Kangaskan

Cold rain dripped into his eyes. He blinked and shook his head, then continued bicycling along the muddy route. Someone had bravely tried to make a stone road, but the mud made everything slick. It was somewhat dangerous, but the lesser used of two winding routes to a remote city. And when it came to criminal business, the lesser used was the better choice.

The city of Sia Gendru was his goal. There was some festival going on there later tonight. A religious holiday? A celebration of some long-ago victory? A tribute to independence? A special time for a different culture? He wasn't quite sure. He had the notes in his backpack, but didn't want to stop just for that. What he was after was a special charm made in Sia Gendru that enhanced certain Pokemon abilities. The managers of his group wanted one to see if they could make one.

He was regretting his decision to sign up for the job, though.

The bike sloshed through the veil of mud. The chain spit water droplets everywhere, slowly soaking his pant legs. Because of the haze, he couldn't see hazards until he was almost on top of them. Because of the winter's frosts and thaws, the rock road was further cracked and dotted with potholes. His raincoat didn't do an adequate job of retaining heat and he knew he would be chilly if he stopped. The standard uniform would have kept him warmer (and drier), but it would stand out too much and betray him.

This was all before he arrived in Sia Gendru. Once there, he had to consider how to get a hold of the charm, who might be guarding it, if there was a hiding spot... if he could get a warm shower. That would be nice, really. He could feel slick mud that had been flung from the front wheel starting to slide down into his socks.

Letting out a huff of water vapor, he looked ahead. There was a roadside shrine of some sort. It was brightly colored in orange, red, and yellow. It had no walls, only a rocky slab floor, four columns, and an elegantly designed roof. The roof was all that mattered to him. He parked his bike next to it and took shelter for a short break.

There was a low table with a few worn offerings: tiny bowls, foreign coins, little boxes with prayer slips peeking out. This sat in front of a statue of a legendary Pokemon he wasn't familiar with. It was probably some myth the locals believed in, nothing that really interested him. He was interested in the real and powerful Pokemon of the world.

However, he had lost his last team in a debacle about a busted mission a month back. It hadn't been his fault. Everything had been going smoothly and he had nearly gotten away with the artifact. And then there was that Trainer. Nobody had warned him that there would be some ten-year-old kid running around with the most powerful Pokemon he had ever seen. The kid had a Raticate, a freaking common Raticate, that was at least twice as strong and quick as any that he had seen other associates use. It was ridiculous.

The blame had somehow fallen on him and his team had been taken. Not that he cared. If they could be beaten by a stupid Raticate, he couldn't use them. Surely the syndicate had some better Pokemon in storage. If he succeeded in claiming this charm, he should prove himself worthy of those better Pokemon.

Now that he had stopped, he was getting cold. The near-freezing rain was going as steady as ever. He looked around for any hope that it would let up. Nothing really, but...

Further up the road, he could see a small shadow through the rainy haze. It seemed to be a child splashing through the muddy puddles. But in this chill? As it landed, he realized that it was much too small to be a human child capable of jumping like that. It was some kind of Pokemon.

He bit his lip. He was supposed to turn over any Pokemon that he acquired. However, didn't that concern stolen Pokemon? If he caught a wild one, he might be able to keep it. Some guys he knew did have personal Pokemon that could not be taken. That would keep him from finding himself in this kind of situation again. But would he want a random Pokemon he found on a strange Route?

The Pokemon kept traveling down the road, closer to the shrine. He could begin to make it out: a broad oval head with small outgrown ears, a thick tail for balance, strong leaping legs, a dark brown and tan skin that was thick and hard. It was around two and a half feet tall. It didn't seem familiar until he saw the pointed claws on all four paws and the way it playfully jabbed at the puddles as it landed. She was the youngest Kangaskan that he had ever seen alone.

His heart thumped in excitement. Those were really rare and powerful. This kind of Pokemon was restricted to the upper levels, not given to grunts like him. But if she was his own, they shouldn't be able to do anything about it. Right?

It was worth a shot.

He opened his backpack quietly, to avoid drawing attention from her. He had several pieces of equipment, including the secret Bandit Pokeball. When a stolen Pokemon was released, it was normally hostile to its captor. If it was transferred over to the black and silver Bandit, though, they would initially be released confused, but less hostile. The manual said that it could be used as a normal Pokeball and the captive would not become confused. He could only hope that it was true.

