Disclaimer:
Audition 5: Godot
Former Occupation: Fictional Prosecutor, Coffee Drinker
Max: So… Mr. Godot, is it? Are you ready to give a disclaimer?
Godot: …Ha! What a stupid question.
Ex…excuse me?
Let me ask YOU a question, Mr. English… are YOU ready? To pass judgment?
Um… well, you haven't given your disclaimer yet, so… no.
Well then… you shouldn't expect someone to be ready… unless you're ready yourself!
That's… that's a good point, actually. Whenever you want then, go ahead.
No matter the man… we all wear masks. Either on our faces, or over our hearts… or over the fact that we don't own Pokémon.
Please, please give me another one, just so I know all of your one-liners are that freaking amazing.
The true measure of a man is in the amount of work he does, regardless of whether he owns his company or not. Keep that in mind, dear readers.
… You are so coming back.
Much obliged, Mr. English.
Chapter 37: Afraid to Live
Toto
Oy vey. And I thought Inigo was a bad patient.
I'm not saying he wasn't, because he totally was. One, he didn't listen to Amber when it comes to his treatment (and if Amber actually does know anything, it's medicine), so that's stupid enough. But it's friggin' common sense not to try and walk or do too much physically taxing work with two broken legs! The lengths that brainwashed servants will go for their masters, I suppose.
But this Dwebble. I don't get him. For starters, all he speaks is gobbledy-gook, so I can't even ask him what his deal is. Then there's the fact that he's actively trying to remove his bandages and scurry away to do others things while nursing a shotgun wound the size of, oh I don't know, his entire body. Thorax, I suppose, if I wanted to be more precise, but who cares?
Amber actually told me to watch him while she went and tended to the herd (apparently no one around here knows how to properly treat a wound) and it's, like, impossible. He sits perfectly still as long as I'm looking directly at him, but as soon as I rest my eyes a little, or turn away to talk to the soothing voice, BOOM. Gone. And then I have to help Amber go look for where it's run off to which is just a pain.
Isn't this demeaning work for a Pokémon such as yourself? The voice asked, as I followed behind Amber while we searched the nearby woods (it had actually gone outside! The nerve of some Pokémon!)
"At least we're trying to help other Pokémon for a change, instead of helping more stupid, useless humans," I reasoned. "I don't mind as much as I could."
You still mind, though? Even when helping a fellow Pokémon?
"I don't mind that part at all," I explained. "What I mind is following the orders of… you know, one of them."
There's a fix for that. A permanent one.
I stopped dead in my tracks, but quickly continued following Amber, ensuring she wouldn't notice. I looked over her, at the girl that had risen me since I was one, who I'd watched grow into the ignorant human she was today, despite my best efforts.
… Could I really?
Of course you could,the voice came. Your species has quite the powerful jaw… and you are all alone. One simple Crunch and…
I stopped again, lost in self-conflict. I knew killing was wrong, I knew that it one of those things that you never really get forgiven for, but at the same time… was it really so bad?
Amber noticed my hesitation this time, and turned around immediately. "What's wrong, Totodile?" She asked, bending down, leaning ever so closer to me. "You didn't hurt yourself too, did you?" I felt my mouth unhinge, just a little.
Do it. Urged the voice.
"Yo! Amber!" The call shook me from my thoughts, and I whirled around quickly to see Axel, parading a hunter back towards the camp. "I caught one!" He and the man stopped in front of us, and Axel (and, by necessity, the hunter) gave a short bow in greeting. "He's going to help us figure out what we're up against."
"Says you," the hunter blurted out. Really, dude? That's the best you could come up with? I know Slowpokes with a sharper wit than that.
"Yup, says me." Axel came back… equally well. "Anywho, what are you guys doing out here, anyway?"
"That Dwebble ran off again," Amber whined. "I've told it no less than ten times to sit still and let its wounds heal, but it keeps getting up!"
"Oh, is it not supposed to be doing that?" Axel asked. "Sorry, I saw it over by the road gathering flowers. I figured it was harmless enough, so I just left it. Actually, I'll just…" he jogged briskly towards the road, obliviously dragging the hunter along with him. "Dwebble! Oh Mr. Dwebble! You've got to go back to base now, Doctor Amber's orders!"
