"Have you ever talked to her? Like, in an actual conversation?" Andrew asked, eyeing Charlie skeptically.
The Raichu tapped his chin. "I don't know."
He's lying to me. He's a goddamn liar and I bet this whole thing is a setup to kill me. I'm going to kill him. I have to kill him.
"Surely you'd know if you'd talked to Chloe before."
Charlie shrugged. "What do you want me to say, Andrew? Dealing with you doesn't leave my brain much space to remember other things. Would you believe it if I told you I barely remembered what Mirage looked like? Can't even remember my old dad's snout. Not that I'm complaining."
Andrew swerved, walking off the light dirt that made up the path. The Raichu followed him as he entered a narrow passage between foliage, the route only marked by a thick layer of fallen leaves.
The two Pokemon were in the middle of a dense forest. Sunlight peeked through the branches of tall, towering trees. Various plants—overgrown with various leaves and tendrils shooting out, lined the sides of the path. Both Pokemon brushed against them with each step.
"Andrew, are you sure you know where you're going?" Charlie questioned, crossing his arms.
The Marshtomp scoffed. "I've taken this path plenty of times. I know what I'm doing. Chloe should be waiting for us when we get there."
Suddenly, Andrew stopped. Charlie, who had been walking a bit too close behind, lightly bumped into his back.
"Watch it!" Andrew yelled, craning his head back.
Charlie threw his arms up. "You were the one who—"
"Shhh!" Andrew hushed, holding a finger against his mouth.
Charlie flattened his brown, then reluctantly fell silent.
The two of them waited for several moments. A light breeze blew behind them. Overhead, barely visible through the treetops, drifted a lone white cloud in the otherwise clear sky.
"Okay, you can talk now."
Charlie looked up at the cloud, tilting his head. "Why did you shush me? Is somebody else here?"
"What? No," Andrew dismissed with a wave of his flipper. "Nothing like that. I just wanted you to shut up."
The Raichu grimaced. His cheeks elicited crackling sparks. "I'm going to kill you."
I know you are.
Andrew faced an inconspicuous bush. He pushed his flippers out and into its leaves before spreading them wide apart. Once a hole was created in the plant, he ducked down and went inside. Charlie crouched and followed cautiously.
After passing through the foliage, the Pokemon found themselves in a large clearing. The grass was tall enough to reach up to the top of Andrew's stomach. Wildflowers of reds, blues, greens, and every color in between dotted the field.
Across the field stood a fuzzy, pink figure.
Andrew narrowed his eyes. "That's our Flaaffy."
"Shall we?" Charlie asked flatly, sarcastically gesturing for him to take the lead again.
Andrew nodded.
As the pair trekked across the field, Chloe seemed to grow larger and clearer. The fuzziness subsided to give way to a more defined figure. The large tuft of wool covering her head was adorned by a new blue bow. Her arms were positioned on the Flaaffy's side, and she had a rather disgruntled look on her face as Andrew approached.
"You're late," she humphed.
Andrew bore a grin. "You know what they say, Chloe. Tardiness is a virtue!"
"Patience is a virtue," she corrected. "And I'm running out of it for you."
He let out a snort. "Oh well, perhaps you'll have some for my associate… maybe you've heard of him? The great Charlie Raichu?! The executioner of Grandeport!" His declaration was laced with equal parts spite and sarcasm. "The man behind the scenes, the one who pulls every string. If you ever need a favor, go to ol' Charlie. He already knows what you want."
The Raichu rolled his eyes, brushing against Andrew as he walked past him. "Geez, no need for your flattery, Mister President."
He then stuck out his paw for Chloe to shake. "Charlie."
"I'm Chloe. Nice to meet you," she said, sticking out her arm to meet his.
They shook paws before Charlie stepped back into his position beside Andrew. The Marshtomp smiled. He clasped his flippers together and quickly glanced at the others, ensuring to maintain several seconds of eye contact with each.
"Well then! I suppose it's about time to get down to business, isn't it?" he remarked with a chuckle. "Now Chloe, I'm sure you have a pretty good idea of why I called you here."
