at me now, doing this again!"
"Parkour is about speed running and tricks. Not climbing out of fucking trees," Tyrone says.
"I know that now!" Boon defends. "But it has a lot of climbing in it, and I was young. Give me a break. What about you, Browley? You ever rappel?"
Yeah. A little before I went to Africa I learned how to just in case I would ever be in the mountains somewhere and need to do so. Obviously my survival situation came, yet I never used the skill. I just did a lot of running, shooting, and the occasional sneaking.
"Y-y-yes," I stutter.
"Jolly good," Cracka says. "Jolly good indeed." We all begin our decent down the cliffside, carefully lowering ourselves down the canyon towards the nearest ledge. Due to the lack of special equipment, we move at a much slower rate to avoid slipping and plummeting to our doom. It is more of a backwards climb than a true rappel. Through my makeshift gloves I thread the rope through ever so slightly as my feet walk backwards along the rock wall. It is by extreme fortune we are not being attacked by any more explorers.
"Hold up fools," Tyrone orders ceasing movement. "Check it; those birds are flying damn close." True to his word, there are numerous birds flying throughout the canyon presumably to search for us. At the moment they somehow haven't found us, but my tail means it is only a matter of time. "Pikachu, you handling 'em?"
Boon sighs. "I would, but my hands are kind of full with this rope."
"You don't need your hands." Tyrone says. "Use your cheeks!"
"Ha! Like I'm going to do that!" Boon laughs. "That is so inaccurate I don't know how other Pikachu hit the broad side of a barn like that! I always learned to point and zap."
Tyrone continues his descent. "You better start learning to aim with your face like the rest of us if you want to make it down this cliff."
The inevitable comes when one of the birds notices our position. The canyon fills with the sounds of various caws, whistles, and monstrous shrieks as the explorers rally in the sky for action. I look down—still a good drop until we reach some ground.
"Change of plan!" Cracka decides. "Speed up!" I loosen my grip on the rope, causing my drop to pick up speed exponentially. "Too fast! You're gonna kill yourself, ya crazy twat!" I immediately clench my fists around the rope, stopping me roughly six feet below my allies. Precious time is wasted waiting for them, as the explorers are already positioning themselves for a strike.
"Attention outlaws," a large bird with a brow resembling a fedora calls. "Not including me, there are twenty five Pokémon ready to Aerial Ace you if you do not surrender!"
"Yo fire-butt," Tyrone says. "Those birds are well within range! Tell your friend if he doesn't do something we're dead!"
"B-Boon!" I shout. "Any t-t-time!"
"What do you want me to do!?" He wails. "I can't-wait! I got an idea!" Boon stops rappelling and wraps the rope around his left arm and torso. Then he kicks off the wall and twists himself to where he can face the explorers and his back is against rock. Boon waves with his now free hand. "Check it out! We're good!"
"That's not a bad idea," Cracka says. "In fact, let's all do that. We can handle these birds up close and personal." So Cracka, Tyrone and I follow Boon's movement of wrapping our arm and body in rope for some security. It means no rappelling for the time being, but at least we can defend. And I think I know exactly what Cracka wants to do. I telepathically send Boon the plan. The explorers still flying are not going to wait longer.
"Launch the attack!" The fedora bird yells.
"Launch the attack!" Cracka echoes.
All twenty five of the birds become engulfed in white light as they charge towards us, and we in turn hop off the wall, swinging towards the attackers. It sounds like a dumb move, but it works. We don't collide head-on with the charging explorers. When we swing it actually sends us over and between them. The result is all twenty five birds crashing into the wall; the force of the impact either killing or knocking them unconscious. I cannot tell. Limp bodies peel off and fall like cartoons either way. We swing back towards the rocks, and although it hurts to slam into it, our momentum wasn't strong enough to cause more than a few bruises.
"Smashing," Cracka comments.