"Dwebble…" the hunter mused, eyes suddenly widening to the size of dinner plates. "Wait, you mean that was that psychopath that we saw gathering flowers back there?"
"Psychopath?" Amber asked. "What do you mean?"
"That thing is crazy!" The hunter yelled, no doubt overreacting a little. "The moment it sees any of us do anything, it smashes its shell to pieces and comes right at us. Like we killed its mother or something."
"Did you?" Amber asked accusingly.
"I'm a hunter, not a murderer," the man spat defensively. "I'm only trying to make a living, I don't go around killing Pokémon because I feel like it."
"Well, don't worry," Axel assured the man. "You might be terrified of that Dwebble, but that Dwebble ought to be equally terrified of Amber by now, so we should make it back without too much of a ruckus."
Axel was right, of course. When the Dwebble emerged, flowers clutched in its pincers, it immediately tensed up, ready to pounce and tear the life out of the hunter. Amber, however, swatted it away almost as soon as smashed its shell on the ground and tried to jump, and picked the thing up and carried it back to the cave, despite all its squirming and protests.
The hunter, also despite all his squirming and protests, was led back to the cave as well. The uppity Scizor was surprisingly understanding, considering all the perfectly justifiable suspicion he'd had of us for this whole time. After Axel explained what had happened, he plopped the guy down in front of… Medici. Oh, Arceus, here we go.
"All right guy, we can do this easy way or the hard way," Medici began, spitting out the tired, clichéd dialogue as if he'd invented it himself. "You can answer my questions when I ask them, or I can reach into your mind and pull the information I want out by sheer psychic force." He floated up to the guy's eye level, giving him a condescending pat on the back. "And just to warn you, only one method doesn't leave permanent brain damage. Guess which."
"I ain't talking," the hunter spat.
"I'll be the one who decides that," Medici said cockily, prancing about in mid-air like he was the world's most special child. "First thing's first, what's your name?"
"I ain't talking," the hunter repeated.
"Patrick Buster, eh? Interesting." From the man's shocked reaction, I knew that Medici had hit it right on the money. Which was good, because we wouldn't want his self-esteem to take a dive, now would we? "And your middle name is… William, cool. Patrick William Buster, good strong name. Your parents had some sense."
"How are you…" the man sputtered.
"Now, now, don't fight it," Medici interrupted. "We all know that Fighting is weak against Psychics after all. Best thing you could do is try and empty your mind, it'll make this just a little more challenging then it is now."
I was beginning to feel sick to my stomach. I turned away, immediately noticing that, yet again, that stupid Dwebble had decided to crawl off somewhere. Amber noticed too, and was about to ask me to help search for it again, but Axel interrupted.
"I'll go look for it," he offered. "You stay here and look after the herd… and Medici." He cast a glance over at the bloated Pokémon, now gleefully extracting the number of hunters from poor, idiotic Patrick Buster's brain. "Just make sure he doesn't get too carried away, ok? I'd hate to have that guy's intelligence on my conscience."
"Will do," Amber nodded, heading over to the Sawsbuck to check up on one of their younger members. Axel poked around the cave for a bit and, satisfied that the Dwebble wasn't inside, headed back out to look for it. Not wanting to stay and listen to Medici toy with Buster anymore, I tagged along, accepting Axel's offer to carry me on his shoulder.
"How've you been lately, Toto?" Axel asked as we started up a perimeter around the cave. "You've seemed a bit… off. Could just be me." He shrugged, which, surprisingly enough, didn't shift me around all that much. "It probably is. I guess I worry too much."
I nodded, letting out short, affirmative sounding growls. I have been doing great, Axel, thanks for asking! The soothing voice that talks to me always makes me feel so much better when I'm angry or scared. It's almost enough to make all these stupid humans' antics bearable! Almost.
Of course, I don't mean you, Axel. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were a Pokémon! I've heard stories of people turning into Pokémon… I wonder, could they be true? You'd make a good Bulbasaur… if only.
We'd circled round the camp maybe four times, making wider passes each time, when Axel finally bent down (which, again, didn't shift me as much I'd thought it would) and looked at the ground. "Dwebble tracks," he noted. "Or… maybe deer tracks. I'm not sure. But there's tracks here, so I'm going to follow them, sound good, Toto?"
