Stacked Deck (R)

[SilentMemento]

Permission for this fic has been given by JX Valentine.

WARNINGS: There are several trigger warnings that I'm obligated to warn viewers about. The primary ones are abuse and neglect, as well as a brief mention of suicide. There are two instances of graphic violence around the end, as well as an instance of body horror. I will warn you when I get to these parts. This is a journey fic, so there are lots of instances of cartoon violence when it comes to Pokemon battling. There are minor themes of sexism, as well as themes of psychological health when it comes to the Pokemon.

Now, without further ado, let's get to the meat and potatoes: the prologue of this fifty-two chapter fic!

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Prologue: Two of Clubs / Duck (that means take cover!)

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1/4/1990​

I apologize for never using this journal. It’s just that something annoying always interrupts me whenever I have a train of thought. Therefore, I’ve figured that it’s best to start from the beginning with something that’s bothered me for a while. Maybe then I won’t be interrupted by that nuisance.

In the twenty-four years I’ve lived, I’ve learned something about humanity: it’s not our intelligence that makes us human. It’s not our emotions either. What makes us human is how inhumanely we treat people that are different from us. If someone does something that differs from the status quo, the holier-than-thou, never-do-wrong angels in the media and the public will tear the person to shreds, even if the transgression isn’t entirely their fault.

I was a normal girl from a small community. I was born and raised in Fallarbor, Hoenn. Like most kids my age, I wanted a Pokemon badly, but when I finally got one, it wasn’t what I expected. I mean, what kid in Hoenn doesn’t start out with Treecko, Torchic, or Mudkip? Instead, I got a Cacnea from my older brother, who so graciously caught a wild one and gave it to me as a gift when I turned ten.

But that was a long time ago. How was I to know that I would fall in love with a famous trainer eight years after I received my Pokemon? How could I have known that he would leave only two years after our brief romance? And how could I have foreseen that I would be living at my brother’s farm in Fallarbor four years after those events?

Still, if there’s one thing that I regret-

“Mandi, you gonna eat the lunch I cooked fer you, or do I have to give it to yer Pokemon?”

I grimaced at my brother’s thick country accent. “Come on, Quinn,” I said irritably, while closing the small book in a gentle manner. “Do you always have to interrupt me whenever I write in my journal?”

Quinn Kendricks’ brown eyes were filled with amusement as he grinned. “Well,” he drawled in a humorous tone, leaning back in his rickety wooden chair. “I figure you’ve got a lot on yer mind. You’d take forever tryin’ to write everythin’ down. Why bother when you can do other stuff?”

“Because being able to write down what’s bothering me beats keeping it bottled up in my head,” I said in a bored voice.

“That don’t explain why you need a journal,” Quinn said, stifling his grin.

I sighed in resignation. He might have been four years older than me, but there were some days where it felt like I was talking to a five-year-old.

“Dammit, Quinn, I don’t like it when you act like an immature child,” I said in a harsh tone. “I don’t like the fact that you haven’t even tried to curtail your incoherent accent, and I most certainly hate it when you grin like a daft, drunken Wingull and interrupt me when I’m trying to write!”

I felt a stab of satisfaction when the smile was completely wiped off my brother’s face, but it quickly turned to guilt and shame when I saw the hurt look in his eyes.

I sighed again. “Look, Quinn, I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah, nobody really means to say stuff, but it still gits said anyways,” my brother muttered gruffly. “Come on. Git somethin’ to eat, grab yer Pokemon, and let’s git the work done.”

“What’s the plan?” I asked.

Quinn ran both hands through his scruffy dark-brown hair as he tried to remember the list of jobs. “Well, we gotta stamp out them Sandshrew burrows, fer one,” he said calmly. Seeing my horrified look, he quickly added, “Not to kill ‘em, Mandi, but to make ‘em feel unwelcome here. I ain’t in the business of killin’ Pokemon, okay?”

I nodded in reply.

Satisfied with my answer, he continued, “We also gotta talk to Donnie Cox and buy some of his fertilizer fer our crops.”

“Hang on. Don’t we have fertilizer already?” I asked in confusion.

My brother smiled with his crooked teeth. “Yeah, we do,” he replied. “But ours ain’t nearly as good as Mr. Cox’s homemade stuff. He’s a nice trustworthy ole man, and he knows our situation. He’ll give us a discount. Besides, our crops need somethin’ to help ‘em grow.”

“Is that all?” I asked.

“Hey, it’s a slow day otherwise,” he said in a laidback tone. “Do what you want after the work. I do need you to put on work clothes fer these jobs, though. So git dressed, grab Flower, and come on out after you’re finished.”

My brother barely had time to finish his sentence before we both heard the sound of two stubby feet flying down the hallway. The short, green, cactus-like Pokemon that was my Cacnea joyfully flung herself into my brother’s lap, much to his shock. I shook my head disapprovingly.

“Flower!” I said in a stern tone. “You’re supposed to ask permission before you do that.”

