Chapter 22 - Shop 'til You Drop

"Is this really going to help me become Champion?" Hilda asked dubiously, though her posture remained unchanged, continuing to stand strictly at attention as she'd done for the past hour.

Around her, the tailor they'd visited at Koffing's insistence - the most skilled and expensive in Driftveil's market - busied himself with a tape measure, checking every angle and periodically writing on his notepad, several pages already filled with notation that Hilda couldn't make heads or tails of. The Spinarak on his shoulder would periodically make adjustments of her own, small scribbles in the margins that would invariably trigger another round of measurements.

"You've already earned three badges less than a month into the season. The first badge is expected of a rookie trainer, anyone with a starter and some common sense can get one. The second badge is likewise still common, with over half the average rookie cohort managing it, but the third is where the numbers start dropping, as gym leaders take it slightly less easy, and genuine challenges are brought to bear that can't just be brute forced with a starter and a type advantage."

"Challenges like Claydol?"

"No, no, our experience isn't exactly indicative of an ordinary journey. Gym Leaders have a wide discretion in how they conduct their battles, and can raise the challenge appropriately when faced with talent far above the norm. Claydol was a war construct, maybe even a personal servant of Dialga, if I had to guess. He was easily the strength of an Elite Four's main team; maybe on the lower end in terms of pure power, but that time reversal is a nasty trick that few will have encountered before. Against a team that wasn't experienced combating something like that? He'd sweep most Conference-goers by himself."

"Huh. Okay, so we're better than most first-years. But how does that lead to this?"

"If you look at the professional trainers, you'll notice that they always have a theme. Something that leans into the team they lead, or their personal background, or even just a stage persona they crafted to differentiate themselves. This helps them stand out; makes people recognize them and creates a mythos around them, assuming the trainer continues to succeed. It also provides a strong basis for designing and marketing merchandise.

You've seen plenty of Elite trainers on TV right? None of them are ever seen wearing random clothes from the lost and found, unless again that's their theme. It's not mattered until now, but people are going to start looking at you soon, especially once footage of our battles emerge, and it's never too early to start building your brand. You're not pursuing a career in medicine, so dressing like a small Nurse Joy won't be helpful, the hair alone is enough to acknowledge that connection to the satisfaction of the clan."

"Excuse me madame, how does this look?"

Hilda glanced over to the tailor, who apparently doubled as a very capable freehand artist, as he'd already prepared four potential outlines for her outfit in just the time she'd spent talking to Koffing.

"Mmm… Maybe that one?" Hilda pointed to the sketch on the top-right, showing a skin-tight crop top and exercise shorts. "Black is fine, just make sure to make it thin, and no sleeves. I don't feel the cold anymore, so making it easy to move in is the most important thing here."

"Any accompaniment?" The tailor asked, crossing out the sleeves whilst Spinarak added his own thoughts to the design with meticulous applications of string.

"No, I'll stay barefoot. Actually, for the top, make sure there's space for slogans on it. One in the front and one on the back."

"Certainly," The tailor agreed, drawing a rectangular box on the design. "Do you have the slogans in mind, or should we table themfor now?"

"Iron Within, Iron Without on the back. Steel Sharpens Steel on the front."

"Excellent. That will be all, madame, thank you for your patience. We can have the first iteration delivered to your address by tomorrow afternoon. How many sets would you like to order in the first batch?"

"Give me a hundred," Hilda shrugged. "I'm going to go through a lot until I get the hang of reinforcing my clothes as well as myself. Hey, do you think Absol would like anything from here?"

"I'm sure Absol can do his own shopping." Koffing chuckled.

—

"Six pallets of scrap metal?" John Smith rubbed his head. "Are you sure this isn't the wrong address."

"I'm pretty sure," The courier insisted, glancing down at his tablet. "Its all paid for and addressed to the Battle Sea Shelter, all under the name of a Mr. Abe Sol."

"Abe Sol?" John frowned, before facepalming. "Absol. Goddamnit. Fine, we'll take it. The Aron will be happy at least, all two dozen of them. I wonder where he heard about them, they only arrived at the shelter this week."

"Oh, I'm sure they have their ways," The courier nodded seriously. "When I was growing up in the mountains, mom always told me that if I ever saw an Absol running, I shouldn't ask any questions and just try to keep up. Anyhow, please sign here, here and here to take delivery."

Watching from her cup on the coffee table, Vaporeon smiled.

—

"What do you mean you want a refund?"