It sounds stupid, but I'm too happy you asked my opinion to care. And would you look at that? It looks like we went the right way after all.
Because the tracks led us to a clearing, where there were several mounds in the ground, marked with a few jagged rocks. Dwebble was there, placing the flowers it had gathered from the roadside on one of the mounds. From the plethora of flowers that were already on the grave, I could tell he did this often.
"Hey…" Axel called to it, not daring to step any closer. "Is it all right if I come in? We're worried about you back at base."
The Dwebble turned around, eying Axel with suspicion before waving us in with one of its torn-up claws. Axel stepped carefully through the graveyard, eventually finding a seat nearby Dwebble, in front of the flower-covered monument.
"Friend of yours?" He asked. The Dwebble nodded. "Killed by hunters?" Another nod. "These hunters we're fighting, or…" This time it shook its head. "Right. But they're similar enough, huh?" Another nod.
Humans making a Pokémon's like miserable. Why am I not surprised?
"Well, I'm sure that he…"
"DWEB!"
"She, sorry, I'm sure that she's happy you're still thinking about her."
The Dwebble said nothing (not that it could), and stared at the grave. It looked at Axel, almost as if expecting him to pick him up and drag him back to base again, but Axel just sat there. Curious, I looked at his face, and noticed that it was scrunched up, as if deep in… oh, Arceus. He's thinking. This ought to be good.
Best of luck though, Axel.
"I kind of… really envy those people who can 'communicate wordlessly with Pokémon' and whatnot, you know? I remember reading that back in the Ransei period they called those people Warriors… nowadays they've got some fancy, scientific name for it, 'Twice-Touched' or some other nonsense…" He paused. "Unfortunately, I'm not one of those people, so I've got to use words… which kind of sucks, because I'm not very good with them." He looked at the Dwebble, frowning. "So bear with me, ok? I'll try to make this as painless as possible. I just might not succeed, is what I'm saying."
The Dwebble seemed apathetic either way, perfectly content to listen to Axel ramble on as long as he didn't try to move him from in front of the grave.
Axel took a deep breath, leaning back on his hands and staring at the grave for a little while. "I don't believe in a lot," he started, an odd start in my humble opinion. "It's not really my thing. Amber got me to go to synagogue once or twice, but I didn't get much out of it. I don't know. I don't have a problem with it, but…" he sighed. "Anyway, one thing I do believe, because it's a proven fact, is that… we all die. Eventually. And, because of that, we shouldn't be afraid of dying… not that there's anything wrong with being afraid of Death, especially if it's of another person, but… well…"
He sighed, letting out a growl of frustration as he fumbled for words. It was almost kind of painful, watching Axel try and get a point across. Come on, Axel, I'm sure I've seen you more articulate than this!
"The thing is," Axel continued. "You've got the not being afraid of Death thing down. Boy do you ever. With the way you threw yourself at that hunter and all the wounds all over your body and your complete refusal to let them heal… yeah. Makes my point for me, kind of." The Dwebble grunted, almost as if thanking Axel, but I couldn't tell you for sure because, again. Gobbledy-gook.
"What bothers me about it, though… and, I mean I've only known you for a few hours so take this or leave it, but… I can't help but think that, if she were looking down on you right now, she'd be sad with how you were living."
The Dwebble started snapping angrily at this, affirming for the first time, for me at least, that it actually understood the English language.
"I mean…" Axel continued. "Here you are, alive and well, and you're doing everything you can to get yourself killed. Do you think she would want that for you? I mean… if she cares about you, and I sure hope she does, with all the attention you're paying her grave… then she's got to be hoping that she doesn't see you again for as long as possible, right?"
The Dwebble calmed down, staring back at the grave with a little whimper.
"Life… is ok, you know? I mean, it's not great, but it's a free gift. And there aren't many sins greater than throwing away a free gift. At least… that's what I think."
We stared at the grave a little longer, as a sudden gust whipped through the forest, showering the area with orange, red, and brown leaves. Caught off guard by the cold, I crawled into Axel's coat, taking advantage of the trapped body heat.
The Dwebble just stood there. Without a shell, the Icy Wind must have stung like hell on its bare skin, but it didn't even flinch.