"I don't."
Andrew's expression fell cold, his mouth falling flat. "Wrong answer."
"I didn't realize there was a wrong answer," she sighed.
Charlie stepped forward. "Andrew has told me that you and him have been stealing money from the government. You realize how bad that is, right? …Assuming it's true. Which I still don't believe."
"It's true. Andrew's been making me steal piles of cash and leave it at Pokemons' doorsteps. It's not my fault. I'm pretty sure he'd have me killed if I said no." She threw her up in concession before donning an innocent, doll-eyed look.
The Marshtomp's brow pressed downward and his eyes narrowed into a vicious glare. "I would never kill you, Chloe. I would never."He whispered to her, but his words were laced with vitriol, making them more of a hiss. "Charlie does the goddamn killing around here. He's a murderer. I have morals, Chloe."
"My Arceus!" Charlie bellowed. "Can you drop this already?! How many times have I explained to you why I had to—"
"Shut up!" Andrew interrupted, stomping his foot.
The Raichu slapped Andrew's back with his tail. "You shut up, prick! I'm tired of this stupidity over and over again! No matter how I try to help you, you always find some way to-"
"Oh, it's me? It's my fault?!" the Marshtomp yelled, fury stoking in his eyes. "Because it feels like I'm the only person in the whole godforsaken world that isn't insane! If I-"
"WOULD YOU TWO SHUT UP?!" Chloe screeched at the top of her lungs.
The arguing Pokemon fell silent.
Chloe's chest heaved. She let out a long sigh before rubbing her eyes and lightly shaking her head. Andrew crossed his flippers, shooting a dirty glare at Charlie.
The Raichu cleared his throat. "I apologize for that. We're under a lot of stress at the moment."
Andrew scratched the back of his head, groaning. "Yeah, y'know how it is, Chloe. I'm pretty busy these days. But enough about me… Charlie was a bit skeptical that we could move money around so efficiently. Would you mind slipping a few thousand Poke to him?"
. "Yep, Andrew. I'll get on it," Chloe muttered with a solemn, resigned tone. She put her head down. "Not like I have anything better to do."
"That's good to hear. Charlie, where do you want the money to be left?" he asked, looking toward the Raichu.
Charlie shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Probably just outside my bedroom—I doubt that anybody will get nosy or greedy. They would know better."
"Outside your room?" the Flaafy asked as she tilted her head and glanced back at her accomplice. "Alright… easy enough. That okay, Andrew?"
The Marshtomp curled two of his fingers and raised the remaining one, simulating a thumbs-up.
"A-okay!" he said in an uncharacteristically cheery tone.
He turned to Charlie. "And then we'll see who the real liar is."
Knock knock.
Andrew looked up from the word search puzzle underneath his flipper. Two of the ten words listed had been circled and crossed off accordingly. He muttered a quiet "goddamnit" to himself upon being interrupted, but relented with a sigh.
"Come in!"
Chloe pushed the door open. The Flaaffy walked up to Andrew's desk with a concerned look plastered across her face. Her steps were sluggish.
His interest was piqued, his brow raised.
Is she quitting? She better not be quitting because I swear to god if that bitch quits I'll… I'll do something. I'd work out what something is later. But it'd be a real something.
"Andrew. There's a problem," she said sternly.
Andrew leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "And what might that be?"
"We're out of money."
He laughed. "Out of money? Wow Chloe, if only there was something you could do… like, I don't know, get some more?"
"If I could do that, Andrew, then I wouldn't be here," she groaned, rubbing her temples.
"Why can't you?"
Chloe rolled her eyes. "The cave in the castle where we kept the money… is empty. I took all the cash from there. And there's no more in the cave, either. We're out, Andrew. I have nothing to give Charlie."
"Damnit, you idiot!" Andrew yelled, pointing at her. "Why didn't you tell me?"
She crossed her arms, pouting. "Don't you think you're overreacting a bit?"
"Since when do I overreact?" Andrew asked with sincere conviction.
She gave him a deadpan stare. "Are you kidding me?"
