"There's no good way for me to really start this whole thing off, man. It's a kind of game, you know?" The Marsthomp asked, rubbing the back of his head nervously. "Look. I know this might seem confusing. Even a bit… wrong, at first, I get you. I understand exactly what you are thinking right now. It's—"

Chloe let out a long, exaggerated groan. "Andrew, get to the point. Aren't we past the point of you justifying embezzling government funds to me?"

The sky was dark, a deep navy blue. Pink clouds loomed over the horizon from which the sun was about to cast its last rays upon Grandeport. And beneath all of that was a dark alleyway. Wedged between two buildings, one wooden and one stone It was only decorated by an unlit lamp next to a side door to the stone building.

The air was frigid. Andrew was wrapped in his snug, dark green cloak. Chloe wore an orange and blue scarf around the tuft of fur covering her neck.

Seems pretty stupid she'd do that, thought Andrew. What's the point? She's already got the fur and… whatever.

"You know I've never liked the word embezzlement."

"That's what it is, man," she humphed. "But not like you care what I have to say. So who is it going to be this time? Guild leaders? War heroes? My mom? Me?"

Andrew cracked a sly grin. "You can repeat that last one again."

"Which one?"

He mouthed, "Me."

"Me?"

"It's me for me, in this case. For you it's you, you as in me," Andrew said. He raised his finger, pointing at Chloe's chest.

The Flaaffy cocked her head to the side. "What?"

"If you could find it in your ovine heart… oh goddamnit," the Marshtomp trailed off. "You're no fun. I'm trying to hype this whole thing up and you can't even bother to care."

Chloe took a big step forward. She loomed over Andrew.

"No fun? No fun?! Marshtomp, I'm not your friend!" she yelled. "This is a job, that's it! I don't care about you. I don't care about your stupid word games, and I don't care about your corrupt money roleplay."

"Well, I can assure you the money's quite real," Andrew murmured.

She put her head down. "Just tell me what you want, Andrew. I'm freezing."

"I want money transferred directly into my account. I'm thinking a couple million if we can make it happen without anyone noticing. None of those undeserving sleazebags like before, just yours truly. Will that be a problem?" Andrew asked, standing on his tiptoes and with a stern expression.

Chloe bit her lip. "Sure, I guess. But since when do you need money? Can't you just write yourself a bigger paycheck if you want it so bad instead of getting me involved? I have a social life, unlike you."

"Hey!" he uttered before pokingChloe in the chest. "I'll have you know that I am currently in a long-term relationship with a male or female Pokemon whose identity you may or may not know."

"Ow!"

Andrew tilted his head to the side, his eyes widening. An intense, psychotic expression enveloped his face. "What? Did that hurt?"

"Answer my question, you creep," she scowled, teeth bared.

The Marshtomp felt a twinge of anger. His stomach rumbled, threatening to send up a bit of mud or water to teach Chloe a lesson. However, he resisted, and instead let out a sigh.

"It's simple. Money is power. And power right now for me is… less than you might think," he confessed, looking her in the eye. "And not in a way that benefits anyone but the council, who would breathe down my neck even more than they already do if I try to raise my salary. If I don't get money soon we'll all be in danger."

She turned away and humphed. "Lousy excuse. You expect me to believe that something terrible is going to happen if I don't steal money for you? Do you think I'm stupid?! You've done nothing but treat me like crap this entire time! Why should I help you? What would you do if I quit right now? Nothing! You need me and still you don't have the dignity to treat me like a living, breathing Pokemon!"

Chloe panted, her chest rising and falling rapidly. The wind began to blow, its force stronger and stronger with each passing moment. The hood of Andrew's cloak blew to the side as the wind tried to steal it away. He rolled his eyes.

"...That was a lot. Do you feel better now that you got it out?" Andrew asked with a hint of what almost sounded like sincerity.

"A little."

