Forbidden Waters – 15

Emilio was lost in a sea of amethyst eyes, floating on an island of disheveled Cottonee sheets. His nose was tied to the little black button in the center of Vaporeon's face, arms coiled around her silky smooth body, and he gently rubbed the spines between her shoulders in that extra-special way he knew would make her tremble like a pebble by a jackhammer. Aimless, tender brushes of the lips reminded each that the other was still there, warmed by hot amorous breaths in a brief moment of respite.

[THIS section is removed from this version of the story]

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK "Yo!"

Log that as the fastest stiffy ever stopped, Emilo thought as he jolted upward in a panic, forgetting that he had chained, bolted, locked, and barred the door shut with a chair for good measure. "Hello?"

Richard smacked the door a couple more times. "First match is in a couple hours and you've been gone all day. You alright?"

Richard nodded in approval. "Just remember, you're my IT guy full time. Anytime I want, you give it. Hehehe. Anyway, don't miss the match. Gotta get a taste for the competition."

"Yep, see ya in a bit," Emil started as Vaporeon twisted the knobs of the tub, tossed in a bath bomb, and chirped happily as she plopped into it like a morsel added to a rich ramen broth.. "Just gonna clean up real quick."

Richard shook his head with a curious smile. "Weirdo. Whatever, nerd. See ya in the stands."

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Valorie lounged, nestled eighty feet above the rest of the stadium in the crenellations atop the massive hexagonal granite walls of Lumiose Royal Stadium, lovingly known to the locals as the Stone Crown. She shared this roost with a cute little family started by a Pidov and a Fletchling, managing to bargain safe harbor for a stack of muffins that Biancca lady shoved into her arms as they left the Olivine Dawn.

She had the easiest job in the world for a woman with her unique set of skills. Sit around the safest city of the entire region waiting for absolutely nothing to happen to a bunch of soft-skinned trainers accompanied by weapons-grade house pets, before said house pets were forced to kick the mother-loving shit out of each other for a live global audience. Then, videos of their body parts scattered all across the battlegrounds would be played back again and again to the delight of overweight battle fans licking snack dust off their fingers. But she knew she was risking everything in her life that was wonderful waiting on a handful of pampered hand-picks, and the most frustrating part was that she couldn't tell anyone why.

Yeah, win or lose, those spoiled tourists were living it up the entire week with her tax coin… not that she paid any taxes, but whatever. Someone was getting fleeced, for sure.

She glanced down at Emilio and his mate in the stands as the obligatory energetic rock music began playing on the loudspeakers. Oh yeah, his ass had loosened up a whole lot; his entire posture was that of a free range hippie now instead of an awkward sock puppet held aloft by the steel rod up its ass. She was glad she had a word with her buddy in the booking office to make sure there was a convenient little 'accident' in their reservation. He was smarter than he came off before; knew a good thing when it came his way, at least.

Val patted the head of Fletchling as she hung her feet over the edge to get a better look at the action about to start. "{Who're your muffin-chunks on?}"

The little bird tilted its head, looked down at the treat she gave him that had fallen apart into a few lone pieces between them, and chirped. What a curious human this was, asking them such silly questions. But, he would entertain this strange, generous, 'mon-speaking guest that smelled like a Delphox. He peered down at the two and nodded sharply. "{The big lady. Bet she feeds her Pokemon lots and lots.}"

Valorie chuckled and pulled two chunks off the muffin she was chewing on, then placed them on the ledge next to the others. "{You're on.}"

She waited for a while as the two contestants waved to the crowd, making a show of their arrival with flashy attire they'd brought with them for the occasion. Elena wore a big, white, poofy dress with a red chef's apron and held a massive industrial ladle aloft like a ceremonial mace, an oversized chef hat conspicuously wobbling on her head, personally branded in gold for good measure. Hau was barefoot and topless, wearing a matching sea-nettle skirt and lei the color of sunflowers, and carried with him a polished driftwood staff connected to a rainbow-dyed leather strap dangling with six hand-crafted apricorn pokeballs. Val had to hand it to Hau, despite her revulsion towards capturing under even the best of circumstances, there was something respectable about someone that caught Pokemon the old fashioned way. The same way vegetarians couldn't help but respect the insane idiots that archery hunted pokemon for food; shitty behavior, but at least your life was on the line too.

"Bonjour, bonjour, everyone! Let's all be the first to welcome Elena, the Golden Chef of Galar!" She tossed a jittering, nervous Orbeetle into the ring, hefting her ladle over her shoulder with confidence. "She comes to us by surprise. Nearly a decade of cookbooks and recipe shows enjoyed the globe over; it was unveiled that she secretly had been training for glory in the ring when she wasn't baking up success in the kitchen!" Her Orbeetle zipped around the ring, coaxing the audience to cheer louder.

Fletchling chirped and hopped around as he watched his chosen gladiator rouse the crowd.

Val grinned and slipped her dexnav from its leather pouch.

4-999-303-1023 (Sn. De Blanc 7-1023): Hey, ya wet old geezer. Find out what happened to Boltund?

