"Forty Thousand."
Even when he repeats the words out loud he can't even comprehend the amount. Sweat is pouring down Lucario's brow, he's been losing his grip on reality since that fifty year old bird kicked the daylights out of him; hearing his consequences laid bare may be the straw which breaks his back. He wipes off the salty sweat, pops a bottle labeled Oran Orchard, then guns it down.
The dry tasting wine drowns his throat, shaking him back into reality with an Oran aftertaste. He shudders, looking at his surroundings. Pink is everywhere, censers and chains dangle from the claustrophobic ceiling, reflecting the embers of the several incense lit around them. It feels like a flower pink version of the stockades. He's lucky to be here rather than locked up with the rest of society's degenerates. He had struck a deal, but he still feels trapped.
An Aromatisse stares down at him, the same Aromatisse who he had captured not a day ago, looking spry and as if he didn't beat the daylights out of her. His back is on a bundle of fabrics, there's a bandage around his leg where there wasn't before. It's not hurting him, thankfully. Though the Oran mixed into the wine may be keeping him numb. He'll need a lot more than one bottle if he's going to get over the mess he's made of himself, that's if he has a coin to his name after she's done with him.
"Yes, Forty Thousand is to be delivered to the family within a month." She states firmly. "Forty Thousand will pay for the cart, the damages done to the supplies, and the rest will go into my pocket for the trouble you've given me. Weren't it for me, my family would've had you locked up forever for assaulting one of their own, but I think leaving you out to rot would be a wasted opportunity."
He's lucky then? It didn't feel this way. Lucario groans.
"How am I going to pay you Forty Thousand poke? All the wrong people know who I am now, I can't make the money for you even if I wanted to!"
"I haven't told anyone. This is between my family, and you." The stout avian him off, holding up a tiny yellow claw to his snout. "These are questions you should've asked before you assaulted the Aromatisse family. I've done all I can for you. You have a month, spend it wisely."
And she walks away, back to organising shelves after what was probably a long absence. He knows by the shape of the buildings behind those frilly pink curtains that he's in Calico Town - the place he's in is one of the Aromatisse Family's branch stores. He's got way more questions to ask: like why stop in Calico Town, like why did she choose this complicated deal instead of sending him off, and what happened to the badge which was on him. Questions she's not going to answer. She obviously wants him gone. It's because of her that he's a free man, and he's absolutely not gonna push his luck.
What a mess he's made.
Lucario steps up feeling his cape for his belongings: two bottles, a plain seed from the time he got shot at, a monochromatic crystal from a Pyrite Passage. And of course, there is a pittance of coin leftover from the blind idiot from a while back. Hal wasn't interested in the money apparently. The little he's got on him is nowhere near enough to afford a decent room, but there's enough here for at least one night of drinking.
Aromatisse is glaring at him from the corner of her eye, he's been here for a minute too long. Her patience is thinning. Lucario sees himself out the door, and a quick use of Psychic pulls the deadbolt behind him.
Outside the Sea's winds blow over the stone buildings. A moon sits on the horizon, and this big ugly thing over on an island lights up the whole place. Oh right, Calico is a guild town. No shenanigans allowed.
Where was he to go from here? He can't get a room, he can't go doing exploration jobs now that there's most certainly a record of his crimes somewhere in the local guild, and funny business was borderline impossible whilst under the guild's stupid beacon. Everything's so pretty, so pristine. All is safe under the eye of the Sundown Guild..
Sundown Guild, the name rises up his throat like bile. If Halcion hadn't taken what stupid bounty was on him at the time, he could've walked away with a gear. He wouldn't have needed to take that delivery job. He'd be free.
Honchkrow most certainly doesn't want to see his ugly face for screwing up the second job in the row. The moment anyone back home hears he's in bad blood with the Aromatisse, they'll get rid of him. He's got nothing other than a month of freedom, all the anger in the world won't set him free.
Lucario takes the bottle to his lips again. A wave of bitterness flushes the thoughts away. He thanks the glass by whipping it onto the paved stone, shattering into a million satisfying little pieces.
