Chapter 1:Buongiorno Enotria
- Joined
- Feb 15, 2024
- Messages
- 10
- Reaction score
- 18
- Pronouns
- He/Him
- They/Them
Rated M For The Following: Themes of war, PTSD/trauma, alcohol consumption, and death.
Kalos
Shalour City, Hawthorne Pokemon Lab
Emile Hawthorne yawned as he looked in the bathroom mirror. His tongue felt as rough as sandpaper. His pale blue eyes were heavy with drowsiness, and had small dark bags underneath.
His long dark hair that reached his back was unkempt, and it was obvious it would need more than just a quick combing. He continued looking at himself, and as far as he was concerned, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Sure, he had gained some weight, but it was barely noticeable. He was still as thin as a whip, and the scars he had on his arms from his younger years as a trainer still remained. If one looked closely, one could notice a scar or two trail underneath his Eevee tank top.
“Glace!” Emile heard from behind. He looked at his Glaceon’s reflection, waiting outside the bathroom door. His rhombus-shaped tail wagged swiftly and impatiently.
“What is it, Frère?” Emile turned his head.
Frère stepped towards Emile, looking at his trainer with a small smile before he suddenly spat cold water in his face. The Glaceon soon scurried away, leaving the bathroom and into the hallway.
Emile blinked in response, cold water dripped down his face as he looked at Frère. “Good morning to you as well,” he grumbled. He walked past his partner and into the hallway.
The Hawthorne Pokemon Lab wasn’t a large building; it was a rather small two-story building, three if you count the basement as a floor. The first story had clean, simple white walls and consisted of two rooms, one of which was Emile’s, and the other the bathroom. Leading to the second floor was a small staircase.
Emile walked slowly down the steps. Cold water dripped down his face upon each step he took. He had repeatedly wiped his face against his arm to remove it, but to no avail.
When Emile reached the second floor, he was greeted by a large laboratory. Originally, it was the kitchen and living room, but it had been renovated and remodeled years before he was born. The only thing that remained from those days was the small kitchen, but everything else had been replaced with tables and various bits of machinery that Emile didn’t know much about,
He looked around and covered his nose. Despite the lab's pristine, shining white walls and clean tables, the entire laboratory reeked of burnt, leathery tar.
“Ah, the young master is awake!” Emile heard from behind. The mere words mixed with the Galarian accent made his skin crawl with discomfort, and his face contorted with disgust for a brief second.
“Ninetales,” Emile turned around, his eyes settled on two figures. The first was a handsome young man with short blonde hair and crimson eyes wearing a black suit. Emile’s gaze didn't last on him for long, as his eyes soon met the red eyes of a Ninetales, whose golden fur glowed with life.
The man in the suit was merely an illusion. To put it more precisely, he was a mouthpiece formed by the Pokemon beside him. It was thanks to this that Ninetales was able to communicate properly with people.
“Your father’s waiting for you. He has another job for you,” Ninetales said. “It’s a bit of an important one. It's a delivery this time, not a pick-up.”
Emile raised a brow as he walked toward a table and picked up a towel. Odd, he had just come back from Kanto not too long ago.
“Where is he?” Emile dried his face with the towel while trying not to be bothered by the stench.
“He’s releasing a few Pokemon outside with Monsieur Teddy,” Ninetales replied.
“I see,” Emile said, putting down the towel. Then he looked around the lab. “Have you seen Frère? He ran down past the stairs.”
“He went through the door.” Ninetales pointed. “I believe he’s with your father as well,”
“Thank you.” Emile began to approach the door, but before he opened it, he turned his head back towards Ninetales and pointed at him. “And cut it out with that ‘young master’ crap. How many times have I told you not to call me that?”
“Seeing you irritated is funny.” Ninetales and his illusion both shrugged, a smirk on their faces.
Emile shook his head and sighed as he turned towards the door again and opened it. He took a deep breath as he could smell the dozens of flowers outside and smiled as the warm air touched his skin.
The Hawthorne Laboratory resided on a hill near Route 12 that overlooked most of Shalour City. To the north of the city was the Tower of Mastery, a large white tower guarded by large brick walls that overlooked the entire city and the seas. Truth be told, Emile thought it looked like a castle fit for nobility.
There was also a path to the tower, though the sea blocked it. People could only cross it when the tide was low.
Emile smiled faintly as he looked at the tower, though his gaze had lasted briefly before he turned his head and walked across the grass. His pace was slow as he wanted to take in the fields before he left for whatever job his father had to offer. There wasn’t much activity here, but the chirping of Fletchling and the scurrying of Bunnelby made him feel warm inside.
He thought it felt nice to be home, even if his stay was brief. For a second, he thought about visiting his other Pokemon, but…
But it wouldn’t be a good idea. Maybe another time, he thought to himself as he continued walking, drifting farther and farther away from the lab.
Emile’s drifting ceased when he encountered a man in a white lab coat covered with black stains. He wore a pair of glasses, and like Emile, this man had dark hair, though it was curly and reached only his shoulders. His physique was also more imposing, and he was bulkier than his son.
This man was Arno Hawthorne, Emile’s father, who ran the Hawthorne lab and specialized in research on basic Pokemon evolution. He was probably the only other well-known researcher in Kalos besides Augustine Sycamore, who specialized his research in mega-evolution.
The man was crouched down, and beside him were Frère and a Leafeon. Three Pokemon—Simisage, Simisear, and Simipour were in front of them.
This surprised Emile, as while those three weren’t rare in Kalos, it was strange to see them outside of Santalune Forest.
“Thank you very much for your help,” Arno smiled. “And please, when you return to your home, feel free to give these out,” he continued, giving them a small cloth bag.
Simisage took the bag, sniffed it, and smiled. Then he nodded to his fellow brethren before suddenly taking off, all three behind him.
“Giving out free evolutions again?” Emile chuckled.
The professor stood up tall. He was a foot taller than Emile, standing at around 6’0” and stretched briefly. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
“Sort of,” he replied. “I found them pre-evolved wandering about Route 12… I took them while I had you do that job in Galar and I wanted to see if anything would react to them.”
“And did anything react to them?” Emile asked.
“Nope,” Arno replied, making a popping sound as he reached for a cigarette from his pack and put it in his mouth. “I was very interested in Pansage, as some recent findings by another professor showed Grass types do well with other TE-based items, but perhaps the results were falsified.”
“Where’s Teddy?” Emile asked.
“I sent him home for the day. Besides, I… don’t think he’d like what I had in mind for you,” Arno replied.
“Well, out with it. What is it that you had in mind?” Emile crossed his arms. “I find it weird that you have a strange delivery job for me right after I come home, too.”
“Ah, yes.” Arno clapped his hands. “Tell me, Emile. Do you know anything about Enotria?”
“They’re the boot of the world, the region of olives and wine, and they started the Protection War with Unova and then got beat by Kanto when they got involved,” Emile lazily rattled off.
“Correct. My job has you going there. You’ll be meeting the student of a recently deceased colleague of mine, Adalina Poplar.” Arno nodded. “And you’ll be delivering this.”
Arno reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a Pokeball for Emile to take.
“A Pokeball?” Emile grabbed the spherical device. “You’re not going to use the transporter?”
“No, I’m not,” Arno replied. I’m not sure if you’re aware, but Enotria has a serious crime problem. The League there is inefficient. The level of crime isn’t as bad as Orre’s, but it's still quite high.”
“Ah, so my father is sending me on a dangerous job where I’ll get mugged and then stabbed by criminals.” Emile chuckled. “If you find my body, I want to be cremated, not buried.”
“You’re implying that you aren’t the one who competed in Kalos and reached the semi-finals in the League Tournament on his first journey. Let's not forget how you competed in Galar and Kanto and how you worked for Sinnoh’s ACE Department.” Arno shot back.
“I didn’t win a single one of those tournaments, and a 14-year-old girl pretty much wiped out Team Galactic on her own.” Emile wagged his finger in front of his father. “So, don’t give me that.”
“You did a good job regardless.” Arno stepped forward and reached into another pocket, pulling out a belt with six Pokeballs attached.
“How deep are those pockets?” Emile raised a brow as he took the belt. “And I’m not going to need six. Frère is all I need,”
“There’s a chance you might need six. Just take them, at least, so I know you’ll be safe there.” Arno demanded.
“Can you at least tell me who I’m bringing with me?” Emile threw the belt over his shoulder.
“Chevalier, Venus, Roi, Goyl, and Belle, who insisted on coming with you by the way. She’s missed you quite heavily.” Arno replied.
“You’ve kept me busy,” Emile said.
Arno finally lit the cigarette in his mouth and narrowed his eyes at Emile.
His son waved off the smoke and stepped away from his father. He didn’t want to smell that Arceus-awful stench again.
“Emile,” Arno took the cigarette out of his mouth, and his voice became stern. “We both know you could have at least brought them with you at any time… and you can’t keep blaming yourself for what happened.”
“I don’t deserve to be their trainer anymore,” Emile turned around. “It's a wonder they’re still around.”
“They’re here because they love you.” Arno placed his hand on his son’s shoulder.
Emile swallowed hard before he turned around and glanced at his father with knitted brows. “Is Epee’s grave being taken care of?” he asked his father.
“Yes.” Arno smiled. “You should go see her once in a while.”
“Maybe one day,” Emile replied. “When do you want me to leave?”
“This afternoon,” Arno said. The professor put the cigarette back in his mouth and reached into his pocket again, this time pulling out a single ticket. “You leave tomorrow afternoon on Le Gracieux Milobellus.”
“How much is the pay?” Emile turned around, took the ticket, and put it in his pocket.
“Double, and I’ll make sure to cover other expenses.”
A smile crept up Emile’s face as he heard, but it soon vanished when he saw his father’s eyes narrow again.
“No, I will not pay your bar tab this time.” Arno jabbed his finger into his son’s chest.
“Alright, alright. I can cover my drinks then.” Emile raised his hands in mock surrender.
“Damn well better…” Arno growled as he stepped past his son, the Leafeon, who was beside Frère, followed close behind the Professor, leaving Emile and his Glaceon alone.
“C’mon you. Inside,” Emile commanded his Glaceon.
The two soon walked back to the lab. The sounds of Fletchling chirping and Bunnelby scurrying through the bushes did not cease, and so Emile slowed down. He wanted to take every second he possibly could listening to them.
“Frère, I don’t think we’ll be home for a while.” he informed.
Glaceon appeared to shrug, which didn’t surprise Emile. He’d known his partner long enough to know that Frère didn’t mind traveling or staying away from home for very long. He was like his trainer in that regard.
Emile chuckled when he heard Frère sigh in disappointment. “Yeah, I know.” he said. “I wanted to stay a bit longer, too. Maybe next time.”
The two entered the laboratory, this time with the windows opened, and the awful stench of tar had faded away.
As Emile looked around, he noticed that his father was standing beside Ninetales, the illusion of a Galarian butler had faded away.
Emile left the two alone and began to climb up the staircase alongside Frère, heading into the small hallway they had left only about a few minutes ago. He turned towards the first door on the right that led to his room and opened it.
His room wasn’t that large. When he was younger, he had wished it was larger, but ever since he started traveling, he didn’t care. The room was big enough to fit him, Frère, and another one of his smaller Pokemon. It also had his bed, a dresser, a small trash can, and an old CRT TV that he hadn’t bothered throwing out. Why fix what still worked, right?
The trainer tossed the belt he had been carrying onto his bed, picked up an empty bottle of wine on the floor, and tossed it into the trashcan near his closet door.
“Frère, do you think we need a new place?” Emile turned his head towards his partner.
Frère shrugged in response.
Emile sighed and shook his head. Maybe he would be better off consulting someone else. Though it was nice staying here, as his father took good care of his Pokemon without complaint, and he didn’t like the idea of them being put on a ranch far away from him.
He opened his closet door, pulled out the black backpack near his old wooden dresser, and tossed it on his bed right beside the belt.
Frère hopped onto the bed and immediately bit into the zipper. Then, slowly unzipped the backpack, being careful not to tear the zipper off accidentally.
Emile looked up at his dresser. Three badge cases sat up top, each with 8 slots filled. The cases were Kalos, Galar, and Kanto, respectively, and each case had a photo of Emile and the team he had formed then.
He had ended his career after Kanto, it seemed right after all. Emile was certain he had reached his peak when he left home at 11 to take on the Kalos league.
“Those were good times.” Emile said to the photo behind his Kalos case. “Don’t you think so, Epee?” he quietly asked, this time his eyes focusing on the Beedrill beside his younger self.
“Glace!” barked Emile’s partner.
The sudden bark caught Emile off guard, and the former trainer cleared his throat and apologized. Then he began opening the drawers, throwing in various outfits and other essential items inside, and then zipped it up.
Emile left his room shortly after and began going down the hall but stopped midway. He turned his head to a single photo hung all on its lonesome.
It was strange to put it here, but Emile knew that his father was worried about potentially damaging this specific photo in his lab, and Emile didn’t judge him for it.
He walked towards the photo and lightly touched the glass frame, and a smile crept across his face.
In the photo, there were three people. The first was a much younger Emile. Behind him was his father, and right beside him was a woman.
Emile had to have been around 7 or 8 years old when it was taken. He couldn’t exactly remember when it was taken, but he remembered it as one of the happiest days of his childhood.
“Goodbye, Mom, I’ll be back soon,” Emile said to the photo, turning away. “Or maybe I’ll get robbed, stabbed, and potentially eaten by Frère and haunt Dad for the rest of his days.” He shrugged.
Frère barked again and shook his head at Emile.
“Oh, so you won’t eat me?” Emile asked his partner. “I knew you cared about me at least a little bit.”
Frère shook his head again and exhaled a light breeze of cold air.
Emile clapped his fist in his hand and nodded. “I get it,” he told Frère. You’re gonna have me around as a fancy ice sculpture, right? I guess I’d be good decor.” He continued, striking a pose for his Glaceon.
Frère shook his head again, this time with a contorted look on his face as he stared at his trainer with disgust.
“Wait… you’re not gonna use me as some sort of coat hanger, right?” Emile hesitantly asked as he dropped his pose.
Frère didn’t reply. Instead, he turned away from his trainer and walked briskly towards the stairs.
“Frère, you’re not gonna do that, right?” Emile followed after his Glaceon. “RIGHT?”
Frère, this time, took off, running down the stairs.
“Frère, we’re not done with this conversation!” he exclaimed and started to chase after his Glaceon, running down the stairs with his backpack in hand.
“FRÈRE!”
The Wandering Teacher
One Day Later…
Hell was an understatement to how Emile Hawthorne felt when he woke up at eight o’clock in the morning. The former trainer found himself in a dark bathroom, hunched over against the toilet, face to face with a disgusting bright orange liquid in the toilet bowl. His mouth tasted of disgusting, sour bile and his head throbbed and pounded as he tried to remember last night’s events.
He had arrived in Enotria rather late and decided to have a couple of drinks. Then that couple turned into a few more, and then even more.
Then, after that, he-
“Oh fuck me…” Emile muttered to himself as his stomach again felt uneasy, and that Arceus-awful liquid started to flood his mouth. Immediately, he bowed his head into the toilet, gagging on the liquid before he retched, unleashing last night’s contents into the toilet.
“Never… again!” he managed to breathe out haphazardly.
He heard a loud bark from behind, and Emile clutched his head as he experienced a brief jolt of pain. A pleading expression appeared on his face as he looked at the source of it all: his beloved partner, Frère.
“Please don’t do that…” he pleaded, though his voice came out weak as he spoke. “And please pass me my PokeGear.”
Metal slid across the floor as Emile watched Frère slide over a small green device. He grabbed it and flipped the top part up. The light emanating from the device stung, and it took Emile a second to adjust.
“Arceus, I’ve been up for an hour already.” he spat as he slowly got up, then turned to Frère. “C’mon, let's get ready.”
He walked into his room and recounted last night's events. Everything felt hazy…
“Where the hell did we land anyway?” Emile asked as he tapped away on the PokeGear. He was greeted with a world map, with a red dot pointing at his location.
He knew he was in Enotria, a large peninsula shaped like a strange-looking boot. The region wasn’t too far from Kalos or Paldea, and when he zoomed in, the image faded away.
“Bellissimo Mare.” he read aloud as he looked at the city on the map. It was located in the southern sector, far from his intended destination- the city of Florentina, the capital of Center Enotria
That’s right, Emile remembered. He remembered getting off the ship slowly and working through the city. It reeked of fish, which wasn’t surprising given that Bellissimo Mare was a port town. Normally, the city delivered passengers and shipped cargo to and from the Siculian Islands further south, but sometimes it took cargo and passengers from foreign lands.
Either way, he had made his way through the town and eventually booked a room in the Pokemon Center. After he took his team (aside from Frère) to the Nurse there, he left.
Emile groaned as he stepped towards his bed. His stomach still felt uneasy, but he didn’t feel like vomiting… so that was good. The fact he still tasted it didn’t make him feel much better, and he still didn’t remember the entirety of last night.
He laid down on his stomach, reached for his backpack, and unzipped one of the pockets. Emile’s eyes glazed over the various items, stopping at one, a small brown package, which he pulled out.
It was a small object wrapped in brown paper with a white string attached to it to hold a card in place.
It read, “For Professor Adelina Poplar of The Enotria Region,” and underneath was an address to the recipient.
“The Poplar Lab, huh?” Emile said as he carefully placed the package back in his bag. He groaned as he got up, took a quick look in the mirror, and sighed.
He looked pretty rough. His white button-up long-sleeve shirt was stained, though Emile wasn’t sure if it was alcohol or his vomit that stained it and as he took off his shirt he raised a brow at the sight of several bruises on his scarred chest and arms.
How did I get those? Emile wondered as he tossed his white shirt to the side and put on a black button-up shirt he pulled out from his bag, along with a pair of brown cargo pants and steel-toed boots. He normally wouldn’t wear them, but Enotria was a rather cool region, so dealing with heat wouldn’t be an issue.
Emile slung the backpack over his shoulder and started to walk out of his room, with Frère following close behind. He still felt uneasy, but he had a job to do, and not only that, but he also wanted to explore the region a little while he was on his way to Florentina.
“We have one stop to make before we leave.” Emile told Frère as he shut the door behind them. “After that, we’re on our way to Lantana,” he continued, checking his PokeGear’s map as he walked towards the nearby elevator.
Lantana wasn’t too far, according to PoryMaps. It was barely a day’s walk, meaning Emile wouldn’t waste too much time.
The courier looked deeper into Lantana out of sheer curiosity. According to the page, Lantana was a small agricultural town with around 5,000 people. Despite its small population, the town's farms employed thousands of workers, some of whom came from nearby towns like Bellissimo Mare.
Emile and Frère stepped inside the elevator and hit the large “1” on the panel.
“Going down from the… THIRD floor.” a robotic voice awkwardly informed from the elevator’s intercom.
“Hey, Frère. Do you know what I did last night besides drinking?” Emile turned towards his Glaceon. “I don’t really remember much…”
Frère shook his head, then raised a paw and pointed at his belt which had a single Pokeball attached to it.
“Oh, I put you in your ball?” Emile asked. “Sorry about that.”
Frère rolled his eyes in response and turned his head away from his trainer, letting out a loud “hmph!”
“I’ll make it up to you.” Emile said. “Hot chocolate?”
Frère raised his brows and slowly turned his head towards his trainer, but didn’t dare look him in the eyes.
“Fine, fine! Hot chocolate and PokePuffs!” Emile raised his arms
Frère looked at his trainer and smiled this time, then walked towards him so he could nuzzle against his leg.
“Yes, I love you too, little guy…” Emile kneeled down so he could pet Frère.
However, this was interrupted as Frère immediately bit onto his trainer’s fingers.
“Ack! What the hell, Frère!” Emile yelped in pain and tried to pull his fingers out of the vicious Glaceon’s mouth but to no avail
Frère merely growled in response, playfully pulling at his trainer’s fingers, then he immediately stopped and spat near the floor, making a loud “bleh” as he did so.
“Oh! First, you bite me, and now you don’t think I’m tasty? I’m offended!” Emile crossed his arms in mock anger.
DING!
“You have reached… THE GROUND Floor.” that same robotic voice awkwardly informed again as the door opened in front of Emile and Frère.
The two stepped out into the Pokemon Center’s lobby. It was larger than Emile was used to, which surprised him, especially since Bellissimo Mare was such a small port town. However, he assumed it was so big because foreign trainers picked the port city to start their journey.
Emile looked around. Two nurses were at the front, handling the Pokemon of various trainers, and Blisseys and Chanseys roamed left and right, carrying trays of Pokeballs. Some trainers were seated on a couch, watching the news, and others were at a coffee stand, making orders or chatting with one another.
Emile ignored the throbbing pain in his head that had increased due to the morning traffic and decided to approach the nearest reception desk. His eyes met the emerald gaze of the nurse who sat behind her desk and typed away behind her computer.
“Excuse me, miss. My name is Emile Hawthorne,” he said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his Trainer ID. “I’m here to retrieve the rest of my team,”
“Of course, Mr. Hawthorne.” The nurse took his ID and placed it in a nearby card slot. “We’ll have your party brought to you soon; it’ll take just one moment.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Emile said.
“By the way,” the nurse said as she typed away on her computer. “Do you happen to know any sailors? One came by looking for you… he seemed quite rude.”
Emile’s eyes widened as he heard that question, and suddenly, the memories of last night all came flooding back at once. As soon as his Pokemon were in the center, he explored some parts of Bellissimo Mare, and when night fell, he happily entered a nearby bar.
“Oi! Whose ugly cunt did you come out of?” a drunken sailor asked Emile that night.
Emile had been on what? His fourth or fifth drink? Regardless, after he drank it, he had gotten up and…
“Well, I know where the bruises came from now,” he whispered to a now-laughing Frère before he turned his head back to the nurse. “Yes, ma’am, I just… had a brief, unsavory altercation with him last night. Nothing important, but you didn’t tell him where I was, did you?”
“Of course not. We keep all trainers’ info safe and secure here as mandated by UR law.” The nurse smiled. “Though you shouldn’t get into fights, Mr. Hawthorne.” She narrowed her eyes.
Seeing that glare made Emile step back. He felt a shiver run up his spine as he looked at her beautiful emerald eyes. He learned the hard way never to piss off a Center Nurse, and he had zero plans to do it again.
“Of course, I understand!” He chuckled.
“Good!” The smiling nurse clapped. “And thankfully for you, I have your team! They’re in great shape, so please take care of them!” she continued, handing out a tray with five Pokeballs on it.
“Thank you, ma’am.” Emile swiftly grabbed the Pokeballs and attached each one to his belt then turned away from her.
“Have a great day and please, come again!” The nurse waved.
“Let's go, Frère.” Emile instructed and started to walk towards the Center exit. “I’d rather not linger about.”
As soon as Emile reached the door, a whiff of fresh air hit him. The breeze felt perfect against his skin, and even though the sun made his headache a bit worse, he would have happily taken this over vomiting every five seconds.
“Why, if innit the man of tha hour!” Emile heard someone call out.
The trainer blinked twice and looked around, a brow raised.
A group of sailors stood in front of him, their backs turned to numerous trainers who were glaring not at Emile but at the sailors' backs. The former trainer even noticed a young boy pushed onto the ground being picked up by one of his fellow trainers.
This was wrong, Emile immediately thought. While Bellissimo Mare didn’t have a gym, there should have been League trainers stationed here to protect the facility from stupid situations like this.
“Oi! I’m talkin' to ya!” Emile heard again.
This time, the courier turned his head. This time, the courier turned his head. His gaze met a husky sailor whose uniform looked like it barely fit him, as his shirt was so tight that a small fraction of his midriff was exposed. However, what caught Emile’s attention was the blood-stained bandage wrapped around his nose.
“Can I help you?” Emile asked the sailor.
“Can I help you?” mocked the sailor. “Why, you’re the bloody bastard who did this to me!” he pointed at his bandaged nose. “All because I asked a lil’ question.”
“In my defense, that is a sore subject for me.” Emile shrugged.
“Ya know, I looked into you, Hawthorne.” the sailor pointed at Emile. “I know what you are now, a washed-up professor’s kid who lost to-”
Emile gritted his teeth upon hearing the man continue to speak, and suddenly he found himself speaking. “Yes, and I’m sorry. Truly.” Emile raised his hands in surrender. “I should have never punched you. Instead, I should have hit you with a diet plan.”
“Oh, you think you’re funny now?” the sailor stepped forward.
“No, I think I’m too sober and tired to deal with some andouille and his army of branleurs.” Emile motioned towards the small group of sailors.
“Thats it! This ain't gonna be like last time. I’m gonna take you out, you and that lil’ frigerayta you got by your side.” cried the sailor who took a Pokeball off his belt.
“That right?” asked Emile who took another step back and looked at Frère. “You want this one?”
Frère looked at his trainer, then back at the sailor…, and then he looked back up at Emile again, this time grinning from ear to ear.
“Have fun,” Emile told Frère, then raised a finger. “No playgrounds, got it?”
Frère nodded and soon stepped forward. The Glaceon’s dark eyes were focused intently on the opposing trainer’s Pokeball and his tail wagged with impatience.
“You got some confidence, drunkard… but yer just a nobody.” The sailor smiled as he moved a foot forward.
“Are you going to keep talking or are you going to release that Pokemon you got there?” Emile asked.
The sailor gritted his teeth and threw his Pokeball, unleashing a Krabby onto the makeshift battlefield.
Both sailors and trainers stepped away to make room and to avoid getting hit by any potential attacks.
Emile eyed the Krabby. The opponent was a vibrant red, and it opened and closed its pincers swiftly. Along with that, its eyes were hyper-focused on Frère. Judging from these few things alone, Emile could at least tell that the water type was healthy.
“Bubble-beam.” the sailor commanded with a smile.
Krabby opened a pincer and aimed directly at Frère. Soon, it unleashed a stream of bubbles, all launched with the speed of gunfire.
Frère ran towards the bubbles and jumped over them, performing a graceful flip as he did so.
Emile stepped to the side, avoiding the stray attack, and watched as the bubbles impacted a nearby building, leaving large cracks in the exterior for all to see.
“Not my fault.” he quietly declared before he turned his head back to the battle.
Krabby violently thrashed out, swinging his claws like they were vicious hammers. However, he failed to hit Frère even once, and instead he either swung at the air or left cracks onto the concrete below him.
Frère danced around Krabby, moving from left to right. He chuckled and giggled as his opponent continued to fail at hitting him.
“Come on, hit the bloody git!” the sailor screamed.
Krabby growled and screamed, swinging his arm into the direction Frère was in in hopes of hitting his target.
Frère leaped into the air, once again performing another front flip. However, when he was close to landing, he immediately kicked at Krabby’s skull with his hind legs. Two loud thunks were heard as Frère’s feet impacted his target by all who watched. Then, he unleashed a final kick, this time to bounce off of his foe and land on the ground.
“Krabby! What the hell are ya doin?” The opposing trainer clenched his fists as if trying to strangle the very air. “Get your head out of your arse!”
Emile smiled. A familiar fire was burning within him, and he felt the urge to bark out orders, and he found himself thinking of every plan the sailor could come up with and ways to counter it. Bubblebeam? That was easy, Emile thought. Detect and lead in with Quick Attack, or better yet-
“C’mon boys!” the sailor shouted. “Bring all of yours out, we’re getting rid of this bastard!”
That got Emile’s attention. Frère might actually break a sweat now, he thought as he watched the sailors unleash their Pokemon, a Buizel and a Corphish, respectively. More and more thoughts came to the trainer’s mind.
“Water Gun and Bubblebeam again, countered by Mirror Coat.” Emile muttered as he scratched his chin.
“C’mon, Water Gun!” a sailor commanded his Buizel.
“Bubblebeam!” The pudgy sailor and his lackey both cried.
Frère smirked, and his body glowed a dark pink. Suddenly, a strange shield formed psychic energy coated the Glaceon’s body!
The opposing Pokemon all unleashed their various attacks. Water and bubbles covered the glowing Frère until the water turned against the attackers, easily sending them back while simultaneously covering the ground with water.
Emile bit his tongue and forced himself to stop thinking about how the battle could end. He knew damn well that there was no barrier formed, and while the observers had backed away, a stray attack could hurt or even worse, kill someone.
“Frère!” he shouted. “Lets wrap this up!”
Frère turned his head and nodded at his trainer, then redirected his gaze towards his foes. The ice type’s body began to glow a bright blue, and he took two steps forward.
The water-type trio circled around Frère and smiled as they realized they now held the advantage. Their opponent was just standing still. He was an easy target!
“Go in close! Now!” the burly sailor shouted.
All of the water types moved forward. This was it! Their opponent would go down, and their trainers would be proud of them!
At least, until Frère opened his mouth and exhaled, unleashing a gust of cold air from his mouth and entire body!
Emile stepped back, and he saw that the trainers who watched had also taken several steps back. It was clear that everyone could feel the freezing air emanating from Frère, and Emile had even watched as the water that was on the pavement turned to ice instantly.
Frère’s opponents were all sent skidding backwards, falling unconscious near their respective trainers.
“You… you fucking cunt! You won’t get away with this!” the pudgy sailor screamed and stepped forward. “I’ll get you for this, you hear me? I’m good friends with tha Legion!”
“I don’t care who you’re friends with,” Emile walked forward. You have every right to come at me for what happened at that bar, but blocking off a Pokemon Center wasn’t a good call.” He pointed his finger at the sailor.
The sailor gritted his teeth. “C’mon boys… let's leave.” He waved at his comrades, signaling them to follow him.
Emile watched as the sailors left, and soon, he started to walk away as well, though his eyes had gazed at the various trainers eagerly running into the Pokemon Center.
Frère immediately ran to his side, with a proud smile as he walked by his trainer.
“You really kicked ass.” Emile complimented his partner. “It… almost felt like old times.”
Frère nodded and let out a cheerful bark.
“But its better if we’re not battling, don’t you think?” Emile looked at Frère. “I don’t think I’m suited for that life anymore.”
Frère frowned when Emile turned his head. This time, he refused to meet his Pokemon’s gaze.
“I will say this, though: If this job keeps up like this, I might demand a little more money from the old man.” Emile sighed. “Let's hope for Arceus’ sake that the rest of our time here isn’t like this.”
The two continued to walk away from the Pokemon Center, but unknown to them… one boy had remained, and he had watched Emile and Frère leave.
AN: Many thanks to Tempera, Endgame13, and RaptorReads for beta reading. Your help has not gone unappreciated and I am forever grateful for it.
Kalos
Shalour City, Hawthorne Pokemon Lab
Emile Hawthorne yawned as he looked in the bathroom mirror. His tongue felt as rough as sandpaper. His pale blue eyes were heavy with drowsiness, and had small dark bags underneath.
His long dark hair that reached his back was unkempt, and it was obvious it would need more than just a quick combing. He continued looking at himself, and as far as he was concerned, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Sure, he had gained some weight, but it was barely noticeable. He was still as thin as a whip, and the scars he had on his arms from his younger years as a trainer still remained. If one looked closely, one could notice a scar or two trail underneath his Eevee tank top.
“Glace!” Emile heard from behind. He looked at his Glaceon’s reflection, waiting outside the bathroom door. His rhombus-shaped tail wagged swiftly and impatiently.
“What is it, Frère?” Emile turned his head.
Frère stepped towards Emile, looking at his trainer with a small smile before he suddenly spat cold water in his face. The Glaceon soon scurried away, leaving the bathroom and into the hallway.
Emile blinked in response, cold water dripped down his face as he looked at Frère. “Good morning to you as well,” he grumbled. He walked past his partner and into the hallway.
The Hawthorne Pokemon Lab wasn’t a large building; it was a rather small two-story building, three if you count the basement as a floor. The first story had clean, simple white walls and consisted of two rooms, one of which was Emile’s, and the other the bathroom. Leading to the second floor was a small staircase.
Emile walked slowly down the steps. Cold water dripped down his face upon each step he took. He had repeatedly wiped his face against his arm to remove it, but to no avail.
When Emile reached the second floor, he was greeted by a large laboratory. Originally, it was the kitchen and living room, but it had been renovated and remodeled years before he was born. The only thing that remained from those days was the small kitchen, but everything else had been replaced with tables and various bits of machinery that Emile didn’t know much about,
He looked around and covered his nose. Despite the lab's pristine, shining white walls and clean tables, the entire laboratory reeked of burnt, leathery tar.
“Ah, the young master is awake!” Emile heard from behind. The mere words mixed with the Galarian accent made his skin crawl with discomfort, and his face contorted with disgust for a brief second.
“Ninetales,” Emile turned around, his eyes settled on two figures. The first was a handsome young man with short blonde hair and crimson eyes wearing a black suit. Emile’s gaze didn't last on him for long, as his eyes soon met the red eyes of a Ninetales, whose golden fur glowed with life.
The man in the suit was merely an illusion. To put it more precisely, he was a mouthpiece formed by the Pokemon beside him. It was thanks to this that Ninetales was able to communicate properly with people.
“Your father’s waiting for you. He has another job for you,” Ninetales said. “It’s a bit of an important one. It's a delivery this time, not a pick-up.”
Emile raised a brow as he walked toward a table and picked up a towel. Odd, he had just come back from Kanto not too long ago.
“Where is he?” Emile dried his face with the towel while trying not to be bothered by the stench.
“He’s releasing a few Pokemon outside with Monsieur Teddy,” Ninetales replied.
“I see,” Emile said, putting down the towel. Then he looked around the lab. “Have you seen Frère? He ran down past the stairs.”
“He went through the door.” Ninetales pointed. “I believe he’s with your father as well,”
“Thank you.” Emile began to approach the door, but before he opened it, he turned his head back towards Ninetales and pointed at him. “And cut it out with that ‘young master’ crap. How many times have I told you not to call me that?”
“Seeing you irritated is funny.” Ninetales and his illusion both shrugged, a smirk on their faces.
Emile shook his head and sighed as he turned towards the door again and opened it. He took a deep breath as he could smell the dozens of flowers outside and smiled as the warm air touched his skin.
The Hawthorne Laboratory resided on a hill near Route 12 that overlooked most of Shalour City. To the north of the city was the Tower of Mastery, a large white tower guarded by large brick walls that overlooked the entire city and the seas. Truth be told, Emile thought it looked like a castle fit for nobility.
There was also a path to the tower, though the sea blocked it. People could only cross it when the tide was low.
Emile smiled faintly as he looked at the tower, though his gaze had lasted briefly before he turned his head and walked across the grass. His pace was slow as he wanted to take in the fields before he left for whatever job his father had to offer. There wasn’t much activity here, but the chirping of Fletchling and the scurrying of Bunnelby made him feel warm inside.
He thought it felt nice to be home, even if his stay was brief. For a second, he thought about visiting his other Pokemon, but…
But it wouldn’t be a good idea. Maybe another time, he thought to himself as he continued walking, drifting farther and farther away from the lab.
Emile’s drifting ceased when he encountered a man in a white lab coat covered with black stains. He wore a pair of glasses, and like Emile, this man had dark hair, though it was curly and reached only his shoulders. His physique was also more imposing, and he was bulkier than his son.
This man was Arno Hawthorne, Emile’s father, who ran the Hawthorne lab and specialized in research on basic Pokemon evolution. He was probably the only other well-known researcher in Kalos besides Augustine Sycamore, who specialized his research in mega-evolution.
The man was crouched down, and beside him were Frère and a Leafeon. Three Pokemon—Simisage, Simisear, and Simipour were in front of them.
This surprised Emile, as while those three weren’t rare in Kalos, it was strange to see them outside of Santalune Forest.
“Thank you very much for your help,” Arno smiled. “And please, when you return to your home, feel free to give these out,” he continued, giving them a small cloth bag.
Simisage took the bag, sniffed it, and smiled. Then he nodded to his fellow brethren before suddenly taking off, all three behind him.
“Giving out free evolutions again?” Emile chuckled.
The professor stood up tall. He was a foot taller than Emile, standing at around 6’0” and stretched briefly. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
“Sort of,” he replied. “I found them pre-evolved wandering about Route 12… I took them while I had you do that job in Galar and I wanted to see if anything would react to them.”
“And did anything react to them?” Emile asked.
“Nope,” Arno replied, making a popping sound as he reached for a cigarette from his pack and put it in his mouth. “I was very interested in Pansage, as some recent findings by another professor showed Grass types do well with other TE-based items, but perhaps the results were falsified.”
“Where’s Teddy?” Emile asked.
“I sent him home for the day. Besides, I… don’t think he’d like what I had in mind for you,” Arno replied.
“Well, out with it. What is it that you had in mind?” Emile crossed his arms. “I find it weird that you have a strange delivery job for me right after I come home, too.”
“Ah, yes.” Arno clapped his hands. “Tell me, Emile. Do you know anything about Enotria?”
“They’re the boot of the world, the region of olives and wine, and they started the Protection War with Unova and then got beat by Kanto when they got involved,” Emile lazily rattled off.
“Correct. My job has you going there. You’ll be meeting the student of a recently deceased colleague of mine, Adalina Poplar.” Arno nodded. “And you’ll be delivering this.”
Arno reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a Pokeball for Emile to take.
“A Pokeball?” Emile grabbed the spherical device. “You’re not going to use the transporter?”
“No, I’m not,” Arno replied. I’m not sure if you’re aware, but Enotria has a serious crime problem. The League there is inefficient. The level of crime isn’t as bad as Orre’s, but it's still quite high.”
“Ah, so my father is sending me on a dangerous job where I’ll get mugged and then stabbed by criminals.” Emile chuckled. “If you find my body, I want to be cremated, not buried.”
“You’re implying that you aren’t the one who competed in Kalos and reached the semi-finals in the League Tournament on his first journey. Let's not forget how you competed in Galar and Kanto and how you worked for Sinnoh’s ACE Department.” Arno shot back.
“I didn’t win a single one of those tournaments, and a 14-year-old girl pretty much wiped out Team Galactic on her own.” Emile wagged his finger in front of his father. “So, don’t give me that.”
“You did a good job regardless.” Arno stepped forward and reached into another pocket, pulling out a belt with six Pokeballs attached.
“How deep are those pockets?” Emile raised a brow as he took the belt. “And I’m not going to need six. Frère is all I need,”
“There’s a chance you might need six. Just take them, at least, so I know you’ll be safe there.” Arno demanded.
“Can you at least tell me who I’m bringing with me?” Emile threw the belt over his shoulder.
“Chevalier, Venus, Roi, Goyl, and Belle, who insisted on coming with you by the way. She’s missed you quite heavily.” Arno replied.
“You’ve kept me busy,” Emile said.
Arno finally lit the cigarette in his mouth and narrowed his eyes at Emile.
His son waved off the smoke and stepped away from his father. He didn’t want to smell that Arceus-awful stench again.
“Emile,” Arno took the cigarette out of his mouth, and his voice became stern. “We both know you could have at least brought them with you at any time… and you can’t keep blaming yourself for what happened.”
“I don’t deserve to be their trainer anymore,” Emile turned around. “It's a wonder they’re still around.”
“They’re here because they love you.” Arno placed his hand on his son’s shoulder.
Emile swallowed hard before he turned around and glanced at his father with knitted brows. “Is Epee’s grave being taken care of?” he asked his father.
“Yes.” Arno smiled. “You should go see her once in a while.”
“Maybe one day,” Emile replied. “When do you want me to leave?”
“This afternoon,” Arno said. The professor put the cigarette back in his mouth and reached into his pocket again, this time pulling out a single ticket. “You leave tomorrow afternoon on Le Gracieux Milobellus.”
“How much is the pay?” Emile turned around, took the ticket, and put it in his pocket.
“Double, and I’ll make sure to cover other expenses.”
A smile crept up Emile’s face as he heard, but it soon vanished when he saw his father’s eyes narrow again.
“No, I will not pay your bar tab this time.” Arno jabbed his finger into his son’s chest.
“Alright, alright. I can cover my drinks then.” Emile raised his hands in mock surrender.
“Damn well better…” Arno growled as he stepped past his son, the Leafeon, who was beside Frère, followed close behind the Professor, leaving Emile and his Glaceon alone.
“C’mon you. Inside,” Emile commanded his Glaceon.
The two soon walked back to the lab. The sounds of Fletchling chirping and Bunnelby scurrying through the bushes did not cease, and so Emile slowed down. He wanted to take every second he possibly could listening to them.
“Frère, I don’t think we’ll be home for a while.” he informed.
Glaceon appeared to shrug, which didn’t surprise Emile. He’d known his partner long enough to know that Frère didn’t mind traveling or staying away from home for very long. He was like his trainer in that regard.
Emile chuckled when he heard Frère sigh in disappointment. “Yeah, I know.” he said. “I wanted to stay a bit longer, too. Maybe next time.”
The two entered the laboratory, this time with the windows opened, and the awful stench of tar had faded away.
As Emile looked around, he noticed that his father was standing beside Ninetales, the illusion of a Galarian butler had faded away.
Emile left the two alone and began to climb up the staircase alongside Frère, heading into the small hallway they had left only about a few minutes ago. He turned towards the first door on the right that led to his room and opened it.
His room wasn’t that large. When he was younger, he had wished it was larger, but ever since he started traveling, he didn’t care. The room was big enough to fit him, Frère, and another one of his smaller Pokemon. It also had his bed, a dresser, a small trash can, and an old CRT TV that he hadn’t bothered throwing out. Why fix what still worked, right?
The trainer tossed the belt he had been carrying onto his bed, picked up an empty bottle of wine on the floor, and tossed it into the trashcan near his closet door.
“Frère, do you think we need a new place?” Emile turned his head towards his partner.
Frère shrugged in response.
Emile sighed and shook his head. Maybe he would be better off consulting someone else. Though it was nice staying here, as his father took good care of his Pokemon without complaint, and he didn’t like the idea of them being put on a ranch far away from him.
He opened his closet door, pulled out the black backpack near his old wooden dresser, and tossed it on his bed right beside the belt.
Frère hopped onto the bed and immediately bit into the zipper. Then, slowly unzipped the backpack, being careful not to tear the zipper off accidentally.
Emile looked up at his dresser. Three badge cases sat up top, each with 8 slots filled. The cases were Kalos, Galar, and Kanto, respectively, and each case had a photo of Emile and the team he had formed then.
He had ended his career after Kanto, it seemed right after all. Emile was certain he had reached his peak when he left home at 11 to take on the Kalos league.
“Those were good times.” Emile said to the photo behind his Kalos case. “Don’t you think so, Epee?” he quietly asked, this time his eyes focusing on the Beedrill beside his younger self.
“Glace!” barked Emile’s partner.
The sudden bark caught Emile off guard, and the former trainer cleared his throat and apologized. Then he began opening the drawers, throwing in various outfits and other essential items inside, and then zipped it up.
Emile left his room shortly after and began going down the hall but stopped midway. He turned his head to a single photo hung all on its lonesome.
It was strange to put it here, but Emile knew that his father was worried about potentially damaging this specific photo in his lab, and Emile didn’t judge him for it.
He walked towards the photo and lightly touched the glass frame, and a smile crept across his face.
In the photo, there were three people. The first was a much younger Emile. Behind him was his father, and right beside him was a woman.
Emile had to have been around 7 or 8 years old when it was taken. He couldn’t exactly remember when it was taken, but he remembered it as one of the happiest days of his childhood.
“Goodbye, Mom, I’ll be back soon,” Emile said to the photo, turning away. “Or maybe I’ll get robbed, stabbed, and potentially eaten by Frère and haunt Dad for the rest of his days.” He shrugged.
Frère barked again and shook his head at Emile.
“Oh, so you won’t eat me?” Emile asked his partner. “I knew you cared about me at least a little bit.”
Frère shook his head again and exhaled a light breeze of cold air.
Emile clapped his fist in his hand and nodded. “I get it,” he told Frère. You’re gonna have me around as a fancy ice sculpture, right? I guess I’d be good decor.” He continued, striking a pose for his Glaceon.
Frère shook his head again, this time with a contorted look on his face as he stared at his trainer with disgust.
“Wait… you’re not gonna use me as some sort of coat hanger, right?” Emile hesitantly asked as he dropped his pose.
Frère didn’t reply. Instead, he turned away from his trainer and walked briskly towards the stairs.
“Frère, you’re not gonna do that, right?” Emile followed after his Glaceon. “RIGHT?”
Frère, this time, took off, running down the stairs.
“Frère, we’re not done with this conversation!” he exclaimed and started to chase after his Glaceon, running down the stairs with his backpack in hand.
“FRÈRE!”
The Wandering Teacher
One Day Later…
Hell was an understatement to how Emile Hawthorne felt when he woke up at eight o’clock in the morning. The former trainer found himself in a dark bathroom, hunched over against the toilet, face to face with a disgusting bright orange liquid in the toilet bowl. His mouth tasted of disgusting, sour bile and his head throbbed and pounded as he tried to remember last night’s events.
He had arrived in Enotria rather late and decided to have a couple of drinks. Then that couple turned into a few more, and then even more.
Then, after that, he-
“Oh fuck me…” Emile muttered to himself as his stomach again felt uneasy, and that Arceus-awful liquid started to flood his mouth. Immediately, he bowed his head into the toilet, gagging on the liquid before he retched, unleashing last night’s contents into the toilet.
“Never… again!” he managed to breathe out haphazardly.
He heard a loud bark from behind, and Emile clutched his head as he experienced a brief jolt of pain. A pleading expression appeared on his face as he looked at the source of it all: his beloved partner, Frère.
“Please don’t do that…” he pleaded, though his voice came out weak as he spoke. “And please pass me my PokeGear.”
Metal slid across the floor as Emile watched Frère slide over a small green device. He grabbed it and flipped the top part up. The light emanating from the device stung, and it took Emile a second to adjust.
“Arceus, I’ve been up for an hour already.” he spat as he slowly got up, then turned to Frère. “C’mon, let's get ready.”
He walked into his room and recounted last night's events. Everything felt hazy…
“Where the hell did we land anyway?” Emile asked as he tapped away on the PokeGear. He was greeted with a world map, with a red dot pointing at his location.
He knew he was in Enotria, a large peninsula shaped like a strange-looking boot. The region wasn’t too far from Kalos or Paldea, and when he zoomed in, the image faded away.
“Bellissimo Mare.” he read aloud as he looked at the city on the map. It was located in the southern sector, far from his intended destination- the city of Florentina, the capital of Center Enotria
That’s right, Emile remembered. He remembered getting off the ship slowly and working through the city. It reeked of fish, which wasn’t surprising given that Bellissimo Mare was a port town. Normally, the city delivered passengers and shipped cargo to and from the Siculian Islands further south, but sometimes it took cargo and passengers from foreign lands.
Either way, he had made his way through the town and eventually booked a room in the Pokemon Center. After he took his team (aside from Frère) to the Nurse there, he left.
Emile groaned as he stepped towards his bed. His stomach still felt uneasy, but he didn’t feel like vomiting… so that was good. The fact he still tasted it didn’t make him feel much better, and he still didn’t remember the entirety of last night.
He laid down on his stomach, reached for his backpack, and unzipped one of the pockets. Emile’s eyes glazed over the various items, stopping at one, a small brown package, which he pulled out.
It was a small object wrapped in brown paper with a white string attached to it to hold a card in place.
It read, “For Professor Adelina Poplar of The Enotria Region,” and underneath was an address to the recipient.
“The Poplar Lab, huh?” Emile said as he carefully placed the package back in his bag. He groaned as he got up, took a quick look in the mirror, and sighed.
He looked pretty rough. His white button-up long-sleeve shirt was stained, though Emile wasn’t sure if it was alcohol or his vomit that stained it and as he took off his shirt he raised a brow at the sight of several bruises on his scarred chest and arms.
How did I get those? Emile wondered as he tossed his white shirt to the side and put on a black button-up shirt he pulled out from his bag, along with a pair of brown cargo pants and steel-toed boots. He normally wouldn’t wear them, but Enotria was a rather cool region, so dealing with heat wouldn’t be an issue.
Emile slung the backpack over his shoulder and started to walk out of his room, with Frère following close behind. He still felt uneasy, but he had a job to do, and not only that, but he also wanted to explore the region a little while he was on his way to Florentina.
“We have one stop to make before we leave.” Emile told Frère as he shut the door behind them. “After that, we’re on our way to Lantana,” he continued, checking his PokeGear’s map as he walked towards the nearby elevator.
Lantana wasn’t too far, according to PoryMaps. It was barely a day’s walk, meaning Emile wouldn’t waste too much time.
The courier looked deeper into Lantana out of sheer curiosity. According to the page, Lantana was a small agricultural town with around 5,000 people. Despite its small population, the town's farms employed thousands of workers, some of whom came from nearby towns like Bellissimo Mare.
Emile and Frère stepped inside the elevator and hit the large “1” on the panel.
“Going down from the… THIRD floor.” a robotic voice awkwardly informed from the elevator’s intercom.
“Hey, Frère. Do you know what I did last night besides drinking?” Emile turned towards his Glaceon. “I don’t really remember much…”
Frère shook his head, then raised a paw and pointed at his belt which had a single Pokeball attached to it.
“Oh, I put you in your ball?” Emile asked. “Sorry about that.”
Frère rolled his eyes in response and turned his head away from his trainer, letting out a loud “hmph!”
“I’ll make it up to you.” Emile said. “Hot chocolate?”
Frère raised his brows and slowly turned his head towards his trainer, but didn’t dare look him in the eyes.
“Fine, fine! Hot chocolate and PokePuffs!” Emile raised his arms
Frère looked at his trainer and smiled this time, then walked towards him so he could nuzzle against his leg.
“Yes, I love you too, little guy…” Emile kneeled down so he could pet Frère.
However, this was interrupted as Frère immediately bit onto his trainer’s fingers.
“Ack! What the hell, Frère!” Emile yelped in pain and tried to pull his fingers out of the vicious Glaceon’s mouth but to no avail
Frère merely growled in response, playfully pulling at his trainer’s fingers, then he immediately stopped and spat near the floor, making a loud “bleh” as he did so.
“Oh! First, you bite me, and now you don’t think I’m tasty? I’m offended!” Emile crossed his arms in mock anger.
DING!
“You have reached… THE GROUND Floor.” that same robotic voice awkwardly informed again as the door opened in front of Emile and Frère.
The two stepped out into the Pokemon Center’s lobby. It was larger than Emile was used to, which surprised him, especially since Bellissimo Mare was such a small port town. However, he assumed it was so big because foreign trainers picked the port city to start their journey.
Emile looked around. Two nurses were at the front, handling the Pokemon of various trainers, and Blisseys and Chanseys roamed left and right, carrying trays of Pokeballs. Some trainers were seated on a couch, watching the news, and others were at a coffee stand, making orders or chatting with one another.
Emile ignored the throbbing pain in his head that had increased due to the morning traffic and decided to approach the nearest reception desk. His eyes met the emerald gaze of the nurse who sat behind her desk and typed away behind her computer.
“Excuse me, miss. My name is Emile Hawthorne,” he said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his Trainer ID. “I’m here to retrieve the rest of my team,”
“Of course, Mr. Hawthorne.” The nurse took his ID and placed it in a nearby card slot. “We’ll have your party brought to you soon; it’ll take just one moment.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Emile said.
“By the way,” the nurse said as she typed away on her computer. “Do you happen to know any sailors? One came by looking for you… he seemed quite rude.”
Emile’s eyes widened as he heard that question, and suddenly, the memories of last night all came flooding back at once. As soon as his Pokemon were in the center, he explored some parts of Bellissimo Mare, and when night fell, he happily entered a nearby bar.
“Oi! Whose ugly cunt did you come out of?” a drunken sailor asked Emile that night.
Emile had been on what? His fourth or fifth drink? Regardless, after he drank it, he had gotten up and…
“Well, I know where the bruises came from now,” he whispered to a now-laughing Frère before he turned his head back to the nurse. “Yes, ma’am, I just… had a brief, unsavory altercation with him last night. Nothing important, but you didn’t tell him where I was, did you?”
“Of course not. We keep all trainers’ info safe and secure here as mandated by UR law.” The nurse smiled. “Though you shouldn’t get into fights, Mr. Hawthorne.” She narrowed her eyes.
Seeing that glare made Emile step back. He felt a shiver run up his spine as he looked at her beautiful emerald eyes. He learned the hard way never to piss off a Center Nurse, and he had zero plans to do it again.
“Of course, I understand!” He chuckled.
“Good!” The smiling nurse clapped. “And thankfully for you, I have your team! They’re in great shape, so please take care of them!” she continued, handing out a tray with five Pokeballs on it.
“Thank you, ma’am.” Emile swiftly grabbed the Pokeballs and attached each one to his belt then turned away from her.
“Have a great day and please, come again!” The nurse waved.
“Let's go, Frère.” Emile instructed and started to walk towards the Center exit. “I’d rather not linger about.”
As soon as Emile reached the door, a whiff of fresh air hit him. The breeze felt perfect against his skin, and even though the sun made his headache a bit worse, he would have happily taken this over vomiting every five seconds.
“Why, if innit the man of tha hour!” Emile heard someone call out.
The trainer blinked twice and looked around, a brow raised.
A group of sailors stood in front of him, their backs turned to numerous trainers who were glaring not at Emile but at the sailors' backs. The former trainer even noticed a young boy pushed onto the ground being picked up by one of his fellow trainers.
This was wrong, Emile immediately thought. While Bellissimo Mare didn’t have a gym, there should have been League trainers stationed here to protect the facility from stupid situations like this.
“Oi! I’m talkin' to ya!” Emile heard again.
This time, the courier turned his head. This time, the courier turned his head. His gaze met a husky sailor whose uniform looked like it barely fit him, as his shirt was so tight that a small fraction of his midriff was exposed. However, what caught Emile’s attention was the blood-stained bandage wrapped around his nose.
“Can I help you?” Emile asked the sailor.
“Can I help you?” mocked the sailor. “Why, you’re the bloody bastard who did this to me!” he pointed at his bandaged nose. “All because I asked a lil’ question.”
“In my defense, that is a sore subject for me.” Emile shrugged.
“Ya know, I looked into you, Hawthorne.” the sailor pointed at Emile. “I know what you are now, a washed-up professor’s kid who lost to-”
Emile gritted his teeth upon hearing the man continue to speak, and suddenly he found himself speaking. “Yes, and I’m sorry. Truly.” Emile raised his hands in surrender. “I should have never punched you. Instead, I should have hit you with a diet plan.”
“Oh, you think you’re funny now?” the sailor stepped forward.
“No, I think I’m too sober and tired to deal with some andouille and his army of branleurs.” Emile motioned towards the small group of sailors.
“Thats it! This ain't gonna be like last time. I’m gonna take you out, you and that lil’ frigerayta you got by your side.” cried the sailor who took a Pokeball off his belt.
“That right?” asked Emile who took another step back and looked at Frère. “You want this one?”
Frère looked at his trainer, then back at the sailor…, and then he looked back up at Emile again, this time grinning from ear to ear.
“Have fun,” Emile told Frère, then raised a finger. “No playgrounds, got it?”
Frère nodded and soon stepped forward. The Glaceon’s dark eyes were focused intently on the opposing trainer’s Pokeball and his tail wagged with impatience.
“You got some confidence, drunkard… but yer just a nobody.” The sailor smiled as he moved a foot forward.
“Are you going to keep talking or are you going to release that Pokemon you got there?” Emile asked.
The sailor gritted his teeth and threw his Pokeball, unleashing a Krabby onto the makeshift battlefield.
Both sailors and trainers stepped away to make room and to avoid getting hit by any potential attacks.
Emile eyed the Krabby. The opponent was a vibrant red, and it opened and closed its pincers swiftly. Along with that, its eyes were hyper-focused on Frère. Judging from these few things alone, Emile could at least tell that the water type was healthy.
“Bubble-beam.” the sailor commanded with a smile.
Krabby opened a pincer and aimed directly at Frère. Soon, it unleashed a stream of bubbles, all launched with the speed of gunfire.
Frère ran towards the bubbles and jumped over them, performing a graceful flip as he did so.
Emile stepped to the side, avoiding the stray attack, and watched as the bubbles impacted a nearby building, leaving large cracks in the exterior for all to see.
“Not my fault.” he quietly declared before he turned his head back to the battle.
Krabby violently thrashed out, swinging his claws like they were vicious hammers. However, he failed to hit Frère even once, and instead he either swung at the air or left cracks onto the concrete below him.
Frère danced around Krabby, moving from left to right. He chuckled and giggled as his opponent continued to fail at hitting him.
“Come on, hit the bloody git!” the sailor screamed.
Krabby growled and screamed, swinging his arm into the direction Frère was in in hopes of hitting his target.
Frère leaped into the air, once again performing another front flip. However, when he was close to landing, he immediately kicked at Krabby’s skull with his hind legs. Two loud thunks were heard as Frère’s feet impacted his target by all who watched. Then, he unleashed a final kick, this time to bounce off of his foe and land on the ground.
“Krabby! What the hell are ya doin?” The opposing trainer clenched his fists as if trying to strangle the very air. “Get your head out of your arse!”
Emile smiled. A familiar fire was burning within him, and he felt the urge to bark out orders, and he found himself thinking of every plan the sailor could come up with and ways to counter it. Bubblebeam? That was easy, Emile thought. Detect and lead in with Quick Attack, or better yet-
“C’mon boys!” the sailor shouted. “Bring all of yours out, we’re getting rid of this bastard!”
That got Emile’s attention. Frère might actually break a sweat now, he thought as he watched the sailors unleash their Pokemon, a Buizel and a Corphish, respectively. More and more thoughts came to the trainer’s mind.
“Water Gun and Bubblebeam again, countered by Mirror Coat.” Emile muttered as he scratched his chin.
“C’mon, Water Gun!” a sailor commanded his Buizel.
“Bubblebeam!” The pudgy sailor and his lackey both cried.
Frère smirked, and his body glowed a dark pink. Suddenly, a strange shield formed psychic energy coated the Glaceon’s body!
The opposing Pokemon all unleashed their various attacks. Water and bubbles covered the glowing Frère until the water turned against the attackers, easily sending them back while simultaneously covering the ground with water.
Emile bit his tongue and forced himself to stop thinking about how the battle could end. He knew damn well that there was no barrier formed, and while the observers had backed away, a stray attack could hurt or even worse, kill someone.
“Frère!” he shouted. “Lets wrap this up!”
Frère turned his head and nodded at his trainer, then redirected his gaze towards his foes. The ice type’s body began to glow a bright blue, and he took two steps forward.
The water-type trio circled around Frère and smiled as they realized they now held the advantage. Their opponent was just standing still. He was an easy target!
“Go in close! Now!” the burly sailor shouted.
All of the water types moved forward. This was it! Their opponent would go down, and their trainers would be proud of them!
At least, until Frère opened his mouth and exhaled, unleashing a gust of cold air from his mouth and entire body!
Emile stepped back, and he saw that the trainers who watched had also taken several steps back. It was clear that everyone could feel the freezing air emanating from Frère, and Emile had even watched as the water that was on the pavement turned to ice instantly.
Frère’s opponents were all sent skidding backwards, falling unconscious near their respective trainers.
“You… you fucking cunt! You won’t get away with this!” the pudgy sailor screamed and stepped forward. “I’ll get you for this, you hear me? I’m good friends with tha Legion!”
“I don’t care who you’re friends with,” Emile walked forward. You have every right to come at me for what happened at that bar, but blocking off a Pokemon Center wasn’t a good call.” He pointed his finger at the sailor.
The sailor gritted his teeth. “C’mon boys… let's leave.” He waved at his comrades, signaling them to follow him.
Emile watched as the sailors left, and soon, he started to walk away as well, though his eyes had gazed at the various trainers eagerly running into the Pokemon Center.
Frère immediately ran to his side, with a proud smile as he walked by his trainer.
“You really kicked ass.” Emile complimented his partner. “It… almost felt like old times.”
Frère nodded and let out a cheerful bark.
“But its better if we’re not battling, don’t you think?” Emile looked at Frère. “I don’t think I’m suited for that life anymore.”
Frère frowned when Emile turned his head. This time, he refused to meet his Pokemon’s gaze.
“I will say this, though: If this job keeps up like this, I might demand a little more money from the old man.” Emile sighed. “Let's hope for Arceus’ sake that the rest of our time here isn’t like this.”
The two continued to walk away from the Pokemon Center, but unknown to them… one boy had remained, and he had watched Emile and Frère leave.
AN: Many thanks to Tempera, Endgame13, and RaptorReads for beta reading. Your help has not gone unappreciated and I am forever grateful for it.
Last edited:
