START Chapter 3 : Pirouette
Olympic Range, Pacifica Wilderness (2097)
"Kira, love, please make the fire hotter." I dumped a few more heaps of wood into the dugout pit. Brooklyn's litwick was steadily keeping the flames alive with its power while Travis rubbed down our companion's limbs with his hands. Brooklyn was covered up in as many layers we could scrounge up, shivering and clammy from blood loss. It was about three in the morning, we had been stuck in this clearing for about thirteen hours now, having lost sight of the trail in our escape.
Travis was shaking as well. His bright purple tracksuit was in tatters, damp in places he had been roughed about. He was fine physically, just a few scratches here and there. An ugly little cut on the bridge of his nose. Yet his eyes, they told a different story. Wide open and staring into nothing. I had to push him around to try and shake him out of the shock. We could sit in a circle and talk about our traumas later, once we were out of immediate peril. I told him as much, which at least got me a nod.
Brooklyn's back was starting to turn all black and purple. I gave it another cleaning and dressed it up. In fact, by the time help arrived, I'd rebandaged Brooklyn about five different times. I just wasn't sure how often I was supposed to replace the gauze. My palms were caked in blood, as were my jeans. It smelled like rust and faintly of vinegar. The sun had reached its peak, probably around one o'clock in the afternoon by the time the Rangers came through with a stretcher.
"Are you okay, sweetheart?" a kind, older ranger asked me. Her bright red uniform had been caked in mud, her face not any cleaner. With light grey hair drawn back into a ponytail, she could have been Artemis herself. She draped a space blanket around my shoulders, drawing me into a one-armed hug. "My name is Kimberly. I'm gonna take a little look at your legs, okay?" I nodded, letting her pat down the side of my thighs.
She finished her check-up, jotting something down in a pad before giving me a smile. "You did a wonderful job here. "Everything will be just fine once you apply some gloom salve and a few burn heals. Your Cubone is all good too."
"Thank you," I muttered. "How's Brook- how's my friend?"
"I don't know. I really don't know. He's definitely coming with us back to New Seattle. They've got the best medical staff that handles post-PID, Pokemon-Induced Damages, in the whole region. You can be sure about that."
"That's good. I was so worried…" I hated that my lip was quivering. I was supposed to be stronger than this. Cold and calculating in the face of any loss. Always planning the next step forward. Not falling apart at the first hurdle.
"You can come with us if you want? Your legs are going to be just fine, yet there's always the risk of a little scarring. We have wonderful dermatologists too. Essence of Ditto therapy. Make your skin as smooth as a baby."
"Uh… I- I have to think about it. Can I have some time to think about it?" I asked. She told me to go ahead and talk to my family, to let her know if I had made a decision. The group would be leaving in ten minutes.
I walked over to Travis, who was drinking from a thermos of some hot soup. At my arrival, he scooted over on his boulder to make room. "Chicken noodle, I think. Want some?"
"I'm good. Hey, how you holding up?"
"Awful. I could cry, laugh, and throw up all at the same time right now. You?"
"Ranger Kimberly asked if I wanted to go back to New Seattle with the help team. Get myself checked out, see if I might need to stay at home for a bit."
"Is that what you want to do? Rest up?"
"Maybe. I don't know."
"If that's what you want to do, then you should do it. Nobody could blame you. This was a messed up thing to happen on your second day of travelling."
"You're right. I should rest. Maybe train some more. Locally, I mean. It's dangerous to be on the road as a newbie."
"Hey Reyna! Brooklyn is awake, if you want to talk to him. You've got three minutes before we get going," Kimberly said. She waved me over to the stretcher, where my newly made friend was underneath an avalanche of blankets and field scanners.
"R- Reyna. Reyna," he mumbled, the painkillers probably numbing half of his face. "Bear got me, Reyna. Got me good. Back hurts. Everything hurts." With his slightly less damaged hand, he gestured for my own. I grabbed him tenderly, as one does with infants and invalids alike. "Hurts like hell, Reyna. I'm gonna go back home and sleep for a month. Watch some TV. Every single battle that Matsu has ever been in, Reyna. And when I'm good and ready, I'm heading straight down to Portland again with no stops. I never liked battling. Doesn't mean I'm going to quit now, you hear?"