"Um, sir!"
An elekid wearing a little red bandanna interrupts Lucario's brooding. The kid's got no badge, instead what they have is a burlap bag chock full of paper rolls.
"Sir? I'm not your dad." Lucario spits onto the sheet of shattered glass. "I'm not cleaning that up either, go ahead and report me to the Guild of Cleanliness if you care so much."
"We don't have a guild for cleanliness." The Elekid dons an awkward smile, reaches into the pouch, and hands one of the rolls to him. "You might be interested in this."
"Sure."
He takes the bundle, watching the kid walk off and unroll one, slapping it onto the side of this tall lamp post. Posters. The instant he sees a big one hundred thousand plastered over the paper in the distance and he instantly opens his. What he sees is the literary equivalent of a sucker punch.
A hundred thousand for one of those stupid gears. The order was seemingly organized by the boss himself. He had missed out on the bounty of a lifetime all because of Hal coming out of nowhere.
He needs a drink.
Every town has a market square or something, and Calico - the Dusk Continent's marble jewel was no exception. Every light in the town was dimming. The shops were closing, yet one particular hole in the ground was still lit with a bright golden glow. The Hollow Dreams Tavern, a fitting place for Lucario to drink his troubles away.
Stepping inside, the tavern was crowded with pokemon from all walks of life. The majority of these people - if not all of them - have copies of this time gear poster. The talk is so loud he can't even tell what the bird at the back is supposed to be playing. And this Vilelume, who seems to be the only bartender in this joint, struggles to keep tabs on his guests. A Seviper and a Zangoose duo are currently heckling them.
"Three hun's?" The thickly accented 'goose bleats. "Three hundreds for a bottle and a night?"
"You asked for a bottle of Enigma, and this is not a hotel, I don't have many rooms." Vileplume turns away from the Zangoose and audibly groans when they see Lucario snaking up to the bar. "You're gonna ask for a room too?"
"No, just a drink." He taps the counter, the duo looks at him. "Don't know why you'd want to stay here, goose-boy. This place smells like bad wine and reeks of guild burnouts."
All taverns do, they house the failed explorers and criminals of the lands. Lucario's no different, he just doesn't have any mask of professionalism to hide behind. He's scum, honest scum.
The whole wall behind the bartender is a garish rainbow of different wines, each a unique berry, with sweet standards Pecha pink and Oran blues taking up way more space than the others. Lucario has no preference. If it's wine, it's wine. He's never been in a position to be picky and until he becomes head Honchkrow, he's ever going to be choosy. But if there was ever a time to pretend to be a drunken connoisseur, then now was. The question is: which of these bright colors looks the strongest?
Lucario pours all he's got on him out on the counter, and slides it right in front of the flower pokemon. He leans over the bar.
"Gimme the strongest, spiciest thing you've got. Spare no expense, I really don't care if it makes my heart stop."
The grass-type gives him a look of concern, and the Zangoose pretends to be no part of this. They count the coins, then slot them behind the counter.
"Are you sure?" Vileplume asks, squinting their eyes.
"I said I didn't care." Lucario points at the pink part of the rainbow. "Don't give me that foppish Pecha garbage either, it'd take five of those to get me drunk and I do not have the money for it. My bones are steel; my liver's made of iron."
"Thought you were just fighting…" Vileplume turns around, their stubby hands running through the rack like it's a deck of cards. "Lemme see what I have…"
It takes them a moment going from rack to rack, pulling out the occasional bottle along the way, but they eventually land somewhere on the red side of the spectrum. They pull out a crimson bottle with a navy black topper, slapping it down on the barside like a hammer. The fluid inside sloshes around with the texture of a syrupy Max Elixir.
"Haban." Vileplume taps the side of it. "Favorite of dragon types, they grow on the rocky side of the Grass Continent. A local girl I know loves this."
Lucario winces.
"Lemme guess: Hal comes a lot?"
