Here's Chapter 9, hitting the shelves a day early. I think we're roughly a third of the way through Escape from Thunderhead at this point. (My planned number of chapters is 27, though their lengths will vary.)

I would like to thank Zackyena and Iron General for following. It means the world to me to know you appreciate this story. And without further ado, we'll get going.

Current music: The Best Thing That Happened - NIIC the Singing Dog

Janelle frowned, evidently trying to think of the right way to respond. But when she finally did speak, it was with a trace amount of anger.

"Are you mocking me or something?"

"Why do you ask?" I replied. "I'm just making a suggestion."

"Well, the last time we went out to a restaurant, the night ended with us getting spirited away to some other world, and look where we are now!"

I certainly couldn't argue that our first "date" had gone well, but I still wanted to hope that maybe we weren't cursed after all. Maybe our next dinner together could go more smoothly.

"You don't know that it'll happen again. I mean, we're already here. What more do we have to lose?"

"Plenty" Janelle shot back. "That's like saying that a fire has burned through an entire forest, then pointing out that the fire has stopped. Indeed, that's a rather apt analogy given the current situation."

"Fine," I said. "You've got me there. But it would give us something to do, wouldn't it? Superstitions aren't always accurate."

"Why are you calling it a superstition?"

"Because that's exactly what it is. Just because something bad happened the first time doesn't mean it'll happen again!"

Janelle brandished her front right claw. For a moment, I thought she would lunge at me, slicing my flesh into ribbons.

Instead, she swiped her claw along the floor, creating a deep gash in the carpeting that, as far as I know, is still there today. And then Janelle looked back up at me with a severe expression.

"We can't take this risk, Lucas. We just can't."

"But isn't it a risk staying here, too? Remaining bored out of our minds? Janelle, if we don't occupy ourselves somehow, we're going to end up doing something we'll regret. One night of fun won't hurt us."

"Well, I suppose that's one way to look at it," she said, evidently conceding defeat. "But there's something else too. Are there any restaurants still open?"

"I'm sure there's something by the waterfront that's not too fancy. Something that didn't get demolished by the earthquakes."

Janelle looked back and forth, then at me. And then she uttered some unexpected words.

"Let's do it."

"Really?" I replied in bewilderment.

"Well, you're the one who suggested it" Janelle pointed out. "Besides, I think you're right about the whole superstition thing. It won't be any more dangerous to eat out this time than it was last time."

I didn't bother pointing out that last time was precisely when things had gone so horribly wrong. Even my odd brain knew that this wouldn't help matters.

In a sign that the superstition may have been affecting me, I decided not to book a reservation. To be fair, this was also a practical move: We had no Internet access in the apartment, and I didn't know if we'd be able to find the same eatery twice.

At half past five, Janelle and I climbed down the six flights of stairs to the lobby. It was remarkable just how much fresher the air became right after we'd exited our room.

"Well, well" the receptionist, a young woman whom I hadn't noticed before, said as we entered the lobby. "I see you two are back from the dead. For a time, I thought you were dead."

"We weren't dead," Janelle replied somewhat indignantly. "We just didn't see a reason to leave our flat."

"Well, I don't blame you," the woman behind the desk said. "The city's still trying to rebuild, but recovery efforts in some of the major collapses are still ongoing. Are you guys going out to eat?"

After I nodded, the receptionist grimaced. It clearly pained her to say what came next.

"I hate to say it, but it won't be a very romantic meal. At least, not in the conventional sense. It's pretty noisy out there."

"We'll keep that in mind" Janelle told the receptionist. "Thanks for taking us in."

"It was no problem," the receptionist responded. "I'm not going to disobey Chief Leopold's orders. Not now, and not ever."

There weren't nearly as many sirens as there had been last week, as the aftershocks had (for the most part) died down. Whoever controlled the tectonic plates on this planet must have finally decided to be merciful to Fula City.

Of course, great damage had already been done. Rubble still littered the ground, rendering some streets impassable. Every so often, we'd see a truck containing several coffins, a sight that never failed to make me shiver.

