May Day City was a beauty in itself. The whole thing was pieced together like a jigsaw puzzle; as well as the ground floor (which from an aerial view, the streets were designed like an open flower), there was a just-as elaborate steel floored walkway interconnected with bridges, roofs, and staircases just a couple of feet above. Since the recent population boom to hit the area, these top pathways were kept clear for fast moving workers: where time was of the essence and human traffic would be an unwanted hindrance, as well as a safety hazard.

As such, the rider was one of these people. Even under the conditions of the elevated pathway, she was going dangerously fast, and her two long plaited ponytails tugged harshly on her scalp. She wasn't even watching the road, entrusting her stallion not to crash into anything major, or to run off the walkway altogether. She was still watching the dragon like a hawk, who unfortunately, was nearing his destination. It alighted inside the tower of a tall modern factory - one which had a spiralling staircase encircling it's majestic layout, right the way up to the front door for land bound arrivals. The dragon was in sight for a brief moment, before it's shadow delved down deeper into the building. The rider gritted her teeth, and her stallion seemed to share her emotions. The white on his hair turned a deep gold, until his speed was enough to match that of a small vehicle's. Upon reaching the stairs, they climbed each set vertically, not bothering to take the spiralling but safer route. A short, clipped sound of the hooves signified their arrival at the top - at which point, the rider simultaneously tumbled off Zebstrika's back, holding a satchel in her grip. Not looking back, she barged through the door, running through floor after floor and not a single worker paying mind.

At a first glance, the system of this work room may have seem overly complex, like the very foundations of May Day. This particular place was only home to a delivery centre - there was an open top roof for the delivery of air mail, which allowed filtered yellow sunlight to spill through the infrastructure to give it a light and airy feature, accompanied by infinite numbers of tunnels tapping off into different corridors on different floors, and there was a constant freefall of documents for eager, little messenger pokemon and people alike at the bottom. And the entire thing was open plan.

"Mike!" the red head called, using a golden plated staircase to make her way to the relative centre of the room - the person she was speaking to was a couple of metres above her, standing on a circled platform. Mike was a rather busy and hands on type of manager, meaning that his trench coat's pockets were always filled with hammers, screwdrivers, buttons and sewing kits. Adjacent to him was a rather tall Dragonite, just making his landing and holding a bag full of mail which was hanging just under his claw. Upon recognising the rider, he gave a friendly wave, although the gesture wasn't returned. "Mike! I would have been here sooner than that winged lizard if I-"

"Didn't get hit by Crazy Sue's frying pan?" It was obvious that he didn't share the same 'pain' that the girl did. "Amelda, we told you not to take that route back to the company. It's not so much about what happens to you - if this Dragonite here had gone to help you, he could have gotten hurt. Girls are replaceable. Mail orders and Dragonite are not. You don't have to be the hero all the time."

"Please! If I really wanted to hear that stupid 'pokemon should do the dangerous tasks, not humans…'" It suddenly clicked to Amelda that if Mike knew about the frying pan incident, then that Dragonite saw her, and passed over without so much of a glance to see if she was okay…

"Look, Princess, I'd hate to be right all the time. But us humans can't possibly relate to the strength of pokemon. Why, that's why they exist in the first place. So we can aspire to be like them, and simply admire the strength that we do not have… Ha Ha…" His gaze drifted away, looking in no place in particular, obviously deep in a daydream. Already. Amelda took off her satchel, and threw it square in his face, offended that his attention could be drawn away from her so easily. And this wasn't the first time this has happened either. Mike always was a dreamer. But not about the realistic things - he was always dreaming about humans with pokemon superpowers, or rather, himself as a human-pokemorph hero of sorts. It was just this particular topic which irked her;- Amelda couldn't see how humans were simply happy with being weaker than those animals. Which is why, on this day, she wanted to prove that humans can do things just as well as pokemon could. Well, didn't that backfire…

Dragonite reflexively took hold of the satchel before it did any real damage, and emptied out the contents into a mesh basket beside him. A boy on a Pigeot came, took the basket, and replaced it with a fresh one before flying away - all within a matter of seconds.

"…Yes, and that is how such a perfect pokemorph being would quickly become an idol in May Day… Ah! Amelda! I may have gone off track a little~…" 'Oh gee, you don't say?'"Your pay cheque will arrive here tomorrow morning, do be sharp princess. Also, take it easy! You are but a girl, after all."

Quite possibly, that one line was enough to infuriate Amelda. She balled one hand into a fist, and pointed the other straight towards Dragonite. "Fine, if you think I can't take care of myself, I'll face him, one on one!" Her pose was defiant, and it seemed that even her deep red eyes glowed with anticipation. However the Dragonite, being somewhat of a pacifist, took a few nervous steps backwards. Mike, being Mike, completely ignored the outburst of emotion, and carried on from his discordant trail of thoughts.

"Why yes, there's that too, I'm sure I had more instructions, but I must admit I've forgotten them. I think maybe… see if Jake knows. Run along now," although Amelda had no intentions of 'running' anywhere. When she walked slowly and purposefully towards the spaced out man, Dragonite took that as his cue. He flew forwards, grabbed Amelda in his giant arms, then started the airborne decent back down to the ground floor.