An awkward grin overcame his face. "I don't try to be mean… usually. But I'm juggling a lot right now—and you're right. I do need you. So how about this? Next time we meet, it can be in your office."

"I have an office?" Chloe asked, her eyes widening curiously.

Andrew shrugged. "Probably. The walls of the castle are thin, secret agents are everywhere. You can't trust anybody in that place. They don't listen to you! None of them! They're all a bunch of conniving, evil, stupid—"

"Andrew," Chloe interrupted, raising a paw. "I get the idea."

He clasped his flippers together. "Whatever you say, Chloe. We'll pick up this discussion once I've acquired the necessary funds for our legitimate transaction. Goodbye."

"...Bye," Chloe whispered.

Andrew trotted out of the alley, not looking back at the Flaaffy. He could only imagine the various different ways she probably wanted to demean, beat, and eventually kill him.

I'm not crazy, I'm rational. I'm prepared for what they're all gonna do. I just know it.

"This looks like the right place," Andrew said to nobody in particular.

Before him was a two-story wooden building with a warmly lit sign proclaiming itself as 'Le Restaurant Débile." Long windows allowed the Marshtomp to glance in and see rows of tables with fine white cloths, booths, and chairs occupied by happily chatting Pokemon, and of course plates of delicious-looking pasta. Muffled laughter escaped the restaurant, as did a sweet aroma of cheese and tomato.

Andrew pushed open the door, only to be met by a line of Pokemon. He squinted his eyes. "One, three, eight, ten?!" He grimaced and let out a groan. The Incineroar in front of him turned around and shot Andrew dirty. The Marhstomp ignored him.

He noticed a sign next to him with writing in squiggly, cursive letters. It read, 'Please wait to be seated.'

Andrew stepped out of line.

He trotted over to the front, head held high even though he couldn't help but feel a bit small as the restaurant had obviously been built with taller Pokemon in mind, with tables, chairs, and countertops towering far above Andrew's view. But that didn't matter.

A man at the front desk, a Floatzel who Andrew barely caught a glimpse of, stepped out and toward him.

"Sir! Please wait your turn to be seated!" he yelled in a demanding, pompous voice.

Andrew didn't look back. His lips curled into a smug grin as he continued to stride past the staff at the counter and into the maze of tables.

He scanned the restaurant. No, no, no… ew, definitely not! Aha!

He eyed a fuzzy, orange creature sitting alone at a square table. His seat was smaller compared to most others in the restaurant—though perfectly fitted to his size. An identical chair sat across from Charlie with a small ladder leaned up against it.

"I thought you'd never come," the Raichu huffed. "What took you so long?"

The Marshtomp grabbed the rungs of the ladder and pulled himself up, his toes gripping the rungs until he reached the seat. He disembarked and sat down, reaching eye-level with Charlie. "You know, business."

"Oh, business. Real specific," Charlie groaned. He shook his head before picking up and examining his knife. "I assume you know why I brought you here?"

"I don't."

The Raichu smirked. "You'll learn soon enough, then. You could say that I've taken care of business myself, or at least I had our new friend take care of it."

"New friend?" Andrew uttered. An unpleasant heat took hold of his chest and stomach and his flippers began to tremble. "What are you talking about?"

Charlie tapped his chin. "Judging by your demeanor, I think you know what I'm talking about. No need to get all flustered."

"I'm not flustered."

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not!"

Suddenly, an Incineroar materialized beside their table. He held a pad and pencil, not unlike the one Thomas carried. He was dressed in a simple black bowtie and an apron draped around his waist.

"Hi! My name is Henry and I'll be taking care of you two tonight. Could I start you two out with some drinks?" he asked with a surprising cheerfulness in his otherwise deep voice.

Charlie grumbled, not bothering to look at the waiter. "We'll both take a water."

"Hey! What if I don't want a water?" Andrew snapped. "You think I can't make decisions for myself? Have you ever thought that maybe I do have morals? And that I'd have a problem if you go around making decisions that hurt people, decisions I'm attached to? Huh?! I can stand on my own two feet! I'm the president, goddamnit!"

