Ch.17: Searching for Answers in the Crime Filled Streets! Hitman Fernando Mangas in Action!
A cool, misty night in the streets of Spodium Town, a quiet town in the Fire Zone. It seemed peaceful at night, with everyone having turned in for the night. Though, it should be considered peaceful since it was one of the safest towns in the Fire Zone.
The Fire Zone possessed a bad reputation among the Mysto region due to it historically having the most crime of any other zone. There has been a long history of the Fire Zone being the birthplace of crime itself, though, while history states the facts, it's a common myth that the Fire Zone was a place of evil. There were areas to be admired about it.
Despite this, the area itself was once uninhabitable due to a large concentration of smog and ash. Changes have been made to the environment to make the towns and cities suitable for living, but many preferred to stay in the safer parts of the zone. Certain other towns and villages were considered the slums for the poor and weak.
Spodium Town, while not as fancy as somewhere like Scorch Grave City, was a safe place for families to live, as crime was less likely to happen here, which is why a certain hitman has chosen this area as his starting ground for his investigation. In an area like this, one was bound to come across useful information.
Hands in his pockets, Fernando walked down the empty streets of this quiet town, keeping his head low and hat tipped over his eyes. He took small glances at the buildings he passed by. Stores, a few pubs, even a park for children to play at. Somewhere around here was also a school.
He glanced down at a discarded soda can that had been left to roll around in the wind. He groaned and picked it up with his foot, casually tossing it into an open recycling bin. The town may not be in the best condition, but that doesn't mean people had to be so inconsiderate with manners. Still, it didn't mean he hated coming to the Fire Zone.
One reason being he was raised here by his father. Not because they were poor, but because it was a great way of understanding different types of criminals and crime when being sent on missions. As a master of disguise, he has to learn to understand the behavior of a common thug. It has since made him an undetectable force for anyone that was on his hit list. So yeah, the Fire Zone had some nostalgic feel to it, especially recounting the times his father showed him essential self-defense techniques on some 'willing' volunteers'. Good times, those were.
The second reason is that this is the zone where he can find most of his targets. Some thugs take the smart route of hiding out in a less conspicuous zone, like perhaps the Aqua Zone or Sand Zone, while others take their chances here. He didn't care which they did. It either made his job easy or challenging. Either was fine with him.
Though, this time was different. He wasn't here for his next kill. He was specifically instructed to look for the tomb of the Shadow King. Obviously it wasn't here, otherwise some idiot drunk would have stumbled upon it ages ago. That being said, he needed information on where to find it. He figured here would be the best place to start. You need information on some of the darkest secrets in Mysto, you find a guy who has those kind of connections.
Fernando stopped and took a moment to analyze his surroundings. He needed to find one of the busier bars that were open this late at night. More likely to attract the most wretched and heartless crooks of the town. He needed to find a certain Pokémon that he knew had the connections he needed.
He narrowed his eyes on a bar that still had the lights on. Loud racket blaring from the inside, almost making him wonder how there hasn't been a noise complaint. The logical answer likely was…no one was brave enough to say that to their face. You don't want to cause trouble, you keep your mouth shut.
He shook his head with a smile. Despite the grim outlook of this menacing world that surrounded him, he can openly admit he had fun in his youth, especially whenever an annoyed thug got too aggressive with his father's opinions. Safe to say, some thugs were more bark than bite.
FLASHBACK
An Infernape and a Chimchar sat at the bar booth, each sipping a respective drink. The Infernape with a shot of rum and the Chimchar sipping on child friendly juice boxes. The larger monkey was dressed in a black suit, with a white shirt and red tie under his jacket. He wore a typical pair of reading glasses as he read the newspaper. His son wore a similar outfit, just not in the same style: black jacket, pants, white shirt with a bow tie, and a fedora resting comfortably on his head.
The Infernape smirked at the paper, taking another shot of rum. "Heh, look at this, Fern." He showed him the paper. "Our next target will be passing through the town soon. Multiple bodyguards here and there…heh, should take me five minutes to get through."
Fernando smiled up at his father. "We're gonna get him good, aren't we?"
He smirked wider and ruffled the little one's head, making him laugh. "What's this 'we' stuff you're talking about? All you'll be doing is watching from the sidelines while your old man does the work."
The Chimchar pouted in annoyance. "Aww…"
"Hey, chin up, sport. You'll make a great hitman…once you turn fifteen, at least." He poked him in the nose. "The art of assassination is one of patience. You're still too young to be wielding a knife, and way too inexperienced to perform proper assassinations."
He sighed, sipping on his juice box. "Yes sir…"
"Aww, don't give me that face." He patted his head. "Tell ya what! You get to be the lookout!"
His frowned spun into a grin. "Really?!"
"Of course! You get to watch him from the rooftops. Once you spot him, you'll signal me from below."
He saluted. "I won't let you down, sir!"
"That's my boy! How about another juice box?"
"Sure!"
He turned to the bartender to request the drink when he saw a chair flying at them. He pushed Fernando's head down as it flew over them, smashing to pieces against the wall.
The bartender, a Kricketune, sighed. "Those gentlemen over there keep breaking my chairs. I just had them replaced last week."
The Infernape narrowed his eyes on the two rowdy Pokémon, a Feraligatr and an Amoonguss, wearing leather jackets. They were downing two mugs of liquor and causing quite the ruckus. Even Fernando felt his eyes narrow in annoyance.
The hitman removed his jacket and his tie. "Someone needs to teach them a lesson."
Fernando jumped down from his chair. "Yeah!" He cracked his knuckles, then winced from the pain. "Ow…"
His father chuckled and patted his head. "If they cause me any trouble, give them a good walloping, sport."
He gave a thumbs up. "You got it!"
The hitman wounded his arm as he walked over to them, while they were banging their cups down on the table in their fits of hearty laughter. The contents of their mugs sloshed everywhere, spilling on the floor and creating quite the unsatisfactory mess.
The Feraligatr's head flew back in laughter. "Then I said, 'That's not a Hippowdon! That's my wife'!"
The Amoonguss banged his mug down on the table, laughing. "HAHAHAHA! I don't get it, but it's funny!"
They each felt a tap on their shoulders and turned to face the hitman. He greeted them with a friendly smile. "Hello, gentlemen. I see you're enjoying yourselves."
Amoonguss narrowed his eyes. "Who the hell are you?"
"Ah yes, I'm Easton Mangas, pleasure to meet you. Now then, I believe you gentlemen are causing a bit of a disruption. I am trying to spend time with my son and I would appreciate it if you would keep the noise down to a minimum."
Amoonguss turned to his friend and snorted with laughter. "Hey Fred! This guy is being a buzzkill!"