Each time we passed a coffin truck, Janelle would give me a silent frown, as if to say, Don't let this ruin our dinner. It's not our fault all those people are dead.

So why does Sionne think it's hers?, I imagined myself replying. But I got the feeling that it wouldn't be wise to mention Sionne any more than absolutely necessary.

Oddly enough, the area of the city closest to the harbor was relatively undamaged. Additionally, it wasn't terribly crowded - rather than a large number of people and Pokemon roaming the streets, there were only a few couples holding hands, either sitting on a bench or eating at one of the sidewalk restaurants.

It needs to be said, of course, that the general atmosphere still felt tense. Many of the people we saw had their eyes wide open, as though they were watching for anything that might go wrong. Based on that alone, I reasoned that it might be difficult to enjoy a carefree meal.

We ended up selecting an eatery next to the Port of Fula City, whose cranes and shipping containers still stood somehow. The outdoor restaurant had a few couples sitting on its picnic benches, but it wasn't hard to find a corner to ourselves.

The waitress came over swiftly, filling our glasses with water. And then the two of us looked at each other awkwardly, not knowing what to talk about.

Eventually, Janelle raised her glass in the air. "To a less ill-fated date than the last one we went on."

I frowned. "What?"

Janelle narrowed her eyes. "When the other person at dinner raises a glass, you're supposed to toast 's the social convention, Lucas."

"No, it's about a different word you said. Date."

I tried to project indifference as I said the above line. However, Butterfree roamed in my chest, tugging at my heartstrings. My palms were also sweating bullets.

"It's not about that," Janelle insisted. "A poor choice of words, that's all."

I snorted. "Janelle, you're a bad liar."

"Whatever. Let's just enjoy this evening together, because we only live once, or so they say."

When the waitress returned, she brought a basket of bread rolls with her. But that wasn't the only thing she brought. She also placed a brochure on our table.

"What's that?" I asked her.

The waitress smiled. "I'm just trying to gauge your interest in the upcoming Wind Festival. It's held a week from today."

Janelle raised an eyebrow. "What's the Wind Festival?"

"It's when Fula City celebrates its cultural heritage," our server responded. "There are all sorts of festivities at the event - I'm sure that all ages can find something they enjoy there."

"It's still happening?" I enquired. "Even after all of this?"

"On the contrary", our server said, "as hard as it may be to believe, one aspect of Fula City's culture is to find some levity wherever it can be gathered. Amidst this chaos, we need the Wind Festival more than ever."

I didn't ask the waitress if Zeraora's absence had to do with that. Later I would conclude that it hadn't made a difference. Even now, though, I sometimes wake in a cold sweat and wonder if begging for an answer would have made other events go differently.

As we sat at our table (or, more accurately, kneeled, since it was hard to sit at a picnic table when you had four paws), I looked at my Litleo tattoo again. And I wondered if, were I ever to become human again, I would still have that tattoo.

Ferguson: Clearly you're human right now. Can you confirm, Mr. Teller, whether or not you still possess that tattoo?

Defendant: Yes. Allow me to roll down my sleeve – you'll have to forgive me for sweating, sir, it's a rather hot day.

Ferguson: Perspiration is a normal bodily function, and hardly the most egregious thing you have done. So by all means - let's see your tattoo.

Defendant: Yes, it's a dark mark on my wrist. It's shaped like a Litleo, too, but it's not a capital-DM Dark Mark. I'm not a Death Eater.

Ferguson: Discussions of popular culture that do not relate to Pokemon are irrelevant to this trial, Mr. Teller. Moreover, Pokemon itself is hardly important here, because I see no reason to believe they exist. It's just a fairy tale.

(The defendant rolled down his sleeve, revealing a small black tattoo on his left wrist. Much of the audience gasped.)

Ferguson: Where did you get that tattoo?

Defendant: I already told you that. I received it in the village of Chilly Waters.

Ferguson: We're not going to get anywhere with that, are we?

Defendant: I'm afraid not, Your Honor.

It was while we were working on our main courses that the tension increased significantly in the harborside district. And you might be wondering how this happened. Why did my second dinner out with Janelle start going downhill?

