As it turned out, their journey through the rest of the populated area was exactly as simple as Dante's plan had made it seem. It was a meandering path, something that would seem entirely illogical without the information they had managed to obtain, but it kept them exceptionally safe; even at its worst, when a territory shift had them walking through a different wild group's territory than intended, Dante's plan was solid enough that the new group was just as uninterested in civil Pokémon as the old.
Now, they were approaching the final hurdle. Dante had told her that they would be headed through a stretch of desert, and although Luca could see that they were indeed approaching sand, she still had absolutely no idea what was waiting for them. Standing tall as she walked, Luca did her best to search the sands ahead for any clue.
It stood out as somewhat strange to her, but the desert was small enough that Luca could see its entirety. She couldn't see every inch of it, of course, due to the mountainous dunes, but on all sides she could spot trees, grass, or rocky mountains that marked the limit of the desert's expanse. Unfortunately, this didn't give her much information. Every inch of sand she could see was bare and unremarkable, and the valleys between concealed by the dunes could have held almost anything. As far as Luca could see it was an entirely empty stretch of land, with nothing that would even care about a 'show of strength', as Dante had said.
"Do you want to tell me more about what to expect, here?" Luca asked.
"Mm," Dante acknowledged, though he didn't turn around to look at her. "So, this desert is what's known as a bedlam. Is that a human word, or no?"
Luca racked her memory. As time went on, she grew worse and worse at remembering the fine details of the human world; it was simply information that was no longer useful. "It sounds like it could be, but I don't know. What does it mean?"
"Well here, it's essentially just a fancy word for free-for-all. So far we've only been dealing with organized groups, but in this desert, the largest group we'll see is pairs, or if we're lucky, a trio—though mostly, we'll only see single Pokémon."
"So, what? We just need to show them we're too strong for them?"
"We definitely can't, because realistically, we won't be stronger than every single Pokémon in this desert—but when they don't have the support of a larger group, we don't really need to be. In an environment like this, even a minor injury can be lethal. This means that it doesn't matter if we would end up losing the fight; as long as they're worried we'd be able to injure them as they take us down, they won't ever attack."
"How does that work, though? If everyone's independent, word won't spread. We'll just have to keep fighting until we eventually make a mistake."
"They'll know. These Pokémon are entirely focused on survival, and a large part of that is info-gathering. Whoever attacks us first will be one of the stronger Pokémon, one of those that the weaker population knows the location of at all times as a matter of necessity. If we force that stronger one to cut their losses and retreat without sustaining injuries ourselves, we likely won't be bothered again."
"...How strong are we talking?"
"Not excessively so. Bedlam Pokémon aren't known for their long life spans, but they're obviously going to be quite comfortable in a fight for their age."
"And this is the only way forward?" Luca asked. They had arrived at the border of the desert, and without any pause, they transferred to the warm sand. It felt strange under her feet, constantly shifting out from under her as she took steps. It was surprisingly exhausting.
"It's the best way," Dante answered. "It's either through here, or the wild group's territory of our choice—and unfortunately, they're all extremely hostile."
"Mmm. And do we have a specific plan for the fight, or are we improvising?"
"I'm glad you asked. If it's possible, stand back and let me get the first attack. Depending on what we come across, I might be able to scare it off with just my new move."
"'New move'? When could you have learned anything? We've been together since the headquarters."
"I'll explain afterwards, and you'll see what I mean."
"Oh, come on now," Luca sighed, half-distracted by her surveying of the empty sands. "After all of that talk about sharing the plan, you're hiding stuff?"
Dante shrugged. "Don't you think it'll be more dramatic? Besides, you know what my plan is."
"I guess. I'll let you know if—" Luca's through process was hijacked in an instant by an overwhelming Aura of aggression coming from, by her estimate, directly below Dante. "B—Dodge towards me!" she sputtered, the urgency tying her tongue.