Fedora is the only explorer still flying now. It is too stunned to move from Boon's electric bowling ball flying at it. And that's bird number twenty six sent tumbling out of the sky.
Cracka whistles. "Wow. I didn't think you islanders were going to try that too. I expected you to wait at the cliff and try to fight from there." Cracka undoes his rope harness and continues sliding down. "Very well. Onward then."
The rest of the way is spent silent save for the occasional grunting and pausing due to our gloves wearing through and causing minor rope burn. A few Oran Berries and we'll be good as new.
==+*( |\/| )*+==
I hide in the brush, keeping careful watch of the targeted shacks. DER wants me to kill some NRG guy hiding in here, but the place is infested with guards. My movement through the foliage is kept limited to dashing between cover, catching my breath, and dashing again. I keep this up until I've circled ninety degrees to a spot where the bushes and tall grass are closest to a building's wall—and thankfully out of sight for most of the guards. There is just one problematic guy there, but his neck is sliced with my cleaver at his first "Huh?"
I climb through the window, landing in a small room barren save for a battery operated radio leaning against a wall. One of those propaganda messages is currently playing, going on and on about how evil the DER is for massacres, slavery, rape, prostitution, etc. The ironic thing is, the NRG does the exact same shit. Double standards at their finest. This building has two doors. I take a look out of one of them and immediately am spotted by someone.
"Hey!" Two shots from my FAL makes sure he's not a problem anymore. It also causes me many more, as the noise alerts everyone. Ah shit.
==+*( |\/| )*+==
Our rappelling finished, the four of us must now cross through the cliffsides to reach town. The spot where we landed is already close to the house where Boon and I were ambushed, so the majority of the second journey has been skipped. All we have to look forward to are a few bridges and a town at the end of it.
"I can't wait to get somewhere safe!" Boon exclaims as we push forward. "We've been in these cliffs for too long!" I second that.
"Count your blessings," Cracka says. "It could have been raining." That would suck. Rain would make this place impossible not just for my tail and I, but for anyone else as well. Boon nods his head.
"Could have. But if it was you two would still be in those wagons. By the way, do you have any other name me and Browley could call you besides Cracka?"
Cracka scoffs. "Of course. I never gave you permission to call me that, and neither has Tyrone."
"You gave him permission to say that?" Boon asks astounded.
"That's right." Tyrone affirms. "And don't you forget it."
"Actually, Tyrone used to call me a cracker before I gave him permission," Cracka explains. "The name stuck over time."
"Well, there are worse things to call you," Boon says shrugging.
"You'll shit yourself laughing at his real name!" Tyrone promised as he burst into giggles. "It's Wotter!" I smiled; Boon joined Tyrone's laughter.
"Oh my-…you can't be serious!" Boon cries. 'Wotter' frowns and crosses his arms.
"Unfortunately he's not," the Oshawott says. "I know, I hate the pun too."
"So-" Boon's giggles cause him to have difficulty speaking. "So, are supposed to call you that? Wotter?"
"Absolutely not!" Cracka shouts. "If you want to call me something, call me Wott. It's much better than 'Wotter'." Anything is better than Wotter.
"Wott it is!" Boon says. "Browley, if you're going to say something, keep that in mind." I know. Boon manages to stop laughing enough to ask our newest allies more questions. "You guys don't sound like you always got along. What changed that?"
"Why you want to hear our life stories?" Tyrone demands. "You still haven't told us everything about yourselves. Not even your names! We had to figure them out on our own!" Boon's face pales.
"Um… erh, ehm… you see…" he stumbles. "Browley and I are just curious about the Pokémon we rescued."
"And we're curious about the Pokémon that bailed us out," Tyrone counters.
"Alright, alright. Tell us when you're ready," Boon suggests. "Besides, we did tell you about us."
"Ha! That makes you sound like a bloody poof!" Cracka jokes. "Hey, what's that?"