Well, a certain familiar Pyroar came strutting down the street in our direction. She didn't appear livid, but she clearly wasn't happy either.

"It's her," I whispered to Janelle between bites of my Reuben sandwich.

She frowned. "Who are you talking about?" she asked in a considerably louder tone.

"Sionne's coming. Why does she always have the worst timing?"

"Hey! Be more friendly to visitors, will you? It's not polite to yap at them for their poor timing!"

"Well, it is bad timing. We're here, just the two of us, and then she decides to -".

"Hey, guys" Sionne announced somewhat sheepishly.

I had to rapidly brainstorm a response. Eventually I settled on the following:

"Not that I'm not pleased to see you…but how did you find us, exactly?"

In response, the Pyroar simply shrugged. I wasn't going to push her any further, as curious as I was, but evidently Janelle felt differently. The female Litleo stared at Sionne until the latter finally relented.

"Okay. I was just looking for a place to eat on my own. I can always get an Uber back to Chilly Waters, traffic isn't as insane as it used to be."

"Wait, Uber exists in this world?" Janelle asked.

"Of course," Sionne replied as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Uber is universal. Uber is life, as some would say."

"Okay then" I interjected. "Now, Janelle and I are having dinner together, so I just…you know what? You can stay here if you want to."

Janelle, fortunately, didn't seem to want to protest. She just kept looking into the distance, at which point Sionne took that as her cue to enter the restaurant's premises.

The same waitress who'd served us came over to Sionne's table, and once the Pyroar had placed her order and pre-emptively handed over a credit card, the server walked away. Now it was just the three of us; every other couple had finished their meal.

No. Not "couple." The word is "party." Janelle and I are not dating, and we never will.

"So what's that piece of paper on your table?" Sionne enquired a few minutes later, taking a quick break from scarfing down every last roll in her basket.

"Oh, this?" I said, lifting the brochure so she could see it. "It's the brochure for the Wind Festival, which is happening next week."

Almost immediately, a change came over Sionne's face. She'd been smiling almost from ear to ear before, but her face fell like an anvil off a building. She turned away, and when she looked at us again, there was desperation in her eyes.

"The Wind Festival, you say? I've heard of it."

"Makes sense. You've lived here a lot longer than we have, after all" I replied. "So what do you say? Do you want to come there with us?"

Before Janelle could say anything, Sionne sprang off her bench like it was a trampoline. Her eyes opened to the size of dinner plates.

"What the hell are you suggesting?" she bellowed.

I lifted my paws in the air like a criminal suspect (which, in hindsight, is an unfortunately apt analogy) and went on the defensive right away. "I'm just saying that we need something to do. Confining ourselves to that apartment did a number on our mental health."

"You've got other options, you know" Sionne replied, but she no longer seemed angry. Rather, she was pleading with us; thanks to years of hard social training, I could see it on her face.

"Why are you so adamantly against it?" Janelle asked. "You do realize that we're sovereign individuals who can do what we want, right?"

"I can't force you to do what I want, I agree" Sionne said, a hint of terror in her voice. "But I can give you advice, and that advice is not to go!"

"Well, why not?" I replied. "If you're so insistent that we shouldn't go, at least give us a reason!"

But she simply shook her head, brushing her majestic mane against the picnic table. "I can't," she said. "I just can't."

"Well, then we're going. And that's final" I insisted. "I'm sorry, Sionne, but it's just like they say. Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence."

For a moment, I thought Sionne might actually tackle me until I was an unconscious, bloody pulp. She would do anything to prevent me from attending the Wind Festival, wouldn't she?

But this didn't happen. Instead, the Pyroar simply let out a rather loud sigh before looking at the ground.

"Well, I'm not going to barricade the entrance to the festival. You two have a right to go."

Maybe she's just envious of us. Maybe she sees herself as the third wheel, and that's why she doesn't want us to go there.

Somehow, though, I didn't think that was it.

"There's something else, too," Sionne said a minute or two later. "Something vitally important."

"What would that be?" Janelle asked, raising an eyebrow. "Another warning about where we can't go?"

