"Hey!"
The impact of a gentle slap across the face was probably the worst way to wake up, with the slight pain traveling along his nerves on the right side of his face. He groaned at the blow, mumbling something in his slumber and squeezing his eye shut even tighter, a direct and unconscious protest to the other's desires. To add even more spite, he didn't move a single inch.
"HEY!"
The voice raised, much more strident, with that high-pitched tone that was almost squeaky. It reminded him of someone scraping metal, or a brat's tantrum. He writhed in his sleep, annoyed by that shrill voice, and rolled to one side, leaning against his own flank as the hay of his bed creaked at the sudden movement. He groaned once more, a low but manifesting sound of his complete drowsiness, accompanied by those words that almost sounded like a yawn—nothing comprehensible that an awakened mind could comprehend.
"Wake up, you're already late for the roll call!"
Something grabbed him from the growth sprouting from his head, a force that almost felt herculean and as almighty as the very force of gravity itself pushing his weak bandage-covered body upward. He opened his one eye at the pain that traveled from the top of his skull to his brain, at the same time letting out a choked cry and a groan of pain. His stubby legs swung in the air, unable now to feel the ground beneath his feet. His eye twitched frantically for a few measly moments, which for a second felt like minutes, and finally he was able to survey the scene in front of him.
The zangoose. White fur and reddish-colored stripes, with a leather strap wrapped around his chest that held a satchel; the badge hooked to the leather and proudly displayed. He had eyes that he could have sworn were bloodshot. One of his arms was raised, outstretched toward him, while the other was slumped at his side. With his right paw, he was clutching his growth, lifting him like a carrot being plucked from the earth. His claws almost felt like they were going to stab him, gripping hard. He could feel the small, sharp tips press gently against his growth. On the zangoose, his scowl was evident with rage, a grimace of displeasure, his gaze fixed and his pupils even slightly shaking.
"You're late for the fourth time this week!" The zangoose scolded, his shrill voice rising, causing the one he grabbed to wince for a few moments. The zangoose was silent for several seconds before dropping his shoulders ever so slightly, huffing, still in anger. "Are you even trying?" There was a softer tone to his words; he actually asking before he frowned even more and ended up letting go of the dusclops.
Upon being released, the dusclops fell back onto the hay bed, bouncing a bit and feeling once again a slight blunt ache in his lower part, even a little stinging due to the hay pressing very lightly on his bandages. He rested the palms of his hands on the ground at his sides, slightly dazed, and once he brought his legs up to his chest, he was able to stand up, wobbling slightly for mere seconds. Who did that mongoose think he was? With his judgmental gaze and his voice as shrill as that of a boastful child, trying to tell everyone how they should act, knowing absolutely nothing about the world.
Once he stood up, he had to look up slightly to maintain eye contact with the zangoose—if there was one thing that was always worth repudiating, no matter whether there was sun or moon, it was his abnormally short stature.
Now it was time to respond. The retort to the zangoose's words and judgment rose in his throat... but stayed right there, stuck. Unable to articulate the sentence, he just looked away. No. He's so much better than that mongoose. He didn't need to lower himself to his level, didn't need to justify himself to anyone.
As he looked away, he could gaze again at that familiar and accustomed sight that was this room. It was rustic, with the ceiling made of raw, unpolished rock, the cracks marked and showing almost like tree roots. Light rays of natural light and faint drops of water from past rains seeped in, almost peeking through the cracks, as if they lived there, as if they were shy and frightened. The four walls were of the same material, and the dampness allowed for moss to grow in the corners.
The hay bed behind him was old, the hay hard like sleeping on stones carved by a bisharp to be as sharp as possible, like sleeping on a bed of spikes. Not even that, for the hay had become less solid with the seasons—the sensation of sleeping on that bed was akin to lying on the cold floor covered by a thin layer of needles.
In front of him and behind the zangoose loomed the wooden door. Through its cracks and from the sides seeped the strongest rays of sunlight—the only source of illumination in the whole room—because he couldn't even have a single window, those reserved for the corridor.
He was used to it, but... why didn't the personal rooms have windows? What was the point—to lower all the possible costs?
He barely looked at the room for a while with his red eye, and that had served to distract him. Before the zangoose could say his—usual—scolding, the dusclops tried to take a step to the left. This was simple. He just had to walk alongside the zangoose as if he didn't care, and then he could leave.
As soon as he took two steps to exit, the zangoose took a step to the right, turned slightly to face the dusclops, and watched as he continued walking. "Where do you think you're going?! You're not leaving here until we talk about this!—" he exclaimed, still turning to face the one who simply wouldn't listen to him and who was still walking silently toward the door.
The dusclops bit his tongue, and he squinted his eye ever so slightly... the words were dying in his throat once again. He wasn't going to stoop to his level. If he was so angry that they were running late, why keep interrupting their way? That zangoose was too intense with work. But it was fine; he could ignore it, he was going to ignore it. He stepped in front of the door and reached out with his right hand, pushing the door open.
He took another step, walking out of the room, only hearing as the zangoose snapped his mouth shut to hold back a shriek of frustration and indignation, letting out a muffled grumble. One could see his face slowly reddening, and even that tomato color of anger could not be hidden by the white fur. Before he could finally get away from the scene, the dusclops felt a pair of claws close again around the growth sprouting from his head.
How he hated that thing; he didn't even understand the reason for its existence—It contributed nothing to his life, that growth had no function… the only thing it served for was for morons to grab him like a radish buried in the earth.