Thankfully, Dante seemed to instantly understand; without even spinning around, he sprung backwards. Although he stumbled due to his haste over the loose sand, Dante had made it just in time to avoid an explosion of sand as a massive rusty-red blur emerged from below.
Luca focused on her partner; as he began to lose his balance and fall, she caught him with both paws on his back. As he regained his balance, they stared up together at their assailant. Before them stood a Krookodile, but unfortunately, it was much faster than they were; before either of them could react, it disappeared back into the sand.
"OK," Dante breathed as Luca allowed him to regain his own balance. "Great warning. Can you do that reliably?"
Luca opened her mouth to speak, but with her mind racing, it caught up to her before words were formed. This was not a mindless feral—this was a wild Pokémon, just as intelligent as any human. This meant a lot of bad things, but it also meant that it was susceptible to trickery. She wasn't sure if she would be able to sense every attack without fail, but appearing confident could disincentivize further ambushes.
"Easily," Luca lied, having only lost a heartbeat or two of time to her thoughts. "It's dark-type. Just be ready to counterattack."
A pulse of frustration from below communicated to Luca that she had made the correct decision. This was reinforced when, a moment or two later, another explosion of sand marked the wild's reemergence a few meters away.
Although Luca was tensed and ready to dodge or at least minimize the damage of the lightning-quick attack that she felt certain was coming, a strange stillness followed the Krookodile's surfacing. Standing stock still, it seemed content to watch them carefully rather than attack.
"Checking us for ranged moves, eh?" Luca heard Dante muttering under his breath. "You'll regret that."
Accompanied by a sudden pulse of aggression, Dante mouth exploded with flame. In an instant, a solid stream of fire was launched towards the Krookodile with great velocity—and to Luca's surprise, it didn't peter out when Dante's lungs had emptied. Indeed, it seemed he wasn't breathing at all; no exhale propelled the flame, it simply leapt out of his mouth seemingly under its own power. In response to his flamethrower, the wild Krookodile emanated both fear and pain, and although Luca couldn't see it through the fire, it seemed to disappear back into the sand to avoid the unending onslaught.
Only once it was clear that his target had disappeared did Dante's stream of flames sputter out. Once they did, he breathed out heavy and shuddered as if stepping into freezing cold weather from a hot interior.
"Are they gone?" Dante asked, thin wisps of black smoke still rising from his maw.
"Yeah, we're good," Luca reported, though she didn't quite believe it yet. Only when she paused for a moment and there was a distinct lack of rejoicing from beneath the earth did she know that her statement was accurate. "Nice one-liner, by the way. Very cool."
Dante was apparently still too excited by the combat to respond to properly respond to her teasing. Instead, he visibly steadied his breathing before speaking: "With how likely it is to get seriously burned by that, I doubt that Krookodile will return. For all we know they might be already burned enough that the weaker 'mons will..." Dante paused, searching for the word. "...depose them."
"More importantly, that must have been flamethrower. How did you learn it?"
"Do you want the short answer or the long answer?"
"Long, I guess."
"Let's keep moving while I explain, then," Dante said, scanning the horizon. "We're hardly out of danger, and we absolutely need to be out of here by nightfall."
"Good idea. Lead the way?"
Turning and stepping forward, Dante moved into the empty expanse. "We'll have to start with a brief anatomy lesson. Generally, us fire-types have a dedicated organ for creating fire. It's not the only way to create it, as all kinds of other types can use fire, but it's generally much stronger. The only problem is that it's quite sturdy, meaning it takes quite a lot of energy to squeeze it and expel flame. So, although it's fundamentally independent from our lungs, weak fire-types generally need to help it along with breathing. With me so far?"
"How exactly does breathing out help?"
Mmm," Dante hummed, considering. "Good question, actually. Filling my lungs puts pressure on the flame organ, but breathing out should alleviate the pressure, not intensify it. It might just be that the muscles are similar, or that it just helps mentally."
"So, what? Is flamethrower you separating breathing and expelling fire, then?"