"I know you've got to feel guilty," Axel said after a while. "When someone dies and you get to keep living, especially if you feel you could've prevented it… it's enough to make you feel sometimes that you don't deserve it. I know the feeling, believe me." He looked up at the night sky, starless with the cloud cover that had rolled in. "But I realized, eventually, that you get over that kind of guilt pretty easily. What you're stuck with, though, is that without the person you really cared about, you become consumed by this fear of… well, living." He shivered. "All of a sudden, wasting time feels like a horrible sin, and you can't help but be petrified that you'll slide back into doing it."
The Dwebble had both eyes fixed on Axel now, as if it were hanging on to every word. It almost seemed… anxious. Its body twitched and shivered as it drew closer, trying to glean something from Axel's words.
"I don't really have a… method for getting over a fear of living," Axel explained, sorry to disappoint the Dwebble. "But what worked for me was… well, I figured that wasting time was something you could only do when you were alive. It'd be a shame not to every now and again."
It wasn't the answer the Dwebble was looking for… that much I could tell from the way its eyes fell to the ground. But something had changed. It seemed… resigned, almost. Maybe even relaxed.
It certainly looked like it'd be a hell of a lot easier to babysit. Kudos, Axel.
"Now…" Axel said, standing up and dusting off his pants. "Want to head back to the cave? I've got another shoulder."
The Dwebble grasped Axel's clothing and pulled itself up, taking a seat on…
Hey! The left shoulder was MINE! Now I have to… oh well. The right one's just as comfy, I suppose.
Vanna
I know the situation I'm in is… somewhat serious.
Still, I can't help but think: 'thank goodness. I needed something like this.'
It's seemed like an eternity since I've been able to flirt with a guy and not worry about the future consequences. And there's so many of them! If I can get it out of my system now, then maybe I'll be alright around Axel for a few more weeks.
Still, I am in the enemy's camp, so I should tread carefully, and probably try and help out the… um, 'war effort', I suppose you could call it. First order of business: locate Ranger Danger. I'm pretty worried about him, actually. I sure as hell hope he hasn't gone the way of Bertrand… I don't know if I could deal with that again.
"Hey, Mister…" I flushed my face red, pretending to forget. "I'm sorry, what did you say your name was again?" I asked the burly, plaid-shirted 'medicine guy' who was looking after Qwill.
"Smith," he said, chuckling at the adorable way I kept forgetting his simple, oh-so-common name. "What do you need, Hyacinth?"
Ah, to be called a fake name again. It's oddly satisfying, reminds me of the days when I honestly didn't care if anyone thought I was a floosy.
"Right," I said meekly. "Mr. Smith… this is a ranger station, right?"
"Uh… yeah. Looks that way to me."
"Um… well, I was wondering… where's the Ranger? Shouldn't he or she be able to help heal my Cyndaquil?" Of course, I knew Ranger Danger, and the answer to that was an astoundingly large 'no'.
"Uh… well, I don't know where that Ranger guy is," he said, lying so very convincingly as he glanced at the trunk of a nearby truck. "This place was kind of abandoned when we got here, so we figured we might as well use it." He smiled forcibly. "Sad state of law enforcement, right?"
"Right…" I said, thinking. There were around forty guys out there, all armed with guns. I think maybe… twenty of them saw me changing, so they'll be easier to take on, particularly if I accidentally rip this shirt down the middle. The other twenty might not be as easily swayed, and if I try anything too drastic, they probably won't think twice about shooting me. Hell, when I'm dead or, at the very least, unable to defend myself, they might even…
AGH! No, no, no, ok, no taking them on all at once. Plus, that'd probably put Danger's life in jeopardy too. If only I could get some of them to leave… but how?
Luckily, Lady Luck's always had a bit of a thing for me. There's actually quite the interesting love triangle between Sir Serendipity, her, and I. Neither of them can seem to get enough of me, which is ok because when they show up good things happen and I can start to swing things in my favor, like now when one of the hunters who hadn't seen me change opened the door and said that the party was getting some sort of GPS signal from one of the other hunters that had been scouting and…
Whoa. I'm sorry, I… I don't really know what just came over me. Um… like I said, one of the other hunters came in the door, saying that the scout had started sending out a GPS signal and that they were going to head off, and leave a few guys behind.