"What's your problem!? Put some more enthusiasm into your work, for the love of Dialga!" he exclaimed, a grimace of disgust forming on his face as he gestured almost to a somewhat exaggerated degree due to his annoyance. "What are you even working here for?! Don't you see the opportunity you have!?" he scolded, his grip still firm. The dusclops couldn't even meet his face, but with that rage tangible in every word, he didn't need to turn around to see that scowl of displeasure.
He could say so many things. So many words of retort to the zangoose's absurd statements; that each one filled him with a certain frustration, but he knew he shouldn't respond. He knew he was better than that. And besides, he knew that if he didn't answer, the bad mood would pass faster, and they could leave. Therefore, he held his tongue. Though at this point, they were both going to be scolded, and he could only blame it on the zangoose's irrational nature.
Thus, in the end, his last reply was a sigh of annoyance.
That retort was like a screech in the ears of the zangoose, who soon held back a yelp of indignation. The grip on the dusclops' growth grew tighter, and the latter couldn't help but wince once again.
"What, you don't like to hear the truth?!" he asked, even more outraged. The tone becoming slightly louder. "If you don't want to work here, just go to the guildmaster and quit!" he finally spat, his voice rising as his state became more and more agitated; until reaching a climax at the final part, in which he was already yelling at him.
Luckily for the dusclops, he caught a glimpse of someone looming from the hallway. The sound of quiet but impatient footsteps of hooves tapping on the wooden floor, almost like the pecking of a bird, was the prelude to the image of the gogoat that soon appeared from the hallway. He stopped in front of the hallway connection to the rooms once he heard the screaming of the zangoose.
"Ganmo? Banmo? By the distortion world, what are you two wasting your time?" The gogoat hit the floor with one of his front hooves, the loud sound of something jabbing at wood. "The guildmaster and the rest of us have been waiting for you two for seven minutes! And worse, you're wasting it on your stupid arguments!" the gogoat scolded, now scowling.
This gogoat was called Omna. If he had arms, one could have guessed that he would be crossing them right now. The irreverent, judgmental look was the characteristic sign of this so... friendly goat. He could see him let out a huff.
Before Banmo; the dusclops, could do anything, he watched as Ganmo; the zangoose, huffed in irritation before releasing his growth. Banmo instinctively let out a sigh of relief, while the zangoose just looked away, crossing his arms.
"...Get out of our way quickly, you're wasting our time," he demanded, grumbling under his breath.
He felt an itch on the tip of his tongue—the natural urge to want to argue in the face of such a statement. Whose fault had it been that they had wasted their time? The answer for him was extremely obvious, and it was the only thing that could linger in his thoughts.
Still, he decided to snort in utmost silence and take a couple of steps forward, into the small corridor connected to the main hallway. The damp stone walls with the moss growing on them, the faint rays of sunlight coming in from the windows of the main hallway—he always thought the place looked rather like an abandoned building. Considering how cheap it was, it might as well be more of smaller value than a house from hundreds of years ago.
His white hand swung slowly towards the growth, rubbing the area where he had been grabbed—hard enough to leave small red marks that hurt like a burn on contact—and it was impossible not to let his mind wander with some frustration. Why did he even have this body part? Why did Arceus have to make his species like this? Why had Arceus made him this way, in general?
As soon as he left his own room; now a few steps away from the door frame, Omna huffed somewhat impatiently again, rolling his eyes. "You're not rookies anymore to keep wasting time like this..." he grumbled, that being his only comment before turning around and heading back the way he had come. The sound of hooves impacting wood grew more and more distant, but at the same time, it was a sound loud enough to echo off the rickety walls of the structure.
As soon as Banmo stepped away from the threshold, Ganmo walked out. His small, hurried footsteps, many in every second, passed by the dusclops' side. He bumped his side as he walked, but didn't even stop to apologize. Such was the rush that he didn't even deign to say a single word to him before he stepped out into the main hallway.
Banmo, somewhat sluggish, only blinked as he watched him go, the zangoose still grumbling curses under his breath.
He took a step forward before realizing the obvious, stopping short. He felt naked, and he knew why... he blinked a couple of times before lowering his gaze, tilting his head down to notice the absence of the leather strap tied around his chest to his back diagonally, carrying his explorer's satchel.
He turned around, again to head back to the bedroom. But taking a step forward, he pondered why he would even have to do it—he wasn't going to need it; after all, his job today would be the same as always: to collect the special item of a fellow with too much money and a lack of free time. He couldn't blame those who, in derision, called them "fake collectors" as a nickname, for they were absolutely right.
Even so, it wasn't worth making his day any more bitter by thinking about such nonsense, which, although true, didn't add up to anything. It's not like he needed more sourness for a morning, especially this one. So he decided to take several steps to enter the room... there, beside the hay bed, he saw a leather satchel with his badge used as a pin to lock it.
So disgraceful it looked on the floor, lying like a doll leaning on the old hay, with the wooden badge painted orange using some berries to try to make it look like copper... he could tell how the paint had melted and faded at the edges, revealing the wooden layer which was even somewhat putrid and decayed.
He had to equip it quickly; he didn't want to keep wasting the others' time... though it's not like any of them had an important mission either, so it didn't matter too much. With a step towards his bed, he lazily tried to bend over—an awkward and lazy effort to bend his body and reach out with his stubby white hands to grab the items.
After almost touching the satchel with his fingertips while he grunted a bit from the exertion, he was finally able to catch that mass of leather lying on the floor, like a rugged slug between his milky fingers.