"You know her?"
Lucario puts a brass spike on the lid of the bottle, then in a quick motion, pops the cork right of it. The red substance fizzes. The scent wafting from the bottle is overwhelming, and he takes a quick sip. The thick fluid slides down his throat with all the grace of a Muk shambling around, hitting him with a strong pulpy kick. A faintly sweet aftertaste congratulates him for pulling through.
"I wish I never met her. She's the reason why I'm drinking." Lucario wipes his mouth clean. "Are you a member of the Halcion Club?"
"No, she's just a usual guest." Vileplume motions near the stage. The only empty booth in the entire tavern is the one right in front of the bardic bird, probably her's. "She was sleeping there for two, or three weeks? Her partner fronted the bill. She was sick, apparently."
Part of him wants to say "good riddance", but it seems a bit much, and he's a more curious soul than he is a spiteful one. Lucario takes a second drink. There's enough pulp in this wine to make the average poke choke on it. How could Hal like this stuff?
"What, did she get on the bad side of a Salazzle?" Lucario chuckles. "You got Pecha here - you got every berry you can ask for, it must've been some sickness if she was sleeping for three weeks. She's built like a brick house!"
"It must've been strong. She came in one day with a gross mark on her shoulder and collapsed on that seat over there. I didn't care if she stayed as long as she paid for her drinks." A patron further down the bar flags them, they acknowledge them with a wave. "Minstrel could tell you more. Enjoy destroying your belly, Blue."
Guess that's the very on nose name of the bird playing in the back. The Chatot back there is fourth the size of the one who put Lucario down, but he's got a way bigger hat than the bucket on Braviary's head. His music is lost on the ears of the crowd, who would much rather talk about this bounty than listen to his chirpy tunes. Hal's seat is unocupied, begging for Lucario to snag it.
Lucario creeps through the crowded bar, coming shoulder to shoulder with adventurers of all walks of life. There were people from Calico's guild, indies, and even some folks with the boring blue name badges of Lapis' society. Everyone must've come to this tavern the second the news came out - because where else was there to go? This would be prime time to get ahead of the pack and get him a partner in crime if Lucario were one of those hunkey-dorey explorers types. The last person who partnered with him got shot out of the sky no thanks to him, so honestly he was better off alone.
He takes a swig as he throws himself onto the unoccupied booth. To his left is a Polyhwhirl keeping to themselves, legs kicking, waiting. Ahead is Minstrel looking at him from under his hat as he strums a song with his talons. It's a good song, really sonorous. Lucario doesn't actually care.
"Are you friends with Hal?" Lucario asks.
"Only friends call her Hal, and you're likely the Lucario she's mentioned beating to a pulp before." Minstrel doesn't laugh, as laughing likely entails stopping the music. "I will warn you, she's not gonna like you sitting in her spot."
"I'll take my chances." Lucario slumps on his seat. "If she wants to start a fight, it's her problem. I don't have any fight in me."
The Chatot tilts his head up. His eyes, though small, show genuine interest
"Oh? What happened to you?"
The Aura pokemon takes a massive swig, nearly losing his Murkrow hat with how much he leans back. The bitter, though slightly sweet flavor drowns out any sense of inhibition. He needs this, he needs a good drink if he's gonna start talking to a stranger about how he's a criminal down on his luck.
"See all those posters around here?" Lucario throws his onto the table, just in case the bird couldn't see past his Murkrow-shaped hat. "I used to work with the 'Krows until a couple days ago, and they swindled me out of my royalties for this bounty they put out. Set me up for failure with a really dumb job."
Yeah, they had to have set him up. What else was gonna happen when anyone other than an indie sees that badge they gave him? There's no Lucario in the Sundown Guild, even the dumb one winged bird saw right through the badge. It was never going to work. The Sundown Guild's tower is still blighting the night sky, so any plan to get Hal's folks into hot water clearly didn't stick.