"I hear you, buddy. Loud and clear."
"You're not coming with me. I go to the cushy hospital bed with the handsome nurses to dote on me. You keep on going. Sleep in a tent, in a Lodge, I don't care. You don't backtrack because I was the idiot that turned their back on a goddamn Ursaring. You got that?"
"Hey. You don't get to make that call for-" he shushed me with strained effort, clasping my hand. "Katerina Harris, right? Your full name. I know we met like two days ago, in Midtown Centre. I want you to know that I really enjoyed our journey so far. You have to promise me that you'll travel with me again someday. Once I'm all better." Something was pressed into my palm. I felt it slip through my jacket sleeves and into my t-shirt. "Little something to remember me by."
Before I could fish it out of there, Brooklyn was already calling over the rangers. My ten minutes of deliberation were up. The ranger team was all set to go, huddled together in a group with the stretcher in the centre. Ranger Kimberly gave me one last smile before heading over with a rescue pad in hand: a single-use teleportation device that somebody probably paid a lot of money to arrange for.
"Bye, Brooklyn," I said. My voice was barely louder than a sigh. The journey would recommence. This was just another curtain to close, the first act of many. The first of many goodbyes. He gave me a small wave as the rescue pad activated, glowing brightly before engulfing everyone in the vicinity. All that was left was me, Travis, and a lone ranger who had been tasked with getting us back to the main trail.
Travis needed some time to gather all his belongings, which I used to dig around my clothes for whatever it was that Brooklyn had left me. My fingers brushed against a small, metallic object. Round and familiar. My thumb ever so slightly touched a button on the side.
'Transfer completed. Biometric scan ongoing…'
'Transfer completed. Biometric scan ongoing…'
'Transfer completed. Biometric scan complete… [Trainer(Initiate)] Katerina Harris.'
'Transfer completed. Teddiursa, Moonshine. Registered to Katerina Harris.'
Something to remember me by, indeed. Rat bastard, I smiled.
The Weary Wanderer Pub, Pacifica Wilderness (2097)
I dropped my bag on the counter of the empty bar. The stools had been placed upside the tables, too early in the day for most travellers. I cleaned myself up in the restroom, getting a worried look from the only other patrons. The towels were burnt, not needing nor wanting them around. An unnecessary memento to the traumatic events of the past day. I burned a few other bloodied clothes as well. I could always buy more, I figured.
"You look a bit too young for a drink," the owner said. He lowered a stool and gestured to the table next to us, wiping it off for me as I moved my things. "I've got a few tea options. Maybe some coffee?"
"Coffee sounds great," I said. He poured me a drink into a little green ceramic mug. It was warm. I inhaled the fumes. Freshly brewed. It warmed my insides and made me feel ever so slightly better. "Thank you."
"Anything for a customer," he shrugged. As there was nobody else, save for an elderly gentleman with his growlithe, he took the chair next to mine. "What will it be? Eggs? Maybe some waffles?"
"Can I have, uh," I flipped open one of the menus. Something called a Hot Meal was only fifteen bucks. I pointed toward it which got me a smile.
"House special. For weary trainers like yourself." He barked some orders to the kitchen. Lao? Or maybe Thai. "You know, we have a deal going on right now. Coffee and some grub for a good story. Wanna see if you're eligible?"
"I don't feel like talking right now," I replied. He raised his hands and moved to give me some space. "Wait, actually. I could use a story myself. Could I get one for my meal?" He laughed, plopping right back down on the stool. His fingers brushed against my Trainer Initiate strap, grinning at the red mark of identification.
"Should probably know, my name's Leslie. Leslie Tran. Been running this place for about twenty years now."
"Really? You don't look that old," I said, eyeing his smooth chin and cheeks. "I would've said thirty." He was a kind-looking man, only a few traces of age around his eyes and his grey-peppered hair. He had on a white button-up shirt with a black half apron.