"Yes," Dante said, surprised. "It's been so long since I gave you those books back at the Coalition, I forgot how quick of a learner you are. The idea is that any fire-type can understand how to use flamethrower, but it's an entirely different question whether they actually have the strength and stamina to perform it. Seems as if this journey has been long enough and hard enough that I managed to reach the threshold."
The gears in Luca's mind were furiously turning trying to figure out what felt so significant about flamethrower being dependent on the user's strength and stamina, and only once he finished talking did a memory of reading about his species resurface. "Wait, doesn't that mean you're going to evolve soon?" Luca asked, turning away from scanning the sand around them to look at his back.
"I'm closer to evolving than not, it's true, but it's hardly imminent," Dante explained, staying focused on his surroundings. "I don't expect I'll evolve before the end of our trip, unfortunately."
Returning to staying alert, Luca continued on behind him. "I'd guess we're already about halfway to Harvest, right? Isle said it would take us three weeks."
"Hm? Oh, I guess it has been about a week and a half since Celebi's forest, you're right."
"It's also been quite a few days since we let those agents go, and since I smelled ozone while asleep, and we're not dead. That means the agents didn't end up reporting us, and that the Giratina dream was a false alarm, right?"
"The agents must not have reported us. If the White Spine had any idea where we were, it'd be over." With a heavy sigh, Dante continued: "But I don't know about the Giratina part. I was awake right next to you and didn't smell ozone at all, so it must have been exclusive to you. Nothing fits except for Giratina seeing you and choosing not to say anything, but even that makes no sense."
Luca considered the apparent contradiction. Giratina's motives for wanting her were clear, and there was no reason for him to stop until she was dead—that is, unless a higher authority forbade it. Luca wasn't sure what could have possibly changed that Arceus or a near-Arceus Legendary would take an interest when they hadn't before, but thinking along a similar line, who was to say that the smell of ozone was associated exclusively with Giratina? Was it possible that the smell of ozone had represented a brush against another Legendary, a small unrelated encounter that only stood out because Luca had been regularly terrorized by Giratina in the past?
Returning from her thoughts to the reality of the arid desert surrounding her, Luca put the speculation aside; there was no point in trying to conjure information that she didn't have from thin air, and she was content with feeling confident that it wasn't as much of a contradiction as Dante was painting it to be. Besides, she had another topic she wanted to address.
"How much faster do you think Isle is?" Luca asked. "You think she and Callula are there yet?"
Dante rubbed the horn on the back of his head as he considered the question. "She's fast enough that she doesn't need to really deal with wild Pokémon clans as long as she stays in the forest, so... she's probably been there for days, at this point."
"And Lann is much faster than her, right? And he's amazing at tracking as well, since he found her pretty quickly while not having any real leads."
"What's your point?"
"If he was coming, he'd be here already. Right?"
"Let's give it a few more days before we write him off," Dante said, sounding unsure. "But we always knew that was a possibility."
"Mmm," Luca hummed. "I wish there was a way to know what was happening with them."
"Just another week and a half until we'll find out, I suppose. For the time being, let's focus on us and do our best to not die."
Dante was right: Luca shouldn't have her head elsewhere until they were out of danger—she simply didn't have the luxury. Redoubling her focus, Luca mentally prepared herself for a long day of walking on sand as they continued between the dunes.
Far to the west, beyond Harvest and even Hollyhead, there was a small body of water in an otherwise unremarkable forest. No wild Pokémon groups were in the vicinity, nor were there any civil towns close enough to matter. As a result, it was often used as a safe location for disreputable Pokémon to wait for whatever trouble they had created to blow over. It was quite infamous in certain circles, and it saw enough use throughout the years that some frequent visitors worked together to create some simple buildings and amenities.*
At the moment, it only had a single visitor. Elyan the Scizor wasn't like the typical visitor in the sense that he wasn't running from anything, but even so, he still considered himself criminal-adjacent at the very least. At the moment, he was sitting by a fire pit at the water's edge that had conveniently come with flint.