His gaze lingered on that badge for a few seconds. The fading paint, of low quality, extremely cheap...
The dusclops' eye squinted ever so slightly, and with another sigh that emanated from his heart, he hooked the leather strap of the satchel around his upper chest. He could feel the rough leather pressing uncomfortably against the gray bandage on his body. It was not a pleasing texture.
Now with his useless satchel, he turned around and walked back to the doorway, to the corridor that connected to the main hallway. Now, he just had to hurry and—
"I thought you'd gone back to sleep," Ganmo's aggressive voice came from the main hallway. The scowl on his face, anger in his eyes, but now more quenched, dormant, and awaiting any small mistake to strike like a treacherous arbok.
...He should have expected that. Of course he should have. He's extremely annoying, and since he knows him well enough, now he'll threaten him—because the zangoose had no ability to pick up on the advice to be a reasonable 'mon.
"If I'd caught you sleeping, have no doubt I'd drag you by the legs to the roll call," Ganmo continued, crossing his arms disdainfully, his gaze briefly lifting to stare at Banmo's forehead. "Now, don't waste our time," he spat, almost as if ordering someone inferior. Without waiting for a response, Ganmo turned and advanced down the hallway, only the sound of his furry feet making something of a muffled noise.
Paralyzed for a brief moment, not out of fear or anything of the sort, but out of pure mental exhaustion, he could only release one more sigh before shaking his head—although, practically, it was his entire body. He wondered if one day the zangoose would grow up to maturity.
Who was he trying to kid? Of course he wouldn't.
With that blunt response to his own internal monologue, he set his feet in motion to walk toward the main hallway.
Now, in the main corridor, the windows at the far extremes of that long rectangle were in sight. The sun's rays were filtering in; tinting the rocks a warm yellowish color in the sunrise, warming what felt like a Post City refrigerator. Even with the temperature rising thanks to the thermal might of the sun, walking on the stone felt like standing on ice—rough, cold, and somewhat slippery due to the dampness that was growing even on the roof.
He could observe the crevices in the walls, on the floor, even on the ceiling, inside it growing moss that peeked out shyly with its sickly green color.
The more steps he took, the more drops of water he could count falling from the cracks. At this point, it was one of the small amusements he had remaining in life... counting the leaks in the roof.
Now that he thought about it, this being one of the few remaining things that formed warmth in his chest was a perfect sign of how his life had ended.
That main hallway looked so empty, so lonely, that the leaks were perhaps the only life-giving thing about it at this hour. The sound of nature filtering through the windows, the sound of the breeze crashing against the cheap glass—one window was even broken, although the shards were gone—and the distant bustle of the nearby town.
By the sound, that quiet atmosphere was certainly broken by Ganmo's soft but still notorious and perceptible footsteps. His back was turned to the dusclops; it was obvious, he didn't even deign to try to glance back... his footsteps were hurried, he obviously didn't want to talk to the dusclops.
That was fine, he didn't want to talk to him either. It wasn't worth it.
At the end of the hallway, turning right, was a large wooden door. Like an archway, of a much more resilient wood than that of the badges they owned, but still with some mold due to humidity and even dust in the corners. A door that could reach all the way to the ceiling, the one that led to the central room.
By this point, considering how hurried the zangoose was, he was already at the end of the corridor. He turned to the right, and extending both arms to press the palms of his paws on the large slab of wood, he began to push. The creaking sound of the door opening echoed down the hallway, a slow but powerful noise. That door opening wide, and Ganmo took the first step inside.
Into the guild's main room.
However, even though natural light was pouring in from the aperture, Banmo still had a long way to travel before he could reach the light, or the scolding of an angry guildmaster. Even though he couldn't even reach the door yet, he still managed to overhear the voices of his peers, much to his misfortune.
"What was keeping you so long? and where is the recruit Banmo?"
"I was just waking him up, you know, like always his back sticks to the hay—"
"They were arguing."
"Arguing so early in the morning? Really, young people are full of energy these days," a chuckle from an older voice.
"Arguing? I'm guessssssing it wassss jussst Ganmo arguing."
"Y-You think?"
The whispers were soon forthcoming. To Banmo, they just sounded too low to understand, but he could hear some snippets... he couldn't help but squint in irritation.
"Quiet everyone!" The guildmaster's voice echoed even down the main hallway, throughout the room, silencing the whispers as sharply as a bisharp slicing a tree in half, "Ganmo, where is Banmo?"
And as soon as he articulated that question, the plump, circular foot covered in bandages wrapped in dust stomped into the great chamber. It was the dusclops who had turned to the right. His footsteps were silent and sluggish, so no one noticed his presence for the moment.
The main room appeared just as it always had. The floor of stone slabs that over the years had almost fused and left cracks, just like the other parts of the architecture. A dirty floor which a white carpet full of stains tried to camouflage without much luck. Moisture continued to erode the structure, causing a few leaks at various strategic points on the roof that were treated with efficiently positioned wooden buckets.
Of course, moss was as much a friend to the walls and corners of this place as it was in the main hallway.
And, as he continued to lazily glance at the surroundings, the others continued to talk.
"Guildmaster, you know he's slower than a slakoth! He's just taking too long to get here..." was the shrill, irritating voice he had heard in the morning, obviously responding with that judgment so toxic in Banmo's ears as arbok venom.
It was surprising that they hadn't noticed him yet, though considering his bandage feet were soft, they didn't make much of a sound when he walked—he could attribute it to one of the few positive qualities of being a dusclops.