And how did the Krows even know about the Time Gear? Lucario kept his mouth shut, he knew what he found was way too special to let Honchkrow, or anyone else in on it. Halcion sure doesn't have any loyalty to the 'Krows.
He takes another drink.
"If Halcion didn't come along and ruin it for me, I'd be set! Could've sold the thing, could've walked away. Now here I am drinking from a bottle like I'm a hatchling who hadn't had his Apple Juice."
The bottle is now empty, but the words keep flowing. He lets the bottle crash onto the floor as he gestures at Minstrel.
"No job, all outta money, and beaten to pulp two times in a row. Now I'm out of liquor too." Lucario hacks out a pitiful laugh, utterly defeated. "What shall I do now, mystery music minstrel?"
The music has stopped, no one in the tavern has taken notice save for them and the Polywhirl huddled in their own corner. Minstrel beckons Lucario over, and he nearly falls out of his seat stumbling over to the foot of the stage where he flattens himself out like a pancake. Lucario's pupils are wider than a river, watching a puny bird tower over him from atop his iron stool.
"You can hear me, right?" Minstrel asks, his voice hidden by the tavern's roar.
"Loud and clear, baby."
The minstrel rolls his eyes, and sighs.
"You found one of those gears, didn't you?"
"About three-ish, weeks ago? Could be shorter or longer than that." The memories pound on Lucario's metal skull. "I had found the gear in Pyrite Passage, it was black and red, surrounded by these floating glowing things. Nothing around it had color, like it sucks out by being there. It made no sense to me, I only knew it was important because there was a guy I couldn't see shooting something at me. He really didn't want me having it I guess."
"This gear has some kinda ability. I didn't have a chance to figure it out." Lucario huffs. "Hal just happened to walk in, hit me with a Sleep Seed, then I presume she made off like a bandit after she told the whole world about Time Gears."
"She didn't tell anyone."
The words kick some momentary sobriety into Lucario. He sits up, and the two pokes exchange looks of confusion.
"So she didn't tell you about owning this thing? She didn't come through this bar with it?" Lucario points at himself. "If she's got it then I'm going after her!"
"She doesn't have it, settle down!"
Lucario does as told, puffing out his cheeks.
"She may have had it when she first got here, but I had a quick look at her things when she came back sick and it wasn't on her." Minstrel looks to the empty booth. "I've never seen a pokemon sleep with their eyes wide open till she came in with that strange burn on her shoulder."
"Unless her partner turns out to be scum like me, then whoever put her to sleep probably took it." Lucario pulls himself up, looking across the tavern to the stairs outside. "I'm gonna find who did that to her and get my money's worth."
"You sure?"
Lucario glances at the bird, his eyes red, drunken stupor temporarily burned away by his sheer resolve. He's got a goal, he knows who to hit. Wipe them out, get his gear, get control of his life back.
"If you find my comatose body on Halcion's bench you can say I told you so."
They both chuckle. His humor isn't lost on Minstrel.
"Good luck." The Chatot chirps. "Before you go playing hero, may I offer you a place to start looking?"
"Does it involve money?"
"Depends. You should really look into finding yourself a psychic." Minstrel insists with a smile. "Not for any particular reason other than there's gonna be a lot of people looking for them once news breaks of this hunt."
He knows of their mystical powers, mind reading, future predictions or whatever, but as a fighting-type he's never wanted to tango with someone who can destroy him without lifting a finger. If they're gonna be all the rage in the next day, or even hours, he's not gonna squander his chances.
"Look for Judeau." Minstrel adjusts his hat, and his talons rest on the lute at his feet. And with a strum of his instrument, he bids Lucario a musical farewell as a parting song enters the air.
Lucario waves the bird goodbye as he hops off the stage into the crowd, shifting through the shoulder to shoulder traffic of adventurers each with a copy of the bounty in their hand. He barely reaches the stairwell untrampled, then climbs up out of this dreary heap. His hand touches the door when it swings open on its own.