"What the… let go of me, Lizard! I don't need pokemon with wings for anything - I know what stairs are, and I like to keep my feet on the ground! Are you even listening!" She frantically cried. Despite a few fairly painful elbows to the gut, Dragonite stayed completely calm, without uttering so much as a groan. And when Amelda demanded that she should be put down, he placed her gently in front of a makeshift reception desk - still without complaint.

"Do you ever fight back?" She muttered under her breath. Dragonite whined softly in response, then turned to wave to the boy behind the desk. It was simply made out of a curved wooden bench, with stacks of files behind him - ever growing, as fresh sheets fell onto the piles like snow from above. A pokemon - an Emolga - was busy doing the sorting job, by hopping on and off the pillars in a mechanical fashion. The kid who owned him was the same age as Amelda, if a little shorter. The brightness of the room reflected on his expressions, and just his face would've been enough to lighten the mood if Amelda wasn't sulking still.

"Morning, Princess!" He said, in a childlike tone. "What can I do for you today?"

Amelda groaned; Mike really hadn't told Jake about her next job either? "Daydreaming Manager up there said he might've left instructions for my next batch down here. If not, then I may as well take up any other delivery that needs doing." Jake looked up deep in thought, either that, or with the mock-pondering attitude that Mike possessed. Luckily, Amelda didn't notice it this time, for eventually his eyes focused in on a single black mark in the air - one that looked clearly different from the other letters and envelopes in the mix. "Ah! That looks like…"

"Molga!" The squirrel type made an impressive leap into the air to grab the black note in his tiny mouth, then flexed his webbed arms to swoop down onto the reception desk. Amelda snatched the A5 sized note from Emolga, which happened to be a postcard. But not of the conventional kind. Emolga was still holding a piece of paper in it's mouth, which Amelda could see was riddled with numbered instructions and bullet points in tiny handwriting. Looks like Mike had found the instruction sheet after all. Jake took it from his pet/co-worker, while Amelda studied the postcard for a little longer. Dragonite also leaned inwards to get a closer look, just as confused as Amelda was.

"Hey, what on Earth is this meant to mean?" She asked.

"'A postcard has come in the post for Amelda. She really must have a romantic secret admirer, with such a beautiful image, and such elaborate messages….'" She raised an eyebrow at Jake, then back at the note. The 'beautiful image' was simply a large, white, ghostly grin on a black background - the smirk filled the entire page, and reminded Amelda of the Cheshire Cat in fairy tales. Mike sure did have a weird sense of humour. On the back, was simply titled "Lots of Love."

"What on Earth…"

"Ah! There's more!" Jake said, continuing his reading. "'Amelda has been working too much over time recently, so please tell her to take a break, and possibly find some friends. She's becoming such a loner these days, and I hear the circus is in town. Say Uncle Mike said to relax, and enjoy the show!' And… that's it for you, really. And Dragonite, Mike wants you back up. And that's really the end of the list."

The dragon perked up, withdrawing his attention from the odd card, then elevated himself back to the central platform. Amelda placed the postcard in a back pocket, meaning to trash it as soon as she exited the building; she couldn't stand to look at it any longer, for the more she puzzled over it, the more it began to look like nightmare fuel.

"Jake, why is it that people don't believe in me? Is it because I'm only human?"
"Eh? If this is about Mike, ignore him. He views everything younger than him as nothing but dolls, and Princess, I believe in you! You can totally beat Dragonite's behind in a fair race, I know it!"

"Well… about that… Hey you're right! I'm the Fire Princess! There's no way I can lose to a winged lizard, or any other pokemon!"

He smiled. "That's the Princess I recognise… Actually, I've always wanted to see the circus myself. Wait a moment, and I'll come with you."

"Alright, but hurry up. Can't believe I'm being laid off for the rest of the day…" As Amelda turned, she could faintly hear Emolga's protest of his partner's preparation for his premature leave. Amelda herself sent an idle hand towards her chest, for that was where she kept her locket. It was a crimson gemstone, and quite possibly the origins of her love for all things red. Back at home, her brother had one of the exact same design - except for his one actually opened, as a real locket should. And inside there was a faded, blackened picture of Mother and Father; it wasn't crisp enough to make out any features, but it was hope enough to know that the two weren't always completely alone. Not completely.

Engraved on the back, Amelda assumed was the word "Princess" - however an 's' was missing, but even so, she took up the title as her own. It made her feel somewhat special, as if it would be that single word that would distinguish her from the others. Amelda, the Fighting Fire Princess.

A sense of warmth flooded over her whenever she did this, as if heat emanated from the jewellery itself. When Amelda left the factory, she found her ride still waiting outside, standing patiently. She stroked his mane tenderly, grateful at least that he was allowed for some rest after this morning's episode.

"We'll give it about 5 seconds for the kid to arrive, otherwise it's just a day to ourselves, kay?" Zebstrika snorted, then arced his mane so his face was closer to his master's. Unfortunately, the kid came sprinting out the front door, his clothing and hair slightly static with electricity. Presumably, from a very angry electric squirrel.

"Please, don't ask, just go!"

A/N: Right, second chapter. Welp, I really have nothing to say here. Enjoy, or so? I suppose that would be so. Pretty please review?

~ Memoir Snow ~