In the center of the large and spacious room, there were two long "wooden" boards placed close to each other, but leaving a space in between; almost forming a path. Although, instead of being typical wooden planks, they were more like brown painted rock, with the paint drying and melted due to the heat of last year's prosperous season.
Two stone walls embedded in the ground, almost as if emerging from the earth, but by just a few centimeters, not reaching up to the ceiling. The board on the right had the real missions, the rescue ones, and the one on the left had the missions he was typically assigned to... item recovery.
Just the thought made him sigh heavily, though that sigh didn't ring out.
At the opposite end from the large door that connected to the main hallway; to the north, there was a door in the right corner... that one headed to the guildmaster's quarters. The door was made of, surprisingly, beautiful and almost shining wood.
Every time he saw the entrance to the guildmaster's office he had to, at the very least, take one more glance just in case. Because really, it was a fine sight. He had heard that it was from overseas, from Post City. Sometimes he wondered if all the budget for mold removal had gone into that fancy wood for the door.
Other than that, close to the guildmaster's office was the door—of a much humbler quality—that led into the dining room; which he didn't even need to describe. It seemed bizarre to him that he had never even gotten food intoxication from the food in there.
"Issss it possssible that he'ssss gone back to ssssleep in hisssss room?" This time there was a hissing voice, just like an arbok's. Such a slightly innocent tone, but with the obvious venom as disgusting as what it would be from a poison-type pokémon.
In front of both boards, further south; in the center of the room, and between both stone planks, stood a kingambit. Skinny but anthropomorphic in appearance, with hands of a metal resembling gold, his shimmering red helmet created a shadow that lingered in his eyes of small dark pupils. Sitting on his own hair and with a solemn gaze, he was the guildmaster of this guild.
He had heard stories of a powerful kingambit who had hunted criminals even in foreign lands, of his greatest feat being to eliminate an organized crime group that not even the ORER itself could dismantle.
That would surprise him... but he was talking about a guildmaster. Everyone else has far more formidable feats than simply doing the work of an incompetent organization.
Just like this guild. It was almost ironic.
Meanwhile, the conversation continued as the dusclops looked around the room with his one eye vaguely. "I told him not to go back to sleep— If he did, I swear I'm going to drag him from his legs to here and!—"
In front of the guildmaster stood the different members of the entire guild, each at their assigned stations, arranged in two rows of multiple columns.
A glance at the row to the right of the guildmaster allowed him to see the first row. His eye landed first on the short, small-handed snake, Sardoi; a servine who pulled no punches.
"Yesssss, he probably fell assssleep like lasssst week, heheh." That venomous voice emerged from the pointy-nosed mouth of the servine, who, after blurting out that comment, chuckled. Very funny, yes.
The dusclops' gaze jumped to the next in line at the slight discomfort the snake's "innocent" comments caused him.
The one he looked at was Noi, with pink skin and fluffy wool draped around her head like a mane, a fluffy flaaffy, a lady who should be retiring soon. That kind and warm smile, with the senile chuckle, was the most common expression she had on her face in the mornings. "Ganmo, young man, calm down a little. I'm sure Banmo just walks slowly; the boy needs to get more sun," she commented at the zangoose's aggressiveness with a sugar-sweet tone. It reminded him of his own grandmother—that also reminded him that he should visit his family soon, at least it would be better than working at the guild, counting the cracks in the ceiling.
The dusclops' eye fluttered once more, this time gazing towards the goat covered in the natural leaves growing on the top of his back.
That was Omna, a righteous gogoat with a stare as serious as the most intense novice doomed to fail all guild admissions; perhaps that's why the gogoat was in this lowly guild—he hadn't achieved any better. No matter how adamant his posture was, and how he displayed all the scowls of irritation he wanted to, nothing could hide it. With that serious demeanor, he didn't fit into this guild.
"Ganmo, it's not your job to judge what your peers do, it's the guildmaster's. Calm down and put yourself in your place," Omna scolded. Ironic.
With a nervous cough, the presence of a shaky voice, like someone freezing, made his presence known. "O-Omna, y-you just—"
"I just what?"
"I-I, uh... n-never mind."
The one speaking was someone else who didn't fit into this guild, but for dramatically different reasons than Omna. Hearing him speak, the dusclops turned his eye to Sheior, the vanilluxe, who stood up straight after saying a word in an attempt to calm his nervousness. His poor ice body seemed like it was about to melt, and the ice cone that held him was going to dissolve into water.
Even if Sheior was not able to see him at this moment, Banmo could probably make him uncomfortable just by looking at him, so he looked away.
His gaze landed on the canine with blue and yellow fur, the latter parts ending in jagged points, a wild fur because of the electricity. That was Jior, with a rigid posture and total silence, similar to Omna... but unlike Omna, the manectric had a serene expression, his blue tail wagging from side to side. Banmo would bet his hand that Jior was an arcanine in his past life. He had his eyes locked on the guildmaster, and, being honest, he was also taking his job a tad too seriously.
"That, that! I agree with Omna, only the guildmaster should be able to scold others," he said, giving a brief glance towards the goat before looking back towards the kingambit and smiling broadly, his tongue lolling out of his muzzle. "After all, he knows best! Right guildmaster?" he asked, his tail wagging. It was exactly that display of canine behavior that the dusclops was referring to... it was sad to see.
So pathetic was the manectric's behavior that he decided to look away, and his gaze drifted, meeting the familiar bloodshot eyes. That look of the unbearable, overly energetic zangoose—he should calm down. He still held a scowl, looking taller due to his upright posture, obviously due to being formed in the row. He still looked irritated, and impatient, with his right foot tapping the ground over and over rhythmically.