Elyan definitely felt lucky to be relaxing, but it also came with its own helping of discomfort. When he had allowed the Charmeleon and Riolu to escape, he had assumed that his work with the shadowy organization would come to a close—in one way or another. What he sincerely did not expect was forgiveness, a promotion, and a chance to solve his mistake. They even told him the name of the organization and gave the location of their headquarters, and when he managed to find not even the primary but only the secondary target, they offered to do what the Comfey that had healed him had told him was impossible: returning his shell to the way it was before the Charmeleon had bit into him that fateful day.
With dim surprise, Elyan realized that he was subconsciously stroking the smoothness of his abdomen. It really was perfect, back to the way it was when he evolved. The process certainly wasn't pleasant, but the results couldn't be argued with. The only problem was the decision that he made about his scar; despite his disfigurement, he had decided to keep it as a reminder of his failure. The offer to remove it was almost the redemption that he was looking for, but that wasn't the reason he accepted. The truth of the matter was that he was afraid of what would have happened if he refused. The White Spine had been absurdly forgiving with him and entrusted him with so much, if they wanted to remove his scar, who was he to protest?
Still, it all bothered him. So, when he was told that he would have to stay in one place but it could be anywhere on the continent that he chose, he asked for somewhere isolated—far away from it all. Thus, the outlaw safe haven.
As he cast his eyes back to the fire pit, Elyan's gut suddenly twisted as his adrenaline spiked. As if it had always been there, a crisp envelope sat on the bare ground between him and the campfire. Printed on the front was his name written phonetically with footprint runes; there was no denying it, especially given the letter's abrupt appearance. This was correspondence from the White Spine.
With an involuntary shudder, Elyan clamped onto the envelope and brought it up. The fact that whatever the small strange ghostly Pokémon was that the White Spine used for communication could appear at literally any time was already bad enough, but he normally at least stayed long enough for a brief conversation. He was clearly the one that left the letter, but this time, he seemed to go out of his way to not reveal himself.
Although it was a touch difficult with his thick pincers, Elyan finally opened the envelope and plucked out the letter from inside.
Elyan,
You have a new job. Your targets are once again the same: a female Riolu named Luca and a male Charmeleon named Dante with, as you know, a missing arm. They are still expected to be traveling together, but this is not guaranteed. You also have two additional targets that also may be traveling with: a female Weavile named Isle and a female Comfey named Callula. The Weavile has an identifying scar across her lip but has a psychological compulsion to wear a mask almost all of the time. Additionally, unlike your previous targets, the Weavile is a dangerous foe with significant combat training and experience that should be approached with caution. As before, the Riolu is your primary target but the successful capture of any of the secondary targets means mission success.
Unfortunately, you will not have any extra resources during this mission—you will need to make do with what you have or can acquire on your own. Bring any catches to the headquarters as before.
—WS
Elyan hummed to himself at the mention of the same Riolu and Charmeleon. Were they testing him or something? He brought the Charmeleon all the way to the headquarters, and they surely wouldn't have let him go without intention. Elyan had, of course, heard of the outlaw known as Isle, but her apparent connection with his previous targets was news. Was it possible that the Riolu and Charmeleon were part of some outlaw group, and that was why he was charged with capturing them? In any case, the addition of a Comfey was interesting; it was certainly not the species of your typical outlaw. Given the opportunity, she was likely the easiest target.
Regardless, Elyan couldn't believe how strange the letter was. Even beyond the Charmeleon's unexplained escape and the sudden addition of two more targets, he wasn't even given an estimation on where they were. Last time he was given a tight region to monitor, guesses as to through where they would travel, and even a contact through which he could acquire the posters to complete the bounty hunter masquerade. This job must be a test, but what was he meant to do, search the entire continent?