"I turn thirty-eight in June. Bought the place with my dad's League pension. He was a gym trainer back in the day. Second generation. Back when the Seattle gym still used the Ground type."
"That's super cool. You a trainer as well?" I asked. He shook his head, pointing at the bar behind him.
"Was never my thing. I can make a mean omelette. Battling though? Never had the stomach for it. My nieces are really into it though. They're a bit younger than you, still waiting for their mom to catch them their starters. Anyways, I promised you a story. Ever hear about a man named Matsu?"
"Who hasn't?" I laughed. It sounded foreign in my ears. Still felt good though, relieving.
"Yeah yeah. You never know with kids these days. Always chasing that next Big Thing. Anyways, he comes through here about ten years ago, right? Local hero, showing up to get a bite to eat. I don't like bothering nobody. I get him his pancakes and spiced wine. Gave me a grin, wrinkly face stretched out. Hands me a hundred dollar bill." Leslie flashed the money in front of me, a ragged and worn old thing.
"Could've been anybody. Did you get a good look at his face? He almost never shows up in public anymore."
"He was wearing a baseball cap. Had the Matsu logo on it and everything."
"I really doubt that the Pacifica Champion goes around wearing his own merch."
"Believe me or not. Here's the thing, the whole place was empty. Just like now. It was just him and me, and my cousins back in the kitchen. The television was on, the Atlantica League finals. Their last champion's title defence match. You might be too young to remember."
"Who could forget Queen Victoria's Coronation?" God, I was beginning to sound like Brooklyn. That was a battle for the history books, however. I was with my parents in Ole Glory when it happened, visiting some of their friends.
"Yeah. Queen Vicky. We were watching that fight, not saying anything. Just two guys with their drinks catching the game. You know what happened after that? He got so drunk he almost fell off his chair. Red as a tomato. He just hobbled off after that. Forgot this," he showed me a silver ring. "I tried getting in touch with his agent. No luck. Been waiting here ever since, wondering if he'll ever come back for it."
"That's a nice story," I said honestly. The image of the Pacifica Champion, drunk as a horse and staggering out of this dingy old bar. Now that was something to imagine. "Thank you for sharing it with me."
Leslie shrugged and got up from his stool. "Thanks for listening. I'm gonna go check on your food, okay?" He left the ring on the table. "Feel free to give it a look. I'll just be a second."
"Awful lot of trust you're putting in a stranger."
"Pipsqueak like you? Please," he guffawed. He stepped into the kitchen, still chuckling.
I picked it up carefully, curiosity filling up my hollow insides. The platinum silver was cool to the touch, with tiny markings covering the inside of the band. I could make out letters, shaped sort of like the hieroglyphics that the Pokemon called Unown are supposed to resemble. Luckily, I remembered that my parents had gotten me my very own deciphering book a while ago. I fished it out of my bag and flipped through the pages, jotting down my rough translation onto a napkin. This was a distraction, a welcome way to keep my mind off things.
"Ho… enn. Ho-enn, my heart. A sea of flames, a desert to eat the skies."
All of a sudden, the ring began to heat up in my hands. The metal turned a bright white, lights flashing the entire restaurant. After a few seconds, the light died out, leaving me with the plain old silver ring. Leslie rushed out of the kitchen, my plate of food abandoned in a heap on the floor. Eggs, it looked like. Scrambled with a few thick slices of bacon on the side. The tomato was dribbling onto the hardwood floor.
"What was that?" he demanded, out of concern rather than anger. I just pointed to the ring, then my book. "Could you show me? Show me what you did."
I repeated the phrase, this time to no reaction from the ring. Leslie tried for himself, no dice. It behaved just like any other piece of unimpressive jewellery. The cook poked his head out to check up on the racket. Leslie waved him off, asking him to please clean up the mess and bring me a fresh plate.
"You're saying that something like this, Matsu never came back for it?" I asked. Guilt covered the man's features, indicating that there was more to this tale of his. Details that I demanded. There was something weird going on, something more to the ring itself. It was unnatural.
"I may have left out… a few parts. You see, he didn't exactly leave it behind," Leslie admitted. "It's not easy running a restaurant for people on the trail. You just don't understand, I was a different man back then. In my late twenties, business was dwindling. Middle of winter, the down season for the League. My sister needed help with the kids. I had them in the back room, a pair of wild three-year-olds. Matsu was my golden ticket! You understand, right?"
"Please, continue." My grip on the ring tightened. It was not mine, yet it was definitely not his either. This left us at an awkward standoff. His thick adult arms versus how fast I could release Rocky and order an attack. I wasn't sure about my odds.
"Matsu was drunk, that part is true. He didn't stay silent though. Started saying all these weird things about the old Atlantica champ. Caesar Yamada. Japanese rivalry or something, I don't know. The ring slipped out of his pocket when he got his wallet out to pay me. I know I should've returned it to him. It's just…" Leslie looked dejected. "Times were hard. I picked it up and stuck it in my pocket. Thought I could make a few bucks off it. Looked pretty enough. Besides, he's the Champion, not like he's slumming it down with the rest of us."
I sighed. "It's not like I don't get it. I do, trust me." I felt tired. The coffee was cold now. Not like I felt the desire to drink any more of it. "Have you actually tried giving it back? Or was that another lie?"
He looked shaken yet remained silent, which told me enough. I grabbed my bag and gently placed a few dollars on the counter before turning to leave. He didn't try to stop me. I brushed past him and threw on my jacket. The ring was on my finger by this point. There wasn't anywhere safer to keep it. A perfect fit. Other than feeling like a hobbit, that is.
"Where are you going?" he asked once I was out the door. He stood by the entrance, not coming outside. There was a jacket in his hands, as though he was debating whether or not to follow me.
"I'm gonna give this to the authorities. There's a town about an hour south of here, right? I'll stop there." I made a move to walk on then stopped and turned back around. "I- Look, I won't mention you at all. Far as I know, you have nothing to do with this ring. I'm just gonna make sure it gets back to its owner. Okay?"
He nodded. His eyes never left my own. I felt a pang of fear that he would try something desperate. All those self-defence lessons I had ditched for battling classes instead. I fingered the belt loop that held Rocky's ball. Finally, after an awkward few moments of silence, Leslie's brother came up to him with a black plastic bag.
"Take it. Please. It- it's not much, I know. Please take it," he offered me the bag.
I was sorely tempted to just brush him off, walk on. Instead, I mustered up the nerves to approach him and take the bag. It was filled with a few styrofoam containers. Food, probably the Hot Meal I had ordered. He also handed me a cheap turquoise thermos.
"If you ever see the guy, ever. I want you to tell him that I'm sorry."
"I will."
"Take care, then. I never got your name, Trainer," he said softly.
"My name's Reyna."
"Thank you, Reyna." He closed the door behind him, leaving me alone with the bag of food in my hands. So I did the only reasonable thing, I started back down the trail. Ten, twenty minutes of walking, until there was nobody in sight. That's when I let myself show just how weary I had become.
My knees were starting to ache again, where the previous day's events had left their mark. I decided to set up a small camp next to a river. I released Rocky, letting him gnaw on a piece of bacon as I bit into the toast. It was still warm, as was the coffee.
I was getting near town, I could tell. Casafria, a place with just enough of a population for a Centre yet not important enough for much else. It was probably another twenty minutes until I had access to a clean bed and more importantly, better internet. A sign nailed to an evergreen told me that I was about four miles out, finally at the first major checkpoint on the Emerald-Rose Path.
"Good evening," a hiker said in passing. I tensed up at his voice, only giving him the barest of nods as acknowledgement. He gave me a weird look but kept on walking. I could see his fingers twitching toward his Pokeball. Probably more trouble than it was worth, to battle him.
"Good Lord," I said, letting out the breath I'd been holding in. I quickly folded the strap neatly into a ribbon, pinning it into an 'X' on my chest. The universal sign that I was not interested in any battles.
I fiddled with the ring on my finger. It was cold now, colder than metal had any right to be. If not for its value, I would have hung it around my neck. The police station, I needed to make a beeline to the police station and turn this thing in.
"Rocky, can you sniff around for anything else in these damn woods? I just want to make it without bumping into a nidoking or something." Not totally impossible. They were very territorial and very prone to bouts of unprovoked anger.
Once I felt well enough to continue, I clambered to my feet and started off to Casafria. The sun was just about setting when I arrived at the town limits. There weren't too many people on the streets, the whole place being more of a large settlement than a town.
I scheduled an appointment to meet with an officer in detail after their dinner break. Gave me just enough time to check in for a room at the Casafria Centre, even get in a quick shower. My face, though a bit freshened up, still looked straight out of a Dante hellscape. I slipped into a pair of clean beige slacks, wearing a sky blue button-up. Always good to look professional when talking to anyone official, a lesson my dad had drilled into me. As a finishing touch, I pinned my Initiate strap onto my chest, sort of like a military badge. Legally speaking, they couldn't just brush me off if I had this on.
"Good evening," I said once we were seated in a conference room. I had two officers in the room, one of them being the head of the precinct. Apparently, it was a slow day. Either that or I let the crazy shine in my eyes just a bit too much.
"Good evening, miss," said the chief. Captain Raychel Pirouette. "How can we assist you today?"
"I'm here to report a missing object. Well, I know whose it is. I just need help getting it back to them," I said. One of the cops in the back raised an eyebrow. The other elbowed him in the ribs.
"Well, uh, how did you come across this object?" Pirouette asked. She was scribbling down something in her pad. Probably 'potential thief' or something along those lines. I'd make a great detective.
"Can't tell you. I didn't steal it, if that's what you're asking." I licked my lips. They felt as dry as sandpaper. I showed off the ring on my finger. "This belongs to Champion Matsu."
The eyebrow-raising cop guy, Aditi, snorted. Seriously, who actually snorts these days? My ears began to flush and I had to take in a deep breath. A pile of crap I was shovelling, not even my own. Some small, insincere part of me preferred facing off an angry ursaring mum than dealing with this. Dealing with the police.
Raychel was drumming her fingers against her chin. At least she looked somewhat receptive. Finally, she set down the pen and motioned for one of her subordinates to come over. "Get me a line to Chief Parker. I'm guessing you're not sharing any more details, huh kid?"
Calling me a kid irked me but I just put on a polite smile and nodded.
"We'll process it, sure. We're going to need to ring though. Keep it on file until we get orders from the top."
"Of course." I tugged at the thing. It wouldn't budge. I twisted it, trying to loosen it from my finger. Nothing. Maybe I had a rash, some irritation. I grabbed and pulled yet I just could not get it off of me.
"Need a little help?" Pirouette had one of the officers bring us some soap from the break room. We coated my entire hand with the slippery foam, tugging and tugging at the damn thing. It just would not come off. Finally, the captain had had enough. She unclipped a Pokeball from her belt, releasing the creature inside. A drowzee. With a finger, she tapped on the ring and issued instructions for its removal.
Drowzee concentrated, eyes closed in focus. I could feel telekinetic energy amassing around my wrist, my palm, to the digit in question. Yet as soon as it made contact with the ring, it winked out of existence like a rubber band snapping into place. And damn it stung. I yelped and recoiled from the sudden release. Drowzee, on the other hand, flailed its arms as if in pain.
Pirouette was taken aback. "Excuse me, I need to make a phone call. Aditi, keep her company." He nodded, plopping himself down on the chair next to me. His bored look had vanished entirely. He was definitely alert for this.
I could hear hints of conversation beyond the door. It was about fifteen minutes later that Captain Pirouette returned. She looked shaken. Well, slightly disturbed if anything.
"My, uh, superiors got this all the way up to the Pacifica Deputy Chief of Police. Top brass, not an easy person to reach for a precinct our size. They weren't able to get this to the champion himself, no. They did, however, reach Leader Blanche. Since we technically fall into her jurisdiction, she has asked to meet with you about this matter. In Portland, though. Wants you there first thing Wednesday morning. Police escort via teleport."
"But it's Sunday," I said. I get into Portland by Thursday evening at the earliest. I'm not cheating. I will walk the Emerald Rose. This is my journey."
She shrugged. "Sorry, kid. We're looking at direct orders from the Gym Leader." Her face darkened. "I know what it's like, getting pushed around by these borderline civilians," she spat out the last word like it was a curse. "We leave in the morning. Pierre will help you to the Centre. Maybe you'd want to rest up a bit? Take some time for yourself. We have a great training room at the Casafria Centre."
I was more than a little bit annoyed. How dare they take away this experience from me? As if it was hammered into me, my fingers began twitching towards my belt. Only to find that there was nothing there. I'd left Rocky and Moonshine at the Centre. My shoulders slumped. I would play along, at least for now.
Pierre was a great deal nicer than his companion. We talked about Matsu's recent exhibition match against the new Ole Glory champion. Both of them were legends in their own right, the Southerner being a relatively new face to the big leagues. He slipped in a few questions about the ring, probably acting on orders from the captain. I kept my mouth shut, clamming up at the mere mention of the silvery band. Soon enough, we made it to the Centre where I parted ways with Pierre.
Dr. Renfry returned my partners to me, prescribing me with a few bottles to administer to them three times a day. I thanked him while skimming through the health report. Aside from a few scars on Rocky's back, he was as healthy as ever.
Back in my assigned room, I released Moonshine onto the bed. I definitely needed some comfort. I buried my face into his freshly washed and towelled fur, breathing in the fuzziness. He paid me no mind, preferring to lick one of his paws for the honey that they'd given him during the checkup.
"I'm gonna call you Moony. Moonshine makes me sound like a bootlegger." I gave him a good rubbing down on the back, feeling him for any bites or marks I should know about. It was then that I got a ring from my phone. A text alarm. I flipped it open and groaned. The screen had a small crack down the middle. Perfect.
'Made it to N-SEA. Doc says I'll be all fine in like four months. Mom says to give you her love. -Brooklyn.'
Well, that was really good news. I smiled, scratching Moony on the ear. After a moment's pause, I took a picture of him sprawled out over my knee. It was a near herculean task trying to get him to pose, so I just gave up and sent him the mess of limbs and fur that was my new teddiursa.
'Glad you made it. Thank you for Moony,' I wrote back. He didn't respond, which I took to mean he had gone into operation. Fingers crossed. I gently placed my phone onto the bed stand, before taking off my boots. Contrary to my conflicted state of mind, the mattress was very soft and relaxing. I almost fell asleep right there if it wasn't for another text alarm. I had to really stretch my arm to reach my phone. This one was from an unknown sender.
'Police can't be trusted. Escape tonight. Distraction at 2200.' The hell? I checked the time. It was 9:57 in the evening. Three minutes left to go. Before I could even process what the message meant, I could hear shouting somewhere outside.
"FIRE! Everyone outside and to the school yard. Single file, please no running. Please maintain order. Everything is under control. Please maintain order, we have things under control."
I struggled to put my boots back on, slinging my bag back over my shoulder after throwing on my jacket. I hadn't really unpacked, so I was out of there in less than five minutes. Someone had set fire to the police station. The blaze was visible even from all the way over here in front of the Centre.
And whoever this arsonist was, I was sort of in cahoots with them now. So the only logical step? Start running. Now.
END Chapter 3 : Pirouette
A/N: I'm on duty this Sunday, a lapse of judgement on my end. In Korean, we call it 당직(dangjig) where we have twenty-four straight hours of duty. So, we get a Saturday update instead of a Sunday one. Really showcasing my newfound dedication to the schedule, huh? Thanks for reading, and I would appreciate any feedback! First round of edits will be done tonight, while I still have access to the computer. Any spell checks or weird parts, I would be grateful if you guys point them out. Cheers!