"I know the guildmaster knows, but one shouldn't shut up when seeing someone doing something wrong!" Ganmo argued, looking toward the manectric. His tone wasn't as screechy and shrill as when they were in the room, but it still sounded just like claws scraping metal debris.
He decided to look away—to the next row; in the second column were five people. There was an empty space, just behind that unbearable zangoose. It was that spot that Banmo should be occupying right now to complete both rows. A full roll call.
He glanced at the pokémon on the far end of the organized line. The first thing he saw were the strong copper eyes of the dark gray, bipedal insect—a lokix. His name was Amezio. He had his arms crossed.
"We're all explorers, so obviously one shouldn't keep quiet. O-Or I think so..." he began with confidence, but soon that certainty abandoned him, and he deflated, shrinking and his posture hunching. A contrast to his attempt to show confidence. But no one had to be a genius to notice that it was only an attempt to compensate. He didn't belong in this guild either, at least in Banmo's opinion.
"Try saying that with more confidence, man!" A jovial voice came from the lokix's side. Amezio narrowed his eyes and shrank back a notch. Meanwhile, the dusclops averted his attention to the warmer, more cheerful voice.
It was a turtle with rough green skin that could only be seen on his limbs and his red-edged shell with a yellow center, from which dark-colored spikes emerged. He was leisurely and idly rubbing his paws together. On his face there was a warm but tiny smile as he glanced towards the insect. That was Flebe, the turtonator, the second in the second row.
"Of course it's alright to scold someone if they're doing something wrong, but it's one thing to scold and another to go over the top—always remember to treat others the way you'd like to be treated, Ganmo!" Flebe spoke with a kindly tone, raising his arm briefly as he glanced towards the zangoose, akin to what some pokémon do that they know as giving a thumbs up.
Being honest, Flebe was probably the only one who enjoyed his work out of all the people here. He always had that joy in his eyes, that gentle smile, and he seemed to be eager to get to his job. He wasn't overly serious like Omna, but it wasn't like he didn't want to be there either... like Banmo.
He decided not to stare too long so he wouldn't have to observe the turtle's exhausting optimism, and he decided to make his eye look at the next in line. There was a spinda leaning to her right side; just slightly.
"...Yeah, that slaking guy is going to get fired one of these days," she was whispering along with her companion, who was also somewhat leaning in to hear her speak. The dusclops hadn't been able to understand what she was whispering until he focused a bit. He didn't understand the theme of the conversation due to the fact that he had come to overhear only the end... however, he knew it was probably about him. She let out a mischievous chuckle low enough for only the piplup and whoever was paying attention to hear.
Perhaps Banmo would complain, but he knew that one day those two were going to talk trash in front of people they shouldn't, and they were going to quickly learn to be quiet. It happened to everyone who liked to spout acidic remarks instead of keeping them in their heads.
The dusclops' gaze went to Spinda's sidekick. A piplup who whispered just as she did, "Hahah, yeah, better that way, he fits better as an ORER staff member—"
"Banmo!"
With the kingambit's stern tone and loud voice suddenly echoing in the room, the dusclops couldn't help but startle at the sound of his voice. The piplup and spinda also jolted and stood up straight, falling silent.
The stillness once the guildmaster spoke was similar to that of a funeral, and once the dusclops glanced with his eye —widely opened— towards the guildmaster, he was greeted with a piercing stare. The gazes of the other guild members also turned to the dusclops, though only the kingambit spoke among them all. "Why have you arrived so late?" he questioned, with that stern tone he used in such cases. Raising his voice, the tone turning somewhat more bass.
A few moments before answering, The dusclops' gaze went to the zangoose. Although he still had that frown, he squinted his eyes while maintaining eye contact. It was a look of complicity—Ganmo wanted him to lie, or for Banmo to take all the blame, and that way they wouldn't both get in trouble.
At that glance of complicity, the dusclops squinted his eye in the same way.
If he didn't want to get into trouble, he should have thought better of his actions.
With that in mind, Banmo turned his gaze toward the guildmaster, and answered frankly. "I overslept, and Ganmo wouldn't let me go out into the hallway." His tone was tired, with a hint of somnolence, but underneath that was some pettiness. He could still feel the growth in his head pulsing with ache.
As soon as those words escaped his bandage-made mouth, Ganmo opened his bloodshot eyes wide—if looks could kill, the dusclops would be dead—and turned his head to look directly at the guildmaster. His voice was loud, indignation was in both his expression and his voice. "I didn't stop him from going out into the hallway! It's just that he!" he pointed one of his claws at the dusclops in the doorway, "he doesn't take the job seriously! If—"
Abruptly, the guildmaster raised his right arm. Banmo was able to glimpse his gold-tinted reflection in the edge of the claw. It was a signal to halt. "Silence!" he exclaimed, even more sternly.
At that, the zangoose shut his mouth and finally stopped wasting time with useless allegations. Only remaining silent, grumbling under his breath.
"I wasn't talking to you, Ganmo," the guildmaster added, and lowered his right arm, earning another grumble from the zangoose. He hadn't even faltered his gaze on the dusclops, looking at him sternly.
Sometimes Banmo wondered if criminals felt this way when they encountered a truly talented explorer. As if they had to shrink back, and remain in the most intimidated of silences.
"Form up, and let's begin with the roll call," was all the guildmaster said to him after a few seconds of silence. He squinted his eyes, a judging stare.