"I… I don't want to be any trouble!" I exclaimed quickly, jumping and flushing my face an even brighter red. "You don't have to leave anyone behind for me if one of your people are in trouble… Mr. Smith here's made Cyndaquil better a little…"
"It's all right, ma'am," the older hunter nodded, eying me up and down with… is that distrust I detect? For little old me? "We can spare around seven people. We wouldn't want you to hurt yourself again, now would we?"
I fought the urge to gulp, instead giving a short bow in thanks. "I won't forget all the kindness you've shown me. Thank you, sir!" After all, seven's a lot easier to deal with.
The majority of the camp (thirty… forty people?) crept into the woods, guns drawn. Some of them climbed into large logging machines with enormous saws on the front, and began cutting a path through where necessary. Damn it, these guys were serious. I had to tell Axel… but how?
I excused myself to the bathroom in the Ranger's house quickly, and sent him a text. Not glamorous at all, but certainly the most practical thing. Now to spring Danger from his confines!
"Hey…" I blushed towards Mr. Smith, who came running over immediately. "Is there any chance you could show me that big machine over there?" They'd left a few of the logging machines behind. I guess they had more machines then licensed drivers? I don't know.
"Nah," Mr. Smith said warmly. "It's dangerous; I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."
"Oh, pleeeeeease?" I pleaded, pressing my body against him while I did so. "I've always wondered what it's like to be up there riding, with one hand on the big, thick steering shaft and the other just running up and down the cool, slick body. It's got to be exciting, right?"
The man may have been red in the face to begin with, but now glowing red, just like a Pokèball beam. Sweat started pouring down from his brow, and as I leaned in just a bit closer, he gulped loudly and said: "w-w… well, I guess it… could be ok."
"YAY!" I squealed, hugging him tightly around his waist. "Thanks a lot, Mr. Smith, you don't know what this means to me!"
"Oh… just… call me Francis… er… I mean, Frank."
… And now I'm worried about Frankie too. Thanks a lot.
Franky (with a 'y', you'll notice, to avoid confusion) took me over to one of the large logging machines away from the rest of the camp and gave me a boost up into the chassis. I accidentally stumbled forward upon entering, landing on my stomach with an 'oof' and… well, giving him a nice view, I suppose you could say. In case you were wondering, yes, I was wearing a skirt this time. What can I say? War is hell, even if it seems like heaven to some.
From the ground, Franky instructed me how to turn the thing on, told me which lever to pull, and guided me through a few basic steps on how to operate heavy machinery. He was loving it, watching me grunt and groan as I pulled on the levers that were just so tough to move. Very traditional and perverted view of gender roles, this guy has.
You might be wondering why I bothered to do any of this. Would it make it any clearer if I told you that the Ranger station was on top of a very, very steep hill?
With a sudden burst of confidence (that came out of nowhere!) I stepped on the gas and pulled the steering level to what the cute, defenseless me thought was the brake, but was really the throttle. The machine lurched ahead, and I screamed as the tree-wrecking monstrosity barreled towards oblivion. If Gardevoir was here, it'd be just like Thelma and Louise… ah, man, why didn't I think of that earlier?
Franky started freaking out, running after the machine waving his arms, telling me to apply the emergency brake. But I, being a pretty, ignorant child, had absolutely no idea what he was talking about and, in a state of hysterical panic, jumped out of the vehicle just in time to avoid tumbling down the hillside with it.
"No!" Franky yelled through ragged breaths, reaching out towards the machine in vain. "No, no, no! Ah, damn it, what am I going to tell the boss now?"
"I'm sorry!" I sobbed. "I'm so sorry, I… I didn't know how to stop and I…"
"Shut it!" Franky yelled, getting far more hysterical than I could ever act. "Oh man, oh man, oh man, what am I going to… how do I… why couldn't you…"
"Don't worry," I tried to cheer him up, covertly dropping a Pokèball behind my back. "Everything's fine!"
"Everything is not fine!" he yelled. "How can you even…"
"Everything's fine," I repeated, as Xatu emerged from her Pokèball, laying on layers of Hypnosis.
"Everything's… fine…" Franky mouthed, his muscles relaxing and his eyes drooping.
"That's right," I repeated, patting him on the back to reassure him. "Everything will be fine, as long as you go into the woods, climb a tree, and make sure no one sees you, understood?"