Leaning against the cliffside is the body of the fedora bird from earlier, still carrying its satchel. I look inside and find only a thick stack of papers. Another journal… I'll read it later. I put the journal back where it was and hand the satchel off to Cracka.
"H-here. K-k-keep the satchel when I r-read that," I say.
"Saves us the money of buying a new one," Cracka acknowledges.
We reach the same spot in front of the town sign where Probopass spoke to us earlier. Just in time too, as thunder rumbles outside the cave. It is going to rain soon, which means we better double-time it to Poliwrath Cenote.
"Hey Browley, Tyrone?" Boon asks grinning. "What drops from the sky when it rains? Wotter!" The Pikachu bursts out laughing, then wipes a tear from his eye. "Sorry Wott, I had to get that out of my system."
"It came from over here!" A voice echoes from the stairway Boon and I went up last time we were here.
Cracka facepalms. "Thanks for that, ya fuckwit! Now they know where we are!"
Four Pokémon bound through the stairway entrance into the room, all wearing scarves with explorer badges. Only one of them carries a satchel, though this one is the smallest I've seen yet. Boon's telepathy informs me he has no idea what any of the species the explorers are. They look like panda cubs chewing on leaves though, so I'll just call them that.
"Get reinforcements!" one of the cubs shout.
"No! We're going to prove to them we can do this!" another barks back. "Positions everyone!" The four pandas scramble to form some sort of 'Super Sentai' stance, though they fall over themselves multiple times before getting it right. I almost don't want to kill them. I mean, they're so cute. I'm finally coming face to face with that team of ragtag misfits that dream big but nobody takes them seriously until they prove their might after many failures. There is no form of media that doesn't have at least one of those stories in it.
"Guys. Stop. Please." Boon begs. Tyrone and Cracka slump in confusion.
The pandas won't have any of it. Simultaneously they break into the most obvious creed reciting ever. "By the power of friendship we will not fall! From the east to the west we will explore all! Give up evil doers; know your place! We're not afraid to invade your personal space! We'll beat you without any magical tricks! We'll take you down, 'cause we're fly and we're G6!" That last part sounds suspiciously like a song I hate. They must die.
==+*( |\/| )*+==
Drive Darrell! Drive! Dammit man! When I said I wanted to try out a fifty cal. machine gun, I didn't mean I wanted to be your gunner! Darrell is behind the wheel of our jeep, while I man a M2 Browning attached to a pivoting mount in the back. Being the nut that he is, the driver decided to go straight through a big ass outpost of NRG guys just so I could have some targets. I would have preferred shooting beer cans! They don't fight back!
Now we are flooring it on a dirt road somewhere being chased by NRG fighters in their own trucks! I fire as much as I can, yet it doesn't seem to shoot fast enough! Five cars! Five cars crowded with who knows how many pissed people in them!
"Having fun?!" Darrell screams over the engine during a brief moment where I'm not shooting.
"NO!" I yell back.
I return to firing at the pursuing trucks, missing frequently due to the bumps in the road and being unaccustomed to the weapon's kick. Suddenly the Browning's roar cuts off; none of my bullets are firing anymore.
"What happened!?" Darrell shouts. "Is it jamming?!" No shit it's jamming! What do I do!?
"Y-yeah!" I answer, keeping my thoughts to myself.
"Keep your head! I have some CLP in the glove box!" Darrell informs.
"H-huh?!"
"CLP!" He switches to driving with one hand as he uses the other to pull out a dusty white capsule with its sticker ripped. He holds it up, which I snatch with haste. I remove the cap, revealing an opening for me to squeeze whatever this stuff is out of. "Put that on the insides!" I lift the top of machine gun as I would to load it, and squeeze a foamy substance out of the capsule all throughout. Then I close everything and pull the lever on the gun's side. Let's see if this stuff works.