"No, it's not that" the Pyroar clarified. "The next time the waitress comes over, I'll ask for a pen, and I'll write down Leopold's phone number on a napkin. That way, you'll be able to contact him whenever you feel like it."

"Why, though?" Janelle replied.

Sionne shrugged. "Just in case. You never know when something like that might come in handy. Anyway…".

The Pyroar trailed off, seemingly having no idea what to say. Quite frankly, I didn't blame her, for this whole dinner out had turned into something I'd never intended it to be.

OTTO'S POV

The Oshawott sat at his desk, poring over spreadsheets on one of the computer monitors.

This wasn't normal for him. Usually, Otto would be hard-pressed to focus on a project for more than fifteen minutes at a time, after which he'd require a minute or two just to relax and crack jokes. But his boss had told him that if he slacked off, he'd be fired.

And Otto did not want to be fired.

"What are you doing, Otto?" Kai all but bellowed at his colleague. "Don't lose sight of our goal! If we finish this project before midnight, we get a raise!"

The Oshawott sighed. He knew that Kai, a Raichu who was a far more diligent worker than Otto, was the only one to whom this offer applied. Otto would be lucky to remain an employee by the end of the week.

"I need some time to myself," Otto told Kai. "If I don't get it, I'm going to lose my ability to concentrate."

"Well, concentrate harder. Or just quit! I know we're coworkers, friends even, but I can't always pick up the slack for you. You have to pull your own weight, dude."

Otto let out a great sigh. He was well aware, of course, that Kai was correct. He didn't often like to admit it, but the thin ice he found himself on was likely to crack any day now.

"Don't forget to clear this computer's browsing history when you're done," Kai told the Oshawott. "Seablast's computers are meant to be used for work purposes only, not to browse PokeTube or Reddit!"

"How do I do that without clearing the work stuff?" Otto replied, trying not to let his voice break. "Is there really a way to selectively clear the search history of things you don't want them to see?"

"Yeah, there is," the Raichu said. "Just let me handle it."

Otto got out of his chair and allowed Kai to take over. The Raichu feverishly typed commands into the system, furrowing his brow in evident frustration.

"You should've done this yourself," Kai said eventually. "You're a lot more tech-savvy than I am."

"Well, my brain's like a sieve sometimes," Otto admitted. "I can remember concepts and all that, but when it comes to the small things, very often the most important things, I completely drop the ball."

Kai rolled his eyes. "You don't need to tell me that. Anyway, I'm done. Let's go back to work, shall we?"

The Oshawott saw no reason to disagree. He collapsed back into the chair, resigning himself to the job ahead.

In a way, the task suited him to a T. Engineering involved a great deal of math, and that was something Otto excelled at. He'd graduated from university at the top of his class, precisely because he knew how to apply concepts to certain situations. He could also think three-dimensionally, imagining how each part of a "system", for lack of a better word, would fit in with everything else.

But when it came time for the mundane tasks of everyday life, he would often forget to brush his fangs or wash his fur. On several occasions, he'd even forgotten his password to get into the Seablast network, necessitating him to click the "Forgot Your Password?" button and go through the process of resetting it.

They worked in near-silence for a few minutes, which was quite an achievement for both Pokemon. It wasn't often that they managed to resist speaking to each other, whether to argue or to make small talk.

Eventually, Kai hit a roadblock in the project, forcing the Raichu to break the silence. "Could you come over here and see what the problem is, Otto?"

"No problem," the Oshawott replied. "I mean, it's no problem for me to help. I understand you might have run into a problem yourself."

Kai narrowed his eyes. "Well, yeah, I just said that. Anyway, have a look."

Otto saw that a collection of numbered squares, 1 through 15, were arranged in a haphazard mess. It became clear immediately what needed to be done.

"Okay, so this is a slide puzzle," Otto told Kai.

The Raichu frowned, at which point Otto continued. "Have you never solved a slide puzzle before?"

"I'm afraid not," Kai told him.

"Well, it seems that the machine's generator will only work if the slide puzzle is solved correctly," Otto responded. "And there's a specific algorithm to solve a slide puzzle; you have to solve one row or column first, one along the edge, then another along the edge, and work your way from there. At least, that's how I learned to solve them."