With a Bandit in hand, he hid by a column and waited for the young Kangaskan to come by. Rare Pokemon were usually hard to catch wild, and the Bandit wasn't much better than a cheap Normal Pokeball. But he could chuck some mud at it. That would startle her enough to make things easier. And since she was a youth, she might be easier that way too.

She continued jumping along the road, landing in mud puddles whenever she could. If she even noticed, she paid him no heed. He knelt down and scooped up some of the thicker mud. When she splashed close enough to splatter the column, he came out and...

Stopped dead in his tracks. Behind the young Kangaskan was her mother, a grand eight foot tall dame that looked like she could yank the shrine's columns right out of the ground. She could easily snap his bones. The daughter looked up at him and barked curiously. The mother smiled darkly and shook her head. She flexed the claws on her left paw, then drew them across her neck in warning.

She wasn't worth taking on alone. He stepped back into the shrine carefully, holding his hands up. The mud ball he'd been holding splattered onto the ground. The mother watched him without blinking. Unnerved by this, he backed into the offering table and nearly stumbled onto the statue. But he caught himself and kept watching her.

After a minute which seemed to last forever, she took her eyes off him and went back to watching her child. The adult walked instead of hopped, with surprisingly soft footsteps. That was how he had missed her completely. Hoping they would pass by soon, he stepped over to where the rain streamed off the roof and washed the mud off his hands. This wouldn't go into his mission report. Not a chance.

The daughter eyed the road, spotting a particularly large puddle by the corner of the shrine. Engrossed in her game, she shook herself, then bounced as high as she could manage to land in the puddle with a grand splash. Mud went flying everywhere: onto the columns, onto his bike, onto the mother, onto him, onto the offerings, onto the statue.

The mother made a concerned gasp. He looked at the statue and noticed that the mud had splattered onto the legendary Pokemon's face. Although he didn't know anything about this myth, he knew that it generally wasn't a good idea to anger one of the legends. This dragon might not care about a lowly roadside shrine, or it might be fickle enough to be enraged over a muddy statue. It might not even exist, or it might be able to take immediate vengeance. One could never be certain.

In this case, it was best to not take any chances. He remembered getting a packet of finger wipes from the last restaurant he ate in. Finding them in the front pocket of his backpack, he used those to wash the mud off the dragon statue. As he cleaned off the dragon's eyes, he noticed that yellow gemstones had been placed into the sockets. Temporarily shined by the wipe's moisture, they seemed to gleam with life.

It caused his blood to turn icy cold. It was just a statue, and yet there was something about this shrine. Looking at the yellow eyes made him uneasy. It was like his mother had caught him stealing cookies and was about to scold and punish him. He felt guilty, but he wasn't sure of what.

There was a hard tap on his shoulder.

Tensing, he managed not to jump in fright and knock over the offering table. He turned and looked up at the mother Kangaskan. Her head barely cleared the roof of the shrine. It was far more intimidating to see her from this angle. But she just nodded and made a soft yet rough growl. Was she grateful that he had taken care of the unintentional insult?

He nodded back, finding his mouth too dry for anything else. Satisfied with this, she turned and left the shrine to say something to her daughter. The Kangaskan girl's eyes went wide and she nearly whimpered. The adult told her something that seemed to settle her nerves. She then took another step into the rainy road, then bounded away. She was gone.

The young one was still there. She looked at him, tilted her head. She made a quiet bark that could have been saying anything. Was it really going to be that simple?

He got up, but made the mistake of glancing back at the statue. The dragon's yellow eyes were glaring at him accusingly. The mud was gone, so the young Pokemon was in no trouble. But somehow, he found himself being judged of something he couldn't understand. Or maybe it was something he did know, but conveniently ignored.

He went ahead and used the Bandit ball to capture the Kangaskan. She didn't struggle any, so it locked her to him with no difficulty. But that only served to make the statue's gaze more intense.

Grabbing his bike for a running start, he set off back on route to Sai Gendru. The rain never did let up. Neither did the gaze of the unknown legend.

…

Emerald entry: If you come across a young Kangaskan playing by itself, never try to catch it. The baby's parent is sure to be in the area, and it will become violently enraged.

Something different from me, a piece with no dialogue.