"Looks like the rain near Sunyshore and Pastoria isn't going to let up for the next few days. Make sure you have your rainboots and umbrellas, folks — especially our viewers in Pastoria! That marshy ground's gonna swallow you up if you aren't careful."
"Thanks for that weather update, Charlie. In other news, International Police Chief Looker has specified the arrest procedures for two out of four commanders of Team Galactic, who are finally being apprehended for their crimes from three years ago. After dozens of tedious court proceedings and months of searching, commanders Mars and Jupiter have been taken into custody."
"That's right, John. It's still a mystery, however, as to where their new leader, codename 'Saturn,' and their shady head scientist have hidden themselves a—"
The anchor was cut off by fizzling static as a small orange phantom phased out of the screen. Its lightning-shaped appendages flickered blue briefly before petering out, and it floated up to the top of the television and closed its eyes. Heath sighed and stood up, running a hand through his greasy green hair as he stretched. He then glanced over to the little Pokémon — a Rotom — and shook his head.
"You've gotta stop shutting the TV off at the best part," he said. "Doesn't matter, though. I'm getting tired of this kind of news anyway."
Rotom uttered a series of unintelligible beeps and flopped over to its other side, its electric arms lighting up pathetically once more. It was definitely tired and possibly hungry, too. Made sense — it was the only source of power in this dump of an abandoned house. Heath gingerly picked it up, being mindful not to touch the arms so he wouldn't electrocute himself, and left the TV room through a rather large hole in the thin wall; getting through the door leading to the room was near impossible thanks to it being locked shut. The key was likely long gone at this point.
The wooden stairs groaned as Heath brought Rotom downstairs. The man winced as one of them cracked under his boot — that hadn't happened in a while. Things here were getting worse. There were no actual caretakers of this dilapidated mansion, no one who bothered to come by in an attempt to restore it, which in a way was fortunate for him. But with no tools and no experience in carpentry, Heath knew this hiding spot wouldn't last much longer. A pang of guilt mixed with regret made his chest jolt; he'd have to leave behind Rotom, and the other ghosts that lived here, as the Old Chateau buckled and crumbled.
…Hopefully that wouldn't be anytime soon.
As Heath made it into the house's musty kitchen, he set Rotom on the counter and opened up the cupboard. There was no Pokémon food left; his Carnivine had eaten the last portion the other day. Rotom was incorporeal and didn't need much to keep up its energy though, so he supposed some dried canned Wishiwashi would do.
"Open wide." Rotom opened its tiny mouth, and Heath placed one of the fish inside. The Pokémon chewed, swallowed, and suddenly lit up again, its strength restored. Heath grinned. "That's better. I won't make you power the TV anymore right now, I need to give my eyes a break from the screen. I'm sure the library here has a book I've only read eleven times instead of a dozen."
Before closing the cabinet, he took one of the dried Wishiwashi and popped it into his mouth, licking the crumbs from his fingers as he did so. The tang of salty vinegar immediately hit his tongue, and he scrunched up his face in recoil as the actual taste of the fish settled, but he powered through and swallowed regardless. It was honestly a mystery as to why he continued to buy those, considering he didn't like them. But, he mused, they were cheaper than most of the other snacks at the Poké Mart in Eterna.
…Ugh. He needed the taste of those out of his mouth. He rummaged through the cupboard again, pushing past boxes of stale cereal and old packs of beef jerky he hadn't bothered to throw away to get to half a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter. The former, to Heath's dismay, had mold growing on it, and the latter was mostly empty aside from a few dregs. Rotom flinched as Heath grunted and threw the peanut butter jar across the kitchen, floating up from the counter as it landed with a thunk in the dusty dining parlor. The bread was shoved unceremoniously into the overflowing trash bin.
"I'm going shopping," he grumbled. "Hold down the fort while I'm gone, Rotom."
Beeping in protest, Rotom watched helplessly as Heath proceeded to ignore it and leave the chateau in a huff. He paid no mind to Rotom's cries; he knew it wasn't exactly safe to wander into town in broad afternoon daylight, but he didn't have any other options.
Besides, Eterna Forest was gorgeous this time of day. Sunlight dappled the grassy floor, the spots of pale green moving with the faint sway of the trees, and the calls of bird and bug Pokémon were comforting. Perhaps it was because Heath was so accustomed to terrible sleeping and living conditions, in his past and his present, that he found solace in the simple serenity of it all.