A purple flame nearly blinds him as an explorer donned in a familiar shaped hat comes inches from careening into him. He doesn't apologize, instead he instantly steps aside with a curtsy bow. The fire raging on his back gives off no heat, even when Lucario nearly brushes the flames on the way past.
"Not one for saying hi?" Lucario catches the man speaking, and he stops.
"Opening a door for me doesn't mean I'm suddenly your boyfriend." Lucario dirties the pristine market tile with a glob of his spit. "Do you want a thank you?"
The oddly dressed Typhlosion puts his hands on the two cages tied to his hips. He looks to the sky as if waiting for a divine prophecy, but it never comes, and he shrugs like a dramatic buffoon.
"Good." Lucario swivels around. "Thanks for not wasting my time."
As Lucario walks off the stranger's voice follows.
"You're welcome!"
Going one side of the town to harass a psychic, only to be told to go right back to the square where this purple hut has been waiting with all of his answers. Whether by luck or by fate, there's no gigantic lineup outside the hut like Minstrel had predicted. Instead, there's now a gaggle of fire-type hooligans outside the Tavern sharing a bunch of spicy drinks and laughing about - who cares? They're gonna be missing out on first pickings with this spectral seer.
The tent is dead quiet. He can hear the tents fabric flapping against the idle Sea Winds, and several shades of violet flicker from within. No one's gonna leave a candle running in this easily flammable place. She's obviously here. Lucario summons up a Bone Rush, a glorified stick, and knocks the tile near the door flap.
"I already know you're outside, I can see your feet through the doorway." A feminine, ghostly voice speaks from within. "Come hither and set your club aside, willst thou?"
The club shatters into blue sparks as he tosses it behind him. The second he steps inside the tent, an blast of unusual fragrances assaults his nostrils Just for a split moment he thinks he's back into the pink flowery dungeon. Then he opens his eyes.
There's orbs all over the place like they weren't worth two hundred a piece. They didn't vary much in size, but each of them was colored just a slight different shade of blue. It takes a good eye or several mistakes to know what ones do what. Seeds aren't much better. At least Lucario can taste the difference between a spicy blast seed or a minty reviver seed.
As he looks around, he sees a phantom in violet robes greeting him from behind an orb covered table. Two identical bands drape down her giant hat like bangs of long hair, and her irises gleam pink in darkness. She has an otherworldly quality to her. Perhaps it's simply her typing.
Lucario takes a cursory peek outside. The fire-types are still meandering around the tavern's entrance. The magmar, charmeleon and heatmor are too enamored with whatever they're talking about to bother with the Lucario snooping around at dusk, or maybe they're simply drunk. There's about six empty bottles on the ground between all of them. Lucario folds the door flaps shut.
"Are there thieves around? Shady folk?" She says as he turns around, and sees her leaning across the orb-covered table, a wisp-like appendage to her chin. "Young man, whatever is out there can't possibly threaten you in here. No soul would be so foolish."
"-Some guys who had some drinks." He puffs up his chest. "I don't know if you are, but are you aware about the wonders of wine and what that does to a pokemon's judgement? It's why guildies are so prone to getting lost in dungeons. Too much alcohol when you're in nowhere's land and you'll probably never see the light of day again."
Now, explorers didn't bring bottles on bottles to binge drink during their escapades into time distorted dungeons. No one would be so stupid as to intentionally get drunk in a Mystery Dungeon, but there are stories about explorers getting into too many scuffles with the dungeon folk and having to drink away their wounds with Oran Wine, and those people are typically the rookies - always end up getting lost after losing their own marbles He's reported these kinds of lost souls all the time, not before stripping them of their valuables of course.
Bands, wines, seeds, you name it. It's sometimes more profitable to camp in dungeons for rookies to become lost than it is to go dungeoneering. With such less risk to him, why wouldn't he turn to this life?
Lucario's losing track. The phantom's laughing at him.
"Oh yes, vices I'll never have the pleasure or displeasure of taking." She looks him up and down. "If I were to take control of your form, then perhaps I could feel the slightest taste of inebriation after too many bottles. One of your kind may look swell in purple garb."
