For the past two weeks, every day was the same. Gather the perfumes, head to Meta City, set up the stall and wait. Sales were relatively slow. Some days I made fifty to a hundred credits, while others I made none. The average was around twenty - the price I charged for one bottle. As I sat mulling over my prices, wondering whether lowering them might attract more sales, a gruff voice drew my eye.
I looked up to see a gabite standing before me. One I’d seen a few times. Both his fins were mechanical, or shrouded in gauntlets. It was hard to say, but they sported wicked claws. Claws like daggers. I’d heard a few pokemon refer to him as Iron Claw, but he’d never shown an ounce of interest in my humble little stall. I hadn’t picked up what he’d said amongst all the racket the market created, but he was looking right at me. A smirk tugging at his lips. Then he turned fully to face me and approached my stall. Each step purposeful and confident. I instinctively retreated, eyes going wide and bugging from their sockets like an alarmed goldeen. He rammed his fins onto the table, those daggers gouging into the wood. Each little bottle hopped and some skittered backwards off the stand. I leapt to catch them, but a couple missed my paws and shattered on the stone floor.
I snapped my head up towards him and narrowed my eyes, flashing a canine, but he just laughed.
“Some little runt selling perfume?” He shook his head and dragged his claws free from the table. “Wow, this market just gets lower and lower. You ain’t gonna make scotch sellin’ that. Just leave, let the real business ‘mon take over this stall.”
I kept one eye on him, trying to mask my tremble as I pushed the bottles back into place.
“You hearin’ me, kid?” he growled.
“Oh, I hear you.” I sat back on my haunches and tried to give him as confident a look as I could muster. “I’m just not leaving.”
His lip curled, flashing his sharp teeth. His two other cronies stepped forward beside him. A bagon and a druddigon. The latter flexed his claws then balled them into fists.
“Trash his stall,” Iron Claw told them.
The spiky dragon leapt forward, his paws striking the underside of the table. Colourful bottles went flying, shattering against the wall and raining down floral and berry scented shards. Before I knew what was happening, I’d thrown myself at the druddigon. His jagged scales scraped the fur back from my skin, but I didn’t care. A full body tackle sent him bowling backwards, causing Iron Claw to leap aside with a surprised squeak. The entire market flew into an uproar, pokemon abandoning their stalls to avoid the rolling bodies. Stalls toppled, wares scattered onto the ground. The druddigon’s claws dug into my shoulders, lifting me off him. The strain at my unexpected weight reflected in his eyes, and I struggled, using it to my advantage. Before I landed on him, I turned the drop into another tackle, knocking the wind right out of his lungs.
A flash of purple fire skimmed by back and I looked over at the bagon. Much smaller, but just as nasty. My hind feet struck the druddigon’s gut, eliciting a grunt, as I propelled myself towards the smaller dragon. Fire seared my fur, but I dived right through it. I couldn’t stop. Gravity kept me going until I struck him hard in the face. His skull bounced off the floor and he lay limp as I landed beside him. Every hair on my body stood on end amongst bloodied and singed patches, and I stood breathing heavily, the only sound in the suddenly silent market, and leered up at the gabite.
“You wanna end up like those?” I growled, nodding to the unconscious dragons. “Or are you gonna clean up the mess?”
He followed my fleeting gaze to the ruined market stall, a look of hesitation crossing his face. Those claws flexed with a similar noise to the skeleton I hid inside my body. I wasn’t exactly going to tackle him with those blades adorning his limbs, but he didn’t need to know that.
He fixed me with a yellow glare, then threw his head back and laughed. Roaring laughter. Then he looked right back at me.
“You’ve got guts!” he said. “So what’ve you had done, then? What makes a runt like you so freakin’ powerful you can take down two of the best pirates in Pulse City?”
I said nothing, keeping him locked in a leer. He just smirked.
“Seriously?” he went on. “You can tell old Iron Claw. You like… completely cybernetic or somethin’?”
Silence. I narrowed my eyes, bristling from ear to tail.
“I see.” He chuckled. “So, what’s a runt like you doin’ sellin’ perfume? With moves like that you could be sellin’ so much more.”
I spat with disgust and took a step backwards. “Like what?”
“Like yourself.” He waved a paw at me. “Sell your skills, boy! I could pay you big!”
I gave a snort of derision and lowered myself to the ground, threatening an attack. Iron Claw raised his paws but he didn’t move away. No fear in his eyes.
“Hear me out,” he said. “I could pay you five hundred credits per day! Plus commission for each job you help me with. Even more if you take out one of my enemies!”
“You wanna hire me as a murderer?!” I roared.
“Not ‘murderer’.” He flexed two blades on each paw for air quotes. “No, I can do that perfectly fine myself. I just need you to detain them. Pokemon get pretty nasty when I go stealin’ their wares. I’m a merchant by trade. I steal weapons and sell them in Pulse City. You’ll get so much more than you will sellin’ prissy perfume in this market, boy. Anythin’ you steal and sell yourself, you keep. Add that onto what I’ll be payin’ you and you’ll be livin’ like a king!”
I stood, slack-jawed, staring at the dragon type. That made the average twenty credits a day I’d been heading home with look like nutpeas. Five hundred a day, minimum, could help my mother much faster. It was an attractive offer… but working for a space pirate?
“I’ll do it,” I said. “But only until I’ve made enough to save my mother.”
The gabite jolted and his mouth turned into a confused frown. “You’re sellin’ perfume… to save your mother?”
“Yes,” I said. “She’s sick in the outskirts.”
“And I just trashed it all!” He threw his paws into the air and fell to his knees. “Oh, I feel like such a fool!”
Lies.
The smirk on his face was enough to prove that. Hidden behind his bladed claws. He was winning no prizes for acting.
“Well.” He clambered back to his feet and placed his paws on his hips, glancing over his fallen comrades. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any berries to revive my crew, have you?”
I shook my head and he tutted.
“Pity. I’m runnin’ low.” He reached into his belt and tossed a small money pouch towards me. “First errand, go buy me some berries. Once these fools are back on their feet, we’ll head to my ship.”
And that’s how I made the first step towards the worst decision of my life. It started with buying berries.
...
Iron Claw’s ship was immense. One of the few pirate ships that wasn’t based on an aquatic pokemon. The huge rayquaza wound through System Sky, each one of its many windows allowing a clear view of the dark vastness beyond. I’d never been so high up. I was fascinated. Amid the blackness, stars glittered in the distance. The flickering antennae of the floating cities flashed blue and green below. Higher up than even the cities. The world below looked tiny. From this height I could even see the huge, vast whiteness of the Dead Glacier emerging beyond the mist.
“How high up are we?” I gasped.
The bagon working the navigation controls didn’t even look up at me. “About a few thousand miles, I’d say.”
My mouth moved silently as I repeated those words in my head. The fleeting thought that the ship could easily fall and kill us all crossed my mind, but it did nothing to quench my excitement.
The bagon’s name was Vittles. An odd name. Almost as odd as the druddigon, who’d adopted the alias Winder. Not one member of Iron Claw’s crew, even himself, had names typical of System. It suited both him and his ship down to a T. I was clearly the first. An odd ball amongst a group of dragons.
And oddly enough, I wasn’t remotely scared. It thrilled me with excitement. No longer confined to System Ground, free to roam the skies and earn enough money to help my mother.
I dropped down from the dashboard and turned to the druddigon pilot.
“So where are we going again?” I asked.
“Magenta City,” he growled. “Sit down.”
I nodded. “Safety first. Gotcha.”
A quick scout of the cockpit and I spotted a spare seat beside the navigation deck. As I hopped up into it, Vittles finally looked at me. A fleeting look I couldn’t read. Displeasure? Haughtiness? Gas? I ignored it and tried to work out what the pictures on the navigation screen meant.
Iron Claw marched back into the cockpit, gnawing at a large fish bone. “Almost there, then, eh?”
He tossed the bone into the corner of the room and fell down into his seat, but not without firing a grin in my direction. His long, metal claws flexed and I found myself wondering if they were an enhancement or just a weapon he constantly wore, much like one might wear a scarf.
“So what are we going to Magenta for?” I asked, tail wagging.
My eye went to the window again, spotting the large, floating city and its trademark volcano in the distance.
“I just gotta pick up some stuff,” said Iron Claw. “You should know full well Magenta City creates the parts for Socket’s weapons and ships. The city is filled with fire types, after all. They’re pretty good at melting and melding steel.”
“And where do they get the steel from?”
Iron Claw grinned wider. Not a friendly grin, but I kept my cool.
“Raster City,” he said.
“The outlands?” I squeaked.
“It’s the only place with steel types, boy!” The gabite laughed and swivelled back to face the window. “What they can’t mine in their tiny, floating city, they have to buy! None of these floating cities are old enough to have created their own supply of ore! So why not buy shed exoskeletons from the pathetic steel types for nutpeas? I like their level of thinkin’.”
I hopped from the seat to join his side. “So we’re buying weapon parts and selling them on?”
All three dragons turned to look at me with equal, unreadable looks. Did they all have gas?
“Buy them?” Iron Claw scoffed. “No, boy. We’re just takin’ then. Then we’re gonna sell ‘em at Pulse City’s Black Market and make a fortune.”
“Same old same old,” said Winder.
“I get the impression you’ve done this before,” I said slowly. “A lot.”
“Aye.” Iron Claw tapped his temple with one of his blades. “You don’t get to be the wealthiest space pirates in System overnight.”
“So… you know what you’re doing?” I narrowed my eyes.
Another grin split Iron Claw’s toothy maw. “That’s right, boy. I know exactly what I’m doing.”
Those words and that grin sent a chill through my tiny body. I finally managed to read his expression. This was a dragon with a plan, and I was fairly certain it involved me.
As we drew closer to Magenta City, the heat permeated the ship. The rayquaza lined up perfectly with the docks, turning to allow us all out through its hatch. It was dark, the dead of night, but guards peppered the docks either manning the turrets or standing armed and waiting.
Yet somehow, they didn’t see us.
Iron Claw was out first, ducking behind a metal shipping crate. Then he was gone. Winder shoved be from behind, sandwiching me between himself and Vittles. We followed his lead, scurrying across while trying to stop our claws from clacking on the wood. I don’t know which of us it was, but one of us scuffed our claws a little too harshly, drawing they eye of a heatmor.
The chunky fire type readied his laser and moved away from his post, scanning the shadows silently. A long tongue of flames flicked out at intervals, lighting up his surroundings like a torch. But every ‘mon knows heatmor don’t need much light to go by. He spotted us before he even reached the crate. Lifted his laser. Aimed.
“Take him,” Iron Claw whispered into my ear.
“What?” I whispered back, too harshly.
The heatmor’s eyes widened and his claw tightened on the trigger. Then he crumpled into a silent heap.
I caught Iron Claw’s eye in the distance, unimpressed, disappointed. He curled his deadly claws, ushering us on. Quick. I sidestepped the heatmor, giving him one last glance. Blood pooled around him, dripping between the wooden slats into the glass dome below. The metallic tang struck my nostrils, turning my stomach and I screwed my eyes shut, scurrying after Vittles while wishing desperately this was just a dream. Or that my eyes had deceived me.
I’d never considered space pirates to be killers. They were just outlaws, living outside Socket’s rules. A faction that grew from the hatred of using water dwellers as meat. Although the trend went well beyond that, attracting the lowlifes who only wanted to get off System Ground and make a living in the crime scene. But killing? I’d hit the nail on the head when I’d scoffed at Iron Claw wanting to hire me as a murderer.
I made a mental note to book it once we got back to Meta City.
The roads wound through shadowy streets lit up from the fires on the volcano. Each footstep warmed me to the core as heat from the lava seeped through the stone. During daylight it would be a lovely place to bask, but knowing what had just happened on the docks took all the loveliness out of it.
Iron Claw finally stopped beside a factory. Smoke billowed from its chimney, sucked straight up through a vent in the dome and ejected into the atmosphere. Yet the smell of metal and smoke still filled my nostrils.
“It’s here,” he said, nodding to a door. “Locked tight from the inside.”
I stared up at the door, cast iron set in a stone wall. There was a small window allowing us to see inside. It lead into a wide corridor filled with boxes and trolleys.
Iron Claw shooed me aside and my ears twitched at the sound of metal screeching across glass. He ran his claws around the window, slicing the glass like butter. He caught it skillfully and set it aside against the wall.
“All right, boy. Let’s see if you can handle this.” He turned his eyes on me. “Wiggle in there and let us in, eh?”
I looked between the dragon and the window, my eyes briefly going to his wicked claws. Well, I wasn’t willing to find myself on the receiving end of them, so I hopped up to the window and gripped the edge. The remains of the glass cut into my paws between my pads, but I ignored it. Mechanical skeleton creaking and groaning with the weight, I hoisted myself through and landed heavily on the other side. A quick check of my paws showed blood trickling between my toes. I gave them a sympathetic lick then turned to the door.
“It needs a code!” I hissed.
Iron Claw’s face appeared where the glass was and frowned down at me, but I was too busy frowning at the code panel beside the door.
“It also needs a paw print,” I added.
“Then bash it,” Iron Claw’s voice rumbled.
“Bash what? The panel?” I scoffed.
I shook my head and sighed. Then launched myself at the panel before Iron Claw could finish giving me a response. I heard something about ‘bashing the door, you moron’ as I struck the panel a second time. It splintered and cracked, revealing its wires. I grabbed them in my paws and tugged, wrenching them free. The panel went dark and something clicked. A lock. I gave the door a shove and it swung outward on its silent hinges.
A smile tugged at Iron Claw’s unimpressed face. “Nice job. Get a little tackle-happy there?”
The dragons shoved past me and left me to follow them down the corridor.
It was dark and dingy, and stunk of oil and grease. Yet the floor felt smooth and dry. Wherever the steel was melded, it was clearly confined elsewhere. The heat grew more and more intense the further we ventured into the building. Not even a sniff of a pokemon was nearby, yet I could hear something. Something heavy, banging, as machines whirred away. Yet it was completely empty. As the corridor turned off into the main part of the building, it became more apparent why. I glanced through a window, noting huge mechanical shapes lumbering back and forth. Mechanical arms hoisted up crates to place on a conveyor belt, and as they moved along yet more mechanical arms and bulky implements sealed them shut with a whole lot of hollow banging. So they had machines doing their work for them. But surely they’d be ‘monned? Not left to whir away at their own jurisdiction?
I caught up with Iron Claw, keeping my eye on that door. “I guess we should be wary of a machine uprising, huh?”
He fired me a frowning glance and turned sharply away from the factory. He paused by a door and wagged a claw at it.
“Metal,” he said. “Can you handle this, runt?”
I snorted, wanting to retaliate with something along the lines of ‘I’m a normal type, not a ground type like you!’ but after what I’d already witnessed, I dared not rub him the wrong way. Instead, I set my shoulders and launched myself at the door. My muscles roared as I struck it, bouncing off like a pebble from a metagross’ hide. I landed on my paws, claws scraping the tiles as I skidded along them. Then I threw myself at it again. Iron Claw roared with laughter as I was deflected a second time and grabbed me by the tail before I could skid back around the corner. Those metal blades cut into my skin and I tried my best not to grimace.
“Calm yerself,” he purred. “I’ve got this.”
He turned back to the door and threw his right arm into the air. Sand whipped up around him and flew at the door. It looked just like sand, yet it sliced through the metal like his claws did flesh. I couldn’t help but wonder if anything could stand in this dragon’s way. The door was reduced to scraps in an instant. He stepped over the remains like they were nothing and surveyed the room.
Boxes. Lots and lots of boxes, each one labelled with the weapon parts they contained.
“Grab ‘em,” he told his crew. “As many as you can. Then, if no one stops us, we’ll come back for more.”
Winder placed one crate atop another and grabbed both in his chunky arms. Vittles, however, could barely manage one. He staggered after the druddigon, stumbling on the metal scraps. His eyes widened as he steadied the crate then waddled away towards the exit.
Iron Claw narrowed his eyes at me. “Guess I can’t expect you to carry one, eh, quadruped?”
I snorted and grabbed one of the crates by its bindings in my teeth. A quick toss hoisted it into the air and I stepped beneath it, letting it fall onto my back. It was heavy. Much heavier than me. I wasn’t sure if I was the only one who heard the hissing of my mechanical joints with every strain that seemingly small gesture took, but Iron Claw nodded his approval.
“Not just a small fry, eh?” He chuckled and grabbed two crates in his arms before leading me from the storage room. “I think I could get a lotta use outta you, boy. Even if you are a soft-hearted runt.”
The trip back to the docks was about as uneventful as they came. It made me wonder how easy space pirates had it. That was until we reached the docks. The pokemon working there had found their slaughtered companion.
Iron Claw merely tutted and led us a little further along. Yet more cargo crates provided a convenient barrier between us and the dock workers. But it was further along from the ship. Iron Claw tapped the bagon on the shoulder, drawing his eye.
“Drop the box,” he whispered, “and go and get the ship. Bring it closer.”
The small dragon didn’t even complain. I wondered why as I looked between him and the dock workers. Even the police ‘mon had shown up now. A typhlosion trailed by a flareon. After witnessing that sand tomb, a confrontation would hardly be anything the gabite couldn’t handle.
My eye went back to Vittles as he scampered away from the cargo crate. His hide shifted colour and in an instant he’d vanished from sight. My jaw dropped. What kind of enhancement was that?!
Iron Claw said nothing, keeping his eye on the two police ‘mon. Sirens began to sound out over the city as yet more police threatened to show up at the scene. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Winder shaking his head.
It seemed to take forever, but before any more pokemon showed up at the crime scene, Vittle’s crate rose into the air and the bagon appeared slowly behind it.
“Follow me,” he said.
The little bagon scampered over the docks towards the ship, where he vanished once more behind its cloak. Iron Claw gave me a shove in the tail with his foot and I took off after the small dragon. Winder followed close behind while Iron Claw covered the rear. That was when the voices reached our ears. That flareon was quick.
No. There would me no more casualties. I had this one.
I tossed the box towards the ship then tackled the flareon to the ground. The wind left his lungs in a hiss, then he struck the floor hard on his back. A quick belly flop left him stunned and dazed. I swivelled in the air and returned to the box, tossing it onto the ship. Vittles ducked with a squeak and turned his head towards the box as it crashed into the other… three?
I turned my head back to see Iron Claw standing over the flareon. Blood shimmered on his claws as a flame thrower lit up the sky, flying from the typhlosion’s mouth. A small army of fire types rushed the dragon, fists blazing, bodies lit up with flames.
By the time they reached the flareon’s corpse, the ship was already in motion. Iron Claw leapt at it and hung from its door as it left the docks, tossing the remaining crate ahead of him. I instinctively moved it to make way for the sand dragon, not getting a single thanks in return. Instead, he stood in the open doorway, watching the docks. Laughing.
“Another job well done!” he said, turning back towards me. “Glad to see you took initiative there, boy! Get some rest. You’re gonna need your strength once we reach Pulse City.”
Pulse City? Well, I should have expected that. Guess I wasn’t escaping any time soon. I nodded and turned towards the rear of the ship.
“Take the third room along!” Iron Claw told me. “If I want you, I’ll holler!”
He laughed again, marching towards the ship’s cockpit. I gave a glance back at it, not spotting any of the dragons. Then I trudged along towards the room. It wasn’t until I was inside that I finally let my ears droop and my tail fall between my legs. I slumped to the floor, landing nose-first in dust. The only thing that could pass as a bed was an old mattress thrown into the corner of the room, right next to a pile of dirty sheets in desperate need of a laundrette.
I didn’t touch any of them. Instead I took the opportunity to examine my paws and tail. Both needed a good clean up before they got infected. Not that they could get infected. All those enhancements to my body filtered that out, but still… I sat grooming them while I ran over the events in my head.
Iron Claw’s ruthless slaughters, the whole raid on that factory, his careless grabbing of my tail in his bladed claws… did he even have a moral compass? If I hadn’t tackled that flareon… would he still be alive? We’d have probably been on the ship before he even reached us. Why did I do that?
I spat out a clump of dusty fur and turned my eyes to the window. Dark. We’d left Magenta City and were back in System Sky’s vast blackness of night. I clambered to my feet and looked out. In the far distance I could see the twinkling lights of another city, unknown to me. I didn’t even know which way was north from this height. Was it Pulse City? No… surely the nose of the rayquaza ship would be pointing towards it by now.
Pulse City…
I could only imagine such a place. Hopefully once we were out of it, we’d head back to System Ground. I didn’t even care where. I just wanted to get away from these space pirates. No pokemon should have to die for the sake of credits. I wasn’t even too sure I wanted the dragon’s blood money.
Little did I know that was all set to change before we left Pulse City.
...
Pulsing music reached my ears as the ship pulled into the docks. I’d been sleeping, and somehow was really grateful I was even waking up. I’d been fighting off sleep, but thankfully the dragons had left me well alone. I scrambled to my paws and looked from the window. Huge neon signs lit up shop and club fronts, some flickering erratically as their bulbs struggled to stay lit. The music wasn’t so much a melody as a concoction of various themes and rock music blaring from the various bars and colourful entertainment billboards.
I scrambled from the room, following Iron Claw’s bellowing voice towards the cockpit. He stood by the exit hatch, muzzle creased into a frown as I approached him.
“Grab a crate,” he said. “We’re already late.”
“Late for what?” I asked around the crate’s bindings.
Iron Claw watched as I tossed it onto my back. Again. It hurt a lot more this time, I think I’d pulled something.
“Late to meet Worm,” Iron Claw spat. “He’s messaged me three times since we left Magenta. Pulse City is gagging for weapons and we’re supplyin’! Get a move on, runt. Follow Winder and make it fast. All of ya!”
I staggered off the ship beneath the weight of the crate, desperate not to drop it. The space pirates gathered around the docks watched us curiously, claws twitching as some considered interjecting. As I strolled by with one on my back, balanced like a spinning plate, they seemed to reconsider. Wary looks passed between them as they watched the tiny eevee and his big box. I could almost hear their brains whirring as they tried to process whether what they saw was true or a facade, but not one wanted to find out.
Good. I was in no mood to fight.
I caught up with Winder and Vittles, then cast a glance back to the ship. Iron Claw was still making sure it was secure before grabbing his own crates off the docks.
“Why do you put up with someone like that?” I asked the two dragons.
Winder cast me a wary glance while Vittles glanced back and cleared his throat.
“Simple,” he said. “You seen those things on his claws, right?”
I nodded.
“Well… we don’t wanna get on the receivin’ end o’ them.”
“Besides,” said Winder, “it pays. Now shut up talkin’ and keep on walkin’.”
He nudged me with his foot and I had to teeter to keep the crate from toppling to the ground.
The long road ended at a huge building with ‘market’ in neon letters above it. As we sidled in, a throh barrelled past with his own crew in tow. A rather rag-tag group of misfits trailed by a small, runty mawile in a scarf much too big for him. He caught it under his feet and tripped into me, almost causing me to drop the crate. Winder stopped beside me, catching it on his flank. He shot the mawile a filthy look to the back of the head as he returned to the large fighting type, and nudged the crate back in place until it was balanced.
“Watch where you’re goin’,” Winder hissed.
“He bumped me!” I squeaked.
“I don’t care. You break the contents, it’ll be your hide!”
I deeply hoped he wasn’t speaking from experience. I tried my best not to cower and instead put on a brave face, following the two dragon types through the market’s crowds. A low table spread before us ‘monned by a sewaddle I could only assume was Worm.
Winder dropped his two crates onto the sewaddle’s somewhat bare table, drawing the bug pokemon’s confident stare.
“We rustled six crates,” said Winder. “Iron Claw’s on his way.”
“No he ain’t, he’s here.” Iron Claw dropped his own crates beside Winder’s and peered at the bug pokemon over the top of them. “I think you’ll be satisfied.”
“Go on then,” said Worm. “Bust ‘em open, let’s see what’s inside.”
The arrival of the crates had already drawn quite the audience. Iron Claw brandished his claws and sliced the bindings open. The crates took a bit of prying to loosen the nails, but once one was open, Worm clambered up the side and poked his tiny head over the rim.
“Oh ho ho!” he crooned. “Laser modules! Now we don’t get too many of them!”
There was cheering from the surrounding pokemon, along with clapping paws. I found myself shoved aside as larger pokemon scrambled to the table. It all became quite a blur and I stepped back, away from the table and out of the crowd.
Once Iron Claw’s exchange was done, he returned to me and gave me a nod.
“All sold,” he said. “Couldn’t have done it without ya.”
“Really?” I growled, ears drooped, shoulders slumped.
“What’s that look for?” Iron Claw flashed his sharp teeth. “You climbed through that window, boy! None of us coulda fit through that!”
I snorted and looked away from him. Fully aware of his claws. Part of me waited for him to slice away, but instead he just laughed.
“Wanna see what we earned today?” He slammed something onto my head.
I flinched, body locking up. But instead, a visor flashed before my eye. A large number appeared on it, and my eyes slowly widened as I realised what I was looking at.
Seven thousand and five hundred credits.
“That’s your share,” said Iron Claw. “Bet ya wouldn’t have made that sellin’ perfumes in Meta City’s underbelly, eh?”
I shook my head, stiffly at first, then more energetically as I turned to look back up at him.
“No! I would not!” I said. “I… this is really from grabbing those weapons?”
“Aye.” Iron Claw curled his fists into his hips and smirked down at me. “And a little extra for nailin’ that flareon. We coulda got a lot more than that if we’d grabbed more crates. This is the life we lead, boy. You in?”
The images of that bloodied heatmor and the poor flareon crossed my mind once more, but I shook it away, letting it fade into nothingness. My mother came back to the front of my mind. More than seven thousand credits. Just ten more errands and we could afford a place back in Meta City. We could afford to get her well again.
I nodded as a grin split my muzzle. “I’m in.”
...
More than a month passed by. Some errands fetched far less than the raid we’d performed in Magenta City. Iron Claw steered well away from that area of System Sky, and for good reason. It would be heavily defended for a while as the fire types kept a look out for his trademark ship. Instead, we visited Meta City’s underbelly for the chance of the odd weapon popping up. We’d do weapons raids in other areas such as Boolean City, or visit Binary’s entertainment district for a gambling session (or a stroll around, in my case). We’d drop in on Raster City to raid metal scraps and ore - some pokemon in Pulse City used them to make their own weapons and doohickeys (although admittedly they were a bit shoddy…) All odd jobs that very rarely brushed seven thousand credits.
Most days were spent idly flying around System Sky, or gambling in Pulse City. Well… the dragons gambled. I’d either sit with them or skulk in a corner with a drink Iron Claw had cheerfully bought me before returning to his games. Even if I’d been offered to join in, I wouldn’t be risking my hard earned credits. They were for my mother, not throwing away.
At night I’d check my balance, watching it slowly creep up. It didn’t help that on the quieter days - which were often - Iron Claw didn’t even pay me the five hundred he’d promised (and there was no way I was confronting him about it…) We needed a plan. A big plan. I’d not spoken to my mother in weeks, and I was growing anxious. Twenty thousand credits wasn’t going to get us a home. It was barely enough to get her well. Another ten thousand, maybe. At least I could give her that but… she’d still be living in the outskirts. She’d just get sick again.
I sighed and let my paw flop to my side. A small stream of dust rose from the mattress and I rolled over to face the empty room. Less dusty. No luxuries. Every credit I earned was set aside for my mother. For some reason, Iron Claw kept feeding me. He fed us all. Part of me wondered if he set a little savings aside for keeping his crew.
Since that stunt in Magenta City, he hadn’t killed anyone again. That was a plus. Maybe space pirates weren’t all that bad?
The ship came to a halt and I heard the gabite bellow for us all to get a move on. I cast a quick glance from the window and felt my stomach do a turn.
In the distance was Socket’s mansion, the System flag waving high above the rooftops. Mechanical trees stood tall along the streets just beyond the docks, silent sentinels in a night-shrouded city.
But just as one would expect, Meta City was not quiet. Pokemon bustled back and forth, oblivious to the cloaked ship. What on earth were we doing back here? Even if we visited the underbelly, Meta’s docks was not the place to park.
I left the room, a million questions forming in my mind, but they all retreated back into forgotten files as I stared up at the gabite. A huge grin split his face and he tapped his arm with his wicked claws.
“Got a little job for you, boy,” he purred. “Nice and easy, like.”
I glanced out of the open hatch then shrugged. “Go on.”
“Hospital raid,” he said. “Get in there, grab some medicines, and meet us back here.”
“What do you need medicines for?” I asked, meeting his eyes.
“Pulse City,” he said. “They pay out the nose for medicine, boy! Dunno if you’ve realised, but weapons have been a little dry lately. So I thought why not raid some medicines? Could easily land you, oh… I dunno… fifteen thousand credits per run?”
My jaw almost hit the floor.
That was it. I left the ship, keeping my wits about me. Iron Claw had his head screwed on straight. He might stand out like a sore paw pad, but me? A normal type in Meta City? So long as the dock workers didn’t see me suddenly appear out of thin air, then they wouldn’t suspect a thing.
It weren’t far to Central Meta Hospital. The huge, white, sterile building was exactly where it’s name said it should be. The centre of Meta City. A fair trek from the docks, but without pokemon casting suspicious glances my way it didn’t take long to get there. What did take a while was finding a way in. Sure, I could walk through the A&E reception, but to stroll into wards? Into locked storage cupboards? Now that part wasn’t going to be easy.
One would think.
I managed to get into the wards with all the ease of a haunter through a brick wall. I’d only been a space pirate for like, a month, but I had pick pocketing down to a fine art. I’d snagged guns, pocket computers, credit pouches and all sorts from space pirates and commoners alike. I’d been caught once. By a machoke who’d taken an extreme dislike to me taking his computer. I’d received a black eye that day, made a whole lot more sore by the tattoo I’d had done two days prior. Courtesy of Iron Claw in order to make me look tougher. He had a friend do it ‘for free’. Coupled with a bruise it smarted my paws off, but I learned a valuable lesson. Be more careful.
So as a janitor passed me by, I craned my head back to spot a set of keys hanging by his tail. The little minccino didn’t feel a thing as I grabbed the keys from his belt, snipping through the leather loop with my sharp teeth. Perfect. Keys was what I’d need to get into the storage cupboards.
I paused by a map, tucking the keys into my belt pouch. Muttering under my breath ‘storage, storage’ I managed to find a promising area between Intensive Care and MRI. I adjusted the rucksack over my shoulders and followed the orange corridor around until it spat me out in the red area. Intensive Care. Computers beeped in the distance, monitoring heart rates. A young meowstic stopped me on the way, glancing between myself and her Clipboard.
“Who are you here to see?” she asked. “I don’t recognise you.”
“I just arrived,” I said. “I’m here to see my dad.”
Lies. She narrowed her eyes at me then looked back at her Clipboard.
“I don’t believe we have any eevee here,” she said. “Or any of your eevolutions.”
“That’s because he’s a meowstic.”
The look on her face was one of disbelief. I simply shrugged.
“What is his name?” She stared intensely down at her Clipboard, scrolling with an index claw.
“I don’t know it,” I lied.
She looked back up with a start and opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off.
“He never let me call him by his name. I don’t even remember my mother using it. We all had to call him ‘Dad’. It’s a habit, see. It was to get me, and my little brother, saying ‘Dad’ first. You know what dads are like, right?”
The look on her face was unreadable. It wasn’t working. I’d have to do something, and fast. I glanced down the corridor behind her, into the waiting room. Bustling nurses. This wasn’t going to be easy.
“I can’t let you in,” she said. “I’ll have to call security.”
I muttered under my breath, ‘Oh jack.’ She reached for the microphone on her scarf but before she could do anything, I leapt at her, fastening my jaws around her throat. I cut off any yelp she intended to let out, and we tumbled down an empty corridor. When I let go, she’d fallen unconscious. I scooped up the Clipboard, noting the male meowstic’s name. It definitely wasn’t Dad. I scooted it aside and sat her up, then looked around.
A grin split my face. The storage closet!
I grabbed the keys and leafed through for the card that would open the door. Every janitor would need to get in at some point, surely? Each one failed. Well, I wasn’t busting it open this time. Not in a hospital full of pokemon who might hear or see me, or both. I spat the keys back out and turned to the meowstic. Still unconscious.
Around her neck was her name badge, hidden under all that fur. I snipped it free, getting some of her fur in the process. Then I flashed it at the storage closet’s card panel. It clicked open and I stifled a cheer. The card key found its new home in my pouch, just in case I needed it to get back out. Sure, I wasn’t a meowstic, but it looked official at first glance.
The storage closet was full of medicine. I removed the rucksack Iron Claw had given me and began stuffing it with all sorts from saline solution to needles. Concentrated berry concoctions, pain killers… it was all here. Once I was done, I left the cupboard and kicked the door shut. I considered giving the meowstic her badge back and changed my mind. The less evidence I left, the better. At least the minccino’s keys looked just like dropped keys, and took the suspicion from me.
I sauntered back the way I came, retracing my footsteps back to the docks.
Iron Claw laughed jovially as he went through the medicine bag. “Well done, boy!”
I puffed out my chest. “All in a day’s work, Captain!”
He snorted. “I told you to cut that out.”
I shrugged, watching as he tossed the bag back into the cockpit.
“So,” I said. “With that, I’m closer to saving my mother. Reckon we can pay her a visit and transfer it?”
“I thought you were waitin’ until you got seventy thousand.” The dragon didn’t even look at me.
“I was, but… I’ve been thinking…” I cleared my throat. “If we can get things started, at least she’ll be in a hospital. Then… I might make enough to get her a small apartment at least-”
“No.”
“No?” I raised an eyebrow. “But I’ve earned it! I can do what I want with my wages.”
“Really?” Iron Claw stood up and frowned down at me. “What makes you think I’m even payin’ you?”
“I’m sorry?”
“You were sellin’ perfumes back in the underbelly, right? Floral. Berry. Had ‘sylveon’ written all over it.” He chuckled. “You really think I’m payin’ you to take care of some fairy?”
My jaw went slack. I didn’t know what to say.
“Hit a nerve, eh?” Iron Claw asked.
“My mother isn’t just some fairy,” I said slowly. “She’s my mother, and she saved my life! It’s my job to save hers.”
“I ain’t payin’ you to take care of some fairy, boy.” He chuckled and kicked the bag further into the cockpit.
“Yes you are, and you know it.” I rose to my own feet, leering up at the gabite. “You told me I’d make more money here than I would selling perfumes. Now let me rescue my mother!”
Iron Claw spread his blades and took a step back. “Then transfer it. You’ve got your visor, use it.”
“You never told me how…”
I brought up the visor, keeping one eye on the sand dragon. A sinking feeling spread through my gut. Blank screen, just numbers, no option to transfer. I searched it frantically, but it was just the amount, and the bank’s name ‘PCB’.
“How?” I growled.
Iron Claw chuckled and folded his arms. “You can’t, boy. Restrictin’ your use stopped you accessin’ it and sendin’ it off to some fairy.”
I flashed my canines and lowered my head, an uncharacteristic snarl rising in my throat. “Then what have you been paying me for?!”
“I haven’t been paying you!” Iron Claw roared back. “It were a lie! Keep you keen, use your size and that strength you’ve got! You’re a tiny runt who fits places we can’t, and a normal type?” He waved out at Meta City. “Blends right in. And, if in the process there’s one less fairy in System? Bonus!”
A huge, childlike roar left my throat and I flew at him, knocking him backwards. He rolled head over tail before launching me from the door. Claws sliced my flesh, but I didn’t care. I stood back up to throw myself back onto the ship, but he leapt out like a dart. His huge frame barrelled into me, sending me across the docks. Pokemon scattered. Screams filled the air. Mine joined them as sharp claws cut into me, raking over my body.
Vittles and Winder joined him on the docks and a little hope filled my chest. But it was expunged when I saw their faces. Their leers. Their snarling teeth as Iron Claw stood back up and waved towards me.
“Go on,” he said. “Finish him off. I’m done.”
They were on me like rabid mutts, fists striking my ribs and jaws snapping over my ruff to throw me across the docks. I tried to fight back. I got in a few tackles, even a take down. But those heavy wounds to my body bled freely, painfully, draining me of my strength. Eventually, I had to flee. Flee before the police showed up. They did. They tried to stop me, but not with accusations. I didn’t want to speak to them. With what little energy I had left, I fled, leaving bloody paw prints on the streets.
The two dragons didn’t chase after me. I didn’t look back. I’ve no idea if they were even apprehended. They probably fled.
I’ve no idea how I even left the city. I managed to get out into the outskirts, somehow, where I finally collapsed in Spool City on some filthy back street.
Sore. Beaten. Bleeding. I could feel the warmth pooling from my nostrils as I let my eyes close, letting my breathing slowly level out. Then I heard footsteps. Slow. Approaching. Whoever it was could finish me off for all I cared.
They stopped close to my muzzle, and I could feel whoever it was staring down at me. When they didn’t speak, or move, I finally cracked an eye open. The blurred features of a delphox stared back at me, briefly coming into focus before I finally let it close again. A dry chuckle left my throat, but I couldn’t think of any words.
He spoke first. “Scourge of the skies.” His voice was wrought with disappointment. “Oh, what your mother would think of you.”
I chuckled again. “I was doin’ it for her.”
“I know.”
I took in a deep, trembling breath. “So what are you gonna do to me? Turn me over to Socket?”
I heard him take a deep drag of his cigar. “No.”
I was rapidly losing strength. Every single word I tried was becoming a chore.
“I deserve it,” I said.
“Oh, I know. But what kind of friend would I be if I did that?”
Friend? I laughed bitterly.
“Then what?” I asked. “Turn me into my mother?”
He stubbed his cigar out on a damp wall then scooped me into his arms. I remember thinking ‘typical’ before everything finally went black.
...
I woke up in the same bed my mother had occupied. It smelled like her. The whole room did. Even a few perfume pots still stood on the table, waiting for the son who never showed up to collect them. It tasted bitter. I buried my face into the pillow, trying to lose myself in pleasant memories of games and bedtime stories back in a clean, Meta City house. I even thought I smelled her baking.
The door opened and I looked back, expecting to see her, but all I saw was Tracer with a cigar between his teeth. His eyes widened with surprise and he removed it, the smoke curling from his claws as he flicked ash into the hallway.
“You’re awake,” he finally said. “It’s been two days.”
My claws dug into the duvet. The last time I’d seen my mother she could barely get off the bed. Where was she? Tracer seemed to read my question before I could bring myself to ask it. His muzzle turned into a frown and he sighed, glancing to the dingy window.
“I’m afraid… you’re mother passed away,” he said slowly. “Two weeks ago.”
Tears pricked my eyes and I screwed them shut, shaking my head. “No. No, I won’t believe-”
“Widget…” His voice cracked and he took another deep breath. Then a drag on his cigar, more to calm himself down. “I’m sorry. I did all I could to help her.”
I took a deep breath myself, which shuddered with the threat of sobs. “I believe you.”
Surprise crossed his features again and he folded his arms, eyeing me up. “Good. Because… I was very fond of both you and your mother.”
Past tense? Of course. I sobbed into my paws, body shaking. Still sore and bound with bloody bandages.
“What happened, Widget?” his voice was soft.
I looked up again, blinking back tears. “I… I wanted to help her. So badly. These pirates, they…” My voice trailed off and I wiped tears from my eyes with a paw. “They tricked me. Lied to me. Used me.”
“They’re space pirates,” Tracer said flatly. “What on earth were you doing trusting space pirates?”
“I was desperate,” I said. “I saw the money we made in the first raid, and I guess… I found hope.”
“In the wrong place.”
I grimaced. “I’m aware of that. They wouldn’t give me so much as a single credit.”
He took another long drag of his cigar. I finally cracked an eye open and looked at him. He was staring straight back at me.
“Then why not help me round them up?” he asked. “I’ll pay you. You can turn your life around rounding up space pirates and criminals.”
“Are you serious?” I asked. “What about Socket?”
“Let me deal with Socket.” He placed his cigar back between his teeth and turned from the room. “Get some rest. I’ll bring you some lunch.”
...
The entire cockpit fell silent as Widget finished his story. The laser module he’d been batting back and forth rested under one paw. He could feel N0ize looking at him over the back of his chair, but it wasn’t a leer. Wasn’t a glare. Not even a look of amusement.
The incineroar sighed and brushed his ears back. “What were you doin’ trustin’ old Iron Claw?”
Widget shrugged his shoulders. “Like I said. I thought there was some hope there, to save my mother.”
“He’s all lies.” N0ize turned back to the cracked windscreen. “Even space pirates can’t stand him. There were a little celebration when that fancy bounty hunter Waveform finally turned him in, and all his crew with him.”
Widget chuckled. “Yeah, Tracer was sore about that. He’d wanted to turn him in himself.”
“And you?”
“Didn’t care.” Widget shrugged again.
N0ize craned his neck around to look at him. “So… I guess that tattoo of yours ain’t so much a fancy look than it is a painful reminder?”
“Oh, it’s a reminder.” Widget swatted the module to his other paw and met the incineroar’s eyes. “That someone can turn their life around for the better.”
The space pirate’s eyes widened and he turned away so quick his seat squeaked. Widget thought he saw him wipe a paw across his face.
“Well, thanks for the story, pup,” he said. “Let’s focus on gettin’ to the Analogue Isles, eh?”
Tracer stepped back into the cockpit and looked between the three pokemon. The smell of cigar smoke clung to his fur, but if N0ize noticed he didn’t say anything.
Tracer looked back down at the eevee. “Did I miss something?”
“Not really. Just some old boy talk.” Widget grinned from ear to ear and swatted the module into the air towards the delphox. “Catch!”
...
A/N - For those who remember Iron Claw's name, he did evolve into a garchomp post-Widget. And yes, he's the very garchomp Macro had a run-in with where he almost lost his eye.