Charlie's mouth fell agape and his eyes narrowed. Andrew couldn't tell if he was more angry or surprised at his outburst.

The waiter had a sheepish grin on his face. "Heh… Uh… would you like to take a look at our cocktail menu? Personally, I wouldn't order anything too strong at your size but I'm sure we could find something that works."

"We'll. Take. Waters," Charlie said to Henry, electric sparks beginning to fly from his cheeks.

"Can do!" he exclaimed before giving the Raichu a thumbs-up and speed walking away from the table.

Charlie's paws were shaking as his eyes darted around to see if any tables had their eyes on them. They then fell back onto the Marshtomp. "What on earth was that, Andrew?! Is there something you would like to tell me?"

Andrew leaned back in his seat, letting out a sigh. "I think I've said everything."

Charlie let out a deep breath, breaking eye contact with him. "Andrew, you want the truth?"

"The truth?"

"Yeah," the Raichu deadpanned. The electric cackling from his cheeks stopped. "The truth."

Andrew shrugged, his lips shifting into a slight frown. "Why not? Not like I've got anything better to do."

"I do this to protect you, Andrew. Do you understand that this isn't just a game? Because it feels like you treat all of this like you don't care, or don't understand the severity of… everything!" Charlie uttered before putting his head down. "These Pokemon we're killing want to kill us. Killing them first is the only way our heads don't end up on pikes. Do you understand that?"

The Incineroar returned, holding a tray with two glasses of water. He placed each one next to Andrew and Charlie respectively before clearing his throat. "Are you gentlemen ready to order, or do you need another minute?"

"Might as well," said Charlie. He picked up a menu, quickly scanning it over. "Let's see…"

"I can come back—"

"I'll have the Spaghetti a la Carbonara," Charlie interrupted.

The waiter quickly scribbled on his notepad before repeating, "Spaghetti a la Carbonara," back to Charlie. The Raichu nodded in confirmation. Henry then turned to Andrew, who had just realized a menu also sat beneath his flippers.

Crap…

"Uh, I'll have the… uh—lasagna?" he said meekly.

The Incineroar didn't miss a beat, scribbling down his order and repeating, "Lasagna. Any special requests or just the standard."

"Just the standard."

"Very good!" he smiled. "Your dishes will be ready in a jiff!" The waiter turned and left with haste, though slower than he had when Andrew and Charlie had been fighting.

Andrew fiddled with the menu, which Henry had forgotten to take. "So…"

"I'm not trying to be mean, Andrew. But this isn't a game, you can win or lose, or just walk away," Charlie deadpanned sternly.

Andrew held out his flippers. "A game? You think this is a game to me? When Mirage had his—"

He looked around to make sure no Pokemon was eavesdropping. "...Boating accident, I wasn't okay with that. I'm all for throwing people I don't like in prison forever, but death? That's too far."

"Grow… up," the Raichu muttered.

Andrew blinked in shock. "Excuse me?!"

"Grow up, Andrew!" Charlie shouted. "This is what I'm talking about. You're treating this like a game, like you can say things like death is too far. Guess what? Pokemon die, kid. I don't care how many fairy tales tell you otherwise."

The Marshtomp went silent. He looked at the floor, examining the fine red carpeting bridging divides between patches of wooden floor. Maybe that's what I am. A carpet. Yeah, everyone walks all over me and what am I supposed to do? I'm supposed to just lie down and take it. I have no power! Charlie, the council. Charlie can kill his stupid goddamned dad or whatever and I'll sit here and clap for him like a dumbass. Well good job, kid.

"Andrew?" Charlie asked.

He looked up. "What do you want? I get it! I'm weak, pathetic, it's all a game to me! Nothing really matters because I can always just…"
The Marshtomp picked up his knife, clutching it tightly within his fingers and holding it up for Charlie to see. Suddenly, he turned it downwards and released it. It fell to the ground with a light plunk.