A flood of bullets come from the barrel, decimating one of the NRG trucks and bringing it screeching to a halt. The passengers of the other vehicles lean out with their AKs and begin firing at me. In response, Darrell jerks the wheel, yanking our vehicle off the road and out of their line of fire for a few precious seconds which I use to wipe out another truck and its inhabitants. In no time we're back in the sights of the other vehicles, who come off the road as well to chase us further. The same tactic of jerking the wheel is used to score me another truck. This cat and mouse game continues for the fourth vehicle, but when we reach the fifth and final, trouble arises.
The weapon refuses to shoot no matter how hard I try. It's jammed again! I lift the top, but squeezing the CLP container gives me a pathetic fart from its opening. I slam the top down, yank on the lever, and try shooting again. Nothing! Another yank. Nadda! A bullet whizzes by my head, and another few go through the jeep into the passenger seat. Am I out of bullets? I check the can, finding it to be about a fourth full.
"What are you doing!?" Darrell screams. "Shoot them!" More bullets come at the jeep, tearing up the bumper and rear lights. Um-um-um! I need to do something! Um! I let go of the Browning and switch to my FAL. A gun's a gun! My bullets go through the final truck's windshield, taking ten shots before I nail the driver and send the vehicle spinning out of control. The men leaning out the sides with their guns are ripped from their seats by the sudden motion, rolling on the ground where I manage to shoot at least one of them. Our jeep speeds away from the rest before they have the chance to get up and return fire.
==+*( |\/| )*+==
Tyrone kills the first panda by means of a neck wound from claws glowing a light shade of blue. He then rips out its tongue and throws it at the next cub. This act distracts the explorer enough for Cracka to strike it with a tail surrounded by a spiral of water and Boon to clean up by throwing an electric ball. I move in to attack the third panda, preparing to Scratch its face to pieces. Imagine my surprise when the glow on my claws extend into four energy blades that cleanly slice through the panda cub's head. When the blades leave contact, they dissipate away, leaving me with blunt claws again. There is only one more panda to go. Boon slams himself into it, riding the sliding body until it hits a wall. Then he forces a sparkling bolt of electricity out of him palm into the cub. The resulting blast causes the bear to spasm as sparks fly from every limb. Damn, that electric power of his really is getting nasty.
"I found money! And lots of it!" Cracka calls from the carcass of the panda with the satchel. Really? Wow, wonder if the pandas broke the rules and brought some or if they stole it from someone. Tyrone sorts through the bag while his Oshawott friend counts the Poké. "I am finally going to be able to buy that golden shell! Chop, chop then. No sense lazing around when there's still more explorers on these cliffs." Agreed. We walk past the stairway and towards the next town, keeping eyes peeled for any more Pokémon we need to deal with. Fortunately there are none, and the tunnel does not expose my fire to any of the elements outside for the duration of the trip.
Eventually the tunnel becomes blocked by a wooden wall with a gate of metal—not unlike Timburr Town's. We hide the stolen badges in my satchel before approaching. It is Boon whom bangs his hand on the gate while Cracka, Tyrone and I stand back watching.
"Excuse me!" The Pikachu shouts. "Four Jichi citizens coming through!" I'm not a Jichi citizen. Oh well, the lie might be helpful. I don't know if the other two are citizens of this island or not. A slot in the metal slides open, revealing a pair of golden eyes.
"Hold still, if you would," a muffled voice presumably belonging to the eyes requests. One by one the eyes look each of us over, then returns to Boon. "Yes, you four match the descriptions Probopass gave. I'll grant you entry."
The slot closes, and moments later the gate screeches open vertically. We walk inside where we are greeted by a friendly lobby with a magenta carpet, leather chairs, and an antique table with comics neatly stacked. The gatekeeper reveals herself to be a large gray bird (about twice my height) with brown feathers on her underside. She holds an air of professionalism about her, keeping her chest puffed at an angle short of appearing obnoxious.
"We apologize for the direct path being blocked," the bird says.