"And her opponent, our friend from the great string of pearls! Straight to you from Alola after a pilgrimage of pillage and triumph, bringing home a total of TWENTY FOUR badges in a SINGLE YEAR! Please, give a warm, hearty 'SALUT' to the regional challenger of Alola, Paldea, Fiore, Oblivia-"

"-and a Pidgey in a Pomeg Tree…" Val quietly interrupted the announcer.

4-090-454-0001 (Old Man): Ah, well. It is, I'm saddened to report, exactly as you suspected. He most definitely was an informant to the authorities. Not sure if Tapu was too, but he probably got out while the getting was good.

4-090-454-0001 (Old Man): I am truly surprised, his belief in free love seemed so very genuine. :(

She slipped a chunk of Oran berry muffin between her sun-chapped lips as she considered the news. Well, it wasn't news to her at all, actually. As soon as Boltund said he was in trouble with the police and came back as if nothing was wrong she stopped sharing any details with anyone. In retrospect, she even managed to save a couple people by encouraging them to get away from the group before shit hit the fan. They bled membership over those last few years, raid after raid on the news correlated with chunks of the community she and Gyarados worked so hard to build vanishing overnight. Time and again they purged their member rolls, changed addresses, rebuilt servers, even going as far as using fake member accounts pretending to be idiots desperate for Pokesex to root out the Ratatta. But her ugliest suspicions were right; someone was recruiting folks who knew the lingo, had a genuine interest in Pokemon bodies, and had the manifest signs of hyperosmia. People who, without a shadow of a doubt, had been born with the same thirst she and so many others risked it all to quench. 'How,' she wasn't sure, but it was a rotten trick she wasn't capable of even considering until the evidence was in front of her eyes.

It made Val consider for a moment why she herself never left the group, even as it smoldered in a crumpled heap like warzone rubble. It wasn't some sense of community; the only place she ever found that was her Village. Definitely not friendship; human beings were bastard gashapon on the best of days. And, distortion, man, it wasn't like her overflowing sense of humanity ever managed to keep her anywhere she didn't wanna be.

4-999-303-1023 (Sn. De Blanc 7-1023): I dunno why you're surprised. People keep betraying your trust. Shame me twice, right? What's the point, man?

She glanced up from the screen as Hau plucked a red apricorn ball from his staff and tossed it like a wild fruit set ablaze. A scraggly Komala appeared in the middle of the concrete combat ring, arms curled tightly around a gnarled driftwood log, snoozing quietly as if nothing at all was happening around it.

Oh lord, he wasn't taking her seriously at all, was he? She prepared for the possibility of losing her bet to a pokemon with IQ's measured in pistachios-per-fistful.

4-090-454-0001 (Old Man): It's tough, yeah. ^_^' Sometimes I think about it and end up staying at work all night obsessing, floating in the big tanks with Sidney.

4-090-454-0001 (Old Man): But then I always end up remembering the good ones that make it worth all this suffering.

4-090-454-0001 (Old Man): Especially you.

Oh, right, that was it… gratitude. Ugh.

4-999-303-1023 (Sn. De Blanc 7-1023): Just say'n,we can't play the law man's game anymore. We're doing it my way now, flippers. Sneaky af.

Music blared louder and louder, crackling as they reached their sonographic limit as the arena stagehands desperately fought to create a percussive background for the sounds of battle below. Hau's Komala turned out nastier than anticipated. He made Komala use Rest over and over, taking advantage of some sort of demented sleep-talking technique to use the odd damaging move and longevity boosting skill while he healed and munched on a bag of hyper nutritious Sylph Co. Turbokibble known colloquially as 'Leftovers.'

Hau, having decided to use such a stale trainer staple, must have caught Galar's golden girl off guard. Even though her Orbeetle was getting smacked around like a pickleball she seemed to hold her own as it pounded on the sleeping ball of fluff and muscle; but instead of trusting in her partner's strength, Elena ended up choosing to go on the back-foot and recall her 'mon mid-bout.

Big mistake, girlie. She didn't spend much time with 'Monbatives in the Navy, but she knew one of the worst things you could do was give the enemy even a tiny fraction of a second to outflank you.

4-090-454-0001 (Old Man): Fair enough, but wasn't it you who told me how important it is to get back on the Bouffalant and ride?

It was brutal, Elena called Pokemon after Pokemon, smashing their heads against Hau's increasingly indomitable team, popping them each like tomatoes against a brick wall. Elena called out Hariyama to dispatch with Komala, but by the time the deed was done Hariyama could only barely eke out a pyrrhic victory, cut to ribbons by Hau's Noivern who stayed well out of reach.

4-999-303-1023 (Sn. De Blanc 7-1023): Funny hearing you bragging like you've taken a Bouffalant, beanpole. Bet you'd snap like a twig.

Valorie jumped as wild, poorly controlled gouts of flame licked the air near her. Elena wasn't about to go down fighting. Damn, her Charizard was a spicy boy, and in shape! She got a good look at Charizard's wing muscles and chuckled as she entertained herself with thoughts of what would never be.

Gah! She grimaced at herself. She wanted some so fucking bad she was groping down a slave'mon with her eyes. Pathetic.