"...Quit."

"You're such a child!" Charlie spat, his teeth gritted. "If I could do it all over again there's no way in Giratina that I would—"

The Raichu paused. He bit his lip, restraining himself so as to not say any more.

"That you would…?" Andrew repeated, holding out a flipper to urge him to continue.

The Raichu closed his eyes. His chest rose and fell as he took a few deep breaths. "Andrew, you're my friend. And I mean it when I say I couldn't do half of what I do without you. I need you, Andrew."

The sound of squeaking wheels interrupted and drew near. Andrew turned his head and took notice of Henry pushing a wooden cart toward them. On top of it sat a bowl of spaghetti and a generously sized piece of fresh lasagna oozing with fresh cheese and sauce. Andrew's mouth began to water.

"I understand. I understand everything now."

The waiter grabbed Andrew's plate and placed it down in front of him. "Enjoy!"

Steam rose up from the lasagna, dancing in the air without any pattern or reason. Andrew could feel his flipper drifting toward the lasagna, closer and closer until his finger made contact with a bit of sauce.

"Ow!" he yelped, a searing pain shooting through his finger. "Why's it so hot?"

Charlie raised his brow. "What were you expecting? Cold lasagna? Use your knife, jeez."

Andrew grumbled, reaching down to the floor to pick up the knife which he had dropped. Goddamnit, I can't use this! It's dirty. The knife had no discernable blemishes, debris, or stains of any kind.

Charlie was digging into his bowl of pasta. He took his fork, twirling it around and around before pressing it into his spoon and hosting the roll of spaghetti into his mouth. He chewed quietly before dabbing his face with a napkin.

Andrew stuck his fork into the lasagna. His knife quickly followed, effortlessly cutting through its layers to break a small piece of the lasagna off for Andrew to stuff into his mouth. However, right as he picked up the piece—he felt a presence next to him.

Andrew couldn't see it. He couldn't hear it; there was no logical reason he should have been able to know that something or someone was now right beside him.

But with a vibration of his head fin, he knew.

"Hello, Marshtomp! Marshtomp! Andrew Marshtomp, a pleasure to meet you!" the Pokemon greeted.

Andrew turned his head. "Excuse me—?"

"Medicham, yep, Medicham's the name! Bob Medicham, friends call me Bobby, but you're no friend of mine… until now, so call me Bobby! Bobby Medicham at your service!" he rambled. The pink and white Pokemon was perched atop the ladder, holding out his hand for Andrew to shake. It was right over his lasagna!

Andrew shot him a glare. "Dude, I'm trying to eat here, can you go away?"

"Nope!" Bobby laughed. "No, no siree, can't do that! Andrew Marshtomp, I'm coming here as a representative of the Grandeport Times! An interviewer, for an interview! What do you say, interviewee?"

Andrew batted the Medicham's hand out of his way. "Not in the mood. Talk to literally anyone else."

"Ooh, feisty! I like that, I like you. Good man! Andrew Marshtomp, what do you know about the death of James Cinderace? Hmm? One chop, two chop, three! Bam bam! Authorities reported over forty cuts! Pretty gruesome, ain't it?" Bobby pressed before he pulled out a fedora from behind his back. He pulled out a pencil and pad from the hat, sticking it atop the teardrop-shaped protrusion on his pink head. "Any comments?"

Andrew clutched his knife tight and hissed. "No. Comment."

"Oh, but you've got something, don't ya?" he winked. "You know something don't ya? He was a critic! Real critic of the great Andrrrrrrew Marshtomp! Yep!" He glanced over at Charlie and smirked. "That's the one, looking at him right now. Look at those orange eyes! They know something. Since I know that they know something, they must know something, don't they?"

Andrew shook atop his seat, glaring with rage in his eyes. "Go away and leave me alone you weirdo! I'm just trying to have dinner and you're coming in here rambling like you're about to auction off my soul."