"Could you do it for me, then? I helped you wipe your search history clean."

Otto frowned. "No, I won't. Because then you'll learn nothing. You just have to practice, practice, and practice some more."

"Fair enough" Kai grunted, loudly enough that Otto flinched. One did not want to be on the wrong side of one of Kai's Electric attacks; they could paralyze part of a Pokemon's body, or their whole body, for hours. Otto had learned this lesson the hard way.

Later, while putting the finishing touches on his end of the machine, Otto reflected on what this project's purpose could be.

Of course, it needs to be said that he and Kai had put together many machines during their time at the Seablast Corporation. That part wasn't out of the ordinary at all.

So one might ask, what was it that raised red flags?

First of all, their superiors had been oddly opaque about this machine's purpose. Normally, the higher-ups would always tell their employees what each machine was, why it needed to be built, and what it would accomplish once it was operational. Perhaps it was a new, advanced piece of mining technology, or a way to bring the few manual laborers back to the surface more safely, or any other tool that made the corporation's job easier.

But in this case, they were told next to nothing. All they knew was that this machine was supposedly the most important one they'd ever helped construct. Given its alleged value, surely they should have been given more information…right?

"I don't understand" Otto mumbled quietly as he looked over the expected specifications and dimensions of this contraption.

"What don't you understand?" Kai replied.

"Why aren't they being transparent with us? We toil long hours here for our superiors, and they're normally a lot more forthcoming than this. So what gives?"

Kai snorted. "You do realize, Otto, that we could be laboring in the Alolan fields right now beneath a baking tropical sun? Given that, we should be thankful that we can work in an air-conditioned laboratory."'

Otto rolled his eyes. "Precision of language, huh?"

The pair had a brief laugh at that. For all their disagreements sometimes, Otto couldn't think of one Pokemon he'd met whom he would rather work with. And he liked to think Kai felt the same way about him. Whatever their disagreements, they could always work them out eventually.

"Really, Otto, you don't know how bad you could have it sometimes. Seablast treats us engineers well, probably because we're their most valuable employees."

Before Otto could respond to that, however, there was a knock at their door.

Strictly speaking, it wasn't necessary for a visitor to knock, because the employees were required to keep their doors unlocked at all times while they were in the lab. This was ostensibly in the interest of transparency, and hey, if that was the price that needed to be paid, then so be it.

"Come in" Kai said, perking up somewhat at the sound. That said, the Raichu certainly didn't seem happy by any means.

The door swung open to reveal the man every lab worker at the Seablast Corporation learned to fear. After some time on the job, of course, one could grow accustomed to him, and this man's presence would no longer have the power to frighten you. At least, under many circumstances.

Today was not one of those days. The man, a tall skinny guy with salt-and-pepper hair and olive skin, had his right hand clenched into a fist.

"Good a-afternoon, J-Jim B-B-Bob" Otto stammered. "H-how are you d-doing today?"

"There's no need to be so nervous, Otto," Jim Bob responded testily. "I'm not here to be your enemy. I'm just here to make sure you're doing things right. Like my grandfather always told me, give a damn."

"What are you talking about?" Kai replied. "And, not to be rude, but why are you here today?"

"I'm here because the crudité costs 20 P, and that's not even counting the tequila! Are you sure Wegner's doesn't have them for cheaper?"

"Uh…what the hell is crudité?" Otto asked sheepishly.

Even as he uttered those words, he felt certain it was a trap. This was a common tactic of Jim Bob's; he would say something absolutely ridiculous in order to lure his inferiors into a sense of complacency. And then, once the illusion of security had been weaved over them, he would go for the jugular.

"It doesn't fucking matter, okay?" Jim Bob bellowed. "I'm here because I'm pissed off, and I'm trying to find something else to be angry at other than your abysmal performance!"

When neither Otto nor Kai responded to their supervisor, the man continued. This time, his tone was far more measured, though his eyebrows were still bent and his bottom lip puffed out - the universal gesture for I'm angry!

"It's not just your subpar performance, though" Jim Bob spoke. "I, as well as some of the other supervisors around here, have noticed an unacceptable pattern of behavior from you two. You were talking about me-".