Fletchling's little feet pitter-pattered with excitement as he squawked. "{Go Charizard. Woosh, boom!}" Little squirts of fire came out of his mouth as he mimicked the massive lizard tyrannizing the field.

4-090-454-0001 (Old Man): Oh, come now Sailor; you forget who holds the record for biggest lover already? :3

Valorie rolled her eyes and scoffed at the air.

Elena, from absolutely nowhere, unveiled a glistening covered silver platter. "Charizard, it's time to show them our secret sauce! Brewed this special extra-spicy secret family curry, just for you!"

Val's eyebrows rose. "Seriously?"

Pidove decided to join them, chirping with cheer beside their mate. "{Secret sauce!}" they squealed.

4-999-303-1023 (Sn. De Blanc 7-1023): Sea serpents don't count anymore. You've had too many, ya addict.

Hau's Raichu, Crabombinable, and Decidueye, all held in reserve, fell in rapid succession as Hau stood in disbelief at her sudden reversal. Elena's Charizard had chomped the plate of curry in one bite and their body instantly healed its wounds. Their eyes burned with fiery tears and slobbered fat globs of magmatic saliva that burned holes in the concrete.

Elena's 'Great Ghost Pepper Pyre' erased a half-cone of cement in an instant as Hau barely managed to recall Decidueye for Primarina to finally make her debut.

Valorie wrinkled her chin in surprise as Charizard rampaged in a wide, drunken circle, melting slag-filled channels into the arena. "Hot damn. You can do that?"

4-090-454-0001 (Old Man): Dondozo do what Gyarados don't, girlie. :)

Some of the low-class fans in the runoff seats that had waited years on the guest list for this opportunity, to see a battle in the stadium close enough to feel the breath of the battlers on their faces, roused from their seats. Those courageous folks, stuffed into cramped metal seats near the channels that let particularly voluminous attacks flow harmlessly away from the crowds, rumbled with anticipation near the safety rails. Most of them held their breaths and noses, the more conspicuous among them slipped floaties onto their arms and swim goggles over their eyes.

4-999-303-1023 (Sn. De Blanc 7-1023): No way!

Everyone could feel what was coming. An Alolan master-contender about to finish off a berserking Charizard with their lead water type? The entire arena flooded with anticipation long before it filled to the rim with water. Charizard boiled in place for a long time, fighting the undertow of Primarina's mighty Surf, desperately trying to catch her dancing in the current.

Fans squealed in delight as they plopped down into the drainage channels like lemmings, carried away by Primarina's grand finale; a second, far more intense surf, heralded by operatic howling Hydropumps. Primarina flushed her adoring fans down the damp tunnels along the base of the wall, released along the overflow flumes of Lumiose City's craftsmans quarter.

4-090-454-0001 (Old Man): All the way, honey. ^T^

Valorie gasped as she realized the genius of it. "Gods!" Those idiots riding the Hydropump Express got to skip the stadium's infamous traffic jams completely, and beat the heat to boot. "Smart."

Her two birdies babbled with excitement at what had just transpired. Without a doubt, this was the most intense battle they'd witnessed from their little home, and this was just the start of a long week of turbocharged action next door.

4-999-303-1023 (Sn. De Blanc 7-1023): Impressive, fukn weirdo. 3

4-999-303-1023 (Sn. De Blanc 7-1023): Hey, so…

4-999-303-1023 (Sn. De Blanc 7-1023): Just, before you ask, not gonna explain shit, 'kay?

4-999-303-1023 (Sn. De Blanc 7-1023): That Mason guy. He's, like, here. And so am I.

"Elena's all washed out like fresh dishes. The winner, by a waterslide, HAU!"

Fletchling lifted his wings in celebration, but then realized what had actually happened. "{Oh… I lost.}" The two of them looked despondent, Pidove pecking the concrete as Fletchling pushed his ante towards Val.

"Hahaha!" Valorie grinned slyly and shoved it all towards them. Not only her muffin chunks, but the rest of her meal. "{Lesson learned, gambling is dumb. Mind if I chill with you later?}"

4-090-454-0001 (Old Man): .O Whaaaaat? Here? Now?

4-090-454-0001 (Old Man): I must say, you're always full of surprises, mon chéri.

Pidov hopped into her lap and snuggled her tummy. "{You 're a good human. Welcome any time.}"

4-090-454-0001 (Old Man): Thanks for the heads up. I'll send him a little something.

Down in the stands, Emil's mate snagged his dexnav with her tail and tilted her head curiously.

4-090-454-0001 (Old Man): Oh! Why don't you come along too? I have it on good authority the place is empty this time of year, hehe.

DEXSYS: !ALERT! 1 Dexmail received. Sender: Mrgyarados

4-090-454-0001 (Old Man): HEY! It's our first real group meeting. Oh, how SPLENDID ^_^

As she readied her metal grappling hook to climb down into the nosebleeds once the crowds had thinned out, she glanced down at Spinel who was circling Richard Stone like a Purrloin schmoozing up a baker on an empty stomach. "Oh Cherry, you poor thing."

"Ah well, I'm sure it's none of my business. {See ya, peeps!}"