"Auction! They say Andrew Marshtomp… King of Grandeport! Blood auction, if you will, seemed pretty bloody to me. I saw his body with my own eyes, yessir I did! Gruesome I tell ya, most I've ever seen, haven't I? Slash!" Bobby explained. He swiped his fist forward at Andrew to imitate a blade to the chest, barely missing contact with the Marshtomp's skin.

"Charlie?!" Andrew called out, beginning to seethe with anger. "Make him go away!"

"Gone, you want me gone?! Oh dear!" Bobby said with a worried tone before laughing nervously. "I'll go, oh you betcha, but just tell me what you and your good old Raichu pal here know about James Cinderace's death! Give me the scoop, and you can have's yours! Deal's a deal and this offer's sold!"

Charlie looked up from his pasta, his mouth still half full. "I'll tell you what you want to know if you promise to leave us alone. Deal?"

"Sounds like a deal if I've ever heard one, good sir!" the Medicham remarked as he grabbed the tendril on the side of his head and held it close to Charlie as if cupping his ear. "Give me the scoop and I'll be gone before you can ol' Bobby's name five times fast!"

Charlie smirked, leaning forward. "I hear it was the Resistance, he said in a low and devious tone. "You know how they are. They saw James Cinderace as a threat, an obstacle to them taking charge of Western Grandeport. They offed him. Consider that an official statement."

"Offed him you say, like drowning a Magikarp on land? Oh, that's a doozy, real doozy if I'ves ever seen one, good sir. I thought the Resistance got stamped after that whole ordeal out west. My mom lives there, would you believe that? Or—she did, I tell ya. Then that whole no good insurgency happened and POW!" Bobby yelled before banging a fist on the table. The resulting noise and his shout were each loud enough to make half the restaurant turn toward him.

"Rock to the head, she was bleeding real bad when my pops found her. She died, for a minute. Literally a minute, oh it was the most stressful minute of my old pops' life. But she came back to life, thank Arceus! Thank the heavens above! But no thanks to that no good Resistance and your no good government, young man."

Andrew unfortunately was unable to ignore Bobby's ranting, even as he began to shovel lasagna into his mouth again. He swallowed and turned to the Medicham. "Are you talking to me?"

"You? Of course you, Andrew Marshtomp! You're telling me that the no good Resistance who killed my mom—for a minute, is still running wild in the streets like a bunch of animals?!" he questioned. "Ferals, that feral Resistance! You didn't catch the feral Resistance!"

Charlie stuck up his paw. "The situation is under control and there's nothing more than a few rogue Resis—"

"They have agents everywhere!" interrupted Andrew. "We're doing our best to track them all down, but how can we track down so many people? Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, even children… It's a tricky situation, Bobby."

Charlie shot him a weary glare but did not interject further.

"Tricky indeed, my Marshtomp friend," Bobby commented, nodding his head.

Andrew laughed. "Isn't that the understatement of the century? However, I promise you that we have police out on the streets investigating day and night. No stone is going unturned, no person is being presumed innocent. Hell, not too long ago I identified and imprisoned one of their members myself."

"You did, for real? Swear on your mother's grave?"

The Marshtomp stuffed another piece of lasagna into his mouth. "My mother's not dead… I think. My point is that while these may be scary times, this government serves the people. I'm not Mirage, I'm your president. I was elected by the people of this great nation and I vow to fight for them! Do you understand?"

Bobby's expression turned Stoic. He nodded, slipping his pad and pencil back underneath his fedora. "That's a damn good scoop if I've ever heard one, Andrew Marshtomp. I'm as clear as peas on a pod with your deal. This is front-page material! I'm getting the grandest promotion, don't you think? New friend, you wouldn't mind if I asked you and your pal here a few more questiroos?"

Suddenly, Henry reappeared beside the table accompanied by a well-dressed Luxray. He straightened his bowtie before clearing his throat.

"Gentlemen, is this man here…?" he began, his voice stern and deep as he turned and gestured to the Medicham. "...Bothering you by any chance?"

Bobby wrung his hands. "Oh, we're just getting acquainted! I assure you good sir—and I really think you're quite the best of sirs—that my pals here are happy to have me for—"

"Yes," Andrew and Charlie said in unison.

The Luxray nodded toward Henry. The Incineroar immediately wrapped his arms around Bobby, lifting him up from the ladder and pressing him against the waiter's chest. The Medicham let out a grunt.

"Hey! What's the big idea here, bub?!" Bobby cried out. "I was just doing a little interview, mighty fine one if I do say so myself! This is unlawful, unlawful I say! Mister President, tell this brute to unhand your mighty fine pal, ol' Bobby!"

Henry squeezed him tighter. Andrew could see the air leaving Bobby's lungs and mouth as the Medicham let out a low squeal. With another gesture from the Luxray, Henry carried Bobby Medicham out of sight. Andrew breathed a sigh of relief.

"I apologize for that. Usually, we are able to keep those of his type out of our restaurant. We greatly value the experience of our patrons here at Le Restaurant Débile, and would be happy to give you this meal on the house for your troubles," said the Luxray, bowing his head.

Andrew grinned. "Man, that's a relief. I didn't bring any money."

The cold winter air quickly blew down upon Andrew as he left the restaurant. The sound of chatter from inside grew quieter and quieter as the lights of the streets grew dimmer and dimmer. The ground was damp. Andrew felt his foot plunge as he stepped into a puddle, a wave of pleasant coolness washing through his very essence.

"I really gotta start swimming again," he muttered to himself.

The streets remained dead quiet. From what Andrew could see, the city of Grandeport was fast asleep.

How late even is it? It can't be past nine.

The buildings grew less dense and the streets grew wider as Andrew walked toward his neighborhood. He turned a corner, only to be met by two Pokemon cloaked in darkness standing at the corner of the road.

"My outpost was the closest to where they found him, so naturally it was our job to deal with the mess. He was in pieces! Literally! It was like looking at a cake… but more disgusting," said a feminine voice.

The other Pokemon snorted. "I saw him, real screwed up. Like, how did they even get his arm like that? And his eyes… Ugh, I'll never get that image out of my head."

Their shadows looked tall—human, almost. They were certainly bipedal Pokemon, at least twice Andrew's height. He thought he could see the greens of bandanas around their necks.

But maybe it's just my eyes screwing with me.

Andrew quickly made his way past the pair, muttering to himself. "Stupid Charlie. Stupid Cinderace mouthing off about being Mirage's stupid heir. Ugh, why'd Charlie kill him? Torture prison's worse anyway. I'd have him screwed up more than that dumb assassin ever could."

He soon arrived home. He unlocked the door and stepped into the house… to find that was dark.

Odd, thought Andrew. Shouldn't Thomas be awake? The Marshtomp fumbled across the creaky boards of the hallway, pressing his fingers against the walls to guide him. The kitchen had just enough natural light that he was able to identify a matchbook.

He pulled out a match and quickly struck it against the matchbook to ignite a flame. Andrew took a second to admire it—but quickly noticed the match was beginning to deform from where his fingers clutched it; the natural moisture from his fingers seeped into the thin material.

"Goddamnit!" he yelled, rushing the match over to a candle which had been conveniently placed on the kitchen table. The flame caught the wick. Andrew blew out the match, with the flame giving just enough light for Andrew to notice a paper placed below it.

"Dear Andrew," the Marshtomp read allowed. "I'm going out with some of my friends tonight. Be back soon! Love, Thomas."

Andrew grumbled. "Friends? Since when does he have friends?"

Knock knock.

"Oh, that was quick." Andrew mused aloud. He picked up the candlestick and carried it with him as he trotted toward the door. Weird that he isn't using his key. Maybe he forgot it?

Once Andrew reached the front of the house, he opened the door. He was met by the familiar silhouette of a Servine. As expected, he was not wearning his satchel, but instead a scarf, the color of which Andrew couldn't discern, wrapped neatly around the Servine's neck.

"Hey Thomas," Andrew greeted.

"Thomas?" asked the Servine in a raspy voice which was very much not Thomas'. "That's not my name."

Andrew's mouth fell agape. He held the candle closer to the Servine's face, revealing it to be pointed and serpentine, but unrecognizable. "The fuck are you?! Why are you here?"

"Wait!" pleaded the Servine, raising his hands defensively. "I don't want any trouble. I'm Teddy, you're Andrew, right? President man?"

He felt a rumbling in his stomach, and his heart began beating twice as fast. "Who's asking?"

"A human."

Andrew's eyes widened. His grip around the candlestick tightened. "Cool, human… Lots of those 'round here. Not that I know anything about them."

"Words on the street is you're not from around here. I've heard how you talk, calling Pokemon people and always bringing up god," Teddy said, narrowing his eyes. "I think you're a human."

Andrew took a step back."I don't know what the hell you're t-talking about!" His voice trembled as he spoke. "I'm a P-Pokemon, I always have been, always will be. G-Get lost! How do you even know where I live?"

"Hell? Pokemon don't say hell. You're a human, I knew it!" Teddy exclaimed, an excited and smug grin on his face. "Were you a trainer back in our world? Or did you go to school? Are you Unovan? You definitely talk like a Unovan…"

"Wait, trainer? Unova? Man, Pokemon are a game where I'm from. They aren't real," Andrew humphed.

Teddy stomped the ground. "Goddamnit! I thought you'd be the one! Of course, you're not like me. How stupid I was."

Andrew rolled his eyes. "Yeah, seriously."

"It's all Nintendos and NBA's and United States' with you humans!" the Servine hissed, his voice dripping with vitriol. "Augh! I can't take it anymore!"

"Hey man, calm down. It's too late for me to deal with this crap," he uttered before taking another step back, his toes causing the wood of the floor to creak.

"Do you know how much research I had to do? How much money I had to spend on those stealth classes so you wouldn't notice me following you home?! You humans, you're all so rich! You have everything! You live in an oh sooo amazing world where you go to school and socialize instead of getting kicked out at ten and battling stupid Pokemon all day!" Teddy screeched, lurching forward.

"Well geez, when you put it like that—"

A vine shot out from behind Teddy's back before snaking its way up to and around Andrew's neck. Before he could realize what was happening, it curled around his neck and tightened.

"I hate you! All of you!" Teddy shouted as he lifted Andrew high up with unbelievable strength. "I'll show you what it really means to be human!"

Andrew wheezed, trying to plead, or reason, or do anything to get his assailant off him. But it was no use. He couldn't speak. The Marshtomp felt his head beginning to pulse erratically, getting lighter—his heart beating at twice its normal speed.

Andrew felt as though he were floating. He could hardly feel anything. The world was getting hazy.

Teddy's serpentine form blurred for a moment before snapping back into focus, now brandishing a horrid grin.

Snap!

…There was a dead silence.

Teddy weakened his grip on Andrew, using his spare vine to rub his head, which suddenly ached and throbbed.

Andrew smiled upon seeing a truly familiar Servine standing behind Teddy.

"Put. Him. Down," Thomas hissed, his own vines outstretched and lashing.

AN: Hey everyone! It's been a little while. My brief, albeit meaningful break definitely did supply me with the motivation to write, and I hope that shows in this chapter. I don't have big, new announcements at the moment. Things are going smoothly, and the biweekly upload schedule should be turning to normal. Good times.

Regardless, thank you to DaGamestar, Sonic Ramon, DoomHuntley, and Zee102, and everyone taking the time to read this. Comments, questions, and feedback are always appreciated.

Until next time!