"You? We weren't talking about you at all" Otto interrupted him. However, this move backfired hard.

"Wait for me to finish my fucking sentences, will you? As I was saying, you're supposed to obey our directions, not question them. You're supposed to follow our orders and do so without hesitation or reservation. Because let me tell you something: You may have been on safe ice before, but now it's starting to thaw.

"But there's more. Otto Oshawott, you know you are not supposed to take unauthorized breaks. Kai Raichu, you are not supposed to let Otto take unauthorized breaks. Later, if I find evidence that the browser history has been scrubbed, or if there's something on the computer that shouldn't be there, I will see to it that both of you pay dearly."

Jim Bob took a deep breath; it was evidently hard for him to catch his breath, but he finally spoke after about a minute of relative silence.

"Look", he said, glancing at both Pokemon with pleading eyes, "this is your final warning. You can't do things like this, guys, you just can't. The walls already have ears, but the surveillance of this room is going to be increased by 54 percent."

"Fifty-four percent, huh?" Otto asked. "Isn't that a rather arbitrary number?

He'd done it. The Oshawott had managed to break the man, as evidenced by the steam pouring out of Jim Bob's ears.

"Look", the supervisor said in a stone-faced tone. "I don't know why you think you can get away with so much. The more you complain about the increased surveillance, the harsher the consequences you'll end up facing. That's just the way it is here."

When neither Otto nor Kai replied to Jim Bob, he continued. "Contrary to what you might think, I don't like handing out punishments to my employees. But this isn't punishment; it's for your own good. And sometimes these things are necessary."

"If you say so" Kai responded blankly.

"That's exactly what I say, and I'm not acting alone" Jim Bob told them. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go make some crudité."

With that, the supervisor exited the room, leaving the two Pokémon alone with nothing but their thoughts and the job they had to do.

"What the hell is crudité?" Kai asked, once both of them were sure Jim Bob could no longer hear.

Otto shrugged. "I could look it up if you want."

"That's a bad…you know what? Sure. I think that's relatively harmless to have in your search history. They're not going to fire you for looking up how to make a recipe."

Famous last words, Otto thought bitterly. But he nonetheless typed the word into the search engine, and was rewarded with hundreds of thousands of results. Ah, the wonders of the Internet.

"So that's it?" Otto asked rhetorically, a hint of bewilderment in his voice. "Just vegetables dipped in sauce."

Kai snorted. "Where I'm from, they refer to that as a veggie plate."

The pair had a good laugh at that for a few seconds, then went right back to work. Everything was quiet for about half an hour, save for the clicking of keyboards when the Raichu and the Oshawott were typing in various commands.

And then something else occurred to Otto. The thought just appeared in his brain, as though someone had opened up his skull and placed it in his noggin.

"What could Roy be planning?" the Oshawott wondered aloud.

Roy was the CEO of the Seablast Corporation. A tall majestic Pyroar, the type of Pokemon who probably intimidated even those of similar size, he was known for his no-nonsense attitude, even more so than Jim Bob.

Kai turned to Otto. "You know that you can't say stuff like that with your own vocal cords, right?" the Raichu said.

"I mean, yeah. I'll shut my pie hole, I guess."

"We have to do this job. As much as I don't want to get on Jim Bob's bad side, they say Roy's punishments are even worse. Good thing he doesn't hand them out very often."

"I don't even want to think about that," Otto muttered sheepishly.

"Then shut up and calculate!" Kai exclaimed, causing a trace amount of electricity to come out of his nose.

Although working at Seablast was far from a walk in the park, Otto was still proud to work there. It was a dysfunctional family, to be sure, but a family nonetheless.

Had he known the truth, he would not have been so proud.

The characters of Otto and Kai came from my friend, Dasilvario69. He gave me permission to use his OCs in my story, so give his story some love, okay? Good readers. Honestly, I kind of relate to Otto, since I'm not the best at concentrating on boring tasks (even if it's a reality of adulthood.)

Also, who appreciated the political humor here? Anyone? Ah, forget it, I'm the only political person on this site.