The dusclops felt a shiver down his back, but did not retort. He only lowered his gaze and nodded slightly before walking to his position. The sixth in the second row. A couple more whispers came from his right, but it wasn't worth thinking about it in this situation. Staring straight ahead, he stood with a vague, hunched position.
Now all lined up, the guildmaster cleared his throat and looked straight ahead. "There is no new news regarding the mining thieves, but keep your eyes keenly open in case of any information or rumors you can gather." He cleared his throat once more, and no one made a single sound to interrupt him. "Now that we are all here, remember: those who are not bold have nothing to gain, and," he raised his right claw once more, the end of the blade pointing toward the musty roof, "TIME TO WORK!"
The guildmaster released that shout from the depths of his lungs. An attempt to get them pumped up for the rest of the day's work. The other members opened their mouths in unison to repeat that shout—some with the same excitement that the kingambit exhibited, and others; like the dusclops, with the same excitement as a Post City worker going to their job at six in the morning.
"I like your spirits, let's get to work!" He lowered his arm, and that was the signal for them to finally start their working schedule. The row became disorganized as the other guild members went to other locations. Most went to the boards, while others; like Jior, advanced with joyful steps towards the guildmaster.
Ganmo, along with most of them once the command was given, went to the rescue mission board. Banmo, on the other hand, glanced at the item recovery bulletin board.
They were the easiest missions and required the least amount of labor... not like any mission here was really that important either, so he'd rather just save himself any kind of effort. This was just another day's work, to retrieve the precious object from someone with too much money and too limited free time to retrieve it themselves.
He took a step forward, ready to begin the day's jo—
"Ganmo, Banmo."
The zangoose, who was looking at the board, turned around.
The dusclops stood still, and both of them stared at the one who had said their names in a loud, stern voice.
It was the kingambit, who had not moved from his position and was ignoring the manectric who was trying to converse with him. Both Ganmo and Banmo had frozen. "To my office." And with those words, the guildmaster turned around, walked past the right side of the rescue mission board, opened the door at the end of the room, walked in, and finally slammed it shut.
As soon as that door closed with a loud slam, the zangoose turned to face the dusclops. Both of their gazes met, and while Banmo had only one eye slightly squinted in tiredness, Ganmo had fire in his eyes, a glare that felt like he was stabbing him with those elongated claws in his mushy bandages.
The dusclops couldn't even understand why he was so angry—he was the one who had caused it all in the first place. The zangoose had insisted on creating an argument by not accepting that he could fall asleep. Moreover, from his perspective, it made no sense for the two of them to be punished, when Banmo did nothing more than make a small, irrelevant mistake.
The zangoose refused to even utter a word to him, and instead, turned his head away in outrage as a snort left his nose belligerently. He grumbled something that the dusclops could not overhear, and focusing his gaze on the door, began to walk towards the door that led to the guildmaster's office.
For his part, the dusclops stood still for a few moments. There were a few fleeting glances from other guild members due to the situation, and a few whispers... he didn't focus on understanding what they were talking about.
If they asked him to guess what was going to happen, then they would most likely be scolded, but he doubted they would be fired. This guild was overworked and understaffed, plus everyone knew that the guildmaster was trying his hardest to earn significance in the region. Firing them would be a loss to the business, and as much as this was a pitiful occupation, at least the guildmaster wasn't that incompetent.
With some hesitation and a weary expression, the dusclops just let out a heavy sigh and stopped wasting his time, starting to walk towards the door of the office, dragging his feet towards it. Before he could get there, he was able to witness how the ill-tempered Ganmo reached his destination first.
He expected him to open the door with force—to stab the doorknob and pull violently. However, he grabbed the knob, placing it between both of his long claws of his right paw, and twisted it gently. He pushed the door with the sharp point, only causing a faint creaking sound coming from the luxurious wood. After that, the zangoose entered, not even his footsteps making a noise.
...The dusclops stood still for a few seconds after seeing that, a mere blink before realizing that such actions were probably because the zangoose was afraid of the consequences of his actions. Brave to stir up trouble when his boss couldn't see him, but gutless when push came to shove. Of course, he didn't know what to expect.
He squinted slightly, and resumed his stride. Once he reached the door that had already closed, the dusclops put his right hand on the knob. He faltered once more, but turned it and released a heavy breath. There was no reason to delay this—and with that thought in mind, he pushed open the door and entered the room.
Once he entered, the smell fresher than the one of the main chamber felt like a rush of clean breeze. His gaze went briefly sideways, noting the walls paneled with an almost sparkling color of light brown wood, which was probably of better quality than the cracked and damp rock with mold growing on its corners of the rest of the building. The guildmaster's office had much better cleanliness; not a speck of shy dust hiding in the corners nor the repulsive green peeking out from crevices in plain sight. At the end of the room was a hammock made of a grayish colored cloth, and on the flanks in the walls, some wooden framed paintings; realistic style portraits of a solitary bisharp on his adventures.
The only thing dusty were those paintings, covered by it, portraits that were nothing more than empty achievements.
In front of the hammock was a fluffy rug made of wool. It had a square shape and a navy blue color like that of a deep lake, with a white border. On top of that rug sat the kingambit.
The zangoose was standing in front of the guildmaster, to the left of him. Upright, still with a frown on his features and his mouth tightly shut, as if biting his tongue, with his claws slightly curled into his palm.