Elyan sighed. Maybe whoever was writing the letter expected him to simply assume that same target meant same location, and with a lack of leads, he might as well start there. Unfortunately for him, he had made it an extremely long journey—to the degree that if the White Spine wasn't supplying him with anything, he might have to take the occasional odd job over the course of it so he didn't run out of money.
Finally standing up, Elyan smothered the fireplace by cutting off its air supply with the integrated tool. Then, returning to the large cot he had picked out in the lodge, he quickly gathered his things. It didn't take long; all he really had was a pack with minimal supplies, and it wasn't difficult to fill it with the outpost's extra food and water. Additionally, Elyan found a secure pocket for the letter.
After quickly double-checking that he had all he needed, Elyan slung the bag across his back and stepped out into the sun. Looking up, he could see that the sun was most of the way across the sky—but fortunately, he never minded traveling at night. More concerning, however, was the movement in the corner of his vision that, as he checked, was revealed to be a Farfetch'd approaching him from the forest.
The Farfetch'd ran as if being chased, with one wing awkwardly spread out to help with balance while the other cradled their classical leek close. They had a traveling backpack, as was expected at such a remote location, but as far as Elyan could see, they were entirely alone.
"You White Spine?" the Farfetch'd challenged before he even arrived.
Elyan was somewhat taken aback by the newcomer's brusqueness, but the protocol for this was clear: he was not warned of a meeting beforehand, so he would deny any knowledge. "...No? I'm Elyan. Are you looking for a Scizor?"
"Is there anyone else here?" the Farfetch'd asked, fully ignoring the question. "Anyone at all?"
"No. There hasn't been for weeks."
"You haven't seen anyone? Not even a little ghost-type, about this tall?" Holding out his free wing, the Farfetch'd held the tip at approximately the White Spine agent's height.
"No."
The flying-type sighed with frustration. "Why was he here, then? Can I—"
Elyan waited, but the Farfetch'd didn't continue. His eyes were focused like he was listening to something, but there was nothing to hear. "...Are you OK?" Elyan asked tentatively.
Suddenly, the Farfetch'd locked eyes with him with an intensity that wasn't remotely present when he arrived. "I'm going to need to take that slip of paper," the Farfetch'd said matter-of-factly. "The one in that pocket," he finished with a point of the wingtip.
"How could you possibly know about that?"
"The same way I know that the ghost-type I'm looking for was here," the Farfetch'd spat, "and that he left a letter specifically for you. Meaning you're White Spine, meaning you've been lying to me, and meaning that you're going to give me that letter."
"I don't know what's going on here," Elyan admitted, raising a pincer. "But if you think I'll lose this fight, you're crazy."
The Farfetch'd breathed heavy, as if calming himself. "I never said I'd fight you," he said begrudgingly. "But mark my words, I'll have that note. See you around." Turning his back without any consideration to an attack, the Farfetch'd simply stalked off into the forest.
Relaxing his stance, Elyan watched the strange Pokémon go. Perhaps he should have just attacked and gotten rid of the problem immediately, especially considering he had all but threatened to attack him in his sleep, but the situation was just too strange. The Farfetch'd had simply known too much, and even appeared to gain new information in the middle of their conversation.
Once the Farfetch'd had been properly out of sight for a good minute, Elyan delicately inserted a pincer into his pack and retrieved the letter. Keeping it closed, he summarized the contents in his mind: same two targets plus two new, Isle the outlaw Weavile with a mask over her scarred face, Callula the Comfey. He opened it and double-checked that he hadn't forgotten anything before bringing the letter over to the campfire, relighting the flame, and throwing it in. Now, with his resistance to psychic-type mind reading, the best way to get that information out of him was to extract it directly. That of course meant he was in more direct danger, but the White Spine was safer.
After a brief sweep of his surroundings to check for eyes watching from the surrounding forest that came up empty, Elyan once again smothered the fire before stepping to the east; even if he was to be hounded during it, there was no reason to delay the start of his journey.