"Under… stood…" Franky mouthed, lurching off into the woods like a zombie. As I waited to ensure that he was well hidden, I checked myself over. The dive from the logging machine had scraped up my knee something fierce, and blood was starting to trickle down.
Perfect.
Giving Xatu her instructions, I strained my face, trying to produce just a little more Croconaw tears before rushing back to the campsite. "Somebody! Anybody! Come quick! Franky went over the side of the hill in the big machine thing!"
It should be illegal to be this good.
Author's Note
Hey everyone! I'm alive! I know; I'm surprised too!
There were a good many reasons that this chapter is so late, so I'll go ahead and list them in chronological order.
First: Pokémon Conquest came out. In order to ensure that I kept up to date with the franchise so that the story could remain relevant, I had to get it and play it obsessively. It was research! Very fun research. I highly recommend the game, if you get tired of playing Black and White 2.
Second: I had to work six days in a row! Eight hour shifts at my summer job at MAJOR FAST FOOD CORPORATION. My feet were crying. Literally. It was very strange for all involved.
Third, and somewhat more seriously: well… recently, we've had a loss in the Amaxing Fan Fiction Incorporated Family. It was a shock, and it rendered me unable to write for… a good bit.
Eventually, though, I realized that as a writer (if you could call me that), I have a unique opportunity to sort of… immortalize her. In some small way. Since there'll never be a funeral, I figure the most fitting place to give the eulogy is… here. Enjoy? Should I say that?
(Ahem)
Her name was Reba.
I called her that because she was a Mac, entirely. It was an awful joke, and I think this is the first time I've shared it, but forgive me. I was a college freshman, and I thought everything I did was hilarious.
She was old when I got her… a plain old MacBook in a world of MacBook Pros, adorable Netbooks, and Intel i5 processors. But when she whirred to life and let out that start-up sigh, it was like she was brand new from the factory.
For three years, you put up with me. Edited and spell-checked my awful stories without complaint, stayed up until 5 in the morning as I hammered out papers the night before they were due. Hell, I don't think I ever turned you off… I can't imagine how that strained you.
But we had a lot of good times, huh? We traveled the country together: Burlington, Baltimore, Seattle, New York. We saw that Distant Worlds concert, remember? I certainly won't forget. Did it have any special meaning for you when that CD came up on your iTunes? I'd like to think it did.
But, with time, you began to fade. Your CD drive never worked quite right to begin with, but that was fine. Your left arrow key came off during that Tetris Battle phase I had, and I unceremoniously taped it back on you. It wasn't classy, but you accepted it, right up until the end. I'm pretty sure I hit you with a boomerang too, but you just kept trudging along, overheating as you tried to keep up with me.
It was only after those sudden scares, where you wouldn't turn back on for nearly half an hour after powering yourself off, that I even considered replacing you. I loaded my music and word files onto a flash drive, and then, callously, I began to search for another with you.
Did you… stop accepting power right away? I only noticed an hour in that your charger's light had gone out. I jiggled the cord, reinserted it dozens of times… I even dug out the old, frayed charger that still technically worked… but nothing. To me, it almost seemed like you'd realized what was to come… and started starving yourself.
I wanted to have a candlelight vigil… wait up with you with your screen completely dimmed until you flipped your last bit. But that would have been weird, even for me, so I just played Minecraft. Not really trying to accomplish anything… just idly moving blocks from place to place until the inevitable darkening…
… Damn it.
My friend, who knows far more about computers than I, didn't believe that you only had 2 GB of RAM. You were able to handle too much at once, he said, are you sure that you didn't get it expanded at some point?
I hadn't, of course. Now I realize… it was you, wasn't it? Trying to go that extra mile to keep me happy. Trying to make sure I never noticed the torture I was subjecting you too, unknowingly.
… I'm sorry.
The data on you might be the same, but Ace is nothing like you. He's quicker, yes, but colder… I can't feel his fans beat like I could yours. Someone could say that you're living on through him, but I don't think that's true.
You must be out there, somewhere, free at last to wander the milky, cybernetic pathways that we used to travel together without restriction. If you are out there, and you happen to read this for old time's sake… you're welcome to come home. I'll keep your shell for a little while longer, right next to your late uncle GameCube's.
It just won't feel right taking out that Ender Dragon without you.
And last, because I know you loved it more than most:
Viva la feminism?