The guildmaster looked composed. His face was serious and rigid, as if he was tensing the muscles on his face for whatever reason. His gaze was focused, and devoid of any strong emotion that the dusclops might notice. He rested his golden claws on top of his legs, and his gaze turned to face the dusclops. "Form up," he commanded, and raised his claw to point forward, to his right.
Banmo nodded with a speed that could only be described as lethargic, striding shuffling forward to line up where he had been instructed. He did not change his posture at all, hunched over, his gaze wandering unfocused to the paintings or the various corners of the room, trying to find some cracks in the walls. He was preparing himself for the wrath of his boss, and so he had "shut down" his mind in order to get the whole problem over with as swiftly as possible.
He lowered his arm to return to his original position, and stared at them both before addressing, "Banmo, Ganmo." The guildmaster's tone was stern, as it had been in the last roll-call—however, there was not a hint of anger. It was reminiscent of the subsided disappointment of a father figure.
That confused the dusclops, who stopped letting his gaze wander and centered on the kingambit.
"This is the fourth time this has happened this week, and it has happened all through the season. At first, I assumed it was just a misunderstanding; everyone must suffer one from time to time, and everyone argues sometimes," he spoke, still with that lulling tone. "But four times? This is obviously not coincidental..." and he closed his eyes, his tense expression relaxing but staying deadly serious.
The dusclops just stood there, still and not releasing a single word. He was waiting for the kingambit to widen his eyes, to scowl and yell at them both. It wouldn't be the first time he would yell at someone for not doing their job. He was expectant he would yell at Ganmo, since he had caused this and was the most confrontational of those present—
"A good coexistence between all guild members is essential, both for everyone's working environment and morale," once the kingambit opened his two eyes, he interrupted Banmo's thoughts. He did not frown, nor did he elevate his voice. "Trust is essential in our work environment, and there is no such trust between the two of you—"
A sharp huff, similar to that of a tauros in wrath, was finally the interruption to the guildmaster's statement. The kingambit fell quiet at the loud noise, and turned his gaze towards the one who had dared to interrupt him. Banmo also turned his head slightly towards the one who huffed.
It was, evidently, the zangoose. His frown was furrowed, with a grimace on his face. But more than anger, it was irritation and disbelief in his expression. "Guildmaster, if I may interrupt," his tone showed that obvious frustration, and he lifted his right paw, pressing the tips of his claws between the gap in between his eyes on his forehead. "I know what you're suggesting, you want us to get along, no?" he asked.
Banmo glanced briefly toward the guildmaster, watching as the latter opened his mouth to respond—
But he was suddenly interrupted by Ganmo's stomp, who huffed once more. "Well, it's not going to work, guildmaster," he snapped in irritation, and turned to face Banmo. He swung his right paw away from his face, and pointed one of his claws up to the dusclops, glaring disdainfully. "I refuse to treating with respect someone who doesn't deserve it at all and who doesn't even put the slightest bit of effort into his work!" and finally, the zangoose's voice boomed, growing sharper as fury erupted like a volcano in his tone.
Banmo, who had turned earlier to watch the zangoose whine like a small infant, watched as the latter pointed his loathsome sharp claw accusingly at him. He had reached his limit, and frowned just the same. However, unlike, what he thought was Ganmo's uncouth behavior, he decided to bite his tongue and keep his thoughts to himself.
Who in the name of Arceus did this zangoose believed he was to say such a remark to him? Was a 'mon supposed to earn the right to be treated with a modicum of decency and respect? And who did he imagined he was to decide who deserved such a right or not? Worse, he was pointing at him, as if he had the right to judge him... he wasn't even the boss to go around saying such stuff.
"I don't even understand why he's still working here!" The zangoose loudly exclaimed once again, and turned, this time to face the kingambit—still pointing at Banmo. "He's always in a bad mood! He wakes up late, never tries to have a conversation or interact with anyone, and always does the bare minimum to keep making some stupid money!" his voice pitched high enough to be a shout, lashing out at his coworker. "He doesn't even enjoy working here, then why, why does he still work here?!"
Again, Banmo just listened to those words without a protest. However, underneath the bandages, his blood was boiling, and he felt the sting on the tip of his tongue.
Of course Ganmo would say something like that, after all, he was no more than a spoiled child who was lucky enough to have the freedom to choose where to work—surely because he's had good contacts since he was born, so obviously he wouldn't be able to understand one ounce of his situation. Of course he's not motivated to work! How could he, when he never asked to be here?
The zangoose's grimace became more pronounced, ready to continue— "That's enough!" The guildmaster exclaimed, and brought his left claw up to stab the floor. That formed a hole in the woolen carpet, and the jarring sound accompanied the violent action, with metal clattering loudly against wood.
Banmo jolted and turned hurriedly to face forward, for the first time trying to stand somewhat more upright. He was still quite hunched over, nonetheless.
Meanwhile, the zangoose snapped his mouth shut and remained silent. His grimace remained, and he closed his mouth tightly to shut up at once, biting his tongue. His expression unflinching.
The kingambit briefly watched them both, without a movement of his left claw. "I understand your complaints, Ganmo..." he stated, returning to that low, stern undertone. He kept his gaze on Ganmo for a few seconds, and after a short pause, his gaze swung back to the dusclops. "And I understand your complaints as well, Banmo," he added.
That comment briefly confused the dusclops, after all, he hadn't complained about anything—
The guildmaster didn't stop to explain, however, and kept talking. "You two have a negative relationship, and nothing I say will change your minds..."
Did that mean he was going to stop dwelling on the topic? That was good, though it made him slightly suspicious. Though to be honest, Banmo wasn't too keen on the idea of befriending a spoiled, insufferable douchebag with no comprehension of the real world either. So the less time he spent around Ganmo, the better for both of them.
Apparently, the zangoose thought something similar, because he could hear how he sighed in utter relief.
"But."
And a single simple word was enough for the dusclops to feel the bandages on his body tighten like a tourniquet, to tense up. That couldn't mean anything good. And Ganmo realized it too, for he heard the quiet gasp that came from his right.
"Ganmo, Banmo. I have work for you."
Banmo blinked twice. "A job?"
Ganmo, on the other hand, sighed with relief and brought a claw to his chest as he deflated a bit. The dusclops glanced at him momentarily, and saw alleviation on his face. "Ah, don't give me those scares, guildmaster! I thought you were going to keep pushing the getting along thing..." he blurted out, and finally dropped the frown, with some enthusiasm in his gaze. "Well, what's the job, then?" he asked.
"You're going to have to hunt down a criminal."
Banmo blinked again. For just an instant, he thought he had heard incorrectly—however, his senses had not betrayed him, and so he blinked once more. Was he going to have to hunt an outlaw?
That... was not a job he used to do, on the fact that it was too complicated and there was no reason to overexert himself. He supposed that since it was a direct order from the guildmaster, it's not like he could refuse either. So he just had to keep his complaints to himself and follow orders.
The zangoose didn't have a single complaint, just a slight smile forming on his face. "Oooh! Are you giving us a special job, guildmaster?!" he asked, his voice becoming slightly quicker as that earlier anger left his tone, the bitter venom in his words now replaced with enthusiasm. "It's my first special job!" he looked like he was going to let out a giggle at any moment, and he stood up straight, crossing his arms behind his own back. "Tell us our corresponding special jobs, guildmaster! Though I don't think Banmo deserves one—"
"That is the issue," the guildmaster interjected. "You both will have the same job, because it's your turn to work as a team today."
...And there it is.
He knew it was all too convenient that the guildmaster had suddenly surrendered. Of course he hadn't, and now, instead of dropping the subject in order to end the problem, he wanted to force them to work together. Obviously this could only end in disaster, and he didn't see how the guildmaster was incapable of grasping the problem.
Banmo may have had a high tolerance for putting up with his inner thoughts, but this was absurd. He opened his mouth to quietly complain to his guildmaster and argue how that could end—
But the boisterous voice was more noticeable than the low tone. With a gasp of pure indignation; of such sharpness that Banmo felt as if his bandages were trembling a bit like the strings of a guitar—which caused him to cringe and close his mouth—the zangoose spoke, "What!? But—" that enthusiasm had vanished from his voice as quickly as it had emerged. The indignation felt almost like an insult, and Ganmo's bloodshot eyes were wide open.
The kingambit brought his left arm up just a few inches to stab the floor again. The grating sound of the gilt impacting the wood and enlarging the hole in the carpet made both Ganmo and Banmo flinch, and they fell mute. "There is no right to protests against a direct order from the guildmaster related to labor, if you recall the employment contract. If any of you have complaints..." he raised his left arm and pointed toward the door. "The main door is open so you'll never return."
A threat of termination, of course... Banmo snorted in exasperation, but decided to stop insisting. Even if it was stupid, it was only for a day, and he could put up for one day doing a job while a screaming, whining, childishly complaining burden caused him trouble. It would only be a couple of hours, it couldn't be that bad.
"BUT—"
"I will not repeat my words."
Ganmo's expression filled with rage, his neck tensed and his head tilted up slightly before forming a downright pissed off scowl. "ARGH, ALRIGHT!" and with that shout, he turned around in a fury, turning his back on the kingambit. With every step he took towards the door, one could feel the weight and strength with which he stomped from sheer outrage. He grabbed the knob between two of his claws and pulled roughly. He didn't even say a word before he walked out and slammed the door as he left.
The slamming sound reverberated in the closed office.
The guildmaster said nothing, and the other spectator at the scene sighed again in exasperation. This was really what awaited him for the whole day...
His weary eye wandered to the kingambit, and though the guildmaster couldn't read minds, he knew that he was surely as irritated with Ganmo as himself.
"...He left before I could tell you both your job," the kingambit continued in a stern but serene voice and expression. He didn't even lift his voice at such a childish tantrum from Ganmo, and just rested his gaze on the bandage-covered pokémon. "Your assignment is to hunt down a criminal, anyone from the wanted and rescue bulletin board."
At least they could pick the easiest one... but seeing the tantrum just moments ago, already Banmo knew how the day was going to turn out, and how 'fun' it was going to be to pick a simple job for the day.
Today was fantastic: not only did he have to do the everyday mediocre job, but of greater effort and much more hazardous, as well as taking care of an adult with the same temperament of a teenager.
He nodded slowly, with an exhausted look in his eye. "All right, guildmaster. I should get going too," he replied, and let out a yawn soon after. He hadn't even left and this job was already making him sluggish...
"You have permission to retire," the guildmaster nodded, and slowly stopped pointing with his claw, and rested his arm on his leg. His nod was much more solemn than Banmo's lazy nod. "Good luck on the job."
'You're really going to need it with a partner like Ganmo' Banmo thought the guildmaster would like to have said if he was honest with him. Without answering, Banmo turned and walked towards the door. He shuffled his feet as he walked, and once he turned the knob, he opened the door with more gentleness than his now companion had used before.
He took a step out, and exited the office, closing the door once he was outside.