It was even brighter outside, on Route 205. As he stepped out onto the path, he shielded his eyes from the sun and grit his teeth. It wasn't blazing hot, but he could practically feel his skin beginning to itch and burn. He contemplated putting on the jacket that was tied to his waist, but just as quickly decided against it. Too risky.
Eterna City wasn't too far. The difference between the bustling city and the calm fishing route to its west was stark — the city was hopping with people chatting and cycling, buying flowers, watching the news on the Poké Mart's TV… there was so much going on. Heath typically ambled in at about early evening, or sometimes nighttime as things were dying down. But he so desperately needed groceries now that he had to come here in the middle of the afternoon.
The Poké Mart was where Heath did most of his shopping, for food and for other things related to his Pokémon. Honestly, with how little money he usually carried on his person, he was surprised he could last as long as he had out in the Old Chateau. Occasionally he'd sell a giant bag of rare berries and honey he found while snooping in the forest to the poor bastard behind the counter, but besides that, he didn't have a lot. He had five mouths to feed other than his own — four of his own Pokémon plus Rotom — so whatever he did have had to be used sparingly and efficiently, hence all the tinned Wishiwashi. And, hence the cheap knockoff Poké Mart brands he would buy instead of the fancy-shmancy Veilstone or Celadon stuff.
The bread he liked wasn't in stock, though. A whole new brand lined the aisle's shelves. Confused, Heath picked a loaf up and flipped it around, looking for its expiration date and glancing at the ingredients. Not terrible, it was pretty close to what he usually bought. Then, he saw the price.
"You have got to be joking," he muttered, stuffing the loaf back into its original spot. "I am not paying a whole 100 Poké more for a loaf of bread, that's ridiculous."
He snagged a small bag of hot dog buns instead, as well as a new jar of peanut butter, a few cans of fruit and veggies, a gallon of water, powdered milk, and instant coffee, then shimmied up to the register, his arms full. He regretted not bringing a cart with him.
While the cashier was preoccupied with ringing him up, he spotted a couple of Rage Candy Bars among the selection of treats and goodies for sale. His mouth watered. Surely they wouldn't miss just one or two, right? When he was positive no one else was looking, he grabbed a couple, jamming them into his pants pocket. Just then, the cashier gave him a look, raising his eyebrow. Heath removed his hands from his pockets and held them up, no evidence of stealing visible. The guy behind the counter gave a nod of approval.
"That'll come out to 3,280 Poké," he said. "Are you paying cash or credit?"
"Cash," Heath replied, digging some 100-Poké notes out of his other pocket. "This should be 3,300 Poké for ya."
A quick leaf-through of the money signaled Heath was good to go. He took his change and his bags, then shuffled out the door. Even carrying this much stuff in bags was giving him trouble. He realized he could have had one of his Pokémon help out, but with the kinds he had on hand, the trip likely wouldn't have gone as smoothly as it did.
He made it back to the chateau as the sun was beginning to set. Pesky shrubs in front of it always seemed to creep back up like weeds anytime he came or left, but the troublesome plants never lasted long when his Carnivine cut a path through. The flytrap liked the head pats and dried Wishiwashi it would get as a treat for doing it too, meaning it was more than happy to oblige. Oddly, though, this time they were shorter than normal.
Rotom perked up when it heard the front door creak open. It greeted Heath with a series of buzzes and beeps, circling him as he set the bags down and wiped his brow. The man sighed and slumped up against the wall to catch his breath, which was now ragged and slow. He really needed to get back into shape; he was slim and lanky, but that was moreso a product of undereating than fitness training.
"Missed me? I was only gone for a couple hours," Heath teased. He flashed one of the candy bars to the electrical spirit and chuckled. "I got us a treat."
Rotom didn't seem to notice, however. Upon closer inspection, it didn't look excited — it looked stressed. Heath's heart sank at the pure panic in Rotom's eyes.
"...Hey bud, what's wrong?"
SLAM!
A loud thud from a nearby room nearly caused Heath to drop the candy bar. He cursed and fumbled with it, before getting a grip and placing it back into his pocket so he wouldn't squish it. This house was haunted, filled with Gastlly and the occasional Gengar, but they were typically quiet and not very bothersome. This was no Gengar, though.