Easton chuckled, rubbing his chin. "Now gents, I did not say…" He stopped as Fred rose from his seat.
"You got a problem with us having a little fun, old timer?"
"Old timer?" He crossed his arms with one eye narrowed. "I am no more than 34 years old, good sir. Hardly old."
He shoved Easton from their booth. "Get loss, scrawny, or there'll be trouble." Easton's eyes lowered as he saw the alligator reach for a switchblade in his pocket.
He sighed, hands behind his head. "Look, I'm trying to be reasonable here. I don't come to your places and start breaking chairs."
"I said get lost!"
Fernando smiled. He knew a fight was about to break out. And he already knew who the winner was going to be.
Easton stepped forward, showing a bit more assertiveness. With his left hand behind his back, he used his right to shove him back. "Fine, you want a fight. I've got some time to kill."
Fred growled. "You've sealed your fate!" He thrusted the knife at him.
The hitman made quick work to disarm him, slamming his palm against his hand while also using his other hand to stop the Feraligatr's arm from flying. The sudden stop forced the blade to fly out of his hand and into the table, sticking up perfectly.
Fred didn't have time to react to his next attack, as the Flame Pokémon flipped over him, grabbing him by the wrists, and restricting his arms against his back, before slamming his head down on the table.
The alligator thrashed around, trying to pull himself up. "Miguel, help me!"
He was about to when he saw the red glow of the hitman's eyes. A casual smirk may have been present on his face, but it was nothing compared to the bloodlust projecting from his eyes. The mushroom was frozen in fear, caught in a wave of uncertainty.
He reached to his throat in a sweat. He could have sworn he felt something wrap around it. Then, why was it becoming so hard to breathe? Was he being suffocated? Was someone choking him? What was happening?!
The fear and panic of the murderous aura caused the mushroom to pass out with blankness in his eyes, slamming his head down on the table.
Fred looked at him in shock. He didn't dare glance at his attacker, for fear he would have ended up like his friend. What did this hitman do to him? Was an illusionary spell casted on him and forced him to pass out?
Easton wrapped a rope around his wrists and kicked him to the ground. He kneeled down and dropped some bits in front of him. "I'll pay for your drinks, under the agreement that you keep your roughhousing to a minimum. Otherwise…" His eyes flashed red for a brief moment. "Well, if that bartender gets any ideas, you'll be on my hit list next." He stood up and walked over to Fernando.
The Chimchar clapped with a happy expression. "Wow, you showed them, Dad!"
He ruffled his head. "That's the mistake people make. Once they see the bloodlust hidden behind the guise of a hitman, they suddenly shiver in their boots."
He clenched his fists and pumped them in the air. "I'll make sure to make you proud when I become a hitman! I'll be just like you!"
"That's the spirit, kiddo!"
FLASHBACK ENDS
Fernando pushed open the doors of the familiar bar, taking in the same old environment he became accustom to in his youth. He took a moment to breathe in the air of the dusty bar, bringing back some fond memories. He even saw some damage that hasn't been fixed, such as the wall with the knife slash. He remembered that mark. It was when his father pulled out his knife on a dangerous criminal. Didn't end so well for him.
"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" He turned to the bar stand, where he saw the Kricketune bartender, who, judging from the wrinkles in his face, has aged since the last time he was here. "Do I know you?" he asked in a sarcastic, light-hearted tone.
Fernando smirked and walked over, playing along. "That depends. Does one of your usual patrons have a tendency to start and end fights?"
He chuckled, wiping a dirty glass. "Pleasure to have you here again, Fernando."
He jumped into a chair. "I could say the same about you, Samson. I thought you would've retired by now. Still working in this old place?"
He shrugged. "I get paid decently here. I might retire in time, but I want to enjoy the last few years I have left as an employee. Speaking of which, how may I serve you?"
He rested his chin against his fist. "I'll take a pop."
Samson smirked as he reached for the non-alcoholic beverage. "Not one for alcohol?"
"I didn't inherit my father's taste for liquor. I rather keep myself sober."
The old cricket passed him the bottle. "Speaking of your father, how is he doing these days?"
Fernando popped the lid off with ease and took a quick sip before answering, "Well, being retired now, he's taking in the luxury of relaxing…and hating every minute of it."
The bartender chuckled. "A man like him…I'm not surprised. He was always one for thrills, not leisure."
"Well, he doesn't totally hate it. He finds time for simple stuff, such as golf or crossword puzzles. Keeps his mind occupied so he doesn't go bonkers."
Samson shook his head. "Sounds like a great time to me." He went over to the sink and started cleaning dishes. "So, I assume you didn't come here just to have a little chitchat?"
Fernando sighed. "Read me like a book." He looked at him with narrowed eyes. "I have a reason for being here. I'm taking on a job for one of my clients."
"Who are you killing this time?"
He chuckled quietly. "Believe it or not, no one. Actually, this is a search mission they hired me for." He grabbed his right sleeve and rolled it up. Seared into his fur was a tattoo of a flaming skull.
The bartender raised a brow. "Well, well, the Contract of Flames, a contract that forces you to complete the mission, even in death. Heard those are expensive." He picked a plate up and scrubbed it. "Your client must really want something from you."
Fernando pulled his sleeve back down. "He does…from what he has told me, and apparently experienced, this is urgent business."
"So why make your way over here of all places?"
The hitman rested his chin on his clasped hands, while his elbows sat on the table. "You see a lot of scumbags crawling their way through here, don't you?"
"Of course. Not a day goes by where I don't see some shady character make their way through here."
"Then you might have picked up on some information of your own through conversations." He narrowed his eyes. "Know anything about a group called the Tribe of Shadows?"
"Tribe of Shadows, eh?" He looked up. "I remember learning about them when I was a wee youngster. They were the mythical shadow spirits that sought death upon all living creatures, mostly Pokémon." He turned his head a bit to look at him. "Why would you need intel on them?"
"My client made it clear he doesn't want too much of this information being leaked, sorry."
"I see. So, why do you need to know about them?"
The hitman leaned forward a bit. "I was hoping you would have heard anything about any remnants of their existence. Perhaps a gang of worshipers or something. Anyone who would have extensive knowledge on the shadows. Anyone like that come around here?"
The bartender sighed. "I apologize, Fernando, but no one like that has ever passed by here."
Fernando bit his lip. "Are you sure? No one at all? Not some lunatic who kept praising the darkness or something? Not a creepy guy dressed in all black? Any Pokémon at all that hates life?"
Samson replied with a similar response for each example. "We get a lot of creeps of the streets, but no one that fits that description." He fully turned himself to properly face him. "Besides, anyone like that wouldn't want to be caught hanging out in this joint. Criminals or not, I highly doubt anyone would put up with the kind of crap shadow worshipers tend to spit. People like that tend to meet in secret meetings and there simply isn't anywhere to hold those kinds of gatherings without being caught."
Fernando leaned back in his seat with a disappointed expression. "Darn it…"
Samson shrugged. "Sorry I couldn't be much help, kid. I'm sure you'll find something to help with your case."
"Thanks Sam…" He pulled out some bits and placed them on the table. "Keep the change." He hopped out of his chair and, with his hands in his pockets and his head low, he made his way to the door.
Samson narrowed his eyes, a little upset he wasn't much help to the Monferno. He was counting on him to have valuable information and he turned over his hopes. He didn't want the hitman to leave empty handed.
He rubbed his chin, trying to recall anything of use. There had to be someone that could give him the information he needed. With all the patrons he served, was there anyone that could help?
As luck would have it, there might be, recalling one customer he served merely an hour ago, who came in asking for a special delivery.
Right before the hitman could exit the establishment, the bartender shouted, "Hold on a minute!" Fernando barely had his foot out the door as he turned and faced him. "It's not much, but there might be someone who can help you."
The fire monkey narrowed his eyes before making his way back to the bar stand. He sat himself down again and clasped his hands together. "Go on."
Samson leaned against the shelves, crossing his arms. "I didn't want to worry you about this, but…" He sighed. "Well, about five months ago, a gang of criminals made their way into town. For the most part, they keep to themselves, not causing any trouble." He narrowed his eyes. "However, should anyone cross the line with them…" He shook his head. "Well, let's just say they aren't the kindest folks around."
"So they have a short fuse? Typical…"
"If you think that's typical, then hear this. They use fear or clever tricks to get the public to cooperate with them. I've seen it all; swindling, death threats, petty theft, you name it." He closed his eyes. "Sometimes I think they're worse than pirates, and that's saying a mouthful."
He didn't see it, but he could tell Fernando wasn't happy. He could tell by the sound of his jaw clenching.
"They come by to purchase a special shipment of exotic wine we get once a month. Their boss is rather fond of its 'heavenly flavor' and 'magnificent aroma', as I've been told. For the most part, they're decent customers whenever they stop by. They don't try to start fights with the other patrons." His eyes opened into a glare. "It's their methods of revenge that tick me off. Customers or not, I don't appreciate violent acts from anyone."
"And you didn't bother reporting this to the authorities?"
Samson chuckled weakly. "If only it were that simple. I tried to make an effort, but they've made it very clear they don't take those actions lightly." He rubbed his arms together, creating a melodic, yet saddening tone. "They've been taking extra care to stay out of reach of the law enforcement. They're part of an underground criminal organization that stretches to multiple zones of Mysto. They told me that themselves, saying they will hurt those close to me if I got on their bad side."
Fernando frowned, staring at him with sympathy reflecting from his eyes. "Samson…"
"I have kids I've raised. I have grandkids that I care highly about. They don't care who they take out, as long as they get their point across. Besides, I'm just a frail, old Kricketune. Not much I can do without getting my wings plucked."
He sighed sadly. "Besides, not much the authorities can do. While there is plenty of evidence to put these guys away, they're stocked on tons of firepower that could kill innocent. Not to mention this entire region is crawling with cells of their organization. They take out one, more come to finish the job. Getting involved would cripple this land even further."
"I'm sorry you feel that way, Sam…"
He rested his claw on his shoulder. "Your kindness is most appreciated, Fernando." He shook his head. "You shouldn't have to see an old bug like me weeping about his feelings…"
The hitman smiled. "Hey, I get it, don't worry. You were just worried about your family."
The bartender smiled back before wiping his eye. "Thank you. I suppose I should get back to my point." Fernando nodded and listened carefully.
"Their boss has connections with other sections of their organization, including their big boss, as I've heard."
"Big boss?"
"These guys are merely a section of the main group. The guy who runs this group is no more than an underling compared to him." He sighed. "Can't say I know much about this guy, not so much as a name. But I do know this…they're everywhere.
"If anyone has information on the Tribe of Shadows and any worshippers of those ghastly creatures, it's their organization."
Fernando sat up straight and rubbed his chin. "An entire organization with connections around the region…it sounds too good to be true."
"Well, I am just going off what I've been hearing."
"Either way, it's a start. Thanks Samson."
"Don't mention it."
He narrowed his eyes. "So, you're suggesting I take that wine to them myself?"
He winked. "Knowing you, it'll be a piece of cake."
"What about your usual delivery guy?"
"Out sick, unfortunately. It slipped my mind when one of his goons came by to order, so they don't know."
That one slip up was the hitman's opening for infiltration. If he didn't know any better, he'd say Samson purposely set this all up for him to sneak in and confront them himself. His lips curled into a smirk. "Just the words I needed to hear. You wouldn't happen to have a picture of him, do you?"
The elderly cricket smiled. It may be a job, but he knew he was being motivated by an act of heroism. Even with the business he took up, he still has his sense of morality. "I do. I'll give you the address to their hideout."
Fernando reached into his jacket, reaching for a particular item of his. "Perfect."
Laying outside the town was a roughed up warehouse that looked like it hasn't seen the light of day on years. The exterior itself was dull and void of expression, nothing more than a plain gray across the walls. However, it wasn't the outside that mattered. It was what laid inside that truly gave this hideout personality.
Behind the walls of the warehouse were a set of tables and chairs, laid out around the main floor as if it were a meeting hall. Sitting at these tables were some of the toughest looking Pokémon in these parts, all who looked like they have committed dark and sinful deeds in their time.
Present on the table was a gourmet dinner of fine taste for these rough and tough hooligans. At first glance, it would seem impossible for these lowlifes to acquire such a bountiful meal. However, the very organization they worked for had their ways of acquiring such refined cuisine. They didn't ask questions as to how or where. They took up these jobs to be taken off the streets and that is exactly what they planned to do, even if it meant blindly following their leaders. As long as they get what they need, their allegiance was without question.
Sitting at the end of a long table, in a large, black chair, was a Diggersby, the leader of this section of the organization, the Anguis Organization. He wore a black suit with a gray dress shirt underneath and a purple tie. He held a glass in his hand and took a light sip.
Another fine day of spreading fear across the public. The boss' men have managed to bring back their 'fee' from the people of Spodium Town. If they wish to be left at peace, they were 'generously asked' to pay up for their compliance, lest they suffer the wrath of their retaliation.
This is what the Anguis Organization stood for: manipulating the public through fear.
The boss raised his glass and tapped it with a fork, gathering their attention. He stood up. "Well gentlemen, I say today was another fine day, wouldn't you agree?"
They raised their glasses and gave a mighty cheer, making the boss smirk.
"This town will soon become ours, then all of Mysto for our glorious leader. We start out small and rise to the top. Once these townsfolk bleed themselves dry over their money, they'll have no choice but to seek shelter under our protection. Free labor without putting too much work into it."
"What about the police?" a Bibarel called out.
The Diggersby boss merely chuckled as he swished his drink around. "The law enforcement here won't be too hard for us to overpower. We have the weaponry and trinkets to subdue them. Everything will fall into place eventually. Soon, our master will take over this pitiful region and rule it under his might."
He took a light sip of his drink, expressing a sigh of satisfaction. "All hail the malevolent crime boss of the Anguis Organization: Count Aeternus."
They raised their glasses. "All hail Count Aeternus!"
The Diggersby sat down and sipped the last of his drink. He snapped his fingers, calling over a Heracross. He bowed. "Yes, boss?"
"Did you get take inventory on our weapons?"
"Of course, sir. Everything Count Aeternus sent us has been delivered. The new shipment shows promise, guaranteeing survival against armies and skillful magicians."
He closed his eyes in thought. As to be expected from him. As long as loyalty is guaranteed, he will give what is needed for success. He held his glass out, leading the Heracross to refill it for him. Once we unveil our stock to the town, they'll have no choice but to submit.
He sipped from his glass, smacking his lips together. He opened one eye and carefully inspected his glass before saying, "Tell me, when is my exotic wine being delivered?"
He bowed to him. "Soon, boss. I made the order about an hour ago."
He looked up at the wall clock. "That delivery boy is a few minutes behind schedule." I'll let it slide…for now. No sense in fussing over the small things. I spoil myself enough as it is.
"I'll make sure he is punished for his absence," his servant insisted.
He raised his hand in dismissal. "That won't be necessary. All I require is my exotic wine."
"As you wish, sir. I shall go wait outside for his arrival."
"Very well." His servant walked off. The Diggersby went for another sip when one of his henchmen, a Baltoy, floated over to him with a crystal ball.
"Sir, we're receiving a message from Count Aeternus. He wishes to speak to you in private."
The lower crime boss narrowed his eyes. It must be one of his usual checkups to make sure operations are going smooth. "Thank you, Baltoy." He took the crystal ball from him and went to his office for some privacy.
Outside the warehouse, the Heracross teetered back and forth on his heels, scanning the land diligently for the missing delivery boy. While he has only been out here for five minutes, he was growing impatient. Late by a few minutes may not seem like something to get exaggeratedly annoyed about, but the servant demanded perfection for his boss. That meant timely scheduled deliveries.
He crossed his arms, forming a glare in his eyes, as a figure came into view on a bike. He parked the bike and pulled out a cylinder looking object from the basket before making his way to the Heracross.
He gritted his teeth and stomped forward. "Well, it's about time! What took you?!"
Stepping into the dimly lit area was a Volbeat, wearing a standard delivery boy uniform, complete with cap, shirt, and pants. In his hands was a fancy wine bottle with a ribbon wrapped around it.
The delivery Volbeat offered a sheepish grin. "My apologies, sir. I was caught up in my other work at the time and made a wrong turn in my haste."
He scoffed and took the bottle from him. "Well, fortunately for you, my boss has decided to spare your life. Be grateful that you have received this second chance."
"Oh, of course, my good sir!" He bowed humbly. "I would never mean to insult your boss in such a boorish manner! I praise him for sparing my life!"
Heracross smirked. Huh, someone got an attitude change. Last time he acted meek and pathetic. Looks like he learned who the top dogs are. "Yes, you remember that." He prepared to make his way back inside.
"Oh, hold on for a moment, sir." He turned back to face him. "I must ask because…seeing as how eventually you'll leave me no choice, I figured it would be nice to know more about your organization."
He glared. "Can it, kid. I need to deliver this to my boss."
"Yes, yes, I know, but…what is it like working for the Anguis Organization?"
Heracross smirked. "Well, I'll say this, we're unstoppable. In due time, this whole region will be under the control of the Anguis Organization."
"I see. So you have strength in numbers?"
"You can say that. Though, it helps that Count Aeternus provides us with the needed weaponry to take this region by force."
Volbeat narrowed his eyes. "Count Aeternus?"
"Our glorious leader who runs the whole organization. He monitors every branch of the Anguis Organization. He has connections all across the world. There isn't anything he doesn't know."
"Huh, that's really interesting. Mind if I speak to your boss about that?"
He glared at him. "Sorry kid, but no entry without his permission."
He shrugged. "Well, I was trying to make this easier on you, but…"
He raised a brow suspiciously. "What the hell are you talking ab-HMPH?!"
He didn't have time to counter the surprise attack, as he was brought into a chokehold. He couldn't speak as a rag went over his mouth. He attempted to reach for a knife when he suddenly felt lightheaded. Something was doused over the rag. It must be chloroform.
His eyes glazed over before he slumped forward. Volbeat released him and let him hit his head against the ground. He made sure to catch the wine before it hit the ground too.
He tucked it under his arm, then grabbed the unconscious bug by the arms. He dragged him to the back of the warehouse and threw him into a bush, then proceeded to tie his limbs together.
He tipped his hat politely before standing up. "Sorry for the trouble, but I have work to do." He touched his face for a brief moment before his body enveloped in light.
His figure morphed in shape and size before transforming into the Heracross servant. He stretched his arms out before proceeding to the front door with the wine in hand, all while wearing a deceptive smile.
The Diggersby boss sat in his office with a smirk across his face, as the image of his leader projected from the crystal ball. He was shrouded in darkness, though it did show is unusual manner of sitting. He appeared to be standing on his chair in a crouched down position, like some sort of freaky gargoyle looming over the ground.
His face featured a wide grin filled with nightmares. "I'm glad to see you're pleased with the new weaponry, Ricardo."
"We should be thanking you for providing us with such magnificent gifts, sir," he applauded him. "These will surely help with you mission to spread fear across the region."
Aeternus rubbed his chin. "Yes, it will. How close are you to taking over that town?"
"It shouldn't take long. We have them wrapped around our finger. They'll be eating from the palms of my hand once we deliver the final blow."
He flashed a toothy grin, snickering. "Excellent, my minion. Soon this world will learn to fear the Anguis Organization. Once I acquire the toughest and sneakiest beings in the region, I'll develop an army that will surely grant me the power I desire."
"I don't doubt you for a moment, sir. If I may ask, have we gotten anymore new recruits on your end?"
"Not much. The last few guys we tried to recruit were a bit less cooperative." He snickered. "I…well, 'politely' showed them the door."
Ricardo didn't bother to ask. He has only once caught a glimpse of his boss' magical abilities. 'Politely' was far from the best way to describe the sinister meaning behind those words. "I see…"
"However, I did get word from one of my minions in Fuego Village that there is an interesting candidate they'd like to recruit."
"Who?"
He shrugged innocently. "Can't say I know. All I do know is that he's some shifty Dewott living in the slums. I've only heard stories of his skills. They have told me he's an excellent thief." He snickered. "For example, he pilfered some money off of our guys when he was passing through. Story was they spent two hours looking for him before getting their money back…or rather, a sack of bottle caps." He threw his head back in laughter.
Ricardo blinked with a sweatdrop dripping down his face. "Uh, sir, those are your men, remember?"
"Which only furthers my point. I want those who can deceive their target with such fluid motion and charisma. I want those who can put up a fight in battle." He smirked wider. "In this world, magic and fear are the only things you need to guarantee success. If you're not with me…" He made a sliding motion across his throat. "You're dead."
He gulped. "Understood…sir."
"Excellent. Now then, continue with your matters. I have work to finish." He chuckled lowly. "Don't disappoint me." With that, the image in the crystal flickered away, leaving the reflection of Ricardo's face.
He sighed tiredly and set the orb to the side. Sometimes he believes that haunting laugh of his malevolent boss can scare the dead back to life…only to kill them again with his sickly, murderous grin. If he hadn't seen him before, he would have convinced himself he wasn't a Pokémon.
He pushed himself out of his seat and left his office to return to the dinner with his men. He found them still enjoying themselves and chatting lively about their future ahead. He smirked at their enthusiasm. It took talent to run a successful team like this.
He sat back in his chair. The moment he did, his attention was drawn to his glass being refilled with a sparkling purple wine. He picked the cup up and looked at his Heracross servant. "Thank you. See, I told you. The delivery boy came and delivered as planned. You didn't need to get you pants in a bunch."
He bowed to him. "My apologies, sir. I was only looking out for you safety."
Ricardo sighed. "Well, one can't blame another for their intentions too harshly." He placed the glass to his lips and sipped the wine. "Ah, delectable."
"I'm glad it satisfies your tastes, sir."
He put the glass down. "Now, on to business. I received a call from Count Aeternus just recently, checking in on our progress. We'll be moving ahead with our plans very shortly."
"Oh? We are?"
"Yes. I want to earn his respect at the highest degree. Taking this town in his honor would be a step up from my current role."
"A step up from being the leader of a criminal circuit?"
He chuckled, picking up his glass once more. "Of course, dear boy. I'm talking about serving by my leader's side as we conquer this region. An honor that would not only earn me the greatest of respect, but also have me swimming in the finest of riches. Just think, surrounded by servants and dining on the grandest of feasts each day, served to my liking. With Count Aeternus, I will gain the respect I clearly deserve."
Heracross narrowed his eyes. "Even at the risk of innocent lives?"
He laughed, slamming his fist down on the table. "What a preposterous question! Of course! Sacrifices must be made in order to achieve satisfaction." He sipped his wine again.
The servant sat the bottle down on the table. "With all due respect, that seems a little excessive to achieve great power."
He leaned back in his seat. "Why would you care? You came to me asking for this life style." He took a moment to take a couple breaths, wiping his forehead. It was becoming a bit warm in the warehouse. "Someone fan me. It's dreadfully hot in here." A Shiftry ran over and fanned him with his leaf hands. "This is what I get for accepting a job at the Fire Zone."
Heracross glared. "This lifestyle is nothing more than you satisfying your own needs and desires. You threatened people for power, yet all I see is a gluttonous swine who wishes to gorge on fine meat and expensive wines like some aristocratic snob."
Ricardo clenched his glass tightly. "You're starting to step out of line, boy. Where did this sudden rush of anger come from? You aren't turning against us, are you?" He pulled on his shirt collar. "Arceus dammit, fan harder! I'm practically sweating!" Shiftry nodded and fanned faster.
Heracross leaned forward. "That's another thing. You have an entire warehouse full of the most violent criminals to come off the streets and you're treating them like slaves."
He shrugged, uninterested by his words. "You speak words, yet all I hear is ignorance. These men know what will happen if they turn against me." He sipped his wine. "They'd lose this cozy lifestyle and end up back on the streets, resorting to luck to survive. Here, as long as they know their place, they will receive whatever they desire. That's how life is meant to be lived."
The Singlehorn Pokémon clenched his fists. "You have some pretty backwards knowledge if you think fear is the way to achieve success."
"Never failed in wars, won't fail now."
"You forget that those who opposed justice eventually met their end at the hands of their own arrogance." He extended his arm, jabbing his finger against his nose. "A man like you would never understand the true meaning of life-"
Ricardo scoffed and batted his hand away. "Why should I care for the lives of others? Why should you care? You were nothing more than a street rat when I took you in."
Heracross smirked. "Wrong…I'm much worse than a street rat."
"Is that your idea of a threat?" He laughed, throwing his head back. "Hohohoho! This is too rich!" He wiped a tear from his eye, then took a handkerchief from his pocket to pat the beads of sweat on his forehead. "Very well, enlighten me, street rat. What makes you far more superior than me? And, before you answer…"
With a snap of his fingers, the servant found himself surrounded by thugs, each wielding a blunderbuss rifle. Each and every one was aimed directly at him, fingers wrapped around the trigger.
Ricardo smirked. "…choose your words wisely. They might be your last."
Heracross observed the thugs for a moment before shrugging. "Very well. I was going to make this quick and simple, but you leave me no choice."
The gang's eyes widened as he reached for his face and touched it. It a burst of light, his shape shifted into a smaller form, taking the shape of a monkey. Once the light died, in the place of the Heracross stood a neatly dressed Monferno. He pulled a plain white mask off his face and tucked it away in his jacket. Fernando looked up and smirked at the crime boss.
"You've been causing enough trouble here. I did come here for some information, but it seems I have to take matters into my own hands." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a balisong, also referred to as a butterfly knife. It was golden with a black, decorative leaf pattern running up the base.
He flipped it open in a series of fast, fluid movements that the men could not keep up with. He held the knife up and aimed it at Ricardo. "After hearing the torment you and the rest of your organization are putting people through, I won't allow this to go on any further."
Ricardo stared at him in awe for a moment before closing his eyes and letting a chuckle escape his lips. "The Hitman from the Haze…I've heard stories of your father." He sipped his drink again until it was completely empty. He snapped his fingers, ordering someone to pour him another drink. "I see my servant wasn't an issue for you to subdue."
"He wasn't…and neither will the rest of you. I'm ending this little operation of yours."
"As heroic as that sounds…" Once his drink was refilled, he took a sip. "…you're simply outnumbered. Besides, why should you care? We're helping these people?"
Fernando glared. "Helping?"
"Everyone knows the Fire Zone accumulates the most poverty out of all other zones, since it's also the least populated zone of all. Those who have come on hard times or simply can't support themselves resort to coming here in order to make something of themselves. Sure, some of the Fire Zone is sustainable and some areas have been considered to be great vacationing spots. However, at the end of the day, it's still a wasteland filled to the brim with smog and volcanic activity." He swished his drink around in its glass. "Fact is, some of the Fire Zone just isn't sustainable for living, yet they live there to find places to stay. They have no choice. It's either live on the streets or live somewhere that homes are accessible.
"What you consider harm is our way of helping Pokémon escape from their grim lives. That is what our crime lord hopes to accomplish."
Fernando gripped his knife tightly. "And, in return, they devote themselves to a madman in exchange for better living conditions, lest they endure either the punishment of outside forces…or the stinging punishment of defying their leader?"
"Correct. It's a simple trade. Life…or death." He pulled on his collar, practically baking in his suit. Ugh, I can't stand this blasted heat.
"Your plans will fail."
Ricardo released his shirt and sighed. "What do you plan on doing about it? We may be taxing these citizens of their money and possessions, but they know, sooner or later, they'll have to grovel at our feet to live. It is the way of the Anguis Organization. Count Aeternus will see us to a better future under his reign.
"You think you can stop us? One measly runt isn't enough to take down an entire crime syndicate, especially a hitman." He held up his glass. "Fact is, you only specialize in assassination, not combat. You're surrounded by weaponry that will tear you apart when I give the order.
"The weak peasants of this world are meant to serve the strong. What do you plan to do? Improve the lives of everyone in the Fire Zone? Don't make me laugh. You can help a few Pokémon, but it won't rid the issue." He narrowed his eyes objectively. "When the weak see an opportunity to survive, more often than not, they'll take the risks necessary to live.
"In short, you can't stop us."
The fire monkey stared at him with a cold, hard glare. If his weapon weren't so durable, it might have snapped in two from his monstrously tight grip, fueled by the anger building up inside him. He could hear the thugs around him shifting uncomfortably. They were getting a faint sense of the murderous aura that surrounded him.
He could kill them here and now, but none of them were on his hit list. He wasn't contracted to eliminate them. Even if he wanted to of his free will, he couldn't. Hal's contract stated not to kill anyone not affiliated with the Tribe of Shadows, lest he receive severe punishment for breaking his limitations.
He gripped his arm tightly, feeling the weight of the seal forcing down on his arm. It persuaded him to stick to the intended goal, but he couldn't stand listening to these maniacs about their heinous ideology. It made him sick. They treated the weak like instruments of anarchy. Tools for their own game. Weapons to conquer those who uphold justice.
As much as it pained him to say it, he's right about one thing: he's trained in the art of assassination, not fighting. He isn't a combat assassin. He was taught by his father to engage the target swiftly and undetected. The only fighting he knew was self-defense techniques and knife combat.
There wasn't anything he could do to destroy this organization himself. No info on their boss. No info of his location. Just a name, perhaps an alias to disguise himself. This wasn't a mission for him…
…him, at least.
Ricardo and the thugs lowered their guard a bit as Fernando spun his knife around until it was folded up. "All of you speak with arrogance and greed. You're a waste of my time." He slid his hands into his pockets. His hat tipped down, shading his eyes in darkness. "I didn't come here to discuss the fate of the Fire Zone, or any other zone. I came here requesting information on the Tribe of Shadows."
His head tilted up a bit, making the group flinched. A faint red glow reflected off his right eye, the only eye visible in the shade. "I'll cut to the chase: you may act like you're invincible, but you're just as vulnerable as any other creature on this planet. I may not be the one who will interfere with your plans, but someone will."
He took a step forward, alerting the thugs to aim their weapons again. "I'll promise you this, though: I may not have the right to kill any of you, but that doesn't mean I won't enforce the message in my own way."
Ricardo glowered at him. "How so, runt?" He sipped his wine.
"I am a professional hitman for hire. I have assassinated many of my targets without flaw. I always get the drop on my opponent, using their own weaknesses to my advantage." His lips curled up into a smirk as he ended his threat with a quiet tone…
"…There's poison in your wine…"
Ricardo eyes widened to the size of saucers before he spat the wine swimming in his mouth. He looked at his glass shakily. He was suddenly beginning to feel warmer and uncomfortable. His pupils shook as the glass in his hand began to split into three, distorting his vision.
"You know what I love about the Fire Zone?" Ricardo looked up at the hitman. "My targets mistake the sudden change in heat as the temperature rising." He smirked. "Though, I have to give them credit. They at least had bodyguards around to test any food and drinks I may have poisoned. You, however, just chugged away at your own greed without personal care of your safety."
He narrowed his eyes, frowning. "You thought so highly of yourself that you ignored personal safety."
The glass shattered on the ground as the Diggersby clenched his stomach. His lungs felt like they were being constricted by serpents, wrapping tightly around the air sacs until they burst. "Ack…eck…anti…duh…"
Fernando raised a brow before snapping his fingers in realization. "Oh! Do you want this?" He reached into his jacket and pulled out a vile with clear liquid. "The antidote?"
Ricardo growled at him. Forcing the words out, he let out a ragged shout, "AGH-OGEN…OKEN FIA!" He gulped and shouted clearer, "OPEN FIRE! GET THAT ANTIDOTE!" He coughed harshly.
The thugs glared and prepared to fire. In a swift motion, Fernando pulled out a handful of pellets and threw them down, creating a thick wall of smoke around them. They fired red energy bolts into the cloud. Unable to see their target, shots were firing all over the place. One shot even hit a thug square in the chest, sending him into the wall.
They ceased fire and looked around, making their way through the smoke. It would take a moment for it all to clear out. They kept their guard up, keeping their fingers wrapped around that trigger. It was hard to pinpoint an exact target when everyone else was just as obscured as their target.
"Anyone have eyes on him?!" a Nidoking shouted.
"Not yet!" a Baltoy replied.
Suddenly, the Clay Doll Pokémon found a thread wrap around his neck. Before he could react, he was pulled into the smoke.
A Magmar and Makuhita raised their weapons and stood back to back with each other. They kept their eyes pierced on the smoke, making sure not to let the hitman get the drop on them.
"Stay close," Magmar warned.
"Like I was planning on leaving," Makuhita muttered.
The Spitfire Pokemon felt something scurry pass his feet. Surprised, he fired at the ground, alerting his partner.
"Will you be careful?! That could have been one of ours!"
"He's around here, I know it!"
"Of course he's around here! I doubt he left the-" He didn't finish his statement.
"Manny?" He turned around to find his partner, only to discover he was gone. The Magmar's eyes widened as he stepped back. "Show yourself!" He felt movement behind him. "Got you!" He whipped around and blasted the stalker.
He waved the smoke from his face to get a good look at his prey. Much to his horror, it was a Gurdurr he blasted, who was now unconscious.
"Wha…" Something wrapped around his ankles and pulled him under the smoke, releasing one final scream before he went silent.
Ricardo pushed himself from his seat and inched away from the smoke. He ducked as a stray shot flew over his head. He turned back to the chaos echoing from inside the smoke cloud. They were expendable, but his life wasn't. He could easily leave, yet their attacker had the key to his survival. He looked around to see if any of his men dropped a gun. With his luck, he'll get a lucky shot at the hitman.
The cloud darkened, warning him to duck when a Yanmega flew out of the smoke and smashed against the wall. He landed on the ground, his weapon bouncing off his body.
The crime boss smirked and picked it up. Perfect. He aimed at the cloud and waited for the hitman to show his face. The moment he sees an orange monkey, he was going to rain death upon him. I'll splatter his blood across this room!
Shots fired left and right from the smoke cloud until…they stopped. Dead silence had taken over the warehouse, emanating an unusually creepy vibe for the crime boss.
He held the rifle shakily, not due to fear, though. The poison was taking its toll on his motor skills. He was losing the strength to stand. He could feel his knees close to collapsing under his weight. If he waited any longer to take that antidote, he'll keel over dead. This wasn't how he wanted to die! Not from his favorite beverage doing him in!
His eyes slightly widened when a figure walked out of the smoke. As expected, it was Fernando, hands in his pockets and hat tipped over his eyes. He walked with an air of calm around him. A gentle smile sat on his face.
Ricardo shook like a leaf, but he couldn't explain why. He couldn't sense the murderous intent within the hitman anymore. He seemed…relaxed. It was like all the bloodlust within him had just vanished in a fraction of a second, as if it was never there to begin with.
His mind was in conflict. The rational part of his brain told him to fire before it was too late. Yet, his instincts told him he was no longer in danger. There was no immediate threat. It couldn't detect anything around him that wanted to take his life, despite the hitman walking towards him.
Fernando stopped inches from Ricardo, nearly bumping into him. An eerie silence filled the next few seconds as an air of mystery started to fill the crime boss' mind. Why didn't he feel threatened? Did the hitman give up?
He held his breath as the monkey spoke, "Hitmen and assassins share many common traits when taking on a target. We're elusive, unseen…normal to the public." He looked into the eyes of the crime boss, whose eyes widened to the size of saucers, his heart immediately beating in fear. "…and they can hide their bloodlust until the very last minute."
Ricardo's eyes darted to the hitman's right hand, immediately taking note of the balisong that was swinging towards his face. His instincts flared crazily as he startled back, away from the reach of the knife. The moment he saw the hitman's eyes, he could feel…no, he knew something.
…he was going to die.
Because of how close the knife came to hitting him and the poison claiming more control over his legs, he lost his balance in his attempt to stay out of its reach. Slipping on his feet, he landed on his back with a loud thud, gasping in pain.
His eyes opened, squinted in pain. His vision became even blurrier, harder to make out any exact details. Though, he wished he was blind at this point, because the menacing stare of the hitman's eyes came into view. The light around them seemed to vanish from sight. There was nothing. Only him…and his killer.
He wasn't sure if it was the poison's doing or the Monferno's, but he now felt something wrap around his throat, effectively restraining him. He couldn't see, breathe, or even think properly. The only thing on his mind was death, the threat of being killed. The cold steel of the balisong pressed against his neck, forcing a scream from his lungs.
…a moment of silence passed.
Scattered across the warehouse were the unconscious thugs, tied together. A few drops of blood were on the floor, but no one was dead. The worse anyone got were a few slashes that weren't deep enough to cut something important.
Ricardo panted with ragged, heavy breaths, a bit of drool running down his cheek from his panic. Pressed against his neck was the balisong, the blunt end of it. No cuts were visible in the general area of his throat. Covering his eyes was Fernando's hand, while he used his legs to restrain his arms. He made sure to quickly wrap up the Diggersby's ears, as they acted like arms as well.
Fernando smiled innocently at his captured victim, then whispered, "You want to keep breathing? Just give me the information I need and I'll be on my way." He got a gargled response filled with panic. "I'll take that as a yes…" He released him and kicked him onto his back.
He uncorked the vile and poured the antidote down his throat before lifting his head to make him swallow. A moment later, the raggedness in his breathing ceased.
Fernando pocketed the antidote and placed the balisong against the crime boss' neck. "Now…do you know anything about the Tribe of Shadows?"
Ricardo clenched his teeth. "Why…would you…want to know a thing like that?"
"Classified information. Now answer." He flinched as the knife pressed harder against his neck.
He gulped a bit, trying to collect his words. "Listen runt…I'm not sure if you know, but the Tribe of Shadows was disbanded a long time ago, ever since the Great Imperium War. They haven't been around since."
Fernando narrowed his eyes. "You must know something, such as worshippers."
He took a moment to consider the idea. "Well…I may know something."
"Spill it."
"…somewhere in the Desert Zone, one of my fellow crime bosses had his men try and recruit a strange group of freaks for our forces. They went in…but never came out."
Fernando tilted his head. "Huh?"
"A search party was sent to look for them, only to discover their bodies were…" He clenched his teeth. "I…I refuse to retell those horrifying images. I was sick for days after seeing what they did."
The hitman respected his wishes. Frankly, he rather not hear himself. He always handled his missions cleanly. He could tell from the fear in his tone that these worshippers decided to take the messy, psychotic route of murder.
"So…they reside in the Desert Zone?"
"…I'm not sure. After they were discovered, they fled to a new location. We don't know where they are now."
The hitman clenched his teeth. Dammit.
"However," he continued, "One of our men did learn of a small group residing in one location. They have remained there for years now."
He narrowed his eyes. "Where?"
"Ghost Cove Town in the Aqua Zone. We don't know what they have been up to since then, but there haven't been reports of frequent murders."
Fernando rubbed his chin. "After what happened, they must be trying to keep themselves inconspicuous…"
"That is all I know, I swear…" Ricardo insisted, clenching his eyes shut.
The Monferno stared down at him for a while. He couldn't make out obvious signs of deceit. Guess he lost the will to. He has been through enough tonight.
He stood up and twirled his balisong around. "I'll make sure to alert the authorities of your activities, as well as make sure that they pass on the message that there are more of you scattered across the region."
He chuckled uneasily. "My master will not be pleased by this…"
"Let him. Pokémon like you make me sick. I don't care what happens to your miserable life, but I have no point in killing you." He folded his balisong and pocketed it. He tipped his hat. "Thanks for the info." With that, he strolled out of the warehouse, hands tucked in his pockets.
Ricardo glared at the hitman, that last trace of his presence in the form of the front door slamming shut. He turned his head to face his unconscious men. With that conditions they've been subjected to, it'd be near impossible to escape by the time police arrived.
He sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "Not sure why you're after the Tribe of Shadows, Mangas, but you don't know what forces you're playing with." He closed his eyes, smirking. "Heh…Aeternus won't be happy now that there's a dent in his plans…"
"…and ye're sure that's everything?"
Fernando nodded to the crystal ball that projected his client's image. "Positive, Hal."
The old croc folded his arms. "Never expected ye to get into that kind of trouble just for a wee bit of information."
"I take my work very seriously, sir." He narrowed his eyes. "Still, there is the concerning matter with these worshippers. From what the crime boss said, they appear to be extremely violent. Apparently they murdered some of their members when they were snooping around their old hideout."
"Yikes…" the former pirate muttered. "Yep, definitely sounds like a cult of shadow worshipping lunatics." He narrowed his eye. "So, a group of them are residing in Ghost Cove Town?"
"That is correct."
"It's a small town, so it would be strange to stay low there of all places." He shook his head. "Still, if they've been keeping their cover for that long without anyone being none the wiser, they must want to stay quiet." He looked back at Fernando. "Good work, kid. Make sure to keep me up-to-date with what ye find."
"Affirmative, sir. Also, if I may ask, where is that professor you were with when I first arrived?"
"Ah, ye mean good ol' Geno! Well, he's doing his own fair bit of research. Plus, he has classes to teach since the college is…partially fixed."
"He's a very studious man."
"He is. Hasn't had much luck finding more clues on the Shadow King's tomb, but he'll make sure to give ye any extra info ye may need for yer search."
"That'll be appreciated." He gave a salute. "I'll be off. Take care, sir."
"Later, kid." With that, the crystal ball became clear.
The shop owner set it to the side and picked up a box to take to the back. Once he was in the back and had it set down, the front door bell rung. "One moment, please." He rubbed his shoulder and went up front. "How may I…" He perked up upon seeing the mother of his fateful employee. "Oh, good afternoon, Mrs. Ravenfield."
Vivian smiled sweetly to the croc. "Please Hal, Vivian is just fine. How are you doing?"
"I'm doing fine, thank ye for asking. And how are ye? Ye're looking as lovely as ever."
She smiled embarrassingly and waved the compliment off. "Oh you…" She sighed. "I'm, uh…doing fine, I suppose. Just been…sitting at home and reading, spending time with some of my neighbors…"
Hal narrowed his eye. He was a little more perceptive than she gave him credit for. "Worried about yer boys, I take it?"
She lowered her head a bit, presenting a soft smile this time. "Am I that transparent?"
"I'm no parent, but even I can see ye're worried about Wes and Flint." He walked around his counter, bringing out two foldable chairs and setting them down. "Have a seat, ma'am."
"Oh, thank you, Hal." She climbed onto the seat and sat herself down. Hal rested himself against the chair, arm hanging from the back and left leg crossed over his right casually. "Yes, I am worried about my sons." She shrugged innocently. "Can you blame me? Wes doesn't usually leave the village for this long. It has me a little anxious. And to see Flint gone as well…this journey of theirs just has me on pins and needles."
Hal let out a sigh. "I understand yer worry, Viv. Even I can help but feel a bit concerned for their safety." He adjusted himself and leaned forward. "I'm sure they're fine, though. Garret and ye raised two remarkable boys. Plus, they have Ella with them." He winked…though, with his eye patch, it looked more like he blinked. "She knows how to keep those two in line."
She giggled a bit. "True. I remember how assertive she used to be when she and Wes were dating. Always dragging him out of his room so they can spend time together. He would get so flustered with her forwardness that he couldn't say no." She let out the last of her laughter and finished with a content sigh. "I miss those times dearly…"
Her eyes dipped into a saddened expression. "Even if they're safe, I just want to hold them in my ribbons again, just to make sure they're still alright." Her ribbons wrapped around her, hugging herself.
She felt a rough hand rest on her back. She looked up a bit to see Hal's reassuring smile. "Hey, don't worry. I'm sure they miss ye too. Maybe they'll give a call sometime just to say hi. And, like they said, they might swing on by for a short visit to see ye."
The Sylveon sniffled a bit, wiping a tear that was close to escaping her eye away, before expressing a small smile. "I would love that…"
He chuckled. "Good. If they ever call me, I'll make sure to put ye through as well." His eye widened as he felt the soft, silky touch of the Eeveelution's ribbons wrap around his waist.
"Thank you, Hal…" Vivian thanked with a tearful smile.
He blinked, before smiling back softly. "Ye're welcome." He hugged back.
Vivian pulled herself away, rubbing her eyes. "I'm…sorry for acting like this in front of you."
He shrugged. "It's alright, I understand."
"I should be on my way. I have errands to run." She jumped out of her chair. "Thank you again, Hal." He nodded with a smile. She was about to leave when she stopped in front of the door. She turned around and asked, "If it isn't too much trouble, would you like to come over later for dinner?"
He blinked, surprised by the offer. "Come again?"
"Well, it's just that Wes has told me you don't really have many people to hang out with, that you just work and go home for the night."
He gave a fake grin. "Is that so?" That blabbering fox! I told him to keep that secret!
"I could use some company. Plus, we don't normally converse with each other since…" She chuckled awkwardly. "Well, you know…our past encounters weren't exactly welcoming."
He let out the lowest of chuckles. As if he hasn't atoned for his past as a pirate enough. This was the one problem being acquaintances with the wife of his former enemy: she knew firsthand the kind of mayhem he brought upon Mysto in his youth.
"I'll have to take a rain check on the offer. I have to meet up with Geno later. Perhaps another time."
She chuckled. "Alright." She pushed the door open and stepped out. Before she closed it, she asked one final question, "…are you sure Wes and Flint will be alright?"
He smiled softly, then with confidence. "I can't make promises…but, from me experience, I don't have a doubt in my mind about their safety. They'll be back safe and sound."
She smiled back at him, satisfied with that answer. With her mind partially at ease, she left the shop.