"Thanks, but we managed," Boon replies. He notices the comics and picks up the one on top. "Wow! You have the latest issue of Captain Wailord!"
"Captain Wailord?" Tyrone asks. "Let me see that shit!"
"I take it you are fans," the gatekeeper concludes.
"Fuck yeah we're fans!" Tyrone exclaims. Interesting. I would never have pegged Tyrone for a comic book fan. Boon eagerly looks through the pages with the Axew, giggling at the contents within.
"Unfezant, how did you get this?" He wonders.
"A friend of mine brought it in yesterday." Unfezant responds. "You're welcome to read it as long as it doesn't leave this lobby. We like to keep all our guests entertained."
The electric Pokémon looks up from the pages and notices my confusion. "Oh! Browley! Come here! You're gonna love this!" I sigh. Might as well see what the big deal is.
I look over Tyrone's shoulder at the colorful pages of a giant blue whale Pokémon with a bowtie fighting crime.
"You see," Boon says. "Captain Wailord was once your average, everyday Wailord-"
"But then," Tyrone interrupts, "he accidentally swallowed a radioactive rock and became Captain Wailord!"
"W-w-what's the difference?" I stammer.
Tyrone looks at me like I asked why the sky is blue. "What's the difference?" He parrots. "What's the difference!? Bitch…you…Pikachu -" Tyrone looks at Boon. "- tell this motha-fucka what the difference is before I shank his flamin' ass!" Jesus! It was just a question!
"Captain Wailord has a little more spikes than a regular Wailord, and is ten times better in everything. He's better, he's faster, he's stronger, he's freaking Captain Wailord!" Boon explains.
"Leave them be." Cracka says from a leather chair against the wall. "I'm through reading this journal if you want to take a peek. This one is written in English." That's probably a better option for me. I take the journal from Cracka's outstretched paws and plop down in another chair. What type of novel did the bird write?
[=====|=====]
The Wigglytuff Guild is such an inspiration. They trained the heroes of the world! They haven't failed an expedition! Their graduates are among the best of the best! How could anyone not look upon them favorably? Yet somehow there are jealous Pokémon out there. Pokémon that wish they could be the ones getting all the attention. Even some exploration teams act this way. I don't understand it. Fame isn't everything in life. Being an explorer is about duty, integrity, honor, companionship, teamwork, valor, commitment, effort, and helping those in need. Fame should be the last thing on an explorer's mind.
The Explorers of Time and Darkness… I wonder where they are now. They left some time after they saved the world from being cast into an eternal nightmare. Some say the fame they gained probably became too much for them and they needed alone time. Others say they left on a personal quest, ranging from finding a lost friend to discovering a cure for the leader's amnesia. Though I have already stated my opinions on fame, I don't think that had anything to do with what happened to the two. I have my reasons. Those two Pokémon are something special, yet so full of irony. Their skill sets are impossible. What can be said about two Pokémon whom can brave the harshest of Mystery Dungeons, defeat behemoths of legends in combat, and even win battles against gods such as Dialga and Palkia. All at their base forms? That can't be right!
Which goes into the second layer of irony. Those heroes are so popular, yet hardly anybody knows any solid information as to who they are. What are their names? What species are they? What gender are they? Relationships? I've heard it all. In a market primarily dominated by authors attempting to write these Pokémon's story, the only consistency is in the bare-bones events which took place. There are stories where the leader is male, stories where the leader is female. Same applies to the partner. Sometimes they are both boys, while other times they are both girls. Which is it? I want to know the truth! I've seen published works of literature where the team is a couple. Oh so many, as a matter of fact. Even if they are the same gender, it happens. Then of course, there are the stories where they firmly remain friends only.
