Chapter Thirteen: Captain Puck Yaga

Cold. Cold and darkness and dreams. No…Not cold, numbness. Not darkness, blindness. Not dreams, nothing. No breath. No touch. No sense. Nothing.

COME ON YOU SON OF A BITCH

IF YOU CAN SURVIVE BEING THROWN AGAINST A WALL, YOU CAN SURVIVE THIS

Crimson felt himself being wrenched back into being.

He was a senseless scattered absence suddenly forced together, shoved into consciousness, slapped awake.

And he was being slapped.

WAKE UP

Unable to do anything but gasp, Crimson felt the oil stained feathers and heavy force pummel him. Over and over, as his eyes tried to make sense of the darkness, the blows beat down. His hands and feet scrambled against the sodden earth, unable to find purchase, or escape the beating.

Eventually he managed to push out the word "STOP!"

It stopped.

Pushing himself against a wall, his back and head making painful contact, Crimson cried out a second time. Memories of the recent violence began to flood his mind. The injuries all over his body screamed with life. The vague shapes that surrounded him, painted over with shadow, slowly focused. It was all a nightmare - but it was better than the void he had almost accepted.

There was a torch lying on the floor; it was the only point of light his eyes could find. Around this single star, Crimson began to discern a tunnel, a figure, and his own body. Crimson was leant against the sheer rock wall of a dank and dirty tunnel, a steel track running along its floor. The Farfetch'd stood a few feet away; his coat was torn and bloodstained, his left eye shut by swelling, and his right leg was covered with oozing black wounds. Crimson did not look much better himself; there were long gashes all over his torso and legs, his left boot was missing, and the foot beneath was stained a painful purple.

Drex Dreagle approached, pulling a small metal flask from his pocket. Passing the flask to Crimson, he spoke. "There's not enough to disinfect your wounds, but there's enough to dull the pain. So just take a drink, kid."

Crimson took the flask with a shaky hand and swallowed as much as he could. Coughing, he passed it back. "Thank you."

Drex sat down and took a drink himself. "I thought you were a goner for a moment there."

"Where are we? What happened? Where's Brellia?"

Crimson's mind began to fully wake up, trying desperately to piece together the events that led him here. Anxiety and horror piggybacked off the physical pain, filling the gaps uncertainty had left for truth.

"What happened?" he repeated.

Drex took a slug from the flask. "How much do you remember?"

"We were talking… Well you two were talking… and then… Sapphire? Sapphire came. And then…" Crimson felt his stomach grow heavy, his spine go cold, his mind wish it wasn't awake. "Those were The Ghosts, weren't they?"

Drex nodded. "They were."

Crimson slammed his fist against the ground, the pain of his wounds nearly numbing the collision. He had escaped The Gnarl Corn Company, but in truth, he hadn't escaped anything at all. He was still stuck.

"They took my dad," he said, fighting off tears.

Drex handed him back the flask. "I'm sorry, kid. They've taken a lot from a lot of folk."

"Why were they there?" asked Crimson, cringing as he swallowed.

""I took a bad bet in a desperate situation."

Crimson looked the battered bird up and down, the rage building inside him. "Who- I'm sorry- Who the fuck even are you?"

Drex laughed. "Drex Finnius Dreagle." The Farfetch'd stood, his leg obviously ailing him, and offered a wing for Crimson to shake. Crimson didn't shake it. "Fair enough."

"I remember your name," said Crimson, Drex sitting back down. "At least your first name. You helped keep that tower they basically imprisoned Sage in supplied. But who the fuck are you?"

The Farfetch'd tried to take another drink but the flask came up empty. "Sage? Oh, the boy. In my defence I never agreed with that whole situation. I told Brellia it was wrong to take that baby."

Crimson pushed himself further upright, the rage in him building. "You're not answering my question."

"Me and Brellia go back to before the start of the war. I only ever met Al once, I think, but reputations succeed as much as precede."

He felt his eyes flaring, could smell his own blood, feel the gashes still bleeding. "Answer the fucking-"

"I'm a private investigator, a journalist, or at least I've tried to be. After the war, I thought if I couldn't fight anymore I could at least let people know the truth, let them know how this system works. And the system has kept on working, while all my efforts haven't." Drex stood back up, looking back and forth in frustration. "You wanna know who I am?" He picked up the torch and turned to inspect one of the tunnel's passages. "I'm a fucking failure, that's who I am. But, I'm also a fucking fighter. So get the fuck up, and let's go."

Crimson was taken aback, he'd never met a Pokemon who spoke like this. But before he could really think about it, he began to consider the fact he was in a cave. "Where are we?" Crimson strained as he pulled himself to his feet. "How did we get out? Where are Brellia and Sapphire?"

"Brellia took Sapphire and flew off."

"They left us."