“Mandi, it’s fine,” Quinn said coolly. He stroked Flower’s back, causing her to close her eyes in contentment. “It’s been a long time since a Pokemon’s been that nice towards me.”

“She’s only nice to you because you said her name,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “It’s all she seems to care about these days.”

“It don’t matter what her motives are,” he replied calmly. “Maybe she likes the attention – or maybe she just wants to be included. Either way, she ain’t gettin’ any younger. You should cherish every moment you have with her.”

I stared at him in confusion. “Then why did you leave your Pokemon all the way in Kanto?” I asked. “Aren’t you ever going to tell me?”

I could have sworn that I saw a shadow of anger cross my brother’s face, but it vanished in a heartbeat. “That ain’t important,” he said gruffly. “Anyways, we’re wastin’ time. Our crops ain’t gonna grow themselves.”

I gave him a curious look, but I didn’t attempt to reply. I knew just how stubborn he could be. With yet another sigh, I got out of my chair, grabbed my journal, and headed to my room.

The very first thing that greeted me when I entered my room was my hideous mirror image. My shoulder-length dark-brown hair looked like it had been used as a makeshift lightning rod, and it took a lot of effort not to cringe at the ugly dark circles under my brown eyes. I hadn’t even changed out of my frayed nightgown.

The room itself wasn’t much to look at either. There were no windows or vents, and aside from the hanging mirror, the only things that I owned were a small bed that faced the mirror and a smaller dresser to the left of my bed. When I looked at the bed, I realized just how tired I really was.

“Ugh,” I muttered, attempting to rub the circles away. “Note to self: never sleep in a chair.”

I was sorely tempted to use some of the makeup that was conveniently placed on the dresser, but I knew that it would only get ruined while I did the jobs my brother wanted me to do.

But what if someone sees-

Shut up, me. Nobody’s going to care around these parts. That’s why I moved back to this town. That’s why I’m never going to leave. Nobody ca-

A small sting in my leg brought me out of my thoughts. I turned back and looked down to see Flower looking at me expectantly.

“What do you want?” I asked irritably.

Flower pointed at me with one arm and made a soft crooning noise.

“Well, you have my attention now,” I said in a resigned tone. “Still, why can’t you just wait until later? I’m going to need your help with the Sandshrew.”

The cactus Pokemon stared at me with pleading black eyes. She clasped the ends of her arms together.

“No, Flower, I don’t have time to spend with you right now,” I replied patiently. “I need to get dressed and get to work.”

The Cacnea glared at me angrily and crossed her arms. She let out a huffing sound.

“Don’t be that way with me!” I snapped, trying and failing to keep the anger out of my voice. “Quinn’s allowed us to live here for however long we want for free. The very least we can do is help him out when he needs help.”

My Pokemon shrugged her shoulders, as if she were trying to say, “Well, what could I possibly do?”

“We can’t get the Sandshrew to leave if we don’t have you to enforce it,” I answered calmly. “Look, I understand that you’re not as young as you used to be. I really do. But we can’t do this job without you. You’re a huge help to us.”

Flower considered the proposal for about thirty seconds before finally nodding. As she scampered out of my room, I shook my head.

“God, she can be such a pain at times,” I muttered. I moved toward my desk to set down my journal, but a shrill noise stopped me from doing so. I realized that the noise was actually a scream from someone very familiar.

“Quinn!” I cried in fear. I raced down the hallway, flung open the screen door in my way, and exited the house.

Under normal circumstances, the small cornfield around my house would have been what greeted me when I walked out the door. However, these circumstances were worse than I could imagine. The cornfield had shriveled and died, down to the last stalk, and my brother was kneeling next to our ruined produce. Flower was by his side, trying to comfort him by patting him on the back, but Quinn didn’t seem to feel anything.

I could only look in horror. Our only way to make money was gone before we could blink our eyes, and it sure as hell didn’t look like it was an accident, given the fact that the cornfield had been perfectly fine the night before. My mind tried to consider any person who would have tried to hurt us like this, but I knew that nobody who lived in Fallarbor would have done something this heinous.

I ambled over to Quinn and touched his shoulder with my hand. When he turned to face me, I felt a chill run down my spine. I couldn’t say what I was more afraid of: the hollow, defeated look in his eyes or the fact that he seemed to know who ruined our crops.

“They poisoned ‘em,” he mumbled. “I can’t believe they would do this.” His eyes hardened the moment after he said those words. “Never mind; I can believe it. It was only a matter of time before they-”

“Who are they?” I interrupted.

“I shoulda known better,” he continued, seemingly ignoring me. “I thought they were gone fer good. I was wrong.”

“Quinn!” I snapped harshly, ignoring Flower’s shocked cry. Panic was just beginning to force its way down my throat. “Who are they?!”

He stared at something in the woods. I followed his gaze and drew an involuntary breath. There were five men, all in suits, striding toward us with a grim purpose. Three of the men pulled pistols from their suits and pointed them directly at us, while the other two drew out pokeballs and released the contents. A round, rocky Pokemon with four arms and a fiery snail with a shell made of hardened lava emerged from the brilliant lights, and as they slowly surrounded us, I began to feel my sheltered world fall to pieces before my eyes.