Species? Good luck with that. There are a lot of written accounts where a Riolu and Vulpix are the stars, but I've read and heard of them being other Pokémon just as often. Names? Everything is different. There have been so many names given not only to the heroes, but to the team as well. Why else would everyone call them the Explorers of Time and Darkness? It is the only universal name we can use! If anyone tries these other names they find the chances are nobody would know whom it is being talked about. I swear, I've heard names ranging from 'Bob' and 'Alice' to 'Shittingbuffalo' and 'Stardrop'. Team names get just a crazy! This is why I don't think fame had anything to do with their departure. Those Pokémon could walk into a crowded city without being recognized. I think that may be incredibly frustrating. Everybody knows about you, but nobody recognizes you. The Wigglytuff Guild and Treasure Town's aluminati may be the only Pokémon they can talk to.
I've been to Treasure Town once. Just like everyone else, I was so inspired by the Wigglytuff Guild and the Explorers of Time and Darkness that I just had to join. The Wigglytuff Guild was the only guild I could ever consider signing up for. That went well. So many Pokémon tried to join Wigglytuff's Guild that they had to turn most of them away and impose the strictest qualifications. I know a Pokémon who made it in. According to her, to keep up with the elite image the guild received, training became hellish. Before, the guild would expect constant work done, but it was always doable. Those who gradated became recognized as great explorers ready to truly start their careers. Things changed. Now, just to get into the guild one would have to be exceptional. Then recruits work ten times as hard as before, with expulsion from the guild as the immediate punishment for a failed mission. There is no tolerance for mistakes in that guild anymore. Rumor has it Wigglytuff himself is considering retirement, claiming that the job is "-no longer any fun." I don't think anyone has graduated from the Wigglytuff Guild since the Explorers of Time and Darkness. They've turned from one of the best trainers into the most elite grouping of exploration teams in the world.
I don't dislike the Wigglytuff Guild—far from it. As I said earlier, they're an inspiration. But they might be too much for me to ever dream of matching. Still, I found me another guild to sign up for. The Garchomp Guild is more in line with what the Wigglytuff Guild used to be, despite the guild leader's intimidating appearance. Every guild had to undergo some revisions due to the influx of Pokémon wanting to be explorers, so it isn't one hundred percent like Wigglytuff's classic guild, but time moves on. Four years have passed now, so the recruiting offices are not as overrun as when I joined, but they're still bad.
It was in late December last year when we first heard about the upcoming expedition to the Jichi Islands. This one was not going to be sponsored by the guild itself, but rather the Exploration Team Federation. Many guilds were to go to the islands over the course of several months, and they would stay there until either the Lost Treasure of Jichi's legends was found, or until the guild's tour ended. Our guild was sent in the middle of February, and we should be going home in September.
It's been confirmed that the Wigglytuff Guild is on these islands as well, searching for the treasure and watching over the guilds beneath them. If the rumor of Wigglytuff's retirement is correct, this might be his last expedition. I wonder if he will settle down here. Islands are nice places to retire, except probably this one. Too many deaths in the war. Of course the presence of such a guild coupled with the fact it is the ETF themselves telling us to be here has many explorers wondering if the Explorers of Time and Darkness are here as well. It is possible, though I wouldn't be surprised if they opted out somehow. I would.
[=====|=====]
The rest of the pages are blank. Unfezant is in the lobby's corner resting inside a nest I didn't notice earlier, while Boon and Tyrone are sitting on the floor playing Slaps.
"Ow!" Tyrone hisses when Boon slaps his wrist. "This shit ain't fair! You have fur!"
"And Wotter doesn't?" Boon counters laughing. "Besides, you have claws!"
"Ain't no cuts on you," Tyrone points out.
"Should we stop?" Boon asks. "We can stop if you want."
"Hell no we ain't gonna stop!" Tyrone answers. "I'm no pussy-ass bitch!" He slaps Boon's wrist.
"Shit! That one hurt!" Boon chuckles. "How is it this is more painful than fighting explorers? Minus Flygon?" Boon slaps the Axew's wrist.
"Mother fu-!" Tyrone cuts himself off. "Because we can dodge explorers?"
"Ha! Yeah, most of the time!" Boon's wrist is slapped again. "Gack!"
A door opposite the gate opens, revealing a shivering Cracka carrying two satchels practically overflowing with stuff.
"I'm back," he says. "It's bloody cold outside! And windy as shite!" The Oshawott casts a glance at me and sees I'm through reading. "They didn't do anything too stupid did they?"
"Hey!" Boon and Tyrone both complain.
"I w-w-wasn't paying a-…t-t-t-tention." I mumble. Cracka rolls his eyes.
"Fantastic. This -" he drops the satchels onto the carpet, where their colorful contents of orbs, seeds, spikes, and a plastic case of berries spill out. "- is the result of those Pancham's money. We're going to need more, and considering the circumstances, I don't recommend Ty's and mine expertise."
"Gay!" Tyrone comments.
"If I was you I would pull some odd jobs," Cracka suggests.
"I still work for Infernape!" Boon adds. "I can check if there are any deliveries I can do here! Those Warp Seeds we gave Kangaskhan can bring our pizza over in no time! All I have to do is pick 'em up and take 'em to the customer."
"That'll work too. The more jobs, the better," Cracka says.
He has a point. Money buys us things we can't pick up from the explorers, and stealing from Jichi is not an option. They provide us with safezones and as the mines clearly shown, powerful support. Angering these islanders will only make things way more difficult than they need to be. It is best to keep on their good side.
"Oh no…" Boon groans. "I totally forgot my working hat! It should be alright, but I might get a pay cut." As long as we make money, I don't care.
"I have an idea!" Tyrone offers raising his hand. "What if we shave Cracka and Boon, and then sell-"
"No," Cracka bluntly answers.
Author's note: Hello again! I've noticed the line breaks don't show up on all devices, making this story confusing to read for certain users. My solution? I created my own line breaks! It's so artistically challenged! Hopefully now this story makes more sense for them. Heck, for clarity I'll create more than one custom line break! One for Africa flashbacks, one for standard breaks(which I didn't use here), and one for lengthy journals! And maybe even more!
There are quite a few snippets from Browley's past thrown in here. I felt like it was necessary and would break things up from all the Pokémon battles last chapter had.
The player character and his/her partner from the Explorers games are a tricky subject for me. On the one hand, I feel they need to be included because of how important they are and how this story has a strong connection to their respective games. At the same time though, I don't want to dictate anything for them. Many fanfiction stories say exactly who the characters are, giving names, species, genders, personalities, and relationships for the reader to just accept as canon (which is referenced here as in-universe fanfiction and novelizations). But the actual games leave that all to the player to decide. As much as I want to include these two characters, their state as avatars make things difficult. Should I just do what other stories do and make them who I want? I don't feel like I should.
Inoculation takes place after their games. I want that to be clear. Those characters in the guild and around Treasure Town? They exist in this story. Whether they actually appear or not varies, but they exist in this 'world'. Those exact same characters, no matter how minor. So I don't want to say who the hero and partner is, because then I feel like this isn't an unofficial extension of the game in narrative format, but rather an extension of MY game. That's a no-no for me. As a result, I decided that for now I'll write them in a way that leaves them open for interpretation. Who is the hero and the partner of those games in this story? Whoever you want them to be. They can be from your game, they can be from your fanfiction, they can be from someone else's fanfiction, they can be from a Let's Play you watched, etc. They ARE those same characters. But this limits the stuff I can do with them. I can't have characters interact with them because then it would usually require giving some sort of information on them. Information without an official canon control. So their roles would have to be limited to what I'm doing now, keeping them so far in the background they practically don't exist. Sure I can mention them and a few of their general actions through universal titles, but that only goes so far.
What do you think? Should I assign stuff to them so they can play more direct and/or solid roles, or should I stay as is and let the reader decide who they are; even if it means less solidity from those two?