Drex sighed in frustration and began walking. "I told them to leave us. It's a miracle we got out at all."

Crimson tentatively followed. "How did we get out?"

"I had a few tricks up my sleeve. Tricks I have been saving for a long time. Tricks I cannot repeat."

Crimson nearly tripped over one of the metal rails fixed to the ground. "By tricks do you mean weapons?"

"Yes," replied Drex, deflated.

Crimson began following the rails with his eyes. "Where are we?"

"The warehouse used to be a storage facility for the mining operation on Mt Moon. The tunnels lead to the Mountain, hence the minecart rails."

"You managed to drag me down here?"

Dex looked back with a caustic, overcast grin, "You're lucky the elevator still worked."

Crimson tried to not take the look personally. Still, he had already decided, Drex Dreagle was an asshole. "Why were The Ghosts after you?"

Drex Dreagle stopped, shifting the beam of his torch across an upcoming fork. "My investigation had hit a deadend. I needed someone on the inside. Still, I had failed to appreciate that anyone crazy enough to follow me was also crazy enough to go off on their own. They fucked up. And now we're all fucked."

He had been wrong; Crimson had heard Pokemon speak like this before - they just used fancier words, held themselves with a nobler countenance, tried to obfuscate their brutality. Drex Dreagle had no shame for his violent arrogance.

"What were you investigating?" asked Crimson, unimpressed but still curious.

Drex chose the left passageway. "I thought I was investigating something as simple as a rich asshole bribing military brass to have people assassinated. Turns out… Well I ain't really sure what it turns out… But The Ghosts are paying someone to bribe military brass to let them assassinate people they shouldn't care about. And now I doubt I'll ever know what's going on."

Crimson wrapped his mind around the messy conspiracy Drex presented him with. Concentrating on the puzzle distracted from the pain and cold and fear. He had always liked puzzles.

"Where is the money coming from?"

Drex stopped again. It wasn't the route; Crimson's words had forced him to pause. "That's an excellent question," he said, his voice echoing throughout the tunnels. "If the funds were coming out of their own budget it would only handicap their own operations." Drex tried to take another swig from the flask, but was reminded of its emptiness. "Following that logic… They are stealing from someone, and rather than keeping the money they are funnelling it into the pockets of military officials."

Crimson shrugged his shoulders. "Sounds like they're trying to frame them."

Drex turned slowly, his one good eye ignited with revelation. "What did you fucking say?"

"I…" Crimson stepped away from the deranged Farfetch'd. "I said it sounds like they're trying to frame them. I've seen it before; someone steals food, pays it to someone else for a menial task, but then just goes to the supervisor and says that person has stolen food; the supervisor doesnt care about anyone's stories, they just care that they've found the stolen food, so…"

Drex began to twitch and fidget, looking about himself, uncertain and desperate to act. "We have to get out of here. We need to… We can't go back to the city, not right now. We… We need to get to Al."

"I thought you didn't want to join up with Al?"

"Look, even if you hadn't come up with the best theory for what's going on I've heard so far, we don't really have much of a choice." Drex sighed and began rummaging through his pockets. "I need to call in a favour." Finding his phone, he stared at it and sighed.

Crimson felt himself going a little faint. "A favour from who?"

Drex chuckled, showing sick joy for their desperation. "Oh, kid. There…" Drex halted in thought, trying to remember. "How did she put it?"

Crimson could feel his legs beginning to buckle.

"No, no you'll like this. There are things…" Drex scratched the side of his head with the torch. "...things that live amongst the roots of the mountain." He smiled, "Yeah that's it. Things that shine in the darkness, and then pass into shadow, like moonlight."

Crimson collapsed as his eyes grew heavy and his head grew light. He didn't feel the pain of falling, all he felt was the soft warmth of death, and Drex Dreagle's feathers on his face.

KID

KID, WAKE UP

Crimson saw the flickering light of small flames, felt the caress of fireside warmth, heard the comforting crackling of wood. Safety and security swaddled him. He was somewhere perfect.

"But they didn't get everyone," spoke a familiar voice.

Crimson watched his face come into view - a soft, beloved sunrise.

It was his father.

Crimson was in bed; he was a child. He was lying in his bed with the fire burning gently, his belly full, and his head reclined. And his father was sat on a stool, looking down at him, smiling.

"They didn't get everyone," he repeated. "Some got away. Some hid. They're still out there, Crimson - the remnants of the resistance."

"What does remnants mean?" he asked.

"It means 'what is left.'"

"Like when there's more work even when you said we'd be finished soon?"

"Yes."

"And they're what's left even when everyone thinks they're all gone?"

"Yes."

"Where are they, dad?"

His father placed a hand against his cheek. "They'll be here soon, son. I promise. They'll be here soon."

His father leant down to kiss him; Crimson felt his father's lips as they pressed against his forehead. He felt them not because they were there, but because they weren't. It was that wordless question that shatters dreams. He should have felt them, but he didn't, and when he realised he didn't, he realised that none of it was real.

Crimson awoke to find himself on a dirty canvas cot. His clothes had been replaced with a brown linen outfit, and he was covered in bandages. His mouth tasted strange and he was connected to a medical drip.

Looking around, he found himself in a small, dark room with rock walls. There was a single electric light, struggling to stay alive, attached to the wall opposite him. Aside from himself, the cot, the drip and the light, the only other things in the room were a chair, a cloud of smoke, and the Pokemon sat within both.

Working their way through a cigarette was a muddy, pink creature, with two stubby arms, two stubby legs, a pair of huge, hard, bloodshot and mournful eyes, and belly-pouch holding an egg. Crimson had seen one before: the Gnarl family doctor. It was a Chansey.

"Drex thought you might not make it, but I knew you'd be fine," it said, in a cracked, smoke stained baritone.

"Thank you," replied Crimson, not knowing what else to say.

"Don't thank me," it said, scoffing; "Thank the team that got you in so fast. Bleeding out would have been what got you, and if you had, I wouldn't have been able to save you. But you still had plenty of blood by the time you got here."

Crimson hesitated, still adjusting. "Where's Drex? Where am I?"

"I can take you to him. Can you stand?"

Crimson pushed himself to the edge of the cot and sat up. With gritted teeth, he forced himself to stand and pulled out his drip.

"Good," said the Chansey. "Follow me."

The Pokemon led Crimson out of the room and into a series of sheer rock tunnels. The tunnels were lit by the same struggling electric lights, and littered by wooden doors on both sides. Crimson saw no one else, but he could hear hushed voices coming from behind the doors, feel eyes watching him.

Eventually they stood before a door somewhat better made than the others. The Chansey pointed towards it and said, "There you go."

"Aren't you coming?" asked Crimson.

The Chansey laughed and lit another cigarette. "I don't want any of what's happening in there."

As the creature walked away, Crimson turned to face the door and breathed in deeply. He pushed it open and found a chamber just as sparse as everything else. All that lay inside was an electric light, a table covered in papers, a chair, and two Pokemon.

One of the Pokemon, Drex Dreagle, turned and smiled with genuine relief - even a little pride.

The other Pokemon was not so happy to see him. It was a large creature, taller than Crimson and twice as wide as Drex. Covered in faint pink fur and dark pink scars, with what might have been wings protruding from its back, a large curled tail, an eyepatch over its right eye, a pipe in its left hand, and one long, brown tipped ear, suggesting the loss of another, the creature stared at him. It took a long draw from its pipe and grimaced.

"So this is the human? But not the one you cajoled into your service, this is the one you were left with, when all of that turned rotten for you?" It stepped towards him, one small black eye consuming both light and darkness. "What is your name, human?"

"I told you his name is-"

"I was asking the human."

"My name is Crimson."

He had never seen a Pokemon like this. He hadn't read about one in books. Crimson had no idea what he was dealing with. Whatever it was, he was sure it had seen its fair share of violence.

"I am Captain Puck Yaga, and this hole in the ground is where I've kept my people safe. You are only here because I owed Drex a favour. That favour is now repaid. From this moment on, you remain by the tenuous charity of my conditional kindness. Do you understand?"

Crimson's instinct was to ask how kindness could be conditional? But he didn't. He nodded meekly and stepped back. "I understand."

"You don't need to be so hard on the kid, Puck; he ain't done nothing wrong."

Captain Puck turned to face Drex, taking another draw from their pipe. "I'm sorry my friend, but whatever has happened to bring you here… has gone exceedingly wrong."

Drex sighed. "I told you already, Al has been compromised, and I need you to get me to them."

"So you've said."

"So what's the issue?"

The captain laughed. "The issue is twofold. Firstly: it is one thing for you to request sanctuary amongst the Clefairy. It is another thing entirely to request we risk our safety, use powers that are difficult to control, let alone contain, and do it all so a stranger may be spirited away."

Drex interjected again. "I'm no stranger, Puck."

"Captain Yaga."

The Farfetch'd shook his head. "May I remind you, Captain Yaga, how you acquired that Moon Stone which made you so powerful in the first place?"

Captain Yaga emptied their pipe ash onto the table. "May I remind you, Drex Dreagle, of what a mother is willing to do to protect her children." She began packing the bowl of her pipe, waiting for Drex to break eye contact. "Secondly: I wonder why someone who has been fighting the fight, in their own way, all these years, would abandon it to lead some coward around the blasted wastes of Johto?"

"I'm done in Cerulean now." Drex rubbed his brow and shifted around. Crimson noticed his injured leg was bandaged, but still blotched with black. "Do you have anything to drink?"

"In the drawer."

The Farfetch'd pulled out a bottle of clear liquid and took a swig. "I'm done, Puck- sorry Captain Yaga, I'm finally completely fucked. So I might as well move on and do something useful."

The Captain reached into another drawer and pulled out three glasses. "If you're going to drink my booze, you should at least share. And one for the human, he looks like he needs it more than any."

Crimson hesitated, thinking of Oak. "I don't really drink."

"When you're lying in a ditch, or tied to a chair, or coughing your last in some hope forsaken field, it will be these small pleasures you long for. So take the damn drink, boy." Captain Yaga grabbed the bottle from Drex, poured two glasses, and pushed one towards Crimson. Reaching back into the drawer, she brought out a bar of chocolate. "Here, have some of this too. Have all of it. It might be your last."

Crimson had only eaten chocolate twice. So, out of politeness he swallowed his drink, but never took eyes off the bar. As soon as his mouth was empty he went for it - devouring with childlike, bestial glee.

He had started to realise how little control he had over his life, even now. The Pokemon were still in charge; he'd run away with Oak, but only because Pokemon had dismantled the estate; he was now amongst what appeared to be remnants of the resistance, but they still treated him like an afterthought - a child. So he might as well act like a child. He might as well enjoy the chocolate. Crimson couldn't consider the magnitude of his futility whilst he was eating chocolate.

After a few moment's silence - where Captain Yaga watched him with strange contended sincerity, and Drex Dreagele paced up and down - the Farfetch'd spoke. "They're still out there, Puck."

She scoffed. "No one has heard from the resistance high command in nearly two years."

"If they were dead we'd all know about it. If the Chancellor had finally nabbed Giovani he'd be hanging from the walls of The Fuchsia Palace for everyone to see. Ain't no way they'd keep that a secret."

Captain Puck Yaga rolled her eye, stepped over to Crimson, and snapped off a small piece of chocolate. Placing it in her mouth, she sighed. "So what; where do you even start? You're just going to wander around Johto hoping you find something?" She puffed on her pipe. "Yet you tell me The Ghosts are conspiring against the central military authority. And still this is the best use of your time?"

Drex finished his glass and poured another drink. "I have no means to chase that story anymore. Or anything in Cerulean. I've finally won the basket with cantaloupe and honeydew." Drex laughed at a joke no one else understood. "But I gotta do something. And if I'm gonna do anything… This is… It's the last…" Dex pounded his drink. "It's the last Alakazam… I hate to admit it means something, but it does. You of all people should appreciate that."

The Captain did her best not to flinch, and Drex did his best not to smirk. A heavy silence spread across the room, laying its weight upon them, nearly noble in its expectation.

But Crimson was sick of bending the knee.

"You're the last of something too, aren't you?"

Captain Puck Yaga snapped her gaze towards him, first enraged, then endeared, and lastly mournful. "The government took control over power stones before they had even won the war."

Crimson was only half sure what that meant. "So what are you?"

"As far as I am aware, I am the only remaining Clefable. For now. To compare my plight with Alakazam is not fair. There is still hope for my people."

Crimson swallowed the last of the chocolate. "The Clefairy?"

"You do not miss anything, do you, Crimson of The Gnarl Estate? It seems quiet is your weapon" Puck Yaga drew from her pipe, smoke seeping from a wide, toothless grin. "Some have said that patience is my weapon."

"I've just learnt to listen."

"No.. You have learnt to understand. This is far more difficult."

Drex groaned. "Are you going to help us or not?"

Captain Puck Yaga turned to face Drex Dreagle, her one eye softening, like onyx into ink. "And what if you find as much peril there?"

"Then I was definitely right to go."

The Clefable shook her head, tapping her pipe against the desk. "You, Drex Finnius Dreagle, are the first and last of your kind."

Crimson followed them back and forth, transfixed, awe and terror battling in his heart. It was a scene from a story, and if he watched closely enough, he could ignore his lack of agency, his flashing traumas, his small and fragile person, bleeding in a stranger's office.

Captain Puck Yaga took in a deep breath and sighed. "Can you, for one moment, comprehend the position you place me in, risking what you ask me to risk?"

Drex poured himself another drink and chuckled. "No Puck, I can't. I could never comprehend the weight you carry… nearly no one could."

The Clefable smiled. "That's all I ever wanted to hear."

The Pokemon shook hands, and Crimson suddenly felt sick. He knew it was him they couldn't comprehend - his life.

He missed Sage. He missed Jeremy. He missed his father. He yearned for a world that had never existed and a path he could never have walked. He longed for something that was not this, that was not what had led him here, that was not where he'd end up next. More than anything, Crimson wished, without reservation, without shame or second thought, that he was a Pokemon.