“Graveler and Magcargo.” I turned to the side to see my brother gaze at the two Pokemon, almost as if he knew them. I then realized that he probably did know them; he had owned a Slugma at one time before leaving it in Kanto, and he had probably faced many Graveler when he was a trainer.

The two Pokemon moved to our sides, while the five men gathered in front of us to form a semi-circle.

“Hello, Quinn,” one of the men said in a noticeable Slateport accent. I turned to face the speaker: a tall man in a pressed gray suit and a similarly-colored fedora. The man smiled coldly as he pulled a metal tube out of a pocket in his suit. “It’s been a while. I’d tell you that I’m sorry, but I’m really not.”

“You leave Mandi outta this!” Quinn snarled ferociously. “This has nothin’ to do with her!”

The man’s smile grew. “Well, it seems like you’re mistaken,” he replied cheerfully. “According to our dear consigliere, this has everything to do with her.”

I felt my brother flinch beside me, and the pessimistic side of me wondered who could have possibly frightened him this much. “Quinn, what’s he talking about?” I asked in a confused voice.

I failed to notice the man press down on the top of the metal tube. Quinn’s eyes widened in alarm as he grabbed ahold of me and Flower. “Get down!” he yelled, shoving us face-first into the ground. I almost protested, but my entire world was rent apart before I could do so.

The shockwave reached us first, and it hit me like a freight train. The breath was knocked out of me, and a cloud of dust washed over us shortly afterward. I looked up and stared in disbelieving silence. Our house had been blown to pieces, and the flames were licking at the pitiful remains.

In my dazed state, I almost didn’t notice the sharp jab of a needle breaking through my arm. I tried to turn around, but a sudden wave of exhaustion washed over me. I felt the darkness tugging at my eyes, and my mind could only think of one question before everything went black.

Who are these people?

 

[Cutlerine]

Well, here's an interesting thing. Rather than organise my thoughts, I'm just going to launch straight into this response. There's no way that that can go wrong, right?

The opening journal entry makes for a nice set-up, though it seems slightly forced to have Mandi relate her life history in this journal entry, especially in such a portentous tone. But then again, maybe that's the kind of person she is! I shall read on and find out.

Quinn Kendricks’ brown eyes were filled with amusement as he grinned. “Well,” he drawled in a humorous tone, leaning back in his rickety wooden chair

That line is a mite overwritten. I'm not saying no adjectives or adverbs -- I am a huge fan of possibly-unnecessary descriptors -- but maybe prune a little here; there's nothing here that doesn't have a modifier attached to it, and that can be kind of exhausting to get through. In this first part in general, there might be a bit too much stuffing-in of detail -- you could spread it out a little more over the course of this chapter, and it would still all come across fine. I mean, it's all good stuff, and there's no need to cut it outright, but also there's no need to try to cram it all in at the start.

“Dammit, Quinn, I don’t like it when you act like an immature child,” I said in a harsh tone. “I don’t like the fact that you haven’t even tried to curtail your incoherent accent, and I most certainly hate it when you grin like a daft, drunken Wingull and interrupt me when I’m trying to write!”

… O-K, so yeah, I was right, that is the kind of person Mandi is. I'm also wondering: is there a real-life idiom about people grinning like drunken seagulls? Because if so, oh man, where has that idiom been all my life.

He’s a nice trustworthy ole man

It seems slightly odd to me that Quinn feels the need to introduce this guy to Mandi -- after all, she lives there, and has lived there for a while, so presumably she's already come across him. Surely if you wanted to introduce him to the reader, it would be easier to do so through Mandi's own thoughts reacting to what Quinn says?

“She’s only nice to you because you said her name,” I replied.

Interesting. I like how both of them have said Flower's name, rendering Mandi's point deliberately moot, but I do have to wonder why Quinn says it's been a while since a Pokémon was this nice to him. This doesn't seem like an out-of-character moment for Flower, which implies that maybe this has happened before -- especially since she and Mandi have been living here for a while. In which case, maybe it isn't so long since a Pokémon was nice to Quinn.

“Then why did you leave your Pokemon all the way in Kanto?” I asked. “Aren’t you ever going to tell me?”

I could have sworn that I saw a shadow of anger cross my brother’s face, but it vanished in a heartbeat.

Ooh, drama. I like how you've sketched their lives through this interaction, by the way -- sitting here, needling each other all day long. Or rather, Mandi needling Quinn. The closest he gets to deliberately irritating her is that 'things get said anyway' line, which I can see being rather pointed given the history they presumably have, but, well. He does have a point, and Mandi doesn't, so much.

I'm a big fan of the character interaction so far, is what I'm trying to say. It's neat, and it says a lot with a relatively small number of words. Tight, informative, and elegant.

Flower considered the proposal for about thirty seconds before finally nodding.

Interesting. Given that a cacnea is all head, I have to wonder how they nod. Is it distinguishable from them bowing? My own curiosity aside, this is another good piece of interaction; it establishes the relationship between Flower and Mandi, although we don't get much more about Mandi from it. So far, this story does a great job at conveying the things left unsaid -- both in the heads of individual characters and between those characters.

And onto the explosion. I like the mystery and peril -- obviously; there's nothing like an explosion to kick off a story. But I do just have one small quibble about this part. This line --

I almost protested, but my entire world was rent apart before I could do so.

-- would be more effective if you kept the rending apart right till the end of the sentence, just to milk that last bit of suspense out of it. Up till then, we don't know what the metal tube will do, so it would be in your interest to keep that tension high.

I'm intrigued to see the presence of the graveler and the magcargo. Are these Quinn's old pokémon, I wonder? There's so many questions been opened up here, both in terms of interpersonal relationships and just what it is that these (presumed) mafiosi want with Mandi. Torching the farm and poisoning the crops seems like salting the wound a bit, but I guess if you're a jerk then you're a jerk, and these guys are certainly jerks.

Also interesting that Mandi calls her own life sheltered. She has got some sense of self-awareness, then, and that detail suggests to me that maybe her own bitterness is tied to some kind of unspoken self-loathing. You can kind of see what line the story's going to take with its characters, and it's a pretty compelling one. As for the plot, I look forward to seeing where that goes; while we've got some clues to go on here, it's pretty much up in the air at the moment, at least from the reader's perspective.

All in all! A good start, with lots of promise. I'll have to check back later and see where this story's going.

 

[SilentMemento]

Chapter One: Two of Spades / Little Cassino (isn’t so little)

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Just as a spoiler beforehand, I will be using some Italian terminology for certain words dealing with the American Mafia, and I think it would be best if I got them out of the way as quickly as possible, so that people will not be confused:

...

Soldato - means “soldier” and refers to a made man in the Mafia’s hierarchy.

Caporegime - the term for the “captains” or “skippers” of the Mafia, who command crews of soldiers. Commonly shortened to “capo”.

Consigliere - a respected advisor to the boss of the Mafia Family. Popularized by The Godfather and its film adaptation.

Now, without further delay, let’s move on to the story, shall we?

...​

The interrogation room that contained the unconscious forms of Mandi and Quinn Kendricks hardly lived up to its name. For one thing, it was incredibly large, as there was enough room to fit five Gyarados comfortably. For another, expensive furniture and works of art, ranging from plush couches to impressive marble statues, filled about half of the room. Finally, the two captives lay on a floor covered in thick Mareep wool carpet, guarded by two armed men. A young woman wearing a black suit calmly watched the siblings from a short distance away.

Connie Zanovelli was beginning to wonder how her father could have possibly dealt with the sheer idiocy that the made men were displaying. The small leeway that the family had from the law did have its limits, and she had already received several phone calls from police representatives about the explosion that had gone off at the Kendricks residence. She had already told the other three men to go home for the day so that she could deal with them later. The young woman let out a soft sigh and beckoned over the two men who were most culpable in the bombing: a capo and his underling. She noticed that the soldato had a stupid grin on his face, and she silently promised that she would wipe it off.

“Marino,” the consigliere began, managing to keep her anger out of her tone, “I’ve heard a few rumors coming out of Fallarbor, and I’d like you to set the record straight, if you don’t mind.”

The man who was grinning, a short, heavyset man with black hair, cleared his throat. “I ain’t never sayin’ nothin’ to you,” he sneered.

“I wasn’t aware that Marino used triple-negatives, Greco,” Connie said coolly. “I certainly wasn’t asking you anything, but if you have something to share, then by all means, share it.”

Greco frowned. “I told you that I ain’t got nothin’ to say to you, woman!” he spat.

“You obviously don’t know how a triple-negative works, do you, Greco?” she said in a dry tone. She turned to Marino and frowned. “I really don’t want to listen to this Neanderthal’s pathetic attempts at avoiding my questions. Please tell me what really happened; this room is far too expensive to spill his blood in it.”

Marino, a tall, thin made man with receding brown hair and black eyes, returned her stare calmly, while Greco sputtered a string of undignified curses in response to her threat. “There were…complications,” Marino said. “Quinn would not come quietly, and we were forced to take drastic measures.”

“Oh, really?” the consigliere replied in a sardonic tone. “I was under the impression that you had blown up the house before you captured them. Mandi said as much during my session with her, and I know that she wasn’t lying to me. Not when she had enough truth serum in her to make a hardened special operations soldier sing like a Taillow.”

The made man stared at her in horror. “You used truth serum?” he said in a stunned tone. “Bellossom truth serum?”

“What other truth serum has only short-term side effects?” Connie asked rhetorically. “I may have wanted to know her deepest, darkest secrets so that I can blackmail her if necessary, but I also need her alive and functioning at her best for my plan to work.”

“You know how many side effects it has. You know how illegal it is. Why use it?”

The young woman frowned. “I said ‘short-term,’ Marino. Question my methods all you like, but don’t ever question my motives.”

Marino’s face blanched. “What do you want from me, Ms. Zanovelli?” he asked in a cold tone.

“The truth, Marino. I never asked for anything else.”

The made man took a deep breath. “I thought that Quinn and Mandi would put up a fight,” he confessed, hanging his head. “I figured that they wouldn’t come with us without persuasion on our part, so we took the initiative.”

“‘Taking the initiative,’ as you say, might have cost us dearly in that part of Hoenn,” Connie said calmly. “If you want to influence an entire region for years, Giovanni, you don’t step on the people who live there. Ultimately, they’re the ones whose support you need, along with the Family’s. In a war, the support and trust of the people is-”

Greco snorted. “That’s a buncha crud!” he spat angrily. “Da only ‘war’ you’re in is that smear job you’re puttin’ on Hercules! He shoulda been da one to go on that mission, not your little pet associate!”

“Smear job?” Connie laughed harshly. “I hardly need to smear his name, Carmine. The psychopath did that to himself, and he got what he deserved: an order for his death. You may not like me or the way I run our organization, but I would hope that you understand that killing another member of the Family is an act of treason that will never be tolerated. Capiche?”

Greco’s face turned beet-red. “And I hope you understand that da boss ruined everythin’ that our Family ever stood for by appointing you da consigliere!” He stormed out of the room, making sure to tread on Quinn’s fingers before he exited.

Connie shook her head and turned toward Marino. “I have to make a phone call,” she said.

Marino crossed his arms. “To your associate?” he asked coldly.

“Yes, to him. I would appreciate it if you would leave the vicinity.”

The capo walked out of the room without a second glance, taking care to avoid the captives on the floor. Connie brushed her hands through her long blonde hair in a futile attempt to relieve her stress. Now there were two more angry made men that she needed to keep an eye on to go along with all of the other problems she had. She made a mental note to pay special attention to Marino; it was always the quiet and calm ones that tended to succeed at putting a dagger into one’s back.

The consigliere picked up a large, black cellular phone, dialed a familiar number, and put the phone to her ear. She raised her eyebrows when the call was not immediately answered. Normally, her associate was very quick to answer any call she made to him; she was absolutely certain that the man was completely smitten with her. The young woman didn’t know if she felt the same way as him, but she knew that she felt something for the man, if only for his utter loyalty to her. She dialed the number again, and this time, the associate answered immediately.

“Hello?” the man snapped. “Who is this?”

“Who do you think it is, Pietrangelo?” Connie replied dryly.

“Connie!” the associate exclaimed in a tone that sounded more like a giddy teenager than the twenty-five-year-old man he was. “I didn’t know it was you…”

“It’s okay, Angel,” she said in a honeyed tone, barely keeping her smile suppressed. “Unfortunately, I didn’t call you to chat. I need a favor from you.”

“Anything you want,” Angel said, his voice growing more excited.

“Can you meet me at the airport at nine?”

“I’m already at the airport, and I really don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

Connie raised her eyebrows; she had thought that he wasn’t in Hoenn. “Which airport are you at, Angel?”

“Ever Grande International.”

Connie closed her sea-green eyes, trying to keep her composure. Pietrangelo was a wanted man in Hoenn, and for him to be at an airport that didn’t have ties to the Zanovellis was simply begging for trouble from the other four Families and the police. She knew that the Grimaldis, in particular, still had a price on his head, and Ever Grande was very near their turf. If they got wind that he was trespassing…

The wheels in her head quickly turned. “Have the customs people returned your Pokemon to you yet?” the consigliere asked in a tone of forced calm.

There was a pause at the other end of the line. “No, they said that I’d get my Pokemon back in an hour,” Angel said in confusion. “What’s going on, Connie?”

“Okay,” she said, keeping her voice level. “This is what you have to do, Angel. I need you to lay as low as you possibly can. Don’t draw attention to yourself in any way. I’ll be making a phone call.”

Connie held the call and dialed another phone number, one that she had dialed a fair few times when she had needed brute force. She didn’t trust the man who she was calling; he was an ex-street punk who had no Family ties, who didn’t have a drop of Family blood in his veins. He was greedy and all about the money; in fact, the only reason why he hadn’t betrayed her by now was because he owed her his life. Still, she couldn’t deny that the man was talented at what he did. He had not failed to carry out any of her hits, and he had never been caught.

The man answered his phone immediately. “Yeah?” he asked in an insolent Rustboro drawl. “What do you want, lady? Another hit?”

“What do you think, Gage?” the consigliere replied. “Have I ever called you for anything else?”

“Well, who’s the target?” Gage muttered sullenly.

“It’s not a matter of who. It’s a matter of where. You’re still in Ever Grande, right?”

“Of course, lady! Now what’s with this talk of ‘where’?”

Connie paused to take a deep breath. “I need you to go a fair distance away from Ever Grande International. Find a Grimaldi made man and wipe him off the face of the planet. Make sure that the body is in a place where it can be found, and make it look like a random act of violence.”

The silence that followed was so pronounced that a feather could’ve hit the woolen carpet and made a sound. It took a long time before Gage was able to speak. “Let me get this straight, lady,” he said in a condescending tone. “You want me to randomly pick out a made man, gun him down in broad daylight, leave the body where it can be found, and expect no retaliation? Are you insane?”

“If you don’t get caught, there won’t be any retaliation,” the young woman said coolly. “I expect you not to get caught, Gage. You’ve been doing this for how many years now? Ten? You’re a professional. So act the part and do your job.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Fifty-thousand poke will be wired to your account once the job has been completed. I bet that it’s significantly more than your usual pay. So, do we have an accord?”

Another pregnant pause followed. “Not bad at all,” the hitman admitted. “Fair enough, lady. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Good,” Connie said. “Call me back when it’s done. The money will be wired to you after that.”

She turned the phone off and turned to her only remaining problem: Quinn Kendricks. She knew that he would be a lot harder to deal with than his sister. He had gone to prison for five long years, taking the code of silence as seriously as any true made man for Mandi’s sake. The consigliere knew that he would not appreciate her proposal, and she knew that in the long run, it would be better if there was full cooperation on his part.

Connie drew a syringe from her pocket containing the antidote to the sleep powder serum and walked over to Quinn. She found a vein in his arm and eased the needle in, using all of her concentration and years of practice to do the job properly. After the contents of the syringe had been emptied, she sat on one of the couches to wait for the former trainer to wake up.

She did not have to wait long before Quinn stirred. She watched his eyelids flutter before flying open in shock at his new surroundings. She sat patiently while the former trainer turned toward her. He immediately recognized her and gave her a glare that could have made a Seviper drop dead out of sheer fright.

“You!” he spat in a hateful tone.

“I’m glad to see that you still know who I am, Quinn,” Connie responded calmly.

“Ain’t you done enough?!” Quinn demanded, his voice rising and growing more shrill with each word. “Ain’t my life already been ruined enough by you?! What else could you possibly want?!”

“I don’t require anything from you, except for your cooperation,” the consigliere said. “I’ll be frank, Quinn: I don’t need you at all. In fact, you’re almost a liability, knowing as much as you do. No, I require your sister’s services.”

“No, absolutely not!” the former trainer screamed furiously. “I went to prison so that Mandi wouldn’t ever be involved with yer Rayquaza-forsaken Family! Do you realize what kept my mouth shut when I was bein’ beat by the inmates and the guards? Do you wanna know why I thought that losin’ all of my beloved Pokemon because of yer scheme was worth it in the end? Do you know what kept me from hangin’ myself inside my cell? It was my baby sister, you bitch! I’ll never let you take her away from me, especially when she’ll suffer more just by knowin’ you!”

Connie closed her eyes and slowly opened them following Quinn’s rant. “Quinn, I understand your concerns,” she said soothingly. “Honestly, I do, and I commend you for standing by your family when no one else would. I hope that you, of all people, would understand that I have to stand by my Family and do what I have to do for them to survive and flourish.”

Quinn gave her another glare. “I gave you my answer!”

“Quinn, do you realize just how poorly you’re faring? Your land has been poisoned. You can’t grow any more crops. Your house has been bombed. You have no money, food, or shelter for you or your sister.”

“And all of that was yer doing!”

“If you want someone to blame, blame the people who actually did the deed. I never ordered them to do any of that. However, that is beside the point. There is a worldwide tournament in Johto. I’m pretty sure you’ve heard of it; everyone’s been talking about it. A lot of the best trainers in the world will be entering. If Mandi even gets into the actual tournament, she’s guaranteed at least ten-thousand poke by that point in time. Depending on how far she goes, she could potentially earn three-million poke on top of that. You could practically buy your own stretch of land with that kind of money. You would both be set for life. Quinn, I implore you to think of the potential benefits.”

“If you want a trainer so badly, take me. Give me a new identity or somethin’. Let me enter. Mandi is outta the profession, and-”

“Quinn, with all due respect, you are about as useful to me as a prostitute with an STD,” Connie said in a frigid tone. “Unlike you, Mandi has a clean criminal record, and she never officially retired, so I won’t have to go through the trouble of forging an entirely new identity for her. Aside from that, I know that she will follow instructions and will have incentive to participate with her older brother as a prisoner.”

Quinn began to shake with a fury that was barely contained. “You know that I can beat the hell outta you and run fer it, right?” he snarled ferociously.

“You can try,” she said, her hand inching toward the lone pokeball she had tucked away in her pocket. “You can certainly try and run for it with your sister and try to get past all of the guards on site. You might even get a ten second head-start. Then I’d have Granite - my Aggron - chase you down and let him do whatever he wants to you.”

She noticed a glimmer of fear in the former trainer’s eyes, but it was gone in an instant. “You have an Aggron?” he said with a hint of forced skepticism. “An untameable Pokemon? You’re bluffing.”

Connie sighed, drew her pokeball, and pressed the button to release its contents. Blinding light and colors danced around the room, and a giant Triceratops-like biped emerged at her side with a frightening roar. The lights from the chandelier gleamed off his thick, steely hide, and the look in his baby-blue eyes was that of a natural killer’s.

“Do you still think that I’m bluffing, Quinn?” the consigliere asked in a tone that was colder than ice on a February night.

Quinn shook his head dumbly as he stared up at the monstrous Pokemon. Connie opened her mouth to say something else, but the ring of her phone interrupted her thoughts entirely. She picked up the phone and answered quickly.

“Yes?” she asked quietly.

“It’s done, lady,” Gage said in a bored tone. “Now where’s my money?”

“Patience, Trevor-”

“Don't call me that!”

“Very well. Gage, here’s my problem: it takes time to transfer the amount of money you’re asking for. I have no problem giving it to you; I have plenty of money available at my disposal. I just need you to shut the hell up and let me do my damned job, okay?”

A pause that was longer and quieter than the previous two pauses combined ensued. “Fair enough, lady,” the hitman growled. “But you better keep your word on this.”

Connie sighed. “Gage, I haven’t ever broken my promises to you, and I’m not going to start, unless you decide to do something completely and utterly stupid. The money will come. It will take a few days to properly handle it and send it to you in small increments, but I assure you, it will come.”

She disconnected the call. Granite bared his teeth and snarled at Quinn, which immediately caught the consigliere’s attention. “Quiet, Granite!” she hissed. “I do not need this right now!” The Aggron sullenly backed away from the former trainer.

The consigliere took a very deep breath and ran her hands through her hair again, feeling a few stray strands stick to her fingers. “At this rate, I’m going to need to buy a wig,” she mused before being interrupted by yet another phone call, recognizing the number as Devon - one of many local businesses where she had lent money and one of the few where she was an investor.

“Hello, am I speaking to Constanza Zanovelli?” the voice of a middle-aged man asked in a stern and serious tone.

“This is she,” Connie said cheerfully, being careful not to let a single sign of strain enter her tone. “It’s been a long time since we’ve spoken, Mr. Stone. How may I help?”

“I have a new idea that I wanted to run by you first,” the businessman said coolly. “I just don’t know if it’s worthwhile.”

“Well, what’s the idea?” Connie asked in a calm voice.

“A navigator, but it’s a navigator that can communicate with trainers that the owner has faced, one that can check on the condition of all Pokemon that the trainer owns.”

“It sounds like a decent idea to me,” she murmured softly. “What’s the catch?”

“I’m going to need a start-up of one-hundred-thousand poke...and it could take a while to get back on the investment.”

The consigliere raised her eyebrows. “How long are you talking about?”

“Ten to fifteen years.”

Connie closed her eyes. “Would it be alright if I called a friend in Kanto and got his opinion? He’s more of an expert on this sort of stuff than I am.”

“Certainly. Call me back when you’re done.”

The consigliere hung up the phone and dialed Pietrangelo’s number again. This time, the associate picked up the phone immediately.

“Hello, Connie!” the young man said enthusiastically. “I’ve got Redeyes, and I’m going to fly to Slateport.”

“Fair enough, Angel,” she said, feeling a sense of relief that something was finally going right for a change. “Try to use a designated flight zone, okay? I don’t want you to get arrested for something as stupid as flying in a no-flight zone. We’ve come too close and sacrificed too much to make careless mistakes at this point.”

“Okay.” The voice sounded a bit unsure. “Where’s the nearest DFZ? It’s been so long since I’ve been in Hoenn…”

“Please just look it up,” Connie said with an annoyed sigh. “They’ll have a map that shows it. Right now, I’m a little busy.”

“Too busy for me?” Angel teased. “Blasphemy.”

“Yes, too busy for you. I know you may be surprised by this, but I do have a life outside of our rela-”

“I’m just kidding! Jeez, I make one little comment, and the next thing I know, you act so cold, for some odd reason. Anyway, I’ll let you go, Connie. Good luck with...well, whatever it is you’re doing, I guess. See you soon!”

Connie immediately hung up the phone, recalled Granite to his pokeball, and turned back to Quinn. “Listen to me very carefully,” she said, staring straight into the man’s furious face. “I am giving you and Mandi a chance at a better life than what both of you had. Are you so stubborn that you would throw away a chance for her to have a happy life? Do you hate me more than you love her?”

“I ain’t gonna listen to a word you say.”

“I also have a useful piece of information for you. Something that you might find interesting, if you accept my offer.”

“Oh, really?” Quinn snarled. “What the hell kinda wool are you tryin’ to pull over my eyes, you heartless-”

“I know where your Magcargo is.”

Quinn almost bit his tongue out of shock.. “L-Lavarock?” he whispered hoarsely.

“Yes. Lavarock. Your starter. The one you found as an egg in the Fiery Path. He’s in Unova. I don’t know where your others are, but I know exactly where he is, and I will gladly help you find him...if you let Mandi find her place in the world. It’s your choice, Quinn. What’ll it be?”

“How do I know you ain’t lyin’?”

“I’m a female consigliere and a business investor worth millions. My very foundation is built upon trust and the fact that I never break my word to people who don’t break theirs. I didn’t get to this position because I’m the daughter of the boss. I didn’t get my wealth through him. I earned it through hard work, a little bit of luck, and trust. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a liar.”

He sighed and looked fondly at Mandi, who was drooling all over the carpet. “You...you really mean it? A better life fer her?”

“You both deserve it. You may not be a part of the Family, but you’ve kept your word. There’s no reason for me not to keep mine.”

Quinn bowed his head. “Well...guess Mandi’s gonna have to learn how to be a trainer when she wakes up,” he murmured reluctantly before giving her another glare. “You better keep her safe.”

Connie smiled as the wheels in her head turned. “Oh, don’t worry. She’ll have a bodyguard to keep her company.”

 

[Cutlerine]

Well, this is coming along nicely. I'm interested in the way you're approaching what I imagine will be a large part of the focus of the story from Mandi's point of view -- that is, the tournament -- from this oblique angle. Like, we started with Mandi, and now we're pulling back and circling around to Connie via Quinn; it's not the direct route, and I think that's absolutely appropriate for a story that seems to be at least as much about the things behind the action as it is about the action itself, if not more. Last chapter, we had the oblique hints about Quinn's past and about the interpersonal dynamics of the household, topped off with that explosion. This time, all the action stays firmly out of the room, and you concentrate on this one small space from which Connie makes things happen. The overlapping conversations and the two strands of Connie's plan coming together without either individual she contacts knowing exactly what's going on is pretty great stuff, and it works really well -- though sometimes I feel Quinn can vanish a bit when Connie's on the phone. It might be nice to at least mention him sometimes, especially during the longer phone conversations. I know Quinn isn't exactly going to do much with an Aggron looming over him, but from Connie answering 'Yes?' to Gage after she releases her Aggron to her hanging up on Pietrangelo, there are only a couple of breaks in the dialogue, and they come at the termination of conversations. Perhaps Connie concentrates very hard on her phone calls, but I get the feeling that she's the type to keep an eye on everything that's going on, even when the bulk of her attention is elsewhere. It's also just nice to read, really. A reader can get a bit lost in a conversation and lose track of the world beyond the two speakers if there's no intrusion of that outside world.

... that was a digression. But it turned into something constructive, I hope, so maybe some good came out of it. Anyway! As I was saying, this chapter expands on the last not only in those delicious plot-detail ways -- and I like how each new piece of information leads into deeper mysteries, by the way; it's intriguing stuff -- but also in that it gives a bit more of a sense of what the story's going to do, which seems to be (and maybe I'm wrong, but it seems this way so far) the dramatisation of the tangle of intrafamilial (and intra-Familial) relationships and obligations that are so important to the kind of clan ideology that seems to be so important to Quinn, to your Hoenn Mafia and fictional mafia organisations in general. I'm not really much of an expert on mafia fiction -- I mean, I read The Godfather several times as a child who was too young to really be reading it, but that's all -- so I'm not totally sure if I'm making this up or whether it's a thing that actually exists, but it seems to me that it might be, and 'might be' is good enough for me to shove it into a review, so.

The description is handled better in this chapter, too. There is a lot of background information here, and it's delivered much more smoothly than it was in the last chapter, dropped in as and when it's necessary. It's much easier to read and feels more natural. There's just a touch of that oversaturation when Connie first grabs her phone – 'a large, black cellular phone' is a mite more information than the reader needs, and the comma that all those adjectives require slows the sentence down. You don't necessarily need to describe every single action, either; you could just say she picked up and dialled, and then go on to say that she raised her eyebrows when it wasn't immediately answered. I think the reader would assume that she'd put the phone to her ear anyway. Then again, maybe you wanted to slow the sentence down and make the reader really aware of how this phone is Connie's major offensive weapon. There's a case to be made for the efficacy of the device in that sense, I guess, but I lean towards the side of cutting back slightly on the modifiers.

Speaking of Connie, I like the hints we have that position isn't as stable as it seems. Greco seems totally unafraid of her, and Marino questions her use of Bellossom serum without a second thought. It's curious, and I wonder if you're intentionally showing us that there's resistance to her control or whether it's just an excuse for her to deliver some snappy Villainous Put-Downs. (Interesting, too, that she switches to forenames partway through the conversation. Is she trying to needle them? I'm not sure. I haven't quite worked out what she's doing that for yet.) And then a little later on, the undercurrents of resistance explode out as Greco storms out. Which is nice; it feels suitably abrupt, but it's been well prepared for. Really, I guess I'm repeating much of what I said about your character drawing from last time, and indeed what I said above -- that I like how you show the reader the things left unsaid, or the things behind what's said -- but it is something that bears repeating, I think.

I don't so much have a blow by blow commentary to offer this time, which may or may not be a good thing, depending on whether you like your reviews as chunks of thought attached to quotations or as single meaty masses of text ( ... please remind me never to use that figure of speech ever again). I mean, I was trying to offer something a little more substantial this time around, but, I don't know, now that I look at it I wonder if I wasn't onto something last time. Anyway! That's enough from me. Keep it up, and I look forward to Chapter Three!