"But that'd be crossing a line, even for me." She chuckles softly. "I presume you haven't come to hear me babble about the mechanics of possessing another person's body. Tell me what you want, young man. I can provide within reason."
He wasn't about to suggest to a complete ghostly stranger to partake in a hairbrain scheme which involves possessing him at the final day of the month, so as to somehow avoid being dragged off to the stockade under some stupid clause. He's not desperate enough, not yet. Lucario taps one of the spheres in front of him.
"I don't touch these orbs or reading things, it's not my place." Lucario watches his reflection in the orbs, seeing multiple little Lucario's mime his words back. "But this little Judeau guy said you were the best shot after their master up and vanished, so I may as well ask."
Lucario leans over the table, careful neither to threaten her or shatter the thousands of coins worth in merchandise. He briefly looks behind him, seeing if there's any gear-mongering explorers peeping in.. He swallows the last of his pride with a hoarse gulp.
"I need you to point me in the direction of a Time Gear. Don't care how close or how far it is, or if it's at the end of the scariest dungeon known to pokemon." He whispers, staring into the onyx eyes speckling under her hat. "I had my hands on a gear long before this craze started. I had first dibs, and I lost it. Now I have a month to find one if I ever want to walk free again."
He's a criminal, he let it slip. He doesn't care. Everything is on the counter now.
"I know what these things do, I don't know if giving one of them to my old boss is a good idea but it'll give me the coin I need to be free. I just need the one to protect myself, and eventually turn in. I am not asking for anything other than a point in the right direction. I need a hint. That's all I want."
There is something to be said about the Phantom. The way she doesn't breathe; doesn't need to blink. She's a smirking, frozen statue in the shape of a hatted sorceress, and her only signs of life during this silence are the edges of her garb flowing in some invisible spectral wind. The haunting way she looks at him unflinchingly shakes Lucario to his metal bones, but he remains firm. She knows how much Lucario needs her.
A pair of needle-thin fangs unsheathe from her mouth as her grin contorts into a wide, sinister smile. Her pupils narrow in on him like a noctowl.
"A desperate man with a price on his head, and only a month to live freely." She eyes him carefully. "I do not know how capable you are, good friends of mine have made the mistake of assuming people's competence by their species, and I am not inclined to repeat them. What I see before me is a man who will do anything for his goal, a person many would find abhorrent."
Her wisp-like hand reaches out to an orb, coiling around it like a snake and dragging the orb to in front of them. She rests her hands on its gleaming blue surface. It looks seemingly unremarkable.
"I am in the minority." Her smile softens, her fangs recede. "You played your hand too early. I know you're a criminal, and I could turn you in if I so please."
Lucario feels his body tense.
"I can keep a secret. I'll gleefully feign ignorance of your record at the drop of my hat. But can you keep your word, criminal?"
"I'm at my wit's end, lady. I'm going to be honest."
She reaches for one of his hands, laying it gently over the crystaline orb. Her two appendages fold over his hand as she stares into his eyes. The sphere glows softly, its faint blue being barely brighter than the lantern overhead.
"Give me something which reminds you of these gears, and with the aid of this Scanner Orb I shall guide you to your gear. In exchange, I ask only that you bring it back here for me to examine. We will discuss future endeavors from there on." She exhales. "Keep in mind however, failure to retrieve the gear in a timely fashion will have me spread your name amongst every guild and ear who will listen."
He nods. Without a word he reaches deep underneath his cloak, producing an odd familiar crystal. Both lights, above his head and from the orb below become monochrome the second they catch the crystal. The Orb Seller relieves it from Lucario's hand, looking down at the sphere in immense focus. Something within the orb changes. A blurry image; a reflection from underwater.
"Are you prepared?" she asks.
No coin, no gem, nothing but a burning desire to seize what was once his. He had just traded one boss for another. Was he ever free? Who knows. Lucario sighs reluctantly, keeping his hand on the scintillating sphere. He trusts her.
"As I'll ever be."