Someone else was in the house.
The nervous lurch in Heath's chest gave way to his heart rate rapidly increasing. There was someone else in the house. With him. And Rotom. And Carnivine, who was chewing mindlessly on one of the bag handles without a care in the world. There weren't supposed to be other people here. No one dared come by anymore, Heath thought. No one. So why would there be another presence in the house?
He took the bag away from Carnivine and beckoned for it to follow him. Rotom floated behind him as well as he crept forward. Heath had committed to memory where every squeaky floorboard was and where every crack in the wall crumbled, so making his way to the source of the sound without detection wasn't difficult.
Something small and airborne blocked the door, however — a bug Pokémon, with beady eyes, a black body, and yellow wings patterned with orange. It stopped Heath in his tracks, flapping in the doorway, just staring at him, and he stared back.
"Owww… ugh. Mothim, did you find something? Why are you just sitting…"
A voice from inside the room trailed off as its owner, a chubby youngster in a sweater, jeans, and a scarf modeled after their Pokémon, caught a glimpse of the man standing outside.
"...There."
Heath pushed past Mothim and towered above the other person, who shrank back and scrambled to push their glasses back up their nose. As Heath's stern gaze locked on them, fear shone in their amber eyes, and their legs wobbled, their brain likely debating whether they should run or stand their ground.
"Why are you in my house?" Heath grunted.
They gulped. "Your house? This place was abandoned years ago, it's overrun with ghosts. And other creepy crawlies. I'm here for the latter. Are you a ghost?"
"Do I look like a ghost?"
"W-well, uh… you're pale, you're thin, you've got weird hair…"
Heath stepped back to let the guy breathe, and with a motion of his hand called for Carnivine and Rotom to come closer.
"What's your name, kid?"
"First off, I'm not a kid. I'm a Masters student at the university in Jubilife," the guy replied. They must get that a lot, Heath thought. "Second, my name is Atlas. They/them."
"Heath. Uhhh… he/him."
Atlas nodded and put their hand out for Heath to shake. "Put 'er there. Sorry for scaring you."
"It's fine. I'm not used to visitors. The front door isn't exactly shut properly, I don't have a key." Heath took Atlas's hand and forced a smile. "You didn't come at a very good time for bug catching. Morning is when all the Wurmple come crawling in through the walls and floors, Rotom usually wakes me up to get rid of them. Saves money on breakfast for this guy over here."
Heath punctuated the last part with a small gesture towards Carnivine, who waved its leafy hands in a gleeful greeting. Atlas flinched back, and their Mothim gave a small whimper and perched atop their head.
"It eats the Wurmple? That's so cruel…"
"It's nature, dude. Why do you think the Yanma population in the Great Marsh is so bad?"
"STOP, I don't like thinking about bugs being eaten!"
Heath sighed. "Sorry."
"No, it's fine." Atlas adjusted their dark brown bangs and looked away. "To tell you the truth, I came in here because I saw a peculiarly-colored Beautifly come in through one of the windows. I find alternate colorations fascinating, so I hacked down the shrubs guarding the place and let myself in. I'm really sorry, I didn't realize there was actually someone living here."
"Well, I'm technically not. I'm just squattin' here for the time being," Heath explained. "I've done some bad shit. The police have been looking for me for… what, three years now? Jeez, yeah, I just turned twenty four. Point is, I've been here a while, and they haven't even bothered to look here because they're a bunch of scaredy-Skitty."
"...So I could theoretically rat you out."
"You wouldn't."
Atlas brandished their cell phone and grinned. "I absolutely would. However, if you help me find that Beautifly — and promise to feed your thing an alternate diet —"
"Carnivine is not a thing —"
"Yeah, yeah. If you help me with my research on that Beautifly, I won't tell the authorities that you're illegally 'squatting' on private property."
"Why the hell should I help you, especially when we just met and we're already making threats?"
"Because." Atlas put their phone away and pushed their glasses up again. "I need an assistant, and you deserve a better place to live than this old house. The threat was mostly empty, anyways. I wouldn't send a guy I just met to jail."
Heath's cheeks rouged in embarrassment. "You sneaky bastard. Fine, I'll help you."
Overjoyed, Atlas clasped their hands together. "Wonderful! Now then, I believe it flew up to the second floor. Let's get going, before it flies off!"