"You're distracting from the point at hand, Chloe. Or should I say Flaaffy? People call me Marshtomp when they get mad at me," Andrew humphed, kicking his legs up on his desk.
Chloe scowled. "What do you want me to do? I can't make money appear out of thin air."
"That's your job," complained Andrew, rolling his eyes. "Magic us some more."
"I don't know what you want me to say, " Chloe scoffed. "I've worked my butt off getting all this money around, and now I'm all out. You spent everything. I don't know how you got it in the first place, but doing that isn't my job. Give me the money and I'll deliver but that's all you're paying me to do. Delivering it."
What a liar.
Andrew sighed. He took his feet off the desk and then leaned forward to cup his face with his flippers. The world became a dark blue, with only hints of light peeking through the space between his fingers.
"Andrew, are you alright?" she asked, a genuine look of surprise and concern appearing on her face.
"What am I going to do?" he whined, his voice muffled.
Chloe shrugged. "I… I don't know. That's not my job."
He dropped his flippers and stared at her. "You know, saying that isn't helping."
"I guess not," she muttered as she turned away. "It feels like we're going in circles. I thought that maybe after all this time I'd find myself starting to like you. A part of me hoped that you were just one of those Pokemon who struggles to open up—I don't know what Marshtomp social structures are like, I thought maybe you're all like this."
"Yeah, maybe," Andrew remarked with a nod as he pondered the idea.
Chloe scowled. "No. You're an asshole, Andrew. Has anyone ever said that to you before? Because I think it will do you some good to hear it. You are the worst person I have ever met. Even the meanest, most judgemental, most obnoxious Pokemon in my day-to-day life are nowhere near as cruel as you are to me."
His mouth fell agape and his flippers began shaking in shock at the Flaaffy's statement. "What are you talking about? I'm not cruel, I'm professional. We can't be friends, Chloe. This is a job."
"Professional? Are you for real right now?!" Chloe uttered, raising her voice. "We meet in back alleys and the middle of the forest! You constantly berate and insult me for no reason! Every time I look at you, I'm afraid you'll explode. We do not have a professional relationship."
"When you put it like that…"
Chloe's eyes drifted to the word search on Andrew's desk. He locked eyes with her before tracing her line of sight to meet the paper.
"Chloe?" he asked expectantly.
She began to walk forward, her eyes still fixed on the paper.
"Andrew, what is that?" she murmured.
He picked up the paper. "Oh, this? This is my word search. There's this person downstairs who makes these things. Want one?"
She stood there, dumbfounded, before putting a hoof on her forehead. "Why are you doing a word search?! You're the president! Don't you have work to do?"
"Uh, sometimes?" he remarked, scratching his chin.
Without warning, Chloe reached her arm out and snatched the paper in one swift motion. Andrew looked at his fingers, shocked, before turning his gaze back to Chloe.
She scanned the paper, her eye twitching. "Why did you want this, Andrew? This looks like the kind of thing my mom would give me so I didn't bother her when I was a Mareep." She sighed. "I don't even know what to say."
"I feel like there are worse things in the world than me doing a word search."
Chloe grabbed each side of the paper. She looked at Andrew, then back at the page, before tearing it in half. And tearing the halves in half. Again, again, and again. The word search quickly became nothing more than a pile of confetti, which Chloe graciously dropped on the floor.
"Nooo!" Andrew cried and shot up from his chair.
Chloe didn't move, or even look remotely bothered by Andrew's response. She did not show any sign of being surprised. She didn't even seem all that disappointed. Instead, she let out what felt to Andrew like her millionth sigh, and then strolled over to his office door.
"What are you doing, Andrew?" she asked without looking at him.
Andrew ran over to her, flippers swinging and teeth bared. He rushed past and skidded to a halt several feet in front of her. "How dare you?! How dare you?! How DARE you rip up my word search! That was an official document, you know. I could have you jailed. Do you want that, hm? You want that Chloe?!" He stomped his foot. "You disgust me, you stupid sheep. You don't care about anyone except yourself. You're lazy, you're selfish. You are worthless!"
She rolled her eyes, still not initiating eye contact. "Alright, Andrew, whatever you say."
"Huh? Aren't you supposed to cry?" he asked in surprise.
She trudged past him and grabbed the door handle. "I don't care anymore. Call me when you find some more cash… or don't. I'd be happy never speaking to you again."
The Flaafy then opened the door and slipped through before Andrew could utter another word of scorn or hysteria. She slammed it, causing a nearby bookshelf to shake. In her absence, she left silence, not even a sound or whoosh of wind accompanying the manic Marshtomp.
"Goddamnit."
'MIRAGE CHILDREN FLEE' the newspaper on the kitchen table read. Dusk had set upon Grandeport, with little sunlight streaming through the windows. Freshly lit candles lined the room to provide enough light for him and Thomas to see.
Thomas was eating what appeared to be a cupcake. However, it was shaped like a square and wrapped in leaves, which Thomas promptly ate as well.
The Servine swallowed a bite, then looked over at Andrew."What are you reading?"
"It says the last of Mirage's kids fled the country. I didn't realize he had so many kids… Man, this is weird. Even by the standards of this city."
Thomas gritted his teeth. He put his cupcake-like food back onto his plate and let out a nervous chuckle. "Yeah, that's… that's not great."
Andrew rolled his eyes. "That's certainly one way to put it."
Thomas sighed before continuing to eat. Andrew wasn't particularly hungry, especially after another night where pasta was piled on the plate in front of him.
Goddamn pasta. I'm so sick of it. My body can't possibly be built to handle this much spaghetti. He looked down at himself. His body felt fine, not sluggish or begging for nutrients. It looked the same as it had when he first woke up in Grandeport. Then again, I'm still somehow in one piece.
Andrew stared blankly at Thomas—who was ominously quiet. The whole room was too. There was no yelling, no joking, no explosions or old friends bursting through the door, no distractions, and no disturbances.
Knock knock.
The two Pokemon looked at each other.
"Do you want to get that?" asked Thomas, the question posed more insistently than a mere request.
Andrew grimaced. "Every time I get the door something terrible happens. Somebody is probably going to be there with a bomb or something."
"I find that it's usually terrible when I open it, too," Thomas groaned. "So pick your poison."
The Marshtomp let out a long sigh. "Ugh, fine." He begrudgingly rose from his seat and began to drag himself to the front door.
Knock knock.
"I'm coming, goddamnit!" Andrew yelled, a vein on his forehead bulging in agitation.
He opened the door only to be met with…
Nobody.
"Huh? What the hell is this?" he uttered.
He stepped outside, the coolness of the air over the front porch rushing into his feet. He turned his head around, his eyes attempting to spot anyone or even anything that seemed even the tiniest bit off. But there was nothing. The dark branches of trees stood still, and so too did the layers of dirt that made up the street. Not a single thing seemed out of place.
He took another step forward. That's when he sensed the ground beneath his feet somehow had changed. It was not cold or hard as usual. It didn't even feel concrete.
Crunch.
Andrew looked down to see he was standing on top of a newspaper.
"That's odd," he mused aloud. "Since when do we receive newspapers at night?"
"Andrew?" Thomas called out from inside. "Who's there?"
"Nobody!" Andrew yelled back.
"Then would you mind closing the door? I can feel the cold air from all the way in the kitchen!" Thomas said with a hint of urgency.
Not in the mood for a fight, Andrew stepped off the newspaper, picked it up, and returned inside. He carried it under his flipper to the kitchen. It was rather bulky, certainly larger than any piece of paper he was used to carrying.
Thomas was washing dishes. The Marshtomp returned to his seat and placed the newspaper on the table.
Andrew scratched the back of his head. "Did you order a new newspaper? And is it supposed to be delivered after dark?"
"I didn't subscribe to any newspapers. I work for the Gazette, why would I do that?"
The Marshtomp shrugged. "I don't know. Some random newspaper just arrived at our door and I'm definitely not the reason it's here."
Thomas put his plate onto the drying rack and slowly turned toward Andrew. He raised his brow. "Are you sure about that?"
Andrew looked down at the newspaper to read its headline aloud. "Andrew Marshtomp: Benign leader or criminal tyrant?"
Thomas sighed before grabbing a towel and drying his vines. He then sat down beside Andrew and picked up the paper. "Looks like this is a copy of the Grandeport Times." The Servine's expression hardened as he spoke. "What is that word you always say, Andrew? Because I hate these goddamned people."
"Grandeport Times, that sounds familiar," the Marshtomp said, squinting at the paper.
Thomas bit his lip. "The Times used to be a good newspaper. My father used to read back when I was a Snivy, but they went off the deep end. They turned a perfectly respectable paper into a stupid tabloid."
"Why is this stupid tabloid about me at our door? Is this a threat?!" Andrew uttered. His flipper began to tremble as he scanned the article.
'Evil… dictator… abuse… children… mines… guilds… death… dumb fish…'
"Dumb fish?!" Andrew yelled, smashing his flipper against the table, though luckily not so hard as to break it.
The Servine flipped the page quickly with unnecessary strength. "What is this about mines? Most of this other stuff is misleading, but it says here that you've been having the police kidnap children and throw them into mines. That can't be true."
"Yeah, even I'm not that bad!" Andrew humphed, crossing his flippers. "This is slander! I should have these people arrested and tortured!"
Thomas laughed nervously. "Well, let's not go too far. I don't want you to justify their insane hatred."
"Why did they deliver this? Who even are they?"
The Servine frowned. "I'm not sure. I don't suppose that anyone at the Grandeport Times is a personal enemy of yours. I know you have a fair few of those."
"Grandeport Times… Something about it is familiar." He wracked his mind, tapping his chin. "Where have I heard of the Grandeport Times before?"
Andrew's mouth fell agape, a realization coming over him. "Crap, crap, crap, oh my god. Thomas, who is the author of that article?"
Thomas searched the page. "Let me see here… Aha! It appears to have been written by a Bobby Medicham."
"Bobby Medicham?!" Andrew shouted. He raised his flipper to slam it on the table again, but a dirty look from the Servine prompted him to lower it slowly. "That asshole, I knew he couldn't be trusted."
"Who's Bobby Medicham?" he asked.
Andrew pouted, his lower lip protruding. "He was the journalist who harassed me and Charlie at that restaurant. I told you about him."
"Oh, that does ring a bell now that I think about it."
Andrew stood up and stomped against the creaky wooden floor. "How does he know where I live? Is he also trying to kill me?! Let's go over the list. Leo, Jason, Ryder, Felicia, Charlie, Larry… probably Chloe, and now Bobby Medicham? Oh, and that weirdo other ex-human who pretended to be you. Great! Just great, look how many people are out to get me!"
"Andrew, I don't think all those people are out to get you," Thomas stated.
The Marshtomp pressed his face against the window, looking to see if Bobby was hiding in the backyard. "It's pretty damning, though. Clearly, this is a threat."
"I would like to say that the people of Grandeport aren't dumb enough to believe things written in this paper. But, to be perfectly honest, they'll eat this up. I find that those who come from less wealth than I do tend to be of a lower intellect. I swear that Arceus lets them—no forces them—to believe whatever new slop gets sent their way," the Servine complained, shaking his head in disapproval.
Andrew walked up to another window facing the side of the house and pressed himself against it. "So, you're saying this is going to be a problem?"
"Yes. It will be," Thomas said somberly. "Assuming that this paper goes into print. What I don't understand is why this was brought to us. There isn't any note telling us why. I'd expect if someone tried to threaten us, they'd demand something in return for not releasing this."
Andrew came back to the table, picked up the paper, and began flipping through it. While the first few pages were focused on him, the back pages devolved into writings of Pokemon that Andrew never heard of.
'Jackie Delcatty's New Accessories are all the rage… WHO KILLED HER HUSBAND?'
"Who's Jackie Delcatty?" asked Andrew.
Thomas's eyes widened. He put on an awkward smile. "Uh, that's not a Buneary hole you want to go down. Seriously, trust me."
"Fair enough," Andrew mumbled before flipping to the next page.
'Former King Mirage: Was he behind this secret mural? Is it true that he devoured orphans every blood moon? Where is his daughter now? Is Mirage still alive? Is the author of this article trapped in his boss' basement and being forced to write egregious headlines? Read more to find out—and send help!'
The Marshtomp scoffed. "This is a tabloid if I've ever seen one. There's no way anyone would take this seriously, Thomas. I just don't believe it."
"Really?" he asked with a hint of sarcasm.
Andrew stuck his chin up. "Yeah! The thing I just read is so impossible and crazy that I don't think a single person could believe it."
"I am dating a Marshtomp who claims to have been a member of a nonexistent species. This Marshtomp, who I do truly love, has also worked his way to becoming the highest-ranking official in the country in months—being a part of a conspiracy to murder the king and somehow coming out on top. Also, I think he would be a very good chef if he decided to bother with cooking. Just want to put that out there."
Andrew sighed. "Well, when you put it like that—except for the last part."
"It's a well-known fact that Marshtomps are naturally hatched chefs," cooed Thomas in a sing-song voice.
Andrew gave him a tired glare. "No, they aren't."
"And how would you know that? Hm? You've barely been a Pokemon for more than a year, Andrew," he said with a smirk.
The Marshtomp had no response.
"Think of this situation, of how it sounds to the average Pokemon," Thomas continued. "Yes, to us it may seem outlandish. We, as well-rounded, well-educated, all-around upstanding Pokemon, would assume it to be nothing more than a handful of lies. We would think it impossible that you were ever human."
"But I was a human!" Andrew groaned.
Thomas brought a vine up to the side of his head. "Yes, well, perhaps that wasn't the best example… but my point still stands. The impoverished masses of Pokemon are stupid. They don't know right from wrong or up from down. Most of them are barely more than dungeon-dwelling animals. This is the kind of slop they believe."
"When you put it that way," Andrew began with a gulp. "This could be a serious problem."
Despite this comment, Thomas bore a warm smile.
"Do you know why I got into journalism?" the Servine asked softly.
"I guess not," he muttered with a shrug.
Thomas' vine crept around Andrew's shoulder. " I became a writer to fight misinformation. Tabloids, gossip, those strange Pokemon on the streets who shout Arceus is going to kill us. It has always bothered me. Even when I was a Snivy, I knew all of that was wrong."
"Oh, you guys have those doomsday weirdos too?"
Thomas nodded. "Yes, unfortunately." He laid his vine down from Andrew's shoulder as he slowly crept in a burning candle atop the counter. He bent down and blew it out, a small plume of smoke rising and dissipating. "I think it's time to go to sleep."
"What?" Andrew uttered angrily. "It's only eight! Since when do I have a bedtime?"
"I prefer the term curfew. And I think it'd be best for both of us to get some rest so we can figure out what to do about this newspaper in the morning," Thomas explained before blowing out another candle.
Andrew ran back over the window, searching the dark backyard once more. "But what if the paper is released tomorrow? Then what am I gonna do?"
"Then we'll take it from there," Thomas said calmly. "Make sure to put out the rest of these candles before you go to bed. Goodnight, Andrew."
The Marshtomp turned around only to catch the tip of Thomas's tail disappearing into the darkness of the hall.
"Goodnight!," Andrew shouted.
He put a flipper against the glass, feeling the coolness of the material.
"I'm gonna win," he murmured. "I'm going to win this. The Marshtomp laughed, feeling a pain flare up in his head fin. "I always do!"
AN: I suppose I should address the Phanpy in the room of this chapter being late. Unfortunately, life got a bit crazy around when I started this chapter, and I was forced to put it off for a couple weeks before finishing it. I apologize for that. As of right now, it looks like there won't be any more breaks before the fic is complete.
Regardless, thank you for reading! Of course, big thanks to Sonic Ramon, DaGamestar, Zee102, and DoomHuntley.
Feel free to leave any questions, comments, feedback, or anything you can conjure. Until next time!