"You heard me," Absol replied with a smug grin. "I ordered a TM with Doom Desire using the Blank Card, and it never arrived. I had to find out on the news that someone had grabbed it at the dock before the shipment even left Kanto."

"That someone was you! That was part of the plan, I helped you arrange it with Hunter J!"

"Yes, and now's the time to sell the cover story. After all, if you didn't compensate a customer for a supposedly lost sale, it would be a massive red flag that there was something strange going on. You don't want to go against corporate policy, do you?"

"…You're an asshole," Porygon sighed. "Fine, take your Arceus-damned card. I hope you choke on it."

Absol's phone pinged, indicating a new item had arrived in his Silph Co account. Whilst an unrestricted single-redemption voucher wasn't exactly the same as the blank card, it wasn't worth quibbling the difference in form when the result was pretty much identical.

"Thank you for your custom. Now, while I have you here, how many explosives can I buy for a million dollars?"

A crate of grenades bounced off his head moments later as Porygon hung up.

"Ow. Fine, maybe I deserved that. Still, that's not a bad haul overall." Absol muttered, as he began to stuff the grenades one by one into his storage collar.

—

Vespiquen didn't get angry very often. No, that was a lie. She got angry quite often, but rarely stayed that way for long, as the cause tended to disappear in varying degrees of injury or death shortly after. It had been such a long time since something had vexed her so badly, she was a Combee the last time it happened!

Slither Wing burbled encouragingly as he massaged her back with a level of dexterity that never ceased to surprise his opponents in the arena. Hah! As if Hive Lord Burgh would tolerate a raging brutes who knew only raw power. Nay, in truth every member of his elite deployed exactly as much power as the given situation required, striking solely the deserving and leaving innocents unscathed. Such precision, after all, was the difference between a soldier and a butcher.

Alas, the current situation was not one that could be solved by force alone, no matter how focused; for whilst their opponents were craven, there was a certain base cunning at work in their movements. Their facades were varied; whilst daycares were the most common front, their unnamed adversary had infiltrated everything from schools to nurseries, gambling halls to illicit breweries and far more besides. Information was strictly compartmentalized; each location only knowing the bare necessity to operate their niche, and certain lines by which to transfer funds, which never materialised again once a site fell to a raid, no matter how carefully the League concealed their operations. Those few who were captured alive were all fanatics, giving little more than their names and a single motto, one that repeated unceasingly and proved utterly meaningless despite investigators' best efforts.

'We are the Fourth State.'

"How infuriatingly vague," Vespiquen sighed, glancing up as half-a-dozen of her Combee returned, back to report yet another pyrrhic victory, another operation shut down to no real impact in the overall picture.

Unova was vast, and what was happening in Castelia could easily be replicated far away from prying eyes. This was unlikely to be merely a local operation, she knew, the methods were simply far too different from the typical nature of local organized crime. Burgh would have to be informed, and his fellow Sovereigns from there.

"How troublesome."

—

"Foul child, bastard and beast

O lost lamb, first to the feast

Come claim if you're able

A spot at this table…"

Scream Tail hummed quietly to herself. She had to keep her voice in practice, after all, but at the same time she wanted to avoid drawing Impostor's attention. Fortunately, the latter's sedate nature played into her favor, as the Amoonguss rarely ventured away from his haven between the mud bath and the hot springs. He certainly never checked between the aisles of sweet foods, preferring as he did more earthy and bitter flavors. It had been sheer chance that had seen her scamper into Hilda's backpack upon their first meeting in Castelia, letting her Substitutes take the fall for her actions. She'd expected them to simply vanish in the police station when their energy ran out in lockup, thus becoming yet another mysterious fugitive from justice - oh, how she'd laughed when the memories of their daring escape had finally returned to her upon dispersal. The Masked Singer indeed!

Initially, she'd only been looking for a quick hideaway until the heat died down, but this was far better than she could ever have imagined. A massive mobile home with unlimited food and drink, replenished by uncaring algorithms that found her own consumption beneath notice, and an easy way to travel from city to city, spreading her song far and wide. Oh, they were taking a break and heading back to Castelia now, but that wasn't an issue. Hilda was taking the gym challenge, so she'd have to visit all the major cities eventually, and after that came the Vertress Conference - the biggest stage of all. There, she would give her greatest performance yet, and best of all? She wouldn't even have to leave her new home to do it, as long as her Substitutes proved up to the task.

Truly, this was heaven!