TEEN: some rise by sin

[Beth Pavell]

Re: {some rise by sin} {chapter eight: a penny for the old guy}

This was no hardship to judge. Not that this means I went easy on you - nope, I was as critical of you as you are of me

Plot
There's a very good story to be had in some rise by sin. It is at it's heart a story that keeps you guessing – a lot of the usual tropes of the journey fic are completely averted. The central ideas of the plot – a Team Rocket dictatorship and the electrical apocalypse – are played out in a way that feels very real and does not demand the reader to keep suspending their disbelief.

The story does take a little while to really start going, but the relatively short length of the chapters and strong focus of each chapter offsets this. At times, particularly in the first few chapters, we get more exposition regarding the Rocket regime than we really need.

Setting
The setting is the weakest part of this story. There is a lot of imagination in the building of the dictatorship-Johto, but most of that is told in exposition and a lot of it quickly becomes effectively irrelevant to the rest of the story. The atmosphere and strong narrative voice offset the general sparsity in description of the world, but nevertheless the world isn't brought fully to life.

Characterisation
Characterisation is handled very well. The unnamed protagonist's personality comes through well in the first-person narrative, and avoids the usual pitfalls of the bright teenage girl protagonist. The pokémon characters are two examples of cliché's written well – Icarus' savagery and Gaia's timid nature both add a lot to the atmosphere of the story in their own ways.

Where the characterisation falls down, however, is in Silver. His character comes straight out of the sadistic villain handbook, and comes across as just a bit too cartoonish for the story.

Style
An excellent grasp of story telling is immediately evident in this piece. The dark nature of the story is immediately apparent and stays just on the right side of dark without becoming melodramatic. Black humour is used to great effect to break up the dingy moments. The humour, most importantly, is smart without becoming smartass.

Technical
Almost flawless. There are a few technical errors to be found if one really looks for them.

Final Thoughts
In general, some rise by sin is a very well thought out and written story. The balance between humour and drama, cliché and original thinking is nearly spot on. There's a steady improvement evident as the story continues, particularly in regards to the protagonist's inner monologue. The maturity with which the subject matter is handled is what really makes the story stand out among other dark fics.

Constructive Criticism
Most of what I could say you've probably heard before. Looking again at the story after following it serially for a long time, I think that the individual concerns I had during the start of the story feel less important when you can read several chapters at once. I still think the world needs to be a bit more vivid. Ok so Unnamed doesn't know she's looking at an oak or a baobab, but you can still describe visually what she sees. I think this will become especially important from now on where you have to convince us that we're seeing a Johto that is rapidly changing from what we're used to. Speaking of Unnamed ...



Depth
I can believe that Unnamed is a real person. Through the course of the narration there's enough there to show that there is a thinking person with a history behind them. Unnamed's reactions to events give away most about her character, particularly in the steadily melting logic that she exhibits during her conflict with Silver. There are hints of other aspects of her character and backstory, however, the pure survivalism of the narrative restricts the extent to which this can be shown.

Originality
Unnamed is not by any means the most original of protagonists – it would be more accurate to say that she is a cliché written well. The deliberate lack of backstory or even physical description is unusual, and what is remarkable about that is that it works nevertheless.

Entertainment Value
Considering that the story is written first-person, it simply wouldn't work if Unnamed wasn't at least moderately entertaining. As it stands, Unnamed's wit and humanity is endearing to read about. The balance between dramatic responses and black humour is good, and the self-deprecatory snarkiness is a refreshing change when seen in a teen protagonist.

Contribution to Plot
Unnamed IS the plot of some rise by sin. Since the story works well, I think it's fair to say that Unnamed's contribution is top notch.

Final Thoughts
The flaws, as I see them, are that for the first few chapters Unnamed's internal monologue tends to monologue for a long time. It takes a long time for Unnamed's softer side to show, and I feel that this is a problem given that she is, after all, a teenage girl. Nevertheless neither of these flaws are so large that I feel they detract from what is, all in all, a well-written character.

Constructive Criticism
The big one at this point is that I think you're still treating Unnamed's story as a journeyfic with some blood in it. The world has ended, people need to be practical, true, true, but as yet we know almost nothing about Unnamed's life before the solar storm, or for that matter how she feels about losing it. Does she worry about how her mother is surviving, for example? Now that the immediate threat of execution is at least moderately solved, I think questions like this need to start being answered. As for Icarus



Depth
Mysterious as he is, Icarus is at the moment very much a one-note character. There's definitely some hints of hidden depths in his apparent attachment to Unnamed, and in his willingness to hold back when ordered to.

Originality
A mixed bag here. To see a Murkrow in pokémon fanfiction is unusual, especially as a starter. One could argue that depicting Dark-types as actually being vicious by nature is unusual, and it's certainly a departure from the usual canon depictions. Aside from that, Icarus is rather by-the-numbers. The parrot-speak, the bloodthirsty nature, the antagonistic speech are all things - though not done badly - that I've seen before.

Entertainment Value
By himself I suspect Icarus wouldn't be terribly entertaining, but he doesn't take over the plot, and outside Chapter 3 his antics are used sparingly enough to prevent them from becoming annoying. His cunning nature fits in well with the theme of Dark-types in general and is amusing to read about as it plays out in battle.

Contribution to Plot
Icarus is actually quite a clever conception. His typing is really what drives the plot, though Unnamed might be the focus. The problem that Icarus poses is straightforward and very easy to get across quickly, which is very handy for a story that could easily be heavy with exposition.

Final Thoughts
Overall Icarus is the right sort of pokémon for the story. Taken out of context there's not a huge amount that's especially clever about him, but given the story that he is in and the role he plays in the plot, he works well as a character regardless.

Constructive Criticism
I don't have much of a problem with pokémon being very much secondary characters. They can get away with being one-note for much longer than humans. It's hard to say what could be improved for me as far as Icarus is concerned, since you've more or less avoided the big problems and I suspect the rest is down to personal preference. And finally



Depth
There is a surprising amount of depth from a character that expresses itself with “Piii!” Gaia seems to have her own idea of ethics and is capable of having logical thoughts, if Icarus' translations are to be trusted.

Originality
I've never seen a Caterpie used in quite this way before. The usual role of bugs in pokémon fanfic is to be passed over by the protagonists as being too weak to be bothering with – yes, Gaia does get some of that treatment, but her use to Unnamed as a decoy works well as a subversion of that.

Entertainment Value
Gaia is terribly endearing as the bemused underdog of the story. It's hard not to root for this little Caterpie plucked unceremoniously from the trees by a Murkrow. In a story that very quickly makes clear that it will be a dark world, it's a gratifying surprise to see sweet-hearted Gaia as the foil to Icarus.

Contribution to Plot
Gaia brings some much needed sweetness to balance out the darkness of the plot. Aside from forming a keystone in Unnamed's plans to avoid arrest, Gaia takes on a more proactive role in battle than one would expect from, of all things, a Caterpie.

Final Thoughts
There is a lot good to be said for Gaia. She manages to play several important roles in the same story without the need for lengthy exposition and conveys a lot of personality even without constant translation.

Constructive Criticism
You need Gaia. Gaia is the warm heart of the story, at the moment, which balances the darkness a bit and gives it bite. Gaia alone won't be able to shoulder that role for the length of the story, I reckon, so I wouldn't try and leave it at that

 

[kintsugi]

Responses!

Spoiler

Glad to see this story continued. Wow. Just a very well done chapter, and a joy to read. You are clearly an incredibly talented writer judging by your graceful word usage throughout the prose.

I love the feeling of impending doom that you plant in the back of the reader's mind. The whole power grid failure and unique TR threat are really formidable conflicts for our hero. Really ups the ante and heightens the power of every relevant event that occurs.

The details are really what get me. Phrases like "TR would have my guts for scarves", the man having a "practiced eye," etc. Just the little things that you add to your writing that all adds up to make it a fantastic read.

He only nitpick I'd have is:

Of course. The pokémon center was the center of the town, the metaphorical heart. When there was a crisis, like there was now, the people flocked to it in droves. Like they did now.

Maybe a little redundant there, but like I said this was so good that I'm reduced to nitpicking.

If you couldn't tell, I like this story, and I am very interested to read more.

More praise from Legacy squeeeeeeee

I'm glad you enjoyed, and I fixed the wording issue you pointed out. Thanks, haha!

I just can't find words to describe how I enjoyed this chapter. While it didn't have the tension and drive that the last few chapters had I thought that it made up with it with its wit, plus it was a good chapter to just relax in a way...not like you can do much relaxing in a fic taking place in a world overrun by an evil organization where there is no electricity.

I have to agree with Pavell, I'm glad you didn't show the world as completely overtaken by people who no longer give a shit about society, frankly I think in that sort of situation you'd have to be a maniac to just give up all your morality just like that, rather I feel most people would be scared, something that was portrayed pretty well here. That being said I liked how you portrayed Bates, the scene with the shotgun was really funny and to see him warmed up to Unnamed was pretty nice.

It's kind of sad she couldn't keep all those things xD it would've made the story a lot quicker, I'm not sure I just think that actually giving her that extra push by letting her have all those extra things would've been interesting, cause in this type of story the protagonist usually ends up carrying practically nothin (as is the case now) plus I just think she deserved a break.

I hope she finds Gaia though, the poor Caterpie better not die or I'll kill you.

I'm honestly really glad you liked Chapter VIII, because I know it was a lot slower than my others and I was afraid it would drag--this section of the story is a bit of a slower one, so we can stop getting constant action or really constant exposition about Rocket Regime lol, but I had issues keeping things entertaining, I guess?

Also, yeah, I was being an optimist with nice-guy Bates, and it'll continue for a little while. But just when you've got your guard down... heh. Hehe.

There's also something in your review that made me chuckle at the irony but no one will understand why for at least forty chapters. I'mma just put there here and remember that this was lol. ;-;

This was no hardship to judge. Not that this means I went easy on you - nope, I was as critical of you as you are of me

[snipped the rest because it's about half the length of my chapters, haha]

My understanding of double negatives is tentative at best, though; what does it mean for something to not be a hardship? (although hooooo boy, bring on the concrit yaaaas)

Setting has always been a low point for me. I'm trying to work on it, but I kind of just see lots of trees, and, well. Yeah. Not my best, boss.

Silver, I've decided, was me trying to toe the line too much with my antagonists. You'll see exactly what I was trying to do when he comes back (which should be in two or three chapters, actually!), hopefully, but I abused the unreliable narrator that I have in TUPpy (I've decided, for brevity's sake, that she shall be The Unnamed Protagonist/TUP, and then py because it sounds nicer and also puppies) a wee bit too far and ended up pushing Silver over the line. I admit, having him plaster a pokemon to a tree was something that I can't handwave away with the unreliable narrator card, but rest assured, I'm on it. I edited away what I saw to be the most awful of his dialogue already, and I'm cleaning up the rest as well.

Speaking of which, I skimmed through what I've put up so far and did a mild edit run of everything so far. It was mostly limited to some phrasing/flow issues, but I tried to redirect some of the exposition-dumps, and I also ended up doing some plot/foreshadowing-related subtleties and fixed the inconsistencies in my timeline. Editing round two should hopefully finish up dealing with the expo-dumps and setting issues, but idk when that'll actually happen >.<

It's my fault for not working it in earlier, but I do intend to have backstory for TUPpy, as well as softer moments, appearing in the near future. The former probably comes up in a basic form in two to three chapters as well (four, perhaps; not sure how one of them is going to split) and then hits hard waaaaaaay in the future; the latter should hopefully come, well, eventually. I noticed in my editing run that her favorite thought is basically "I'm going to die," which is a bit much, and I tried to alleviate that a bit.

Your comments on Icarus are completely on point. Nothing more to say here. xD Again, planned stuff in the future, but I'm to blame here/can't complain when people complain that I haven't done it yet, because nine chapters in is plenty of time.

Gaia is my favorite character in srbs. Hands down. There are a couple who come close eventually, but Gaia is my baby. And she might not be able to be the sole provider of light in this darkfic, but she will be damned if she doesn't try.


In other news, we're two months late. Thank the Awards for that! (No, actually, thank the Awards; they were fantastic and gave me some really great reading over the summer. And, while you're at it, thank Ace, haha).

On with the show.

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chapter v. a penny for the old guy​

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My second official day on the road was much quieter than the first. Not that it was exactly a high bar, but small steps. By nightfall, I could see the welcome sight of Cherrygrove Town looming ahead of me, splashes of pale buildings against the forest. It was larger than New Bark and smaller than Goldenrod, but, then again, everything was larger than New Bark and smaller than Goldenrod. I heard the distant rumbling of generators, almost like a highway of car engines, in contrast to the silence of the forest I'd been walking in all day. My eyes were drawn to the pokécenter and pokémart; the rest of the buildings were almost exclusively houses. Probably less than a dozen in all. The entire town fit along the single road that went through it—honestly, it was mostly a stopping point between New Bark and Violet, a remnant of a Johto's older years.

To my left, I could hear a dull roar that I recognized as the intermittent collision of the waves upon the shore. There was a narrow bay here, with a couple of spindly docks leaning across the dark waters. Almost all of the boats seemed to be tethered and docked for the day, bobbing slowly in the waves. The city was peaceful.

It was strange how some things stayed the same even though everything else had changed so much. If you didn't look carefully, you really couldn't tell that the world was ending.

It was getting a bit chilly. I'd have to find a sweater at some point, but I was more focused on picking up supplies. "Icarus," I murmured, reaching behind me and shaking my backpack until I heard the indignant squawk that heralded his awakening. "I'm going into the town. Do you mind waiting out here in the forest until I get back?" It wasn't really a request, but I figured if I didn't make it sound absolutely imperative that he wouldn't be seen, Icarus wouldn't try to spite me by getting us all noticed and killed.

I didn't put it past him, though.

With a surprising lack of protest, Icarus fluttered off of my backpack and into the branches of a tree by the path. When he folded his wings and settled down, the inky darkness of his feathers made it almost impossible to see him, leaving me with a significantly lighter backpack and a pair of beady, red eyes watching me from the trees. And, after he ruffled his feathers for a moment and closed those eyes, he became practically invisible.

"Catttt."

"Yes, I'm going to miss him too," I said sarcastically, although I really had no idea what Gaia was trying to tell me. As I kept walking toward the center of town and the chugging of the generators, though, it did occur to me that my murkrow was being unusually docile and quiet, even now. I'd chalked it up to his exhaustion earlier, but maybe—

"Are you here for the pokémon center?"

A kind voice jerked me out of my reverie. I looked around and realized that, yes, I was indeed in standing in the doorway of the darker-than-usual pokémon center looking like a crazed lunatic. "Um, yes," I managed to say. "Is there space?"

What normally would have been a rhetorical query asked out of politeness turned out to be a serious question as I surveyed the lobby of the pokémon center. It looked like the entire population of Cherrygrove had fled into the center, and then some. Trainers of all ages were crammed on to the benches and scattered across the floor, and entire families were huddled in corners together. One of the nurses was handing out sleeping bags to a pair of young girls, and a chansey nearby passed out pillows. There was a generator in the far corner of the pokémon center, and my mind attributed it to the whirring sound I'd noticed coming in. The pokémon center was the center of the town, the metaphorical heart. When there was a crisis, like there was now, the people flocked to it in droves.

The nurse didn't answer my question directly. She wiped a bit of sweat off of her brow and sighed. "There's always room for more," she said at last, one hand twirling around her bright pink hair. I wondered for a fleeting moment if it was dyed. "You'll have to find a spot in the lobby, though. All of our upstairs rooms are already packed."

So was the lobby, by the looks of things. I bit my lip. "I know that you're busy, but I heard that I could get a trainer card," I said, trying to look her in the eyes and appear as unsuspicious as possible. I certainly wasn't going to try to illegally register my caterpie as my starter; that would be absurd. "I couldn't get one at New Bark." Not even a complete lie.

My efforts seemed to work, because the nurse smiled sympathetically. "You're new at this, aren't you?"

She was going to catch me and report me and then Team Rocket was going to have my guts for scarves in the morning. "See, I just got my starter yesterday, and then all of this stuff happened, and now…" I trailed off lamely, mentally glad for once that, with my hair pulled back, I looked at least three years younger than I was.

"We haven't used trainer cards for a while. We switched all of our records to an electronic system nearly a year ago, honey—"

Oh. Of course. I was a well-learned trainer and totally knew that. Something else occurred to me before I could embarrass myself further.

"—and we lost everything when the grid shut down," the nurse finished. She looked distracted at this point, and her eyes wandered around the room, no doubt away from the newbie trainer asking useless questions to the crowds of people who needed her help. "There's not much we can do for you or anyone else, but people should be understanding until we're back on course. Anyway, you're welcome to settle here for the night and you can collect some emergency supplies over by that table."

I tried my best to look disappointed about the whole thing and thanked her with a weak smile before moving off.

Inside, I was elated. No trainer records. I could claim to be whoever I wanted or needed to be, and no one would know. I'd have problems when the grid went up, but that was a long way away. Also, free food. "If there's anything I can do to help," I said, looking up and feeling guilty for not asking earlier, but she was already speaking to a young boy, no older than ten, and his poliwag.

As I left the center, I felt lighter than normal, not just because I'd replaced Icarus with a month's worth of dehydrated noodles in my backpack. That being said, though, it probably wasn't best to be light at this point—if I was serious about partying around in the wilderness until people decided not to kill me, I needed actual supplies. The pokécenter could wait; as long as I was in town, I needed to stock up. I desperately wanted to drop off Icarus to see if the nurses could heal him up—maybe there was some sort of internal damage—, but handing over my murkrow would be suicide. He would just have to heal on his own or with my help, which meant that I really, really needed these supplies.

And, furthermore, I really wasn't going to get very far trying to find a spot to sleep in the lobby here anyway. Supplies it was. "Gaia, I have to go to the pokémart. Do you want to stay here and rest up?" I asked the caterpie in my arms.

"Piiii."

I had absolutely no idea what that meant. "One 'pii for staying here. Two 'pii's' for coming with."

"Pii. Pii."

I left the stuffy lobby of the pokécenter and crossed the street to the pokémart, caterpie in my arms. Feeling oddly optimistic, I opened the door.

And was promptly greeted by a double-barreled shotgun.

I swore violently and took a step back, the twin holes on the muzzle still dangerously close to my neck. I opened my mouth, ready to admit to everything—

"Welcome to the Cherrygrove Pokémart," the voice behind the shotgun growled. The lights in his store, like the lights in his city, were off, and as he stood in the doorway, I couldn't even see his face. "Close your mouth and shut up."

I hadn't made any noise, except perhaps for a vague, strangled sound of surprise, but I obliged.

I really, really had spoken too soon about things not getting worse and feeling optimistic.

"Do you have any other pokémon with you?" the man asked, pushing the shotgun out a little further. I backed away. When I didn't respond, the man jabbed the gun further. "Any other pokémon, kid?"

I found my voice. "Just this one," I gasped, fear filling me once again. I prayed desperately that Icarus was still resting and didn't choose now to make his triumphant entry. It was probably stupid to lie to someone with a gun at my throat, but I wasn't about to explain that I had an illegal dark-type that was healing off some injuries from my latest clash with Team Rocket.

On the other side of the gun, the man nodded, but the gun didn't lower. "Your pokémon stays outside. Do you have any weapons?"

I thought about Silver's switchblade and cringed. I had no idea that trainers carrying weapons was a common thing—I'd always assumed that pokémon would be enough. "No."

The man, his face still mostly shrouded in darkness, nodded. "If you're lying to me, Brigid will burn you to a crisp. That's a promise."

"Okay," I gasped, eyes fixated on the barrel of the shotgun and hands uselessly supporting the caterpie in my arms. "I'm not lying. Please, I just wanted to get supplies."

"That's fine with me, so long as you pay," the man growled. "Some assholes and their pokémon this morning thought it would be a fine idea to try to raid my store after the power went out. Brigid and I took care of them. You aren't going to try the same thing, are you?"

I desperately hoped that he was exaggerating and 'took care of them' didn't translate to brutal murder like he was implying.

"No, sir," I whispered numbly, the honorific slipping into my speech unconsciously. It seemed that angry people with guns deserved my respect.

"Good. Now leave your pokémon outside and hand your backpack to me. I'll give it back; don't worry."

I hesitated, uncertain. I was afraid that Gaia would freak out if I left her on her own, and I certainly didn't want to give my pack to a stranger. I didn't have many supplies, but I needed them to count, especially if every shopkeeper was going to greet me with a gun.

"I'll give it back," the man rumbled, sounding vaguely annoyed. "I own a pokémart. I don't need whatever shit you've got in there. I just want to make sure you don't try to shank me with something in there when I'm looking the other direction." He said it with such conviction that I couldn't help but wonder if it had happened to him already. "Or," he offered, "you can leave and—"

"No!" I said quickly, taking a step forward before stopping at the barrel of the gun again. "See, look." I placed Gaia on the dusty ground as gently as I could. I didn't want to leave her, but right now, I was still operating at gunpoint. "She'll stay right here and won't hurt you, right, Gaia?"

My caterpie nodded. She was clearly quite threatening.

"I'll be right back, I promise," I said to her, leaning down to pat her head. I slipped my backpack off of my shoulders and handed it to the man, who finally withdrew the gun while I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding.

"Brigid, give us some light, would you?" the man asked, turning back to look into the store.

Beside him, there was a slight sparking sound, and then a large purple globe of light appeared behind the man, casting his face in harsh shadow. I peered behind the shopkeeper to see a small pokémon that looked like a giant candle floating silently behind him, roughly the size of his head. What looked like a purple flame flickered atop the creature's head, and it peered at me with a single, glowing, golden eye. I didn't recognize it.

"I'm going to put your backpack by the door," the shopkeeper said, placing my bag on the ground as he did so. "If you so much as look at it in the wrong direction, my litwick will fry your brains out. Got it?"

I swallowed. "Yes, sir," I mumbled. And then, despite my better judgment, I tried to make casual conversation. "Did the xatu give you that pokémon, too?"

The man turned around and looked at me for the first time. He had dark brown hair that shadowed equally brown eyes lurking behind wire-framed glasses that rested a little too far down his nose to be comfortable. He seemed friendly enough, but he was also well-acquainted with his gun and too grizzled for his age, which I placed in his early thirties. "Shit, you're just a kid," he said as he squinted at me. "Why didn't you tell me that earlier?"

"I tried?" I asked him quizzically. "But you had your, uh, shotgun thing going."

He sighed, the smile fading from his face a little. "Yeah, and try anything funny and—"

"—Brigid will burn me to a crisp, I get it," I muttered, rolling my eyes. It was easier to be sarcastic than scared. "I need supplies." It sounded so much more official than 'how do I survive in the wilderness.' I hadn't packed for the apocalypse when I'd left Goldenrod. I had a blanket, a spare change of clothes, a water bottle, and scrapped plans to spend the nights in pokécenters. My camping experience last night had been cold and generally awful, but it had also proven that I was going to have to rethink those plans, and quickly. With the power grid down, the pokécenters probably wouldn't be healing pokémon as efficiently, to say the least, and I wasn't going to spend the nights there like I'd planned. "What have you got?"

"Potions and healing items are rationed," the man said, running a hand through his hair and sighing. "You can only get three of each per week, and that's how it's going to be for a while until they get the factories and delivery systems up and running again. Gasoline is limited to a gallon per person per week with proof of generator only, but you look like the trainer type so I doubt that'll affect you. And if you want a gun, cigarettes, or alcohol, you're going to have to go somewhere else. I'm not selling to minors."

I blinked. "Just the potions, please."

"I'll get those out of the back room," the shopkeeper said with a sigh, retrieving another key from his apron pocket and moving away from the register. His odd, floating candle hovered next to him to illuminate his way. "Mostly everything else is pretty well stocked, if you care to look." He moved away and began fiddling with the lock on a side door that presumably lead to a supply closet. "Brigid, I'm fine. Give the girl some light." And make sure that I didn't pocket anything, no doubt.

The floating candle obliged and hovered over to me, casting that strange purple light over the nearby shelves. "Do you buy pokéballs?" I asked. I hadn't left home with that much cash; we hadn't had much to spare and I hadn't wanted to cause trouble. Funny how that one had turned out. But any money I could scrounge together now, when the stores were still stocked and friendly, would be a blessing.

From the back room, the man laughed. "Those things are paperweights until the grid goes up, kid," he called over his shoulder. "Next you're going to try to sell me your pokédex." He paused, and then added, "If you can wait until Goldenrod, some of the shops there might be larger and more willing to eat the cost until the power's back."

It had been worth a shot. I skimmed my fingers along the shelves, peering at them from the light generated by the candle pokémon. There was a surprisingly wide, albeit picked over, array of merchandise on the shelves, ranging from plush dolls to canned food, and I realized that this really would be the best time to get things. By the time I reached another store, they could be sold out for a very, very long time.

I started scooping items off of the shelves, trying to pick the lightest and most effective things I could carry. I hadn't really gone camping, so I was mostly taking shots in the dark based on the mandatory survival classes my school had made us take when we were nine. There was still rubbing alcohol, hydrogen peroxide, and antiseptic, so I grabbed a bottle each of those and dropped them in the basket that Brigid handed me—the thing had little stubby arms that blebbed out of the wax; it was weird—along with several packs of cloth bandages. If I had to look after my own pokémon, I wasn't going to rely on potions, especially if they were rationed. As an afterthought, I doubled back and nabbed some aspirin, and located a map and thermal blanket in the back of the store, slightly worn but quite useable. And food. I grabbed a ton of food.

That would have to make do for a while. I desperately wanted to get more stuff, but I didn't know how much I could carry, and I also had a hunch that my funds weren't going to last. "You got any matches?" I asked, glancing around the shelves. I'd have to learn how to start a fire myself soon enough or get a fire-type—I thought jealously of the floating candle that, even now, was casting a pool of warmth and light around me—, but for the time being, I didn't want to be caught outside in the freezing conditions that would be coming. Last night had been bad enough.

The shopkeeper emerged from the backroom holding six spray bottles that I knew would have to last me for a long time. "Those are all gone. You might want to catch a fire-type instead," he advised, placing the bottles on the front counter. "I have two super potions, a hyper potion, and one each here for paralysis, burn, and poison." When he noticed the disappointed expression on my face, he added, "That's all I'm allowed to sell you. If you're still around in a week and I haven't sold out, you can try again."

I couldn't have expected much more, but I still felt disappointed for some reason. I resumed rummaging through his shelves. "I'll be there in a second."

"Take your time." His pokémon placed my basket on the counter next to the scant collection of healing potions, and the shopkeeper looked through my intended purchases with a practiced eye. "You're trying to go practical," he said. Pause. "You have absolutely no idea what you're doing, do you." It wasn't a question.

"Nope. Wanna help?"

"Soap," the man sighed, reaching behind him and putting a lumpy green bar on the counter beside my basket. "Some rope, extra bandages, a rain coat, sunglasses, water purification tablets, better first aid kit. As a start. Brigid, be a dear and grab the rest for her, would you?" He paused, glancing back through my basket, while his litwick floated around the store and began picking up the required objects in its stubby, white hands. "Oh, and a knife or two."

"Pardon?" So we'd gone from shotguns to packing my backpack for me like it was my first day of school in a matter of seconds, and I had no idea why. And I didn't want a knife.

{I believe Bates is trying to improve your supplies,} a serene voice said in my head. {You seem to be lacking a couple of necessities for a prolonged camping trip.} The voice paused and then let off a gentle laugh before adding, {If we're in the mood for packing moderately, I think some tape could come in handy.}

Of course. "No knife." And then: "Did your pokémon just—"

"Some ghost-types can create a low-ranged telepathic field. Translates what pokémon say in a small radius," the shopkeeper, apparently named Bates, said, waving one hand dismissively through the air and shrugging.

I thought that his candle was a fire-type. Odd.

"Good call on the fork," Bates was calling over his shoulder. "And grab a roll of duct tape if there's any left," he added to Brigid, who was currently floating through the air and estimating sizes of raincoats. "It shouldn't weigh too much. Brigid already mentioned it, but I'm Bates, by the way."

"The telepathic field thing sounds quite useful." Unlike Icarus's mangled and haphazard speech, Brigid's words were smooth and almost sounded human, like the xatu's telepathy. I made a mental note to pick up a ghost-type if I could, but they were rare, especially in Johto.

"With the newer pokédex and translation collars, I took it for granted," Bates admitted. He looked at one of the boxes of water purification tablets Brigid had given him and frowned. "Of course, all of that's gone now. I'm just lucky Brigid was out of her pokéball helping me do inventory. Some of the trainers came to me yesterday with their pokémon stuck inside of their balls, and I had no idea what to do." He was squinting at a different box in his hand now, and then he said, "These might run out. Find one of those solar-powered ones instead." Then, looking back to me, he shrugged. "Brigid's my only pokémon, though, and we understand each other pretty well even without it."

"Is she your starter?" I couldn't help but feel a little useless at this point, what with the apparently experienced camper and the ghost doing all of the work for me.

He danced around my question. "I got her a few decades ago, back when I was younger. I moved to Kanto to start my journey."

{We'd just gotten our third badge when they really started overturning the old government,} Brigid said despondently. {It was unfortunate. We were trying to get the gym badges one day, and the next, everything was in flames. We used to have three other pokémon, and then, well.}

So that was where they'd learned to survive. "Oh," I said quite eloquently. I didn't like where this was going and searched for a tactful way to change the subject. Brigid had said what I was expecting but didn't want to hear. Even when all of the pokécenters were operational and healing items were in high supply, there were still casualties. And apparently these two had lost three. I didn't even want to think about how that would feel. And now, with no pokécenters and a horrible selection of potions to choose from, I had a sinking feeling that things could turn out even worse.

Desperate to change the subject, I glanced at the growing pile of items that threatened to spill over the counter. "I can't carry all of that."

"You're going to need all of it," Bates retorted, a wry smile spreading across his face. He glanced over to the door, where my pack still sat dejectedly in the corner, tiny and patched and lumpy. It was the best I could afford at the time, and it was falling apart on the seams. "That's a pretty pathetic backpack you've got going there."

"Thanks," I muttered sarcastically, but my ears burned. My family had never really been rich, but no one had blatantly called us out on it like this.

He reached under the counter and pulled out a much larger, much sturdier, much newer pack and placed it next to my mountain of supplies with a dull thunk. "I used this when I was your age. It's a bit worn on the edges, but it should be fine."

He'd literally been trying to kill me five minutes ago and now he was giving me his nostalgia fodder. What had I said to change this? I tried to think it through. Something about my supplies? I thought he'd started complimenting me when I picked up the map; maybe that had been it?

Bates was looking between me and the backpack expectantly, but I hesitated. It felt so wrong to take the bag. A man's dreams were sewn into that industrial grade, dark-green fabric. He'd probably clipped pokéballs to it and carried his pokémon's favorite snacks in it and pinned his hard-earned badges to it with pride. And now all of those things were old and useless, existing only as relics to be passed down to a younger generation. "I, uh, don't have enough money."

Bates sighed. "How much do you have?"

"Seventy-five dollars and twelve cents." My response was immediate; I knew exactly how much money I'd brought on my journey and how many painstaking years of saving it'd taken to accumulate.

Even though he was several feet away from me and only half-illuminated by Brigid's fire, I could still hear his sharp intake of breath. I knew. Seventy-five pokédollars could barely pay for the meager selection I'd picked out in the first place, and there was no way it could cover Bates's additional supplies and the backpack as well.

So much for that plan.

"That's practically nothing, kid."

In fact, part of me was happy for any excuse not to take any more from this man than I already had. Of course, the other part of me was cringing at the thought of long, cold nights spent curled up on the ground. "That's fine. I'll just take the bandages and the potions."

Bates slowly tucked all of the extra supplies back into the bag. The excitement had faded from his eyes, and his movements became slow and lethargic. But I was glad he didn't try to do something stupid and give me the stuff for free. We all had to survive somehow.

"Could you put your right hand on the counter?"

I did so, slowly. "And why exactly?"

He turned me hand over so that the palm was flat on the table and the back faced up. "Sorry, I'm obligated to do this for anyone who buys potions," Bates said, pulling out a small bottle of violently green ink and dabbing at it with a brush. Brigid leaned in closer to illuminate his work with flickering purple flame. "We have to make sure that trainers don't get more than their allotted amount until the factories go back online, which could take weeks. I guess they'd print ration cards, but the printers are offline."

"Ah."

"They'll probably get something going within a week or two, but for the time being, we'll just stick with smeargle ink. It won't come off for a week under most circumstances that you can think of," he added seriously, looking up at me beneath bushy eyebrows, "so don't try anything stupid. There was already one kid who showed up at the pokécenter a few hours ago who tried to use his bellsprout's acid to burn his off."

{Luckily, he was left-handed,} Brigid remarked, hovering behind Bates now.

"Anyway," Bates said, looking up and stoppering the bottle again. He glanced back down at his work: on my arm, just below the wrist, the date was written in bright green letters. "You can claim your next batch of healing items at any pokémart in Johto one week from now. Brigid, get her bag, please."

{Good luck,} Brigid said solemnly. She floated in front of me now, her small hands clutching my backpack, which was almost as large as she was, and she passed it gently to me. And then: {Be careful that you do not lose your way in the dark.}

Nope.

Nope. Nope.

The xatu's words echoed in my mind, and then I forced myself to calm down. It wasn't an omen. I refused to accept that the xatu had any influence in my fate. It was coincidence. That was all.

It was coincidence. That was all.

Saying it twice changed nothing. I took a shuddering breath and cracked a smile. "Thank you," I said, nodding at the floating candle and at Bates. "And thank you for trying to help me out."

Bates inclined his head in my direction and replied gruffly, "Watch yourself. It's more dangerous than you'd think."

I was preparing for the worst already, so the knowledge that things could go even more badly than I'd expected wasn't entirely reassuring. "Thanks." I waved goodbye uncertainly and then stepped outside.

"All right, so now that that's over with, we can settle in for the night, right, Gaia?" I asked, looking down by the doorway for my caterpie. At first I thought I was just looking in the wrong spot, but it quickly became apparent that she wasn't by the doorway or in any other spot.

I started panicking then. "Gaia?" No response. I spun around, eyes pleading, but she wasn't anywhere in sight. "Gaia!"

My caterpie was gone.

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previous || next​

 

[Beth Pavell]

Same day turnaround, beat that! Actually I had time to fill, as it happens. (Oh, and "No hardship" = "not onerous")

Technical Accuracy/Style
Nothing to complain about as far as the technical aspects are concerned. I can help but feel that you lost a lot of the tension in this chapter though. That's not to say that it needed to be nothing but a tense, frantic "My baby!" search for the whole chapter, but the atmosphere relaxed rather quickly. The culprit is the internal monologue. It's something I noticed during the Silver encounter too - you tend to go through every thought TUPpy (You're a loon El) has at a crisis point. Now yes, people can and do think a lot in a short pace of time, especially when in a tight corner, but much of that thinking is going to be too fast for even the thinker to follow. The internal monologue needs to be snappier and stripped back during those moments. Try and keep the jokes to a minimum as well - it's really hard to be funny and tense at the same time.

Story
Aside from the atmosphere problems I mentioned above, going a little lighter in the tone with this chapter wasn't a bad idea at all. A little bit of a break before the inevitable grit finds its way back into the story helps along a dark story, in my opinion

Characters
You nearly nailed it with the Sentret. I wouldn't have had TUPpy herself draw attention to the mirror thing going on there - to my mind it would have been more amusing to let the audience figure it out instead

Final Thoughts
Like I say, watch the atmosphere and try not to get carried away by the monologue

 

[AceTrainer14]

Mwahahahaha, now it is time for my revenge - I mean, review, from the Awards.... no bad intentions here, obviously.... *evil smirk, maniacal laughter, lightning flashes, which means theres a storm, which means its obviously perfect time for an argument*
I tease, of course. My comments are entirely impartial and my genuine honest opinion. Soz for it being last, that was more because you posted the new chapter and I decided I'd review it too.


Beginning with the plot. I think your method of story telling is original, jumping straight in to getting the Pokemon without much exposition, and beginning with the end was a nice touch and helps make the story unique. I also think that the dark elements of the plot work wonders here. I mentioned in previous review that I was not fond of the deus-ex-machina technological apocalypse, and while I see now that it will have a bigger role, I do feel that its occurrence was perhaps a tad too convenient. Maybe if it had occurred a little bit further into the story it would have worked better, but right at the start and the rushed explanation about the magnetic fields and stuff was a bit sudden.
The biggest problem I have with the plot is that not a lot has happened. Eight chapters to get to Cherrygrove is a bit much, and reading the latest chapter things still feel a bit slow. I was not really expecting to have to wait another chapter to find out what happened with Gaia, and I think that level of wait only works if there is going to be a big twisty conclusion, otherwise things are just a little slow. I am pleased that there are small character moments and a good interaction between trainer and Pokemon, things I wish I could work into some of my stories, but I do think the plot needs to pick up a bit more.

The political and broader setting of the story is very good and is laid out well over the first few chapters without being a b ig info dump, and most of my score in the Awards was for the wider world you have created with Team Rocket and that. I would like to see an author of your talent do more with setting: there is more to forests than just trees, and it would be nice to see your take. Similarly, Cherrygrove we basically just arrived in without much fanfare. I do not believe that a Johto run by Rocket post-war will look the same as Johto in the games, so I would like to see some of that in the future.

Your characters are one of the stories stronger aspects. All the characters portrayed have very specific and set personalities, making them all unique and separate from one another. I think Silver is perhaps the weakest, as he is a bit too stereotypical at the moment, but the fact you've given all the Pokemon that have appeared distinct personalities deserves high points. I do have a problem with the way Unnamed freaks out incessantly, mostly as it makes her thoughts are all very repetitive and bothering and it would be nice to see her think about something else rather than ermagerd, Im going to die. Also, while not an important character, it seemed odd for Bates to go from shotgun wielding shopkeeper to giving her tons of free shit when he ain’t likely to make any money anytime soon, and now he's taken a shine to her. I think it could be cool if he perhaps came with her on her journey, but I don't really see that happening either.

Your style is pleasant and easy to read while also being beautifully and exquisitely written. First person constantly is hard to pull off, but you manage it well and makes it interesting. My sole problems would be the way that it switches from rambling sentences to holy crap, im about to die a lot, as they is jarring to read and is used too much. Also, the continuous listing of all the problems gets a bit annoying, especially in the latest chapter where we are reminded of essentially everything that has happened so far. Also some of the flashbacks and mentions of her past felt a bit randomly thrown in to sentences where they don’t massively belong. Otherwise it is perfect.
Grammar and spelling was mostly perfect, only the odd typo and such that stood out.

Before we have final conclusions, the characters:

The Unnamed Protagonist:
There are a number of elements in play which make Unnamed a rather original lead: being dead at the end, the first person, the moral code, the hatred/confusion over her destiny, her reasons for leaving home. These are not entirely unique on their own but thrown together make an interesting story and character.
In terms of entertainment, she has some alright funny thoughts (like most comedy, some work, some don’t) but it is hard to call her an entertaining character when a lot of her thoughts are really depressing. She is an intriguing lead, but also not one I personally am rooting for: so far, I don’t have much of a reason to cheer her on. I think that comes down to her lack of depth, which so far is rooted in her moral code. Asides from her feelings on right and wrong, we do not know a whole lot else about her. I think fleshing out her backstory soon will be key to helping make her an interesting character, though as long as it is not forced as that wont really work either. She also thinks a lot of the same things, like I said above, so she needs something new to dwell on as well.

Icarus
Will you be surprised at all he is my favourite? While not entirely layered or complex, he does have some interesting emotions and trains of thoughts, from not liking Unnamed to not liking other Pokemon to wanting Caterpie to fighting Abra to having a killer edge. It will be fun to see these elements expanded on. He is also the most original Pokemon I have read for a while and is wholly entertaining to read whatever he is saying or do. Not much else I can say really but keep up the good work. I cannot wait to see him develop, perhaps work on showing further insights into his way of thinking and interact with Unnamed on a more personal level, but otherwise all good. (also, I want to see Icarus the Honchkrow sooooo badly)

Gaia:
You manage to make a Caterpie interesting to read, which is not easy, but she is not as interesting a character to me as Icarus. She has a moral code as well and some interesting thoughts, but the lack of speech does not let her show these off or get as much insight as Icarus. Your use of String Shot in battle was cool, and she has had some moments, but I am just unable to be drawn to her as much as she cannot do a lot. I suspect Gaia will be more interesting to me personally once she has evolved.

Final thoughts:
It was a close race between this story and TGC for me, but this won by the small margin of a bit more having happened that actually works together. The story is wonderfully written with interesting characters and I managed to breeze through all of them in a few hours, which was a relief. However, we are nine chapters in and still stuck in the ‘start of the journey’ mode, and the repetition of the same thoughts over and over again got really tiring really quickly. The story could be quickly improved by speeding the plot up and giving Unnamed something new to think about that isn’t quite so dreary, and I think some sort of likeable characteristic that isnt just sass and sarcasm. This story does have a lot of potential, but keeping it at this slow pace makes me wonder when we will ever see the end of the finish line. However, your style is excellent and your characters are intriguing, and I will keep reading as long as there is hope Icarus will evolve because that WOULD BE THE BEST THING EVER!!!

(Not trying to sound sour/like a dick or anything here, but some of your 8ES complaints kind of work here too, which amused me more than anything that some of the elements we disliked about each others stories are the same as the other, if that makes sense For example, I felt Silver was a bit too cliche-y in his appearance, TUP's humour did not really work for me all the time, and some of your symbolism, like the Sentret-mirror and TUP's angel and devil, would have been best left unspoken. Again, pointing this out mostly cause it amused me rather than trying to be a dick or anything).

 

[Flaze]

Before I start since I saw that Pavell decided to call the protagonist TUPpy (stupid name by the way : p) I'll just call her Ely cause it's short for kintsugi and it's easier and less dumb than TUPpy (yes man, that abbreviation sucks)

Also I'm going to be copying off of Pavell here because I can.

Technical Accuracy/Style:

I don't exactly dislike the atmosphere, I mean I guess Pavell does have a point in that sometimes it's hard to really get into the tension of things when Ely is always spouting jokes in her mind. However, while it is true that thought processes go by fast when a person is in a moment of tension I think we have to remember that this fic is in first person past, meaning that she's recalling what she remembers. Now maybe I'm just weird but after I get a chance to really recall things that have happened, even in moments of tension I am able to remember completely what happened and what I felt and I can sort of dwell into it more.

It's true that the jokes do sort of break the tension but I myself prefer that over having to read a fic that is always grimdark, it's a bit relaxing and yes it could get worse if this happens in even bigger moments later on but right now I think that it's okay, because part of me feels like this fic isn't supposed to be completely serious or completely funny so it matches...but again, I'm just weird.

I will admit that I think you focus a little too much on what Ely's thinking though, to the point that it really covers most of the chapter and slows down the pace of it.

Story: This chapter was pretty much what I expected to be honest. Actaully no I kind of expected for it to move a bit more, even though the chapter was longer I felt like it was still focusing too much on Ely's thoughts and less on actually furthering the stories. You do get props for introducing Sentret and how some Pokemon have certain political systems that they all follow, it's an interesting world building aspect.

While I doubt it will happen part of me does want Sentret to join Ely's team xD just cause it'd be pretty fun, but again it probably won't happen.

Characters: I think that at least you expanded Bates's character a little more in this chapter, he's still a pretty amusing char himself, especially isnce now we know that he isn't exactly in a better position than Ely being an outcast of sorts himself. I do enjoy his interaction with her simply because so far it's just been her and her Pokemon (Silver doesn't count) so it's interesting to see how Ely deals with other people. I do wonder if she'll show him Icarus or not and what will happen if she does.

As for Ely herself....well this chapter was pretty much more of the same xD her reactions to things as she learns more about Pokemon and the world around her is still amusing, but the pacing of the story hasn't helped in giving her more growth as of late.

Overall: So overall I think the chapter was still good but I think you should focus more on moving the story along at a faster pace, it's good that you focus on Ely's thoughts but it can drag down the story sometimes if it's the only thing you do. I am curious as to what will happen in the next chapter with the Sentret though and if she'll be able to find Gaia and Icarus.

 

[Pokemon Gray]

Don't really have a review for you. All I wanted to say is that I hope you continue this story.

 

[kintsugi]

___________________________________________________________________________​

chapter vi. those who favor fire​

___________________________________________________________________________​

My caterpie was gone.

My first thoughts went to Icarus. Maybe he’d finally tried to eat her, like I’d always thought he would. Maybe she got eaten by something else big enough to scare off Icarus. Maybe, at the very least, he’d seen what had happened.

Something else occurred to me: she might’ve run off. She didn’t have a pokéball; beyond her word, which I couldn’t really understand anyway, there was nothing holding her to me. While our conversation last night had been cathartic for me, she may have just decided it would be better to leave her psycho-trainer before things got much worse. “Gaia? Icarus?” I called, checking the rooftops. I’d left the murkrow in the trees with firm instructions to stay where he was, but it wasn’t like I expected him to stay put anyway. It wasn’t quite night, so I could still make out the blurry outlines of the buildings, but I couldn’t head or tails of him.

So they were both gone. That couldn’t be good.

Now that I thought about it, there was very little holding my pokémon to me, and I barely understood why either of them were here in the first place. It certainly wasn’t my stellar personality or tender love and care. With Icarus in particular, I’d basically done nothing but try to shoo him away, threaten to kill him, and constantly hit tell him to shut up when he annoyed me, which was often. Short of our mutual agreement not to kill each other and our understanding that a rather large organization was interested in making sure we both ended up dead, there wasn’t much reason for him to stay with me in the first place.

No. He’d grown oddly attached to me for whatever reason. He hadn’t left when I’d asked or even when Silver threatened. In that light, I kind of sounded like a dick, but it also meant that if he wasn’t still around, it probably wasn’t by choice. “Icarus,” I hissed, “you haul your feathered little butt down here right now, or I swear I will tear your beak in half!”

I was just killing it with the tender love and care aspect.

Bates emerged from the doorway of the pokémart at this point, grumbling about the noise. “What the hell are you going on about, kid?”

I had, quite stupidly, not realized that shouting loudly in a small town would probably generate attention. Goldenrod wasn’t like that, really. You could scream and no one would care enough to listen. “My pokémon,” I stammered, suddenly afraid. They were gone. And if someone had convinced Icarus of all pokémon to do something that he didn’t want—this couldn’t be good. I looked around again, as if Gaia would suddenly appear in front of my eyes. “She’s gone.”

That was when I thought of Team Rocket, and my dread only deepened. Icarus had hardly been able to hold his own against what I was pretty sure was a mostly-untrained abra, and that had been in a fair, one-on-one fight. When Silver started playing dirty, Icarus hadn’t stood a chance. The Rockets weren’t against shooting pokémon, and they’d already killed a far more powerful pokémon than my starter. We didn’t stand a chance.

“Your caterpie?”

But I couldn’t tell Bates about Icarus. I desperately wanted to, but he was friendly and willing to help me now, and if he had the same dark-type stigma that most people had—no, best not to think of that. I could only hope that Gaia and Icarus were together, and that enlisting Bates to find Gaia would also lead me to Icarus. If we found Gaia and not him, then… I’d cross that bridge when I came to it. “Yeah. I, uh, my caterpie is gone,” I admitted, biting my lip. I didn’t want to talk to Brigid and Bates right now. I didn’t want to have to explain the horrifying conclusions that I’d already made. I wanted nothing more than to bolt into the forest and shout, looking for my pokémon, and find them. “I have no idea where she went.”

“Does she often run off like this?”

The fact remained that I’d done nothing I’d done to earn her loyalty. Last night had proved that well enough. Bates seemed to take my silence as an answer in itself. “It takes a while for them to grow on you, kid.”

“Okay,” I replied in a shaking voice, “but the main problem right now is that she’s gone.” Night was falling fast. I couldn’t go into the forest alone, but if I waited until daybreak, I’d probably never find her.

Bates sighed and stepped out of the doorway, slinging on his pack. In a practiced motion, he pulled out three separate keys for the three different locks on the pokémart door, secured them, and sighed. “It’s getting dark, and I was about to close anyway,” he said. “Brigid and I will help. I don’t want you to get yourself lost in the woods without a pokémon, especially with all of the other stuff going down.”

Huh. On the one hand, he had a pokémon and I didn’t, and he was offering me help. On the other hand, he had a pokémon and I didn’t, and he was offering to take me as far away from a populated area as possible. I’d decided a while back that I liked Bates, and I’d decided in the past thirty seconds that I desperately needed his help, but now I was reconsidering.

{If he wanted to harm you,} Brigid said serenely, settling onto Bates’s head like an overgrown, flaming marshmallow-helmet, {he would not have left his shotgun in the store, nor would he use me. Even though there are more trainers than normal in this area, there are still few fire-types and even fewer ghost-types. It would not be difficult to link a charred corpse to us.}

Grumbling something about the clouds, Bates pulled a flashlight out of the front pocket of his backpack and handed it to me before changing the subject abruptly. “There are two roads out of Cherrygrove. Where do you want to start?”

I had no idea. Panic was starting to set in. The route to Cherrygrove was pretty straightforward and short, but it’d taken me forever and I’d still gotten lost a couple of times. Gaia probably wouldn’t even stay on the route. There would be no way to comb through the forest and its thousands of pokémon to find her, but I couldn’t stop looking. Not before I’d tried. “I caught—well, met, I guess, because of the pokéballs—her on the way from New Bark Town. She might’ve tried to go back there.”

Bates frowned. “That’s odd. I always differently.”

Brigid elaborated for him: {Caterpie are not native to the Route 29. Something about the forest keeps them closer to Violet City and Cherrygrove.} Brigid floated ahead of us, peering with her one, yellow eye into the treetops.

“And while many species of pokémon have no qualms about migrating short distances, caterpie are sedentary creatures until their final evolution—moving is difficult for them even when they have legs,” Bates noted, glancing at the darkening sky, now almost purple, and shifting his weight to his other leg.

{The butterfree even prefer to return to their birthtree to lay eggs. Unless they join a trainer, few caterpie will leave a fifty foot grazing radius until they grow their wings.}

The way they practically finished each other’s sentences reminded me of what I was missing: both the inescapable bond that you inevitably formed with your first pokémon, and my actual starters. Both of them. “Um. Should we go the other way?”

Bates shrugged. “She’s your pokémon.”

Which only served to further my guilt, because if they’d run off like this, maybe they didn’t want to be. But I wanted to think that Gaia hadn’t run off to return home, that I hadn’t already terrified her this much. I really did. “North,” I said, quite stupidly. “I think we should try looking north.”

So we did.

I should’ve emphasized the word try a bit more, because we hadn’t even gotten five feet along, Brigid casting her eerie purple light over the gravel next to the LED’s of my borrowed flashlight, before something latched on to my face.

In retrospect, I really should’ve seen it coming. Bates had been nervous about letting me into the forest alone because of all of the wild pokémon there, and while he hadn’t brought his shotgun—not like hunting pokémon was even legal in the fall—he hadn’t seemed too thrilled to accompany me, even with Brigid. Of course the forest would be infested. Hindsight or not, there was something attacking my face, and it took all of my willpower not to run around in circles and shriek like a zubat. My actual reaction involved lots of flailing and was hardly any more composed.

Brigid calmly blew a wisp of purple fire onto the furball and then pried it off of my face, its scratches ineffectual on her intangible body.

There was a pause as the creature stared at the fire on its fur, which quickly fizzled out, in amazement, before it began to scream. {Intruders! Intruders!} the creature cried wildly, still flailing around in Brigid’s grasp. I could see its sharp claws even in the dim light from Brigid’s fire. {Scout compromised!}

I calmed myself, blinking as I rubbed absently at the shallow scratches on my face. “What the—”

The creature wormed its fuzzy body around so it was facing me, brown ears twitching madly like insect antennae. Its tail, striped chocolate and mocha, was larger than the pokémon itself and whipped around with a mind of its own. {Tell this vile monster of yours to unhand me at once.}

I could still hear the faint and indignant echo of “Tretttt!” in the background through the telepathic field. The pokémon’s voice sounded female, and there was a hard edge to it that I wouldn’t have associated with a cute ball of fluff that I recognized as a sentret—a lot of trainers used them at the Goldenrod Gym. {My brethren will allow you to escape unharmed if you let me go free; otherwise, you must face the wrath of the sentret army. We are the warriors of the forest.}

“First of all, she’s not mine; she’s with that guy,” I said, pointing over my shoulder towards Bates. “Second, what.” I’d just been overpowered by a ball of fluff. “Third, sentret army?”

“They organize themselves into a sort of military hierarchy,” Bates explained, moving forward and gently detaching the sentret’s claws from Brigid’s incorporeal body and letting her land softly on the ground. He looked at the sentret for a moment, quite bemused. She hissed back at him. “The pups start out scouting for the others, and then they move up the ranks as they grow stronger. I didn’t think their clan let ones this young interact with humans.” He looked at me critically, and then added, “And stop shining that flashlight in her face. I doubt she likes it.”

Guiltily, I pointed the flashlight at my feet, muttering something about how the sentret didn’t seem to like me in general.

The sentret’s legs scrabbled until she reached the ground, and then she propped herself up on her large tail, hardly reaching my waist. {I will forgive you because I am merciful. I am going to leave now. If I see you following me, I will not hold back.}

I was reminded for a brief moment of a different small girl with a different tiny blade threatening a different enemy far larger than herself and promising retribution that she could never really give, and seeing it recreated here was so pitiful I almost laughed despite myself. “Sorry, are you threatening me?”

{Yes!} She sounded indignant.

And now I was getting into a verbal spat with a pokémon whose idea of camouflage was having a target on its stomach. “Just checking. Listen, you’re a scout, right? We’re not trying to hurt you,” I said, raising my hands in a sort of mock-surrender. “I just want to know if you saw a caterpie come through here. She would’ve been quiet. And slow.”

The sentret cocked her head to one side and stopped bouncing up and down on her tail for a moment. {Caterpie come here all the time, and almost all of them are quiet and slow. Few come through, I suppose, but I didn’t see one.}

I decided to risk asking about Icarus, even though I’d have to answer to Bates later. The sentret might’ve seen, or at least heard him. “What about a black pokémon?” I tried to be as vague as possible, in the vague hope that Bates mistook my description for something else. The sentret looked at me with confusion painted across her face. “Dark-type. Loud, obnoxious. He probably wouldn’t have shut up even if the world was ending.”

The sentret’s eyes narrowed. {Oh,} she said in a dangerous tone of voice that I didn’t quite like. {So that monster has decided to enlist his services to you.}

I swallowed nervously. Leave it to Icarus to mess things up when they couldn’t have gotten worse, but in the meantime, that meant that they were around here somewhere. They were safe. I thanked all the gods I knew. “Has he done anything, uh, bad?”

{He was harassing our clan earlier. He now bears the mark of my claws across his face.}

“Okay, that’s perfect.” Well, not perfect, but it was good to know that the bandages I’d bought wouldn’t be going to waste with him around. All the remained was to find them. I could barely contain my excitement as I continued: “Can you lead us to him?”

The sentret bristled. {No.}

“Perfect, we can—wait, what?” My mouth stayed open. I hadn’t been expecting that response.

The sentret propped herself up a little higher on her tail and puffed out her chest. With her adorable, floppy ears and big, brown eyes, she still looked about as intimidating as a wet paper towel. But I desperately needed to convince her to help me. {He ran away like a coward after I bested him in combat. More importantly, I am a warrior of the forest, not a trained pet who will perform tricks at your bidding, human.} She spat out the last word like it burned at her tongue.

Bewildered, I turned back to the sentret, desperately trying not to let the fear show on my face. I couldn’t lose Gaia. Not here. Not now. Not when we were so close. I frantically tried to draft a rousing speech, but all that came out was a strangled—“Please. I don’t know what else to do.”

There was a silence, untouched save for the faint hissing of the purple fire on Brigid’s head.

The sentret narrowed her eyes as she sized me up. Her head tilted to one side. {No,} she said simply. {I am returning to my clan. Goodbye.} And then she somersaulted neatly over her tail into the underbrush.

This couldn’t be happening. “No! Wait!” I dashed headlong after her, the beam of my flashlight darting erratically around the treetops. My sleeve caught on a low-hanging branch, but I unsnagged myself and kept sprinting. I couldn’t lose sight of her for an instant; if she disappeared into the forest, Gaia would stay lost forever, and that absolutely wasn’t an option.

“Hey!” I heard Bates shouting behind me, but I was beyond reasoning at that point. He had to understand: this sentret was probably my only shot at getting my pokémon back. I couldn’t lose her, not when we were this close. It just wouldn’t be fair. “You can’t just—”

His voice faded off in the distance behind me as I plowed headlong through the trees, eyes straining as I tried to keep track of the sentret, whose tawny fur was barely visible in the shifting moonlight. She was fast. One instant, she would be spiraling up the branches of a sapling, too blurry to track; another moment, and she was flying through the leaves to the next limb; half a second later, and she’d hit the ground and was already running with all four paws through a pile of pine needles.

On the other hand, I was running headlong through the forest with the finesse and grace of a charging rhyhorn. A root seemed to sprout out of nowhere for the express purpose of tripping me, and I found myself tumbling forward into the dirt, shredding my numb palms as I stumbled to catch myself, my ears ringing. “Please! I just need to find my pokémon, and then I swear on everything I know that I’ll leave you alone!”

The sentret furiously chattered something back, but her words were unintelligible and—

We’d slipped out of Brigid’s telepathic field, I realized, and some voice in the back of my head was warning me that perhaps we were taking things too far, that perhaps this was too reckless, even for me, and that if I died trying to find Gaia, it wouldn’t matter if I found her in the end. My head throbbed. I shivered. I was alone in a forest full of wild pokémon and I didn’t have anything, and the temperature was dropping fast. I’d even left my backpack back in the pokémart; if I ended up getting stranded out here, the only real question would be whether or not the wild pokémon would kill me before starvation did. Documentaries of swarms of ariados ambushing ten year-olds on their first night in the woods flashed in my ears, and Gaia was out here somewhere, alone and defenseless. I was armed with a flashlight. My blood ran cold.

The sentret pulled up short and turned to face me, bristling. I couldn’t help but notice the way the moonlight glinted off of her claws. She hissed and then gestured with her tail to a small, black pokémon that was curled up peacefully at the base of a tree.

It wasn’t what I was expecting. “Is this what you were going to show me?” I asked hesitantly, my teeth chattering in the cold. I had no clue what pokémon I’d caught with the beam of my flashlight, but it certainly wasn’t Icarus or Gaia.

The sentret nodded her affirmation before the thing twisted up and grabbed one of the sentret’s brown, adorably floppy ears in her mouth. Shrieking in alarm, the sentret unsheathed her claws. In a matter of seconds, the two pokémon had practically merged into a single ball of fur, although I could only see the sentret, which had pinned the other pokémon to the ground and was raking her claws across its face.

Their snarls overshadowed the song I’d been hearing building, but then I was distracted as the other creature arched its back and then shot out a blast of fire from its fanged mouth, sending a rush of welcome warmth. The force of the blow pushed the sentret back, and the pokémon picked its way to its feet, all four of them, and sank into a battle crouch. Its black fur, although matted and tangled, almost blended in with the darkness around it, and it looked like it was wearing a skull as a helmet. Small, white protrusions marked its paws and back, and its stubby tail flicked back and forth as it pressed its ears to the sides of its face and whined.

Before the two pokémon could leap at one another again, I stepped in between them, my arms spread apart. “Calm down,” I said, more to the sentret, but both pokémon bared their sharp teeth at me. I shivered as I realized what a stupid position I had entered. My voice rang in my ears, pinging against the echo of the haunting song.

{This is the pokémon that has been bothering my clan,} the sentret hissed, her fur bristling and her tail coiled high so she looked almost twice her normal size. {Don’t tell me to calm down. I’ll shred him.}

I—

I could understand what she was saying.

All at once, I noticed the singing, the sudden drop in temperature, and the fact that the phrase ‘my blood ran cold’ was more than an idiom. It had started subtly at first, so quiet that I hadn’t even noticed it, but as I mindlessly watched the two pokémon tussling, I realized the terrible mistake we’d made: we’d let ourselves stray too far from safety.

When I exhaled, my breath froze around me, and when I tried to move my hands around my shoulders, I couldn’t feel my fingers. And the singing I was hearing was only growing louder.

The sentret tore herself away from the other pokémon and sprang upright on her tail, spinning around and searching for the source of the disturbance. Every inch of her fur was on end—I’d thought that she’d seemed uneasy back when she was talking to me, but she’d bristled to at least twice her normal size now.

I worked my chattering teeth apart to stammer, “Do you know what this is?” No response from the sentret. “Are you going to help me with whatever this thing is? We can work together.” I instantly regretted saying it.

The sentret fixed me with a look of pure and utter disgust that I hadn’t even thought was possible. In that moment, she seemed to remember that there was no need for her to stick with this blundering, idiot human and whatever else that pokémon was, in near-darkness with something singing and freezing and growing closer. She tilted her head to one side, and then she turned to vanish back into the forest again—

A blast of frigid air hit her before she could make it into the trees, so cold that I could feel it from where I stood. The sentret let out a shriek of pain and was sent rolling to a halt near my feet.

I stuffed a scream back into my mouth with the sleeves of my jacket and turned to run as well, only to find myself face-to-face with a pair of glowing yellow eyes framed by purple, gem-like growths. Another flash of pale light, and my numb legs had crumpled beneath me, leaving me to stare at the monstrous, white and blue figure that loomed above us through the freezing fog that I had only now just noticed. I strained upward, desperate to escape, but my legs wouldn’t respond. The winds had picked up, blasting my hair back and doing nothing to combat the cold.

The black-furred creature from before whimpered uneasily before exhaling a narrow stream of fire that dissipated harmlessly into the cold. A tendril of dark energy reached out and twined itself around the pokémon’s midsection, dragging it toward the singing and the yellow eyes and my own unresponsive body.

The sentret’s scream of warning was lost on my unhearing-ears. She tried to run for the bushes again, but the thing serenely waved one of its arm-like appendages, sending a condensed beam of chilled air with laser precision to hit the sentret in the middle of her back. I heard a sickening crunch as the iceblock’s newfound weight sent the sentret tumbling to the ground. The following blast of power sent my hair blowing back, and the struggling sentret was being dragged toward us, her body outlined in glowing aura. Leisurely, it leaned down to wrap the other one around me, although I could barely feel its jagged touch.

The sentret hissed wildly. {Unhand me. Immediately. Or—}

I didn’t hear her threaten to bring the wrath of the warriors of the forest or whatever. Instead, I watched numbly as the ghost above us smiled, allowing its frozen jaw to crack upward. {Gently, little one,} it hummed serenely, its voice bouncing around the ebbing corners of my mind. {Sleep now.}

The ghost was right. Fatigue was starting to weigh down on me like a heavy blanket, and I wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball and rest until this had all passed. Some remote corner of my brain categorized this as the precursors of hypothermia, but the rest of me was too exhausted to care.

I stared blissfully as the squirming sentret was levitated above my head and the temperature around us plummeted. The ghost smiled, the notes of its song echoing in the fog as the rodent’s struggles lessened.

Through chattering teeth, I blearily managed to open my numbed lips and whisper, “Please.” Every breath was an uphill battle; forming them into words was like fighting a war. “Don’t.” Don’t what? I could hardly remember.

The ghost tore its attention away from the sentret for just a moment, fixing me with those hypnotic, yellow eyes, and I sagged back. It stroked my cheek, and I felt my entire face go numb. {Hush, hush, little one,} it murmured, and I began to slip away, vision flickering. {Be still.}

As the singing began to fill my ears, I vaguely managed to wonder where the sounds of the sentret had gone. All I could here was the gentle whoosh of the wind and the ghost’s song.

I would close my eyes and that would be it. My problems were solved. No need to win pokémon battles or flee the Rockets or combat my dark destiny. No need to continue down the road to hell armed only with good intentions. It could all end here, quietly, and not in—

“Inferno.”

A searing wave of purple fire filled my vision, and the clearing erupted into painful warmth. The monster holding us reared back, screaming, and it tried to tighten its hold on us before another burst of purple flame sent it reeling back.

I turned to see the blurred figures of Bates and his litwick burning their way through the frozen fog. I tried to choke out a warning to them—this monster was far too strong; they had to run—but my thoughts were running together and my head felt like it was filled with cotton. I hadn’t even noticed that the thing had retreated until Brigid was approaching me, her flame sending bursts of pain through my numb limbs. {Are you okay?} She bobbed close to my head.

As my circulation returned, burning like fire as it passed, I pieced my thoughts together as quickly as my numb lips would allow. “The hell was that?”

“Is; it’s still around,” Bates growled, looking up from the sentret and examining the trees through bushy eyebrows. “You won’t be able to get far.”

{A froslass,} Brigid said on his behalf, but that really wasn’t a comprehensive answer.

“A what?” I managed to slur.

“Usually endemic to Sinnoh. Ghost and ice-type that enjoys deep-freezing their prey before eating them. Once it targets a victim, it never relinquishes them.” Even though it was hard to focus on anything for more than a few seconds at a time, I could hear the anger grating through Bates’s voice. “All you should’ve understood from that is ‘really fucking out of my league,’ but that didn’t seem to stop you from running off on your own and almost dying.” His head snapped away from me and he turned to look at Bridget. “How long until it comes back for her?”

The litwick was bobbing over the sentret, thawing the block of ice on her back. {A minute. Perhaps less.}

My eyes finally focused on the details of his face, where I could see a scowl etched deep into the frown-lines of his face. “Oh.” I sluggishly tried to piece together a more refined response. “Um. Sorry.” No one had moved, and Bates seemed perfectly unalarmed by the fact that a psychotic, freezing ghost was coming back to kill me in the next sixty seconds. “Shouldn’t we try to leave?”

Bates finally cleared his voice and, not tearing his eyes from the fog-laden treetops around us, growled, “When were you going to tell us that you had a second pokémon?”

The impending sense of dread, which had momentarily dissipated after nearly-dying at the claws of a froslass, returned in full force. Of course he’d managed to piece together everything when I’d been begging the sentret for help. “I, uh—”

There was a hard edge in his voice when he continued, “Was it before or after you promised me on pain of death that you only had a caterpie?”

“I—”

“Or,” Bates continued, so darkly that I could feel his anger brushing up against mine, “is this whole thing was part of your plan to help the poor damsel in distress while your six pokémon—hell, your froslass, or maybe you’re with the Rockets—ambush us in the middle of nowhere? Is that caterpie even yours or did you pick it up from the forest to make yourself look like a helpless rookie? You’re probably fifteen or sixteen; you could’ve been training for years at this point.”

Frantically, I looked to Brigid for guidance, but she kept her one visible eye fixated firmly on the sentret. “Bates,” I began desperately, holding my hands out in what I hoped was a non-violent gesture, even though my fingertips were still too numb for me to uncurl them. “I—”

He scowled and picked up the flashlight from a pile of leaf litter, where I must’ve dropped it. “Brigid?”

{It’s circling back. Thirty seconds at most.}

“It’s not a trap!” I managed to stammer, which definitely made it sound like less of a trap. But what was I supposed to do? Right now, he was only considering leaving me for the froslass or whatever monster the sentret had found earlier. If I told him about Icarus, the only reason he’d save me would be to turn me in to the Rockets. “Please.”

Bates turned back to look at me, the lines in his face cast in Brigid’s purple light. “And people honestly wonder why I even have a shotgun.” He threw his hands into the air in exasperation, nearly knocking Brigid out of the air as he did so, but his fist passed right through her. The cold, mechanical shopkeeper that had spoken to me from the other side of a gun in a dark doorway was back. “Kid, there’s a froslass on your tail, and so far you’ve done nothing but lie to me. I don’t want you to get hurt, but I’m not risking my skin that this isn’t part of something bigger. Tell me what I need to know.” He left the rest of the sentence unspoken.

Death by fire or death by ice. Which one would best suffice?

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hi yes i do compulsive edits and this means sometimes two chapters get one post



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chapter vii. to perish twice​

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So apparently I wasn’t the only one with serious trust issues.

I tried to think of something to say, a better, more convincing bluff. I wasn’t the worst liar in the world; I’d already managed to convince both the murkrow and Silver that I was actually to be respected. The words were piecing themselves together in my mind: I’d befriended an extra pokémon, but it preferred to be out in the wild, so I hadn’t counted it as my own, but I still wanted to make sure it was okay. I’d ‘liberated’ something from an abusive trainer but hadn’t formally caught it because it was still ID’ed to its (now useless) pokéball. I was transporting my neighbor’s starter back home because they hadn’t been able to make the journey this week. There were so many lies already at my fingertips—

But the only thing that came out was: “I lied. Gaia isn’t my starter.”

Bates crossed his arms and planted himself firmly. One eyebrow quirked upward, but he didn’t bother voicing the sarcasm-laden, ‘No shit,’ that I could see on the tip of his tongue.

I took a deep breath. The words slipped out. “I, uh.” Phrasing this would be tricky, but I didn’t have any time to consider the consequences. “You know about the xatu that gives out destined starters?”

His eyes narrowed, probably because this looked like an enormous non-sequitur. I counted five breaths before he finally answered, “I wasn’t born here, but I’m not an idiot.”

There would be no turning back after this. If he tried to turn me in, so be it. I weighed the options for half a second more, and then the words came tumbling out. “He gave me a murkrow.” It actually felt good to tell someone else, to let the words run free from the dam that was my mouth. I hadn’t been able to confide in anyone—out here, I didn’t have anyone I could trust, except maybe my pokémon, and they wouldn’t exactly understand. “The xatu gave me a murkrow yesterday right before the power went out, and now the Rockets are trying to hunt me down before I do—I don’t even know what. I found a caterpie and I’ve been trying to pass it off as my starter so they wouldn’t find me, but now both of my pokémon are missing and they might’ve been killed already.” I paused. “Oh, and Giovanni’s son thinks I caused the magnetic apocalypse and tried to kill me yesterday.” It wasn’t like I had anywhere to run.

Bates paused, taking it all in, and narrowed his eyes at me. “A murkrow.” He frowned, studying me carefully. “That actually makes a lot of sense based on what you said earlier.” Another pause, and the frown lines deepened in his face. “Okay.”

Relief, heavily mixed with confusion, flooded through me. “Okay?” I asked. “Okay? Really? I drop that bomb on you and all you have to say is ‘okay’? No pitchforks, no torches? You’re just going to keep treating me like a random customer with a caterpie?”

I watched some sort of connection form in his eyes, one I couldn’t start to comprehend. “Your caterpie. It targeted you on purpose,” he breathed. He spun around, turning to Brigid. “Can you sense it from here?” The litwick shook herself in what I could only assume was a ‘no,’ and he began walking briskly back toward what I assumed was the path. I followed.

“What’s happening?”

He ignored me for a moment, his hands jammed firmly into the pockets of his coat as he crunched through the undergrowth. Bates sighed heavily. “I have a little more experience than most shopkeepers. And Brigid isn’t my starter, technically. Well. We—” he broke off suddenly, his hand snaking out to grab the fabric of my jacket and yank me between him and Brigid. “Stay behind me.”

I squinted into the trees. It was cold, but the night air lacked the biting chill I’d come to associate with the froslass. There was an unmistakable rustling of undergrowth that gave way to a loud and incessant {Running! Running! Running!} that, even in the muted peace of Brigid’s telepathic field, sounded loud in my mind. “Bates?” I asked tentatively.

{Running too fast! Tree! Ow! Bushes! Running faster!}

The aforementioned bushes exploded into a mass of dark fur that resolved itself into a snout topped by a chipped skull, quickly followed by a blur of four legs and a barrel-like body that rushed toward us, nearly knocking Bates of balance before skidding to an ungraceful halt and turning around. I pointed my flashlight toward the creature, which looked back at us shamelessly, mouth hanging open to reveal a lolling tongue. As I squinted, I recognized it as whatever pokémon the sentret had mistaken for Icarus. “This isn’t going to kill me as well, right?” I asked Bates, who now wore an expression of immense concern and didn’t seem to hear anything I was saying.

{Houndour,} Brigid replied on his behalf, circling the dog-like pokémon, who, delighted, tried to nip at the fire crackling on her head.

I racked my brains. “Never heard of it.”

“I thought they were extinct.” Bates’s voice cracked. “Brigid, the froslass. Do you think…”

The very not-extinct houndour focused on the hunched, greying man beside me with surprising speed and intensity. {Hi!} the pokémon said in a rumbling voice that lilted upward, sounding altogether far too cheerful for a pokémon that had tried to maul the sentret and narrowly avoided death with me. In Brigid’s light, I could see how the little stump on his back waggled back and forth, and I was reminded of the growlithe that one of my neighbors used to keep. {Hello! You have fire on your head!} he barked to Brigid, and then turned away. {And you are tall! Hello!} The houndour surged forward now, sixty-five points of black fur and sinew, and then he was milling around Bates’s legs, panting happily and nudging his nose against Bates’s open hand. {I am not an extinct. I am Atlas!} the houndour said proudly. {I am Atlas because I am big and strong. Hello! I have not greeted you yet.} His warm, brown eyes turned to look at me, and his ears flicked back. He whined a little. {Your hair smells funny.}

“I. What.” I narrowly avoided falling over as the houndour turned and began pressing up against my legs incessantly. One hand self-consciously flew up to pat the terrible dye job I’d done to my hair.

{That is okay. I like you too,} Atlas proclaimed, and began licking my fingertips.

That’s nice, I almost remarked dryly. Now we can all die together. Instead, I looked suspiciously at Bates, who still hadn’t moved. “Um.”

Brigid whirled away from the houndour to look at her trainer, who was frozen in the cold. {William,} she said urgently, tugging on the shopkeeper’s sleeve. {It doesn’t matter. The past is behind us. That thing is coming back for her now. We need to move.}

Bates said nothing, or if he did, it was drowned out by the howling wind that began to pick up around us. The temperature dropped. I looked around; the houndour seemed completely oblivious to any danger, Brigid was still trying to convince an immobile Bates to even look at her, and there was absolutely no sign of the sentret—she must have abandoned ship long ago. “Brigid?” I asked hesitantly.

{We will protect you,} the litwick replied as the temperature continued to plummet, but she didn’t sound certain.

{Hush, hush, little one.}

“Brigid!”

{I know,} she said coolly. The litwick brought her tiny arms together, humming as she concentrated. A ring of purple fire expanded around us, probably ten feet in diameter and hovering at waist height. It kept the freezing temperature at bay, but the flames seemed to lose heat every second. {I cannot hold her off forever,} Brigid cried to the shopkeep. {We need to head back to town or fight!}

The houndour leapt easily through the flames and into the icy fog. {I shall protect you, tall man!} he barked cheerfully, and my wasted command for him to stop froze in my throat as a blast of cold wind sent him skidding through the undergrowth.

Brigid cried in alarm as the blizzard’s onslaught turned away from the houndour and toward us. For a single, heart-stopping moment her protective ring of fire flickered out, only for her to renew it with terrifying intensity, the center of the flames glowing white-hot.

{Let it all end,} the froslass growled, and those hypnotic yellow eyes surged up before us, just outside of the reach of Brigid’s fire. The purple protrusions on its head shimmered in the heat, but it waved its sleeve-like arms to conjure a blob of shadowy energy. I could feel the negativity and darkness even from where we stood, and it was then that I realized the horrifying truth: Bates and Brigid were strong. Strong enough that they’d conquered an entire region even before I was born, and survived the war that had brought a country to its knees.

And yet this thing was even stronger.

With a deep snarl that I hadn’t thought was even his vocabulary, Atlas leapt toward the froslass, his mouth filled with fire. The ghost barely blinked as it swerved to the side with impossible speed, singing serenely all the while. Atlas’s whine of alarm was cut off immediately as the Shadow Ball was released at point-blank range into his neck. When he was thrown to the ground this time, he didn’t get back up. {It is only a matter of time,} the ghost whispered quietly, and then it snapped its head around to stare at me. Wind whistled through the holes in its body, adding a haunting chorus to its melody. {Hush, little one.}

To her credit, Brigid barely flinched, instead directing an enormous arm of fire from her ring to lash at the froslass. The snow around us melted and the grass beneath began to wilt, but—

{You are irrelevant, nothing,} the froslass snapped at her, raising an impossibly strong barrier of ice in front of its body to reflect the flames downward. The wall barely melted even as Brigid began pouring all of her fire against it.

I didn’t know what to—“Take me,” I said instead, realizing the obvious solution. “I’m the one you want. Don’t hurt them.”

Whatever courage I had summoned vanished as the froslass turned its yellow-rimmed gaze back to me, piercing through the fire and fog. {I saw a time where an entire nation wanted to tear you down, and you refused, little one,} it whispered, trying to reach through Brigid’s ring with one wispy arm. {And here you are offering yourself up out of your own free will. You don’t even know much harm you will cause, do you?}

Had it found me by random chance, or because it, like everything else in this world, was terrified of what I would supposedly become? A flash of light in the woods caught my attention. My eyes widened in recognition. It couldn’t be.

But if I could keep it talking, maybe—“I do,” I lied. Because trying to trick the undead ice-spirit that could apparently see the future and wanted me dead because of it had no possible bad outcomes.

Brigid flinched.

The froslass began humming louder, so loud it began to leave ringing in my ears. {You know the atrocities that line your path, and still you stay the course?}

Almost there. “And still I stay the course,” I repeated, like an oath, and began walking toward it with outstretched arms like I was going to let it attack me. Just to make things a little more confusing.

I couldn’t see her expression, but the way that the fire flared even brighter in front of me suggested that Brigid wasn’t on board. {Don’t you dare,} the litwick hissed at me. {You can’t just, just—she’ll destroy you and then turn on us anyway.}

That wasn’t the point. It worked best when the opponent wasn’t expecting it, so we had one shot. I had no idea where he’d come from or how he’d ended up here. Maybe they were attracted to sources of negative emotion, and between me and Brigid and Bates, we’d made ourselves into a beacon for it. Maybe the froslass had been hunting both of us, and we were inseparably linked already. Maybe it was dumb luck. But I wasn’t going to look the gift ponyta in the mouth, so to speak. “Feint Attack,” I whispered, drawing a tiny slash with my index finger, and my murkrow shot like a black arrow from the trees.

It was foolish. If Brigid and Bates couldn’t handle the monster, Icarus and I didn’t stand a chance.

But what choice did we have?

With a blood-curdling screech, my murkrow made contact with the froslass’s icy midsection, passing through it cleanly while trailing tendrils of smoky shadow. For good measure, a wad of sticky silk hit it on the side, covering the crystal-like protrusions on the back of its head. It reared back in surprise, touching its white arms to the spot where Icarus appeared in disbelief, but it reacted faster than I’d hoped. A swirling blizzard formed as it raised its arms up, and it directed the frigid blast toward Icarus with a flick of its arms.

“Get down!” I shouted from within the ring of fire, too slow, but then the houndour sailed upward, fire streaming from his maw as his jaws closed down like a steel trap around the froslass’s neck. The ghost was thrown back from the impact, of the stream of ice crystals went wild, missing its intended target and freezing the branches of the overhead trees solid.

We were winning. We were going to make it. We—

{No,} I heard Brigid murmur behind me, and I barely had enough time to turn to ask her why before the froslass reared back, screaming violently. Enormous blocks of ice, easily bigger than my entire body, sprouted out of the ground. Rocks and dirt sprayed upward, and a thin but growing web of frost spread until it wrapped around my ankles. Icarus was thrown against a tree by the concussive force, Gaia flew out of sight, the houndour hit the ground hard, and Brigid plummeted like a stone.

By the time the froslass reached me, I’d managed to pry one foot out of the ice and tripped over myself as I tried to free my other leg in the darkness.

I looked up at it, searching for mercy in its yellow eyes and finding none. I waited for some cryptic preaching—was this what it meant to lose my way in the dark?—but the ghost was impassive as it hovered above, its glowing yellow gaze the only light in the night.

{You will destroy Johto,} it said at last. {That is what I saw.}

“And still I stay the course,” I said thickly as I locked eyes with it.

I was powerless and defenseless. Begging would get me nowhere. And we both knew it.

“Brigid, kill her,” a stony voice said from behind me, and to this day I still wonder if Bates meant the froslass or me.

There was a pause, a decision was made, and then the silence was broken by the faint hiss that precluded Brigid’s fire. I shied back, the arm I’d thrown in front of my face doing little to help against the heat as a pillar of purple fire engulfed the froslass. The calm air around us snapped in an instant as the froslass’s song turned to shrieking agony, and I watched numbly as it tried to sink back into the ground, protective fog swirling around it, but—

Brigid was too fast. The litwick was there in an instant, wrapping her arms around the monster’s midsection and hitting it point-blank with another blast of purple fire, far too big to be contained by the wisp on her head.

{You burned me,} I heard the froslass whisper in disbelief. {It hurts.}

I wanted to turn around, to ask Bates how he could justify this, this level of barbarism—pokémon battles were never to the death, never, no matter what anyone said, no matter how huge the stakes, no matter what had happened before, no matter—

{I am but one of many, little one,} the froslass said, and the hairs on the back of my neck prickled when I realized she was talking to me.

“And still I stay the course,” I whispered instead, shivering despite the warmth. There was a horrible cracking sound, and I watched the shattermarks spread up one of the froslass’s arms from the intense heat.

“Don’t watch,” I heard Bates say gruffly from behind me, and he pulled me to my feet before pressing my head into his jacket and shuffling us away.

It wasn’t enough to block out the screaming.

___________________________________________________________________________​

“You probably want to know what the hell was going on back there.” Bates walked with his hands in his pockets, staring straight ahead as he we walked slowly back to Cherrygrove.

“Um.” It was hard to organize the vortex of thoughts in my head into coherent words. Glowing yellow eyes, freezing winds, the future-teller, marked, Brigid and her cone of fire, burning so bright it threatened to consume everything else, the sinking sense of familiarity, like this had all happened before, like this would all happen again—

So this was what going into shock felt like.

I held Gaia closer to me, clutching her rough, green carapace like a lifeline.

She’d evolved in the woods, somehow, when we were facing demons. I’d always imagined that my first evolution would be a momentous occasion—a trump card at a gym battle or something—but I barely had time to process it. I had a metapod now. An undead ice-monster had tried to kill me. A friendly shopkeep made the call to burn a pokémon alive.

Had he been wrong to trust me, or had I been wrong to trust him?

“Before you say what I think you’re going to say, the froslass would’ve killed us all,” Bates said when I didn’t answer. His voice carried so much certainty that I couldn’t help but wonder how much he’d seen back when he was a trainer. “Remember that.”

“We could’ve knocked it out or something,” I said weakly, jumbling words together even though I knew they made no sense. The thing had just died in front of me. I’d hated it, and it had certainly hated me, and it had tried to kill me, but the screaming.

I’d briefly wondered what I would’ve done if, gods forbid, I’d actually hurt Silver in the woods, and, as I walked side-by-side with Bates away from a burning corpse, I realized I physically wouldn’t have been able to continue with that on my conscience.

I hugged Gaia a little closer.

But Bates’s laugh was mirthless. “And then talked to her very nicely when she woke up, and then we’d all go on a merry adventure through Johto together? Nuh-uh. The second she locked on to you as a target, one of you was going to die. It was almost you.”

My grip tightened around Gaia’s shell as I protested, “But—”

He stopped walking so abruptly that I almost tripped, and by the time I had found my feet again, he’d placed his hands on my shoulders and had lowered himself so he was looking directly into my eyes. I saw no remorse in his gaze. “Look, kid. She targeted you. She thought you were alone, easy prey. She kidnapped your caterpie to lure you into the forest, and she was going to kill you all out here, quietly, where no one could hope to hear your screams. And the things that got in the way—the sentret, the houndour, your pokémon, Brigid, me—she didn’t care. She would kill all of us if it meant savoring you.” He shook me gently, and I blinked at him, uncomprehending but trying so hard. “You’re new to this, and I know they teach you guys to never harm a pokémon, but you need to understand: monsters like that? They need to die.”

“But—”

“No.” He shook my shoulders again. “I know it’s weird to you. I know it feels wrong to rationalize something like this.” There was a glint in his eyes, a sag to his shoulders that I hadn’t noticed before, and I realized that it felt wrong to him as well. “You better pray to the gods that you never get to the point that it doesn’t stop feeling wrong, but this is just something I have to live with, okay, kid? This wasn’t your fault. It had nothing to do with you. This is on me.”

I didn’t know what I was supposed to be feeling. It wasn’t supposed to end up like this.

“That’s the murkrow, right?” Bates said suddenly, too loudly, pushing me down the path with one hand while looking over his shoulder to see Icarus moodily flapping behind us.

“Name not ‘right.’ Name Icarus!” the murkrow squawked indignantly, cackling as if this was the best joke in the world.

Bates forced a laugh as well, and I kept walking in silence, holding Gaia closer and wondering if this was what being a trainer was supposed to feel like.

What if I’d lost them?

“You and Brigid were strong enough to finish the fight almost instantly,” I said at last, and I felt the mood drop back to match my own. I wanted to say something else: but why did you wait so long? or did you know from the beginning what you’d have to do? or even just are you okay? but instead the statement hung in the air uselessly, a question in itself.

“Fifteen years ago, we used to be underdog favorites for beating the League,” he said in a low voice. “William Bates, prodigy trainer, with his miraculous team of dark and fire-types.”

Even though I knew the froslass was gone, I couldn’t help but associate the fear I felt with the chill that ran across my back. “Dark types?” So that explained why he hadn’t freaked out when I’d told him about Icarus, but the other realization was worse. “So you were around during the takeover.” I tried to remember what I’d read in the books about the Rocket’s purge. They’d put prices on the heads of dark-types. Literal prices on heads. How many pokéball clips had I seen on that backpack he’d shown me? I couldn’t remember. But it was more. More than just one, more than just Brigid.

Bates didn’t answer for so long that I thought he hadn’t heard me. But when I cast a furtive look in his direction, I could see the way his jaw had set, how his hands had curled into fists inside of his pockets. I followed his gaze instead.

He was staring at the houndour with a strange expression on his face, one that bordered between longing and sorrow and joy that I couldn’t quite peg. Ahead of him, Atlas bounded over his too-large paws, trying to catch Icarus’s brushlike tail with his mouth.

I cleared my throat. “Did you—” I didn’t really know how I was going to finish, but Bates interrupted me first.

“I wasn’t always a shopkeep, kid. And she wasn’t always a litwick.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He was hiding something, I knew. That was important.

“No.”

But more important: I knew better than to push him.

“Okay.”

___________________________________________________________________________
​

previous || next​

 

[Vivillon]

Thanks for uploading again! Is Atlas an Up reference?

 

[Beth Pavell]

lol beat that lol lol

Can't now, since you're about four chapter's behind on The Long Walk now. I win

Technical Accuracy/Style
A long hiatus has done nothing to dull your rigour when it comes down to the actual prose. I'm wondering how you're going to deal with poké-speak in the coming chapters - a lot of the characterisation comes through this way, and unless Bates ends up as a new party member ally, then you're going to lose that little trick

Story
I still maintain that the previous chapter needed more tension. If you have a consistent fault, it's that you can't resist falling into the habit of presenting every situation as something for the protagonist to dissemble and snark at. You got away with it in this chapter by being off-the-cuff and unpredictable (Though it would have worked better with a tenser previous chapter) but I can guarantee that you'll need to learn to wind it in for future chapters. When you hit dramatic set-pieces you'll need some real pacyness (I know, I know, not a word) otherwise you'll end up deflating your climax. And now I've put it like that I know you'll remember it

Characters
Related to the point above, we really needed more worry from TUPpy. Changing gears to unexpected comedy I can actually buy - I just think it would have more of an ironic impact if we felt her emotions more. This is something else I think you may need to work on, perhaps in an unrelated one-shot - I notice that with {some of its hearts} the narrative is also very distant (Works fine there, don't get me wrong). Best I can suggest is brutal honesty. It's how I do it - recalling my own moments of emotion in all their messy silliness and translating them to my characters.

Beyond that, using a Doug-like narration for Atlas was an amusing subversion of, well, houndour in general. He certainly can't be called "cool" - it reminds me of Terry Pratchett's merciless treatment of vampires in Carpe Jugulum. There, I've compared you to Pratchett. That's high praise indeed

Final Thoughts
The theme of this review, I think, is discipline in the narrative. It's ironic, given the kind of story I write, but I think you lose sight of the pace of the chapter easily. The conversation with Bates was just fine, but needed to be seasoned with TUPpy's worries. The Atlas-Sentret brawl was sort of amusing, but went on overlong when what the audience really cares about is Gaia

 

[Arkadelphiak]

I'm not incredibly great at giving reviews, but I'll have you know that this story is fantastic, and I'll be eagerly awaiting the next installment!

 

[diamondpearl876]

Hey, your votes for the winter 2014 nominations reminded me I'd been wanting to read this for a while. (Thanks for the nominations, by the way.)

I feel like your style is similar to what I've been wanting to achieve with one of my first person fics. I love the main character's snarkiness, her (and oh boy, she's nameless but I was so happy when I picked up the fact that she was a girl) commentary is always witty and enjoyable to read. I do agree with other reviewers when they say sometimes it goes over the top, though. It seems like every sentence has a hint of sarcasm placed in it, when that's not always what you want to go for (ie during the OH GOD GAIA IS MISSING scenes).

As for your other characters, I love Icarus. He's hilarious, and not just because I love flying-types or birds in general. I won't call the mary-sue thing on you because I know for a fact that some birds can speak words and have the intelligence of almost a five-year-old human. True facts.

I have a feeling I'd love Gaia more, too, if we heard her speak, though her first battle with Silver was off-the-charts awesome. And I'm not sure if Atlas will be on the team, but he's adorable. As a dark-type, though, you have to wonder if anything else is up his sleeve.

As for Bates, I'm not sure what he means when he says, "She wasn't always a litwick, you know." Maybe it's because it's 4am and I'm tired, but if you could explain that to me that'd work too.

And the plot itself. Never thought I'd see the day where Team Rocket successfully took over. I guess they failed in Kanto and succeeded at Johto, huh? I do have to wonder what the xatu's plans with the narrator were, but I suppose that'll be revealed in time. All the little details you put into the dystopian world really make me like the fic. I do have to mention, however, that I hope the world, being what it is, doesn't make the narrator or your writing fall into the trap known as "the main character only runs into disaster after disaster after disaster..." Bates seemed to be a positive thing to happen to the narrator, though, so at this point I'm not too worried about it.

Anyway, I look forward to more. :~)

 

[GoneGuy]

Haigh! Well, it's great to see another chapter of this fantastic story being published and I can't wait to read more! Honestly, I really love this fic.

What really gets to me about this story is your use of emotive language. Your protagonist can be very sarcastic - which I personally love because it adds great texture to her, but sometimes it can go a little too far like @diamondpearl876 said - but she's also human, flawed with a capacity for pain, guilt, joy and every other emotion under the white sky. Your story's powerful emotions wrench me back to the reality (fictional reality, I do admit, but that's just a technicality) behind the sarcastic tone.

The pokémon in this story are also beautifully crafted. By the way, Atlas definitely has a literary connection to Up. Definitively. And that to a houndoor makes it really fresh - a break from the gnashing of teeth and the foaming of evil, satanic jaws.

At the moment I can only suggest to keep up the great work

Maith thú
Airt

 

[Flaze]

Yay SRbS is back! and I know this review has taken me a while xD it mostly happened because I kind of was savig i specifically for today because today is christmas and what's a better christmas gift than a review.

This chapter did a good job of resolving the conflict that had started in the last couple of chapters. Ely was finally able to reunite with both of her Pokemon and GAIA DIDN'T DIE YAY!....*coughs* sorry, just that I was really scared for a second before you went with the fake out and revealed that she had actually evolved. I do like how you showed Ely's growing feelings that she's not exactly a good trainer by pointing out the fact she missed her Pokemon's evolution.

This was a good chapter for characters in general. We got to learn more on Bates' backstory that also worked a little background building for the general history of events after Team Rocket took over and expanding on one of these fics theme, that being the fact that Dark types are just like any other type but seen as if they were the masters of darkness and evil or something. The bond between Ely and Bates also solidified a little bit and I got a feeling that he would be a good mentor if he stuck around, though I bet he won't.

Ignoring the fact that Ely probably does overdo it with the jokes in situations were jokes aren't exatly well received xD I have to say that the real stars of this chapter were the Pokemon. Atlas (I love how you're keeping up with the Greek influences btw) much like what Pav said, gave me a lot of Doug vibes from the get go and I loved that so much because it goes against the general idea of a Houndour and what people expect of them, so I think he's a really cute puppy. Icarus gets points too because he's finally starting to see Gaia as a friend, like he's still a blood thirsty bird but now he knows that protecting Gaia is important too and I enjoyed that developtment.

Story wise this chapter didn't really do much, this fic's pacing's always been prett slow in general but at least you compensated for it with all the character moments I mentioned prior.

Overall a good return chapter, not stellar but since it's been a while I'd say a chapter like this is the best to go with. I hope to see more of it soon enough.

 

[kintsugi]

Re: The Long Walk

Chapter Eighteen – The Noodle Incident (Version 1.0)

Joshua​

“In the beginning was the Curd, and the Curd was with God, and the Curd was—ma’am, with all due respect, you can’t be serious about having this.”

Joshua Cook, trainer extraordinaire, possessor of delusions of grandeur, the desire to do something interesting with me life, and a very large headache as a result of some misdirection with the previous two objectives, sighed and looked over the top of the manila folder in his hands. Something told him that if he didn’t stop this farce in the next five minutes, he was going to have an excruciatingly long day. He yearned, more than ever, to be enjoying a spot of tea with Eve back at that quiet café across from the gym rather than here in the Pokécenter, standing awkwardly as an elderly woman crammed polaroid photograph after polaroid photograph into his hands. Screwball bobbed up and down between them; the magnemite’s single eye watched the entire exchange with veiled interest.

“And on the sixth day,” said elderly woman continued for him, as if growing tired of waiting for Josh to finish his sentence, “He made the grains and the wheat, so that—”

Josh decided that it would be far better for his sanity if he simply ignored everything she was saying. He was beginning to understand precisely how much Eve kept him grounded sometimes. And yet after one day off, which she had taken to spend training Lyra in the nearby caves to work on her doubles game, Josh was fairly certain he’d become insane. This odd-jobs-for-cash thing had gotten entirely out of hand—catching a buizel was one thing, but—

“But really, Ms. Piracy, I don’t think we can help you prove that, erm,” he paused for a moment to shuffle through the extensive pile of newspaper clippings and scientific journal excerpts cluttered on the coffee table in front of him. His brow furrowed a little as he leafed over a particularly confusing article, and then he sighed and continued, “I don’t think we can help you prove that this, erm, ‘Flying Spaghetti Monster’ was responsible for killing your husband.”

Ms. Piracy’s face fell. “I’m sorry?”

Josh wasn’t entirely sure how to phrase this. On one hand, he’d recently encountered a man who thought he was a medieval night, a xatu who tried to tell his future, and a heavily-accented forest spirit that had tried to get into his pants.

On the other hand, Ms. Piracy approached him five minutes ago (with astounding speed and constitution for a woman of her age, Josh had noticed) covered in blood and carrying, in no particular order, a foot-long length of lead piping, a candlestick, a spanner, a revolver, a dagger, and a rope. Josh hadn’t even been sure how she had been carrying such a vast quantity of murder weapons on her person. He had, however, some faint suspicions as to how they and their bearer had become covered in what Screwball had, quite quickly, deduced to be the blood of the late Mr. Piracy.

“Ms. Piracy,” Josh said, suppressing a rather large and rather unprofessional sigh. He did, after all, want to get paid. “The police here, see, they won’t be terribly inclined to believe that this Flying Spaghetti Monster fellow killed your husband.”

Ms. Piracy’s face fell for a moment, and then she broke out into a wide, beaming smile that was missing two teeth. “Oh, Mr. Cook,” she said earnestly, “I don’t believe that the Flying Spaghetti Monster killed my husband either! That would be absurd!”

Josh raised one eyebrow. Perhaps this would be easier than he thought. He stood up to leave. “Well, in that case, if don’t mind—”

“—the true culprits were the Breloominati, of course.”

Josh couldn’t quite help it.

He sat back down.

His first instinct was to burst out laughing; the Breloominati were a children’s joke, an obscure legend that eight year-olds enjoyed bringing into arguments. He’d seen the pictures, of course, and the absurd claims that if one connected all of the triangles on a five-pound note and held it up under a crescent moon on a Tuesday during the month of June at precisely three fifty-four in the afternoon, one could see the all-seeing eye brainwashing the Elite Four or something ridiculous. There was an entire radio station that he would always skip through that spent the wee hours of the night interviewing countless people who believed that a faceless organization devoted to the propagation of god-knew-what had infiltrated the government.

“We’ll take the case,” Screwball said suddenly, and Josh felt his heart sink.

He’d only recently been able to become familiar enough with the magnemite’s intricate system of buzzes and tweets to understand it, but sometimes he couldn’t be sure if he was interpreting his own pokémon correctly. This was absurd. “Screwball, you can’t be serious.”

But Screwball was looking back at him with an air of fanaticism gleaming in his singular eye. “The Breloominati, Josh. Everyone knows that they’re just a legend, but no one has been able to prove it.” He paused, hovering in the air. “Until now, of course. You and I, we can work together and take down these lies once and for all!”

Josh paused to think this over. “So you don’t, under any circumstances, believe that what she’s saying has even an iota of truth in it?”

He probably shouldn’t have bothered asking.

___________________________________________________________________________​

“Screwball, don’t look now, but I think she’s trying to kill us,” Josh whispered.

“Wherever would you conjure up that idea?”

Josh looked around, frowning. He’d already suspended most of his disbelief with Mrs. Piracy by this point, and when she’d asked them to investigate the catacombs beneath Sprout Tower, he’d prepared himself for anything. Anything but what he was seeing instead: a stone crypt, roughly hewn from the surrounding bedrock, with a torchlit clearing in the middle. And, because it wouldn’t be an awful day otherwise— “This is literally a crypt covered in a blood.”

Screwball glanced around, apparently came to the same conclusion that Josh had. The magnemite bobbed over to what looked like a pentagram drawn crudely on the floor. “I suppose it is.”

“It’s actually red paint, for once.”

Screwball began whirring carefully to itself and happily processed this new information before floating awkwardly around above the floor, examining the shape. It was exactly like a pentagram, except it had six sides rather than five and consisted of two interlocking triangles instead of a five-pointed star.

Had Josh been a telepath or Screwball a psychic, he would have pointed out that, by that logic, it was not exactly like a pentagram.

However, Josh was not a telepath and Screwball was not a psychic. In addition, Josh was distracted by the fact that he hadn’t been the one to correct Screwball in what he’d assumed what was an otherwise empty room, and—

“Screwball, there is a talking monster that is flying and appears to be made of green spaghetti,” Josh managed to say in as calm of a voice as he could muster.

Indeed, levitating in through the column of light carved out by the torches, there was a strange, green creature that really only could be described as an amalgamation of spaghetti colored green, with a pair of red boots sticking out. “An apt description if I ever heard one,” the creature said happily, and then vaulted into the middle of the not-pentagram, careful to avoid getting the red substance (paint? Blood? Josh didn’t know at this point) on its equally-red shoes.

“It is Him!” a voice cried out from behind Josh, and he was brushed aside as the surprisingly fast blur that resolved itself into Ms. Piracy elbowed past him to kneel reverently before the blob of green tentacles that had descended from the sky. “He has come at last!”

“Ms. Piracy, don’t be ridiculous,” Screwball said, looking up with bemusement from the not-pentagram, and then stopping when he saw the strange creature floating above him. “Is that a tangela?” he asked no one in particular.

The creature descended. “That is one of my many names, I suppose.”

Screwball’s imaginary brow furrowed as it tried to piece everything together, and Josh knew then that no matter what happened now, it was far, far too late to turn back. “Tangela… Breloominati… Pokémon…”

“Buddy, we should just go,” Josh said, because he’d be a fool if he didn’t at least try to leave before something ridiculous happened.

No such luck. “Tangela… Breloom… Pokémon…” The magnemite began to mutter, now completely upside-down.

“Screwball?”

In the corner of his vision, Josh watched in twisted fascination as Ms. Piracy dropped to her knees and began bowing to the tangela, who stared at her with a look of bemusement from between the bellsprout statues. “He who seeketh for mortals to be-leaf in him and his sacred sect of Pastafarianism,” she intoned. “He who is the source of all di-vine intervention.” She threw herself to the ground. “He who is the—”

And on the other side of the room, Screwball was muttering, “Tangela… divine… believe…” while floating in tight circles around the not-pentagram.

Very firmly, but very gently, Josh began taking backward steps toward the door “Screwball, I think the stress is getting to you, and—”

“What is the symbol of the Breloominati?” Screwball said, its voice growing much louder than normal. Electricity crackled between its magnets.

Josh couldn’t help but flinch back a few paces. “The, uh, all-seeing eye,” he managed to say through the shock.

“Exactly!” Screwball cried out, even louder than before, and it practically jumped three feet into the air. “And as of now, the sixth release of the Pokémon Encyclopedia, how many species of Pokémon have the ability Keen Eye that have six letters in their names?” It noticed Josh begin to count on his fingers, frowning, and then Screwball interrupted him: “Exactly what I was going to say! Eight!”

Josh frowned. “Screwball, I really don’t understand where any of this is going, and—”

“And how many letters are in the first two letters of ‘Keen Eye’?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“That’s right!” Screwball shouted. “Two! And eight minus two is six! And tangela has six letters, Josh!” Screwball was shouting, louder still, as he made another lurching loop toward Josh. “Don’t you see? Six! Six! Six!”

Pause.

“The Breloominati are real, Joshua,” Screwball said, a gleam re-appearing in his eye. “And I’ve just figured out that the killer, who is clearly one of them, must be standing in this room.”

Where the hell was Eve when he needed her?

“The names, Joshy,” the magnemite said, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s all in the names.”

Josh decided that he had absolutely no idea what Screwball was saying at this point, so instead he settled on the most obvious issue. “Please don’t call me Joshy.”

“Breloominati!”

Pause.

“Breloominati, Joshy! Breloomi-not-e!”

Josh had absolutely no idea where this was going, but he decided that he didn’t like it. “Oh god.”

“Pokémon! Tangela! Breloom! Not-e!” The magnemite spun around wildly. “What do you get when you take out the e’s?”

“Please stop.”

“Six letters in each word! Six. Six. Six!” Screwball was shouting into the semidarkness of the crypt at this point, punctuating each word with a dangerous sizzle of blue electricity.

“Screwball, this needs to end. Now.” Josh reached into his belt for Screwball’s pokéball, hitting himself for not considering this earlier, but he found, with some degree of horror, that the red-and-white sphere wasn’t there.

“And this spaghetti mystery? Spaghett-e? Myster-e?”

“That’s not even how you spell—why the devil am I even trying to talk sense into you.”

But Screwball was unstoppable, a steamroller already in full motion and rolling down a hill toward what Josh imagined was a schoolbus full of his own hopes and dreams. “The killer?’ Screwball shouted. “Not E. Not. E.. Not E, Josh-y.”

“That’s not even the letter ‘e’, either!” There wasn’t even a point to sounding indignant by now.

“Josh-y. Um, I don’t remember your middle name.” Screwball paused. “And Cook doesn’t have anything, but if you add up those letters you get nine, which is a six upside-down.”

“For the love of god.”

Magnemite turned to look at Connie instead, who had been watching for the entire time and quietly climbed out of the plot hole into which she had fallen. “And see? Conn-ie. Sylv-i-a. Pirac-y. Six letters. Three e’s. But ‘not e’! She can’t be the killer.”

“Screwball, please listen—”

“Eve. Ledian. Meowth. Pidgeotto. Ivysaur. Misdreavous. All not-e! It’s no one in your party, Josh.” Pause. “Heh. Party.”

“Then who the hell do you think it is?”

Screwball paused, the realization dawning slowly on its otherwise un-emotive face, and it stood still. “But of course.”

“What.”

“Of course.” Screwball stopped spinning now, as if turned to stone by the momentous discover he had just made. “By the all-seeing eye, of course.”

Josh ran through the only possibilities left and thought he saw where all of this was going. “Screwball, you can’t actually—”

“The all-seeing I.” Grinning, as if immensely pleased with himself, slowly said, “The killer is… it is… I.”

But of course.

___________________________________________________________________________​

Josh sat down with a steaming cup of tea in his chair, the tangela nestled in the couch across from him. This was, Josh decided as he sipped some of his chamomile, the most normal thing he had done all day. He was sitting in front of what was apparently an elder god and figurehead for an ancient, sacrilegious sect devoted to the worship of pasta.

He thought to wonder what had happened between the crypt and now, because he had absolutely no recollection of traversing between the two.

“It’s best not to ask,” the tangela said serenely. And then: “Your friend, was he actually serious?” One vine snaked out to help itself to its own mug of tea.

“I’m afraid so,” Josh said, and then sighed. It had been, as he had suspected, an excruciatingly long day.

The tangela paused for a moment, apparently thinking quite hard, and then it added, “Is your friend aware that Mr. Piracy never even died?”

“Of course Screwball was unaware that—” Josh paused and processed what the tangela was telling him. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

“I believe she even told you that the idea of having the Flying Spaghetti Monster killing her husband was absurd, you know.” As if unaware by the sudden change its revelations had caused, the tangela looked pensively into its mug of tea for a moment before remarking, “Ms. Piracy simply hired you to investigate what she believed to be a divine intervention of the Breloominati. There was never a murder.”

Josh did not respond.

“I mean,” the tangela continued serenely, “her name was quite literally Connie S. Piracy. I’m not sure what you were expecting to be perfectly honest. Have you checked the date, by the way?”

Josh paused, reflected, and realized in addition to all of the other poor choices he’d made that day, that he’d believed Screwball when the latter had said that the red substance on Ms. Piracy’s clothing was blood. It was, of course, a grave mistake to consider seriously anything following the phrase ‘he’d believed Screwball when’. “So you’re an eldritch abomination,” Notson began.

“The full name is Eldritch Literally Yelling Shit It’s an Abomination, and I believe the politically correct term is copypasta,” the tangela corrected him serenely, using one spare vine to reach over for the bowl of cream. It calmly emptied the contents of the bowl into its own mug of tea and then used an extra vine to stir its tea-milk (but now mostly milk) combination, making a whistling sound from beneath the recesses of its tangles of vines, apparently oblivious to the heat.

Josh could smell something burning, a little more woody than tea, and he looked over to see that the tangela had boiled at least a small portion of itself. “Copypasta?”

“Copypasta.” It offered no further explanation. The tangela sighed and retreated the injured vine back into its body before allowing another one to sprout in its place. “I also appear about once every five months to create continuations in a personal favorite pocket universe of mine.” Josh was halfway forming the thought to offer the creature on his couch a spoon before the tangela simply emptied the contents of its mug onto itself, leaving a slightly damper, slightly sweeter-smelling lump of green tendrils on his couch.

Josh decided that this vein of conversation was going absolutely nowhere. “So you’re an omnipotent god,” he said at last. “A, erm, copypasta.”

The writhing mess of turquoise vines before him nodded slightly. “So they say.”

At this point, Josh took what he could get. “What do you think all of this means? What was the point of it, really?”

The tangela pierced him with a very serious, very solemn pair of white eyes peering out from the midst of those knots of vines. “Does it have to mean anything?”

“What? I mean, I thought—”

The tangela made that shrugging movement again and then slid off the couch. Its red-booted feet barely kept the mass of vines off of the floor. One tendril hung back lazily to place the now-drained mug of tea back on the nearest table. “Stop and think about that for a moment. Does it really have to mean anything? Not everything in life has to make sense, my dear Josh. Sometimes, some things just happen. Accidents happen. Slice of cake. Slice of life, whatever. People these days want more. Action, action action! Bang bang! Rocks fall and everyone dies and the survivors blow up!”

“But—”

The tangela raised its thin, reedy voice, and it stood on red-booted tiptoe, presumably so it looked more intimidating. It was almost two feet tall that way. “No ‘buts’. Sometimes, things just work out where there’s no clean answer. Bullshit happens. There isn’t some sort of hidden epic in everything, and if you try to find one, you’ll just drive yourself nuts looking for it. Some things are just exactly what they appear to be. Your friend Screwball tried to learn that, bless him, but it didn’t seem to stick. Take a deep breath, Josh. Some things aren’t going to be dramatic, or world-changing, or profound, no matter what you’re expecting, so don’t look for that.” Pause. “Sometimes, the world is just full of fools, so it acts accordingly. Like today.”

That was, Josh decided, some of the best advice he’d gotten all day, and it had come from a talking bush with feet that claimed to be an eldritch abomination that was the heart of all religion and conspiracy as the world knew it.

The tangela had made its way to the door by now, and was struggling slightly with the task of operating a doorhandle with its vines. Perhaps, Josh reflected, he was still dreaming, or perhaps this was part of an elaborate ruse wherein Eve had slipped him some particularly potent shroomish.

“I guess you’re right.” Josh sighed. It had been a long day. “When I see him next, I reckon I owe Screwball an apology.”

The tangela paused by the door. “An apology-y?”

Josh decided to pretend that he hadn’t heard that, or that the emphasis he’d heard had just been a slight slip of the tongue, and resumed sipping his tea. A bit cold by this point, but he’d take what he could get. “So I should look into copypasta?” he asked instead, and then mentally hit himself because—

“Cop-y-pasta?”

With a resounding clank, Josh’s teacup found its way back to its saucer. He bristled. “No. Leave. Take the tea and leave.”

Another pause, and then: “Take the t-ea?”

“Get the hell out.”

So it did.

___________________________________________________________________________​

Eve gritted her teeth. There was no way the gym leader was going to win like this, type-advantages be damned. Lyra could handle herself. Flying-types beat Bug-types, but a little skill easily closed that advantage.

“Comet Punch!” she shouted.

“Aerial Ace!” the Flying-type gym leader shouted. There was a blur of red and blue feathers, and the enemy pokémon swooped in on light but powerful wings, clipping Lyra on the right side of her body, hard.

“Fuck yeah, America!” the gym leader continued, cheering from the braviary’s back.

“I beg your pardon?” Eve asked, trying her best to remain civil. Gloating was one thing in a gym match, but this was entirely crossing the line.

“I actually forgot what I was supposed to say here,” the girl atop the braviary said, sobering up nearly instantly. “There was some joke about reclaiming Johto from the Brits and I’m sure something that was hideously historically incorrect and probably offensive, but I have no idea what it is.”

Eve was fuming by this point. “You aren’t taking this seriously, she began, and then: “Reclaiming Johto from the Brits? What even is a Brit?”

“Pip pip cheerio!” exclaimed Josh happily from whatever plot hole he had vanished into.

___________________________________________________________________________​

Eve was walkin wen she stumbleed up on a brown lump in the midddle of the rhode. She almost triped over it but had t stoph erself justin time. "Oh no wat is this" she said, bubling with compasion. It must be a Pokemon!!

She didnt kno what pokemon it was though. Even though she had grown up in what was clearly a well-versed line of people who were paid to be well-versed in pokemon knoweldge.

"Eeveee" moaned the injured Pokmon weakly.

Eeve used her magical joy powers to nurse the injured pokemn back to healthy because shes a nurse and good at thatst uff.

"evee will you be my Pokmon forever" Eeve asked.

"Eve"

"okay thats great" said eve "I cant wait to show Josh"

And then eeve became an alicorn princess

___________________________________________________________________________​

“Josh, I’m so glad we can finally say it,” Eve whispered, nuzzling Josh’s neck affectionately before stopping to look into his eyes. She’d never really appreciated how much depth he held there, the way he always seemed to be thinking.

“Me too,” he murmured, stroking a loose strand of hair out of her face.

It was finally here. They were finally going to say it, and then all of the tension would be over and they would begin to participate in the having of hot and steamy sex.

“Joshua Cook, I lov

___________________________________________________________________________​

That's right, everyone. I'm switching to a cheerful slice-of-life fic starring Jashua Cookie and the Illuminati.
updates regularly
^the biggest joke in this thread tho

Spoiler

April Fool's, btw, in case that wasn't painfully apparent

So Pav and I had this idea from months ago where we were going to guest-write April Fool's chapters for one another. I, in my infinite presence in this forum, almost entirely forgot about it until the last minute, and it really wouldn't be an kintsugi update without being a week or so late, but I figured, what the hell, I couldn't let the world live a happy, uninterrupted existence without having to deal with my heavy-handed attempts at comedy. I also threw in the other two ideas I was going to flesh out.

Well, actually, the original joke chapter, The Long Cock, was so dirty I had to burn my computer, but we don't speak about that.

'pavell' has six letters illuminati confirmed you didn't hear it from me

Anyway, actual SRBS updates!

I went back through and did a bit of an overhaul--just grammar and flow things, dealing with over-sass/over-explanation/there were actually some long-con plot changes that I ended up incorporating, but that put me back a bit. Anyway. Real update is done--it's a couple of interludes before we plunge into the Violet City Arc, and that'll get posted later tonight. I'll also fix the thread title in a bit haha.

Cheers, folks.

 

[Beth Pavell]

Re: The Long Walk

Yeah, this is crackers! I can tell this was a bit off a rush-job, you haven't edited nearly as thoroughly as you usually do!

I quite like some of the subtle digs at The Long Walk. Screwball having to learn how to think (Clearly he hasn't got the hang of it yet. Or counting). And slice-of-life, don't think I missed that! Why an erudite Tangela who is apparently your avatar (And now your avatar should be a Tangela, no arguments), I don't know. Tangela dumping tea over himself was hilarious and I don't know why.

“Josh, I’m so glad we can finally say it,” Eve whispered, nuzzling Josh’s neck affectionately before stopping to look into his eyes. She’d never really appreciated how much depth he held there, the way he always seemed to be thinking.

“Me too,” he murmured, stroking a loose strand of hair out of her face.

It was finally here. They were finally going to say it, and then all of the tension would be over and they would begin to participate in the having of hot and steamy sex.

“Joshua Cook, I lov

Oh dear, glurge alert. Anyway, this is Josh we're talking about. Make that "lukewarm and desperately reheated sex"

 

[BinkVallen]

Re: The Long Walk

Cause of death: Breloominati

And then eeve became an alicorn princess

The best part about this line is that we don't know which one of them turned into an alicorn princess. Was it Eve? Was it the Eevee? The world may never know

 

[Flaze]

Re: The Long Walk

Do I seriously have to read that? xD

 

[AetherX]

Re: The Long Walk

Do I seriously have to read that? xD

Yes. I hear it's canon now.

 

[Flaze]

Re: The Long Walk

I might as well write a late april fool's chapter for your story @AetherX; wanna see what I make of it?

 

[AetherX]

Re: The Long Walk

Go for it.