Wings Have We

[scizorstrike]

i don't just dig it, i also re-bury it with a crate of dynamite, explode it, put it all back together, and re-bury it!( then clean up the mess)

 

[Sinnohdragon]

Meh, missed a chapter. Oh well, i'll just comment on both at the same time

I did enjoy Larvitar Vs. Electrium. Like i said before, your writing style just makes everything so much funnier with all those little comments you add in, kind of narrator style. I did think that badge obtained a bit too easily seeing as Larvitar didn't really win and then he just gets the badge and that's that. Little to no emotional response, just i got a new badge. Woo.

Interesting to see what the others make of Casey's backstory, and all the glitchy stuff too.

 

[Giratina!]

Meh, missed a chapter. Oh well, i'll just comment on both at the same time

I did enjoy Larvitar Vs. Electrium. Like i said before, your writing style just makes everything so much funnier with all those little comments you add in, kind of narrator style. I did think that badge obtained a bit too easily seeing as Larvitar didn't really win and then he just gets the badge and that's that. Little to no emotional response, just i got a new badge. Woo.

Interesting to see what the others make of Casey's backstory, and all the glitchy stuff too.

Well, technically speaking, he did what Stathis asked - control Electrium until Stathis was able to get it back under wraps. And about the enthusiasm thing... well, Casey doesn't really seem like the sort of boy to be dancing around the room when he gets a Badge. The way I see it, he doesn't actually care enough... XD

 

[Giratina!]

{24} high above
​

It had come seeking nothing but a friend.

What it found was all manner of clatter and hassle dumped upon it, capture and containment. And now… and now this. And yet, this species was one he was very well-acquainted with – as a matter of fact, he had made a little joke to himself that despite all of the animalistic qualities his superiors possessed, they couldn’t break the communication barrier nearly as much or as well as he could. The silver-haired scientist gazed into the glass pod in front of him, looking at the crystal inside almost lovingly; in response, the crystal sparkled in a way that could be compared to an acknowledging but disappointed nod.

They had communicated this way for quite a few weeks now, much to the confusion of their coworkers and the Classifications. The term ‘Classifications’ was another one of this scientist’s personal in-jokes about his superiors, achieved by taking an aspect of their apparent personality and shoving that adjective in with the classification of the long-gone animals. (For the curious: “Kingpin, Filer, Clash, Disorder, Frailty, Genius.”)

The scientist found himself humming a tuneless little song as he nodded to the crystal once again and turned back around – and just in time, too. Someone else had entered the room.

“You’re… Torsten Lund?” Great, it was an underling. Just what he needed – inexperienced morons prancing around his laboratory. He flicked a lock of white hair out of his ice-blue eyes; dangling strands of hair were not pleasant in his line of work, and goodness knows he needed more grounds for being nagged, ridiculed, and fired.

“I am.” He let none of this spite show in his voice.

“Good,” said the Grunt, scribbling a few things down on a clipboard she toted around. “We’ve gotten a few reports that your team has been slacking off…”

“I don’t have a team,” said Torsten bitterly. “They’ve all disappeared on me.”

“Ouch, that must be tough…” cringed the Grunt, considerably less businesslike with this extremely un-mundane news. “Sorry about that. We’ll, uh, work on rounding them up for you.”

“Thank you,” he grunted, turning away to continue his work. “Though it would probably be better at this point to bring in an entirely new flock.”

“We can’t afford that,” said the Grunt.

“You can afford, four times over, to build a whole maze of spacious hallways that nobody uses,” continued Torsten. “Surely you could scrape together a group of scientists for the team of your, ahem, ‘important’ project?”

“That’s what we did last time – and they ran off, like you said. It sounds like you’re not very happy with them?”

“I wasn’t, but knowing how much you cared about them explains it.”

“We’ll work on finding your group.” The Grunt disappeared.

Torsten rolled his eyes. Unresponsive and unhelpful, per the apparent standard.

He turned back to the crystal, letting out a breath as he did so. “What will they do with you?” he asked the crystal, putting his hands on his hips. “You’re so misused here. And then… and then there’s that thing…” He turned around and regarded something large and glowing on the other side of the room. The tube of illuminant fluid held a figure floating inside, but it was all but a silhouette among the neon green.

“It’s you,” he said to the crystal, “but it’s artificial. You know that, right?”

The crystal whirred sadly and, just like that, a little cloud of sparkle-dust appeared in the air next to him. The sparkle-dust quivered next to Torsten’s ear.

“I thought you would… just making sure.”

-

After nodding and smiling to Alonzo and responding helpfully to his questions – Where do you live, why are you traveling, have you seen a mysterious multi-colored blob floating around the shoreline lately, etc. – the two had somehow relocated themselves to the “living room” of Alonzo’s admittedly-lofty home, floating somewhere between the outskirts of Epsil Town and the cliffs dangling over the giant nearby lake. Sheridan, Grant, and Caro had distracted themselves by staring in awe at his personal group of Pokémon; many of them were either jaw-droppingly rare or jaw-droppingly Shiny, which naturally had Sheridan plastered all over it.

While they gushed over the Pokémon and Clyde wandered off to do something that didn’t involve any actual brain work, Alonzo elaborated on exactly why he found himself here in the first place.

It eventually led into a very simple confession.

“What? Oh, no… you heard that again?” Alonzo chuckled softly to himself. “No, Casey. Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m really not the curator… how did you get that idea?”

“You told me,” he replied uncomfortably.

“No I didn’t.” He looked genuinely confused.

“Yes you did,” Casey continued. “When you were going on about how much you liked Glitches.”

“When did I do that? It happens all the time…”

It was at that moment that Casey realized, completely out of left field and with nothing to do with the situation at hand, that Alonzo’s eyes had changed color.

“You know, back in the museum… you were talking about how big the exhibit was and how it was your fault because it was something you were interested in?”

“I… don’t believe I recall,” he replied confusedly.

‘You definitely said it,’ thought Casey, but instead he opted for another subject on the vocal front: “What color are your eyes?”

Alonzo gave him a funny look. “Violet. What’s your point?” True to his word, the man’s eyes were quite purple.

“Earlier they were yellow,” Casey observed blankly.

“Ah.” He put one gloved finger to his chin, leaning back in his armchair and looking quite deep in thought. “…You know,” he continued after a few minutes, standing up and walking over to the window in his drifting gait. “I’ve had a couple of people tell me things like that have happened.”

“Really.” Casey didn’t pose it as a question.

“Yes, really,” he sighed, putting his hands on his hips. “They tell me that I told them things that both of us know aren’t true, or that they saw me doing something I had never done in my life. There’s definitely something wrong here, though try as I might I can’t find any way to get to the bottom of it…”

“Weird,” remarked Casey, who was now occupied with preventing Rotom from getting himself killed.

Alonzo peered out the window. “Oh, it seems your travelling companions have gotten their fill of Pokémon.” There was a brief silence. “…Well, thank you for coming in.”

The boy nodded and stood up. “And thanks for having me… um, us.”

At that moment Sheridan burst in, wearing an expression that the others had long since learned to run away from very, very fast.

She had the Fangirl Eyes.

“That was amazing!” Sheridan practically squealed, prancing over to Alonzo. She would have barreled him right over, too, if Casey hadn’t held out an arm and snatