Snap!
A metre of softwood - one able to take a bruising. Lousia's not exactly looking to make a tool out of it, it just needs to work. He tosses it to the sneasel ahead of him and she immediately hews it into shape.
"How long?" She asks
"The branch or till we get there?" The Inteleon chuckles. "There's ample time to file it down, babygirl."
Sneasel begins whittling, hunks of bark being chipped away by their claws till a thin, sturdy core remains. Any work after this is superfluous but she begins to smooth out the edges.
"And if uh - the thing's not there?" She looks back, hopping over a root in the way. "A tourist spot isn't what comes to mind when I think of dungeons with secret treasures. It's probably already in a rich merchant's house already. I can do with a bit of B&E."
"Really? Since when were you a thief?"
Out of all the people Louisa could have convinced to embark on this journey with him, Sneasel was chosen for her scouting skills. Rookie adventurers are as plentiful as berries in an orchard. If he wants a brute he'll hire a veteran; if he wants someone who's familiar with scouting the dark reaches of the Dusk Continent's tundras, then rookies were much better in this regard. Dark-Types in particular were quite good at the night things - it's not too much of a stretch to assume some of them to be thieves.
Everyone's got their own little stories and such, he just always thought of her as a goodie explorer who wouldn't delve into such unscrupulous actions. Goes to show the type of Branch Leader Lousia was - an oblivious one.
At least he had a decent enough career up until he went to the wrong dungeon and was forever changed and retired shortly thereafter. As far as he knows, Sneasel's just a girl who wants something else to do.
And there's nothing wrong with exchanging one treasure hunting job for one with slightly less rules. She shakes a few flecks off of the branch then glances back.
"Y'know the Kec's?"
Louisa just laughs, of course he knows them.
"They're everywhere because they have the ability to change types like your Soak-Thing, super cool, right? Problem is it needs a boost for it to work. I used to sit outside the road to our Town waiting for a Kecleon to pass by, and I'd offer to change them to ice-types. They usually gave me something for helping out, but if they didn't, I could swipe some merch right under their nose. A loose seed, ten coins, stuff they wouldn't notice till they do inventory at the next stop over."
She spits out a glob of tree sap she's been quietly chewing.
"I did this for a month or two, then bam! I had enough to get me a scarf and one of your badges!" There's a quiver of shame in her voice. "All that work, gone because I tagged along with you. Oh well…"
"Which is why we take things carefully, babygirl. If we wind up without a record at the end of this, I'm sure the guild's gonna let you back in. And could you truly name no better way to keep our hands clean than by fighting baddies from far away?"
"I just wish I didn't have to make a new one of these every time you fought."
She holds out the finished rod, and he swipes it.
"It'll make for good tinder eventually."
"But you and I have resistance to chilly weather, we haven't had to make a fire since…" She tries to think of a number, but gives up. "Since you got your cravat all wet and whined like a baby."
A cravat which made hiding that thing much easier. Lousia rolls his eyes.
Not a minute or two later the towering dark trees begin to thin. Starlight creeps into a huge clearing ahead, a rocky mound is at the center of it. Lousia crouches down, membranes flick over his eyes, and he begins scoping it out.
"You sure this is the place?" Sneasel whispers behind him.
Lousia digs a hand into his cravat, and the ice-cold metal touches his fingers. There's a sensation, like a heartbeat, ticking away when he looks at the dungeon's maw. This thing is calling out for its missing pieces and another is answering back. He nods.
He slides the smooth dial between his fingers, leveling eyes with the small divot carved into the end of it. He looks down the shaft into the field, and then there's movement.
Hoo boy.
Two figures: a hatted thing and a murkrow alongside them. They walk through the crystal formations oblivious to the set of eyes staring from afar. Starlight catches onto the brilliant stones, illuminating them to a small degree. He sees blue fur - a Lucario? What's a lucario wearing a hat doing out here? He's not going to take risks. If it's another Thief he'll put them down without a second thought. Anything to keep these Gears out of people's hands.
"You need me down there?".
"If they leave those shiny crystals? Yes."
She doesn't need to be told not to fight Lucario, he knows she's smarter than that. If she goes down she'll be a second pair of eyes guiding his hand with distant shines of her claws. They've done this before.
The tall one stops, he seems to be mouthing something off and Murkrow perches on a hunk of glistening crystals. Lucario are quick, agile fighters, not to be written off easily. The other's a simple mailman. One of these pokemon can get a message out much faster than the other.
Louisa feels for the wind, aims for the thing pecking at the crystal and shoots.
A forcer throws Murkrow from his perch, squawking and clutching his beak as they're pelted by chunks of pyrite. Before panic has time to settle in, Lucario plucks the bird out of the sky in time for a second shot to whizz past their heads. Their backs are now against the stone.
"My beak!" Murkrow squeaks.
"You're gonna have to worry about way more than your beak if you don't pipe it down!"
Lucario's gotta be a decent actor because Murkrow instantly goes quiet. His blood's pumping, he's already wheezing and he wasn't even the one who was shot at. He's in control now, at least until Murkrow figures out how little Lucario has a hold of this situation. He needs to think his way out.
Starting firsty with his surroundings. He's in the middle of a field of waist-high stones, perfect cover were it not for their glow giving him away. Up the hill to his left was the entrance to the dungeon itself, only a stone's throw away but far out of reach. A sprint to it was possible, there were maybe enough stones to block a shot or two, but if he thinks he can get there he's gotta be outta his mind.
Then there's their attacker keeping them stuck against this rock. Till he figures out where exactly they're throwing stuff from or how close they are, they may as well be invisible. If the dark-type couldn't see who it was, there's no way Lucario's gonna find out by peeking over the wall.
He holds out a hand and a long glowing bone appears in it. Bone Rush, a glorified club for beating heads in. Its actual usefulness in battle doesn't matter - it was attention grabbing.
Lucario raises it then - crack! It sounds like a bottle being broken far away. The Bone Rush flies out of his hand, then disperses when it hits the floor. His arm stings from the force.
"Okay, okay." The mutt sighs, grasping his arm. "So he's over by the woods, I don't think he's gonna get any closer but we're stuck here."
The Murkrow is quivering.
"So you're just gonna sit here till he-"
A bolt of water cuts through the air, ripping a chunk of a stone up ahead. A second shot flies out, chipping off another piece, then a third tears apart the crystal altogether. Shot after shot destroy the crystals ahead of them, turning the field into a dune of fine glittering powder. The ones behind them are still standing, but the path ahead looks more bleak by the second. They don't want him getting in there.
If this is the case then the rumors of treasure have to be true. Suddenly, this isn't tedious work. No longer is this a job, he's now part of a race and this sharpshooter has come out of the woodworks to make sure a criminal like Lucario doesn't get their greasy mittens on the grand prize. Well, he's about to show them! Because if they're willing to shoot anyone down for this treasure, then it's gotta be life changing. It'll be enough for him to get a nice comfy seat on the ladder, or retire altogether. Both of which seem-
"We gotta move! Let's get outta here-"
He reaches down and clamps Murkrow's beak shut.
"No, it's you who has to get outta here." Lucario scolds them. "Someone's gotta get the word out about this!"
Before Murkrow can tell him how much of a dumb idea it was, Lucario shuts him up by shoving a folded-up map into their claws. The hound leans in close, whispering.
"From a distance, that guy's just gonna think you're a Murkrow carrying out a letter who got caught in this mess. That's your ticket out, little guy. No one's stupid enough to start a fire with a mailing business."
Another shot, the rock nearest to them turns to a powder which lingers in the air. There are some holes in his plan but they can't be any worse than the holes Murkrow will be full of if he sticks here a second longer. With no time to squawk or poke holes in the plan, Murkrow flaps his wings.
What an Idiot.
The second Murkrow gets off the ground Lucario pops a Reviver Seed into his mouth - wedging it between his brass teeth. If he gets hit, he just needs to bite down. But does the marksman bite?
The loud poof of feathers is Lucario's clew. Shouts of a clipped bird land on deaf ears as Lucario sprints through the cloud. The marksman bit, now it's time to leave.
With every meter he makes more and more of the powdered crystal is kicked up. The amount of bright stuff swirling in the air and a lower posture are his tickets to victory. A crack is heard from the treeline.
It misses, cutting a huge hole in the air overhead. Another follows, two more, something awful bites into his side as cold pain rings through his metal bones. The seconds purchased by leaving the 'krow behind are slipping away. Another hit trips up his leg. He bites into the seed before he falls unconscious, giving him the last bit of strength to leap towards the cave.
And he lands, not on his feet, but down a slippery slope into nothingness.
Something is following him.
At first, he's inclined to believe it's just the dungeon pokemon, but the footsteps are too heavy for a simple Geodude. They aren't the meandering of dungeon pokemon - they have a purpose to their stride. This person or thing is tearing through everywhere he's been, throwing the mindless creatures aside, pushing through the darkness with every intent to corner him at the end of this dungeon.
What's more important is finding the staircase and getting as many levels between him and them. Lucario was taking, combing through the dungeons in search of anything useful, but when it became all too clear those footsteps were not what they seem he threw everything else to the wind. He began confronting those dwellers less and less, ignoring rooms full of treasures as his own supplies wore down, all in a bid to build a wall of mad pokemon between him and this pursuer.
Lucario dashes though nearly identical chambers, the cavernous walls dimly lit by an unseen blue light. The cold wears on his metal bones. The apples in his stomach and a fiery desire to see the dungeon's end carry him through floor after floor.
He breaks into a large room where between him and the fissure in the ground is an Onix stirring from its slumber. Lucario dashes towards the stair, crunching a Sleep Seed in his fist and filling the Onix's nostrils with the vulurent powder. He leaps into the hole in the world.
A dirt slope breaks his fall, cold winds bring him to a stop, and Lucario finds himself in a familiar place. A gravel slope, no light to be seen, a tunnel leading into the depths. Did he just teleport back to the start? The cold is gone, but there's a red light at the end of the corridor. Could be treasure, could be magma waiting to boil him alive? He doesn't have time to waste on thinking about these nonsense dungeons.
Getting up, he takes a chomp out his last apple then proceeds down the corridor. Lucario's pointy ears listen for anything odd; everything else focuses on the glow ahead.
Strange lights in dungeons aren't unusual given all the evolutionary stones and other oddities there are in this world. It could be rubies or crystals of some kind, but usually those things don't glow in the way this is. It's as though there is a fire down there, flickering without a smell of smoke or sulfur in the air. The air is dry. There's no sounds of droplets falling from the dripstone overhead, but there's this hum. His ears twitch.
It's not humming, it's ticking. Tick, tick. A mechanical heartbeat to match the pulsing glow.. It's like a machine or a device of some kind, the likes only seen in fabled dungeons or over-engineered guild bases. The sound shakes his very being. Any man would turn around, but he needs to see what this thing was.
A cold white plume leaves his mouth then lingers forever. Sweat falls from his forehead, and they stay frozen in the air like petrified raindrops. The light seeping into the passageway casts no shadow, the sparkling ores it reveals are colorless. Everything is in monochrome.
Lucario covers his eyes as the red glow consumes him, intensifying, then dimming. Lucario drops his hand and what he sees is unreal.
A circular chamber with one way in, one way out, every surface covered in pyrite crystals. There are huge chunks in the back forming an altar to this floating thing: a gear shaped object no bigger than the size of his fist. Chipped things of red light encircle as it slowly turns, ticking, beating like a heart. Though made of a metal darker than obsidian, it was the only thing with color in this cave. This treasure isn't natural.
He sits there wondering what this thing is, trying to keep himself together as its sounds blur together into what he can only describe as the roar. A storm brews within the metal treasure, powerful enough to cast this corner of a dungeon in shadow. This is beyond him; beyond any simple Orb, Seed, or trinkets found within the depths of those unusual dungeons. This gear-thing was truly and indeed unique. A compulsion rises inside of him. He's a thief, this gear is his treasure to take.
Lucario steps over the crystalline floor as if it were a field of knives, slowly, carefully approaching the thing floating above the altar of monochrome gold. The red shattered things crackle as he approaches; the sounds of a Sea are deafening.
He reaches for it. The cold metal touches his hand, yet it doesn't budge. The red things get noisier, the light brightens. He pulls hard, harder, till finally he finally rips out of its socket -
The floating bits fade away but the ticking is still going. He watches the red lines in the gear shimmer like embers. He feels his heartbeat slowing, becoming synonymous with the ticking rhythm at the back of his mind until the two become indisgutingable. After what feels like an eternity he turns around.
And sees himself: a husk of Lucario stands near him.
The gear flies right out of his hand as he leaps away from it. He fumbles backwards, chipping off a piece of the fragile crystal as the gear harmlessly falls in front of his feet. In a panic, he reaches for it.
And his double reappears. This time it's frozen in place where the gear once floated, transparent like a ghost-type. He hears the ticking again, it vanishes, then reappears mid air with a goofy screaming on its face.
Was it making fun of him? Who can say, what he can say is that this projection is definitely following his movements. It's not harmful, nor alive. So he doesn't have to worry about stabbing him in the back when he hears something in the distance.
Footsteps, massive ones striding with purpose, running down the hall. They're close; there's almost no time to get his bearings. He grabs a chunk of the mystery crysta all around himl, stands up, and watches as a tall dark creature emerges from the passageway.
"Hal?"
Bigger horns, bigger tail, still the same dumb looking cape and body paint as the Fraxure he remembers. She means business, but her being here was better than the mystery pokemon upstairs.
"Yeah, I changed a bit." Halcion shrugs. "You sure haven't, R-"
"Lucario."
"We aren't friends any more, I get it. But you still haven't learned to keep your greasy hands to yourself." The Haxorus steps forth, her talons crunching the fragile crystals. "I'll take any chance I can get to beat someone to a pulp, but they don't have a bounty on your head, just the money you stole."
"Stealing?" Lucario laughs. "Never ever! If you're talking about Dieno, the runt asked for a reading and I gave them a reading fair and square. Just because one or two pokemon don't get the results they want doesn't mean I stole anything!"
"No one ever mentioned a Dieno."
Then who ratted him out? The scrafty from two months ago? He's done this scheme so many times, any of them could've put the hit out to the guilds. Admitting to just one more pokemon does not help his case here. There's probably a way out of this which doesn't involve needing to go toe to toe with a Haxorus, but his options are few.
Lucario digs for his wallet and pulls out something as flat as a desert. Halcion snorts at him.
"What did you spend it all on anyways? Don't tell me you actually enjoy dressing up as one of those mail-boys."
A little, though it's not why he's wearing this hat. Waving his authority around as a member of the 'Krow's cronies only works when it won't get the family in hot water. It's useless on Halcion. Lucario tries his best to puff up his chest.
"Yes, I enjoy looking like one of them." Lucario stuffs the coinpurse away. "Don't rag on another 'poke's get up when you're still wearing that dumb cape of yours!"
He tops it off with a smile, a big ol grin pulling up his lips and revealing the message he had carved onto his brass teeth. Because for as stupid as he looks right now, he's not the one out here trying to replicate some kind of decades old fairytale.
She steps closer, and suddenly he's not smiling anymore.
"Do you have the money or not?"
"Is this a shakedown, Hal?"
He knows how these work; he knows how she works. The second he's unable to cough up any money she's gonna be all over him, thrashing him around like he's some doll. It's not going to be pretty. He doesn't have the money, he doesn't have a way to swindle out of this. And were this any pokemon who didn't know better he could swindle his way out of fighting her, but as it stands, he's not going to get out of here without a fight.
So what does he do? He's outta seeds to throw at pokemon, he sure doesn't have any orbs on his person and the element of surprise was never on his side. There is no straight shot out: he's gotta go through her.
The crystals crack as she approaches him. He squirms away from the altar and she backs him into a corner. She smiles, honing her claws on the crystals next to them.
"Fork it over, now."
He has no coins, nothing on his person short of a half-eaten oran berry and this thing right next to his deflated coin purse. This gear-shaped-object, whatever it is, was worth more than a whole lifetime of separating fools from their coins. He just needs to get this gear back - away from this overgrown fraxure and everything he could want from working with the 'Krows will be his.
He feels his heart pound; a machine ticking on his chest. Her eyes follow his hand into his cloak as he touches the cold, black metal.
"Never in a million years."
An orange red glow blinds the both of them as he brandishes the object. The color in the world drain is sucked into the metal, everything becomes cold. Then, in an instant-
He's back at the altair where he was seconds ago; swapping places with the image of himself. There's no time for him to wonder, he's sprinting towards the entrance as a bewildered Haxorus stares all around her. Crack, crack, the crystals shatter under his stride.
"Put that thing down! Put it back right now!"
She's not angry, she's begging him. The gear in his hand terrifies her and the precious seconds her fear grants him are enough for him to make it to the mouth of the entrance.
Then something hits him from behind.
His legs turn into jelly. The powder of a Sleep Seed crawls around his shoulder covering his eyes, feeding into his nostrils as it lulls him to an instant slumber. The gear slips from his hand, its red glow rolling off into the cavern as he reaches out feebly. His dream, his escape, his future - all of it is fading away.
His heartbeat slows, the ticking in his chest stops, and he's dragged into a slumber.
PMD: To the Break of Dawn - To the Break of Dawn
2/4 for the special episode, mind the two sort chapters back to back. The one's after this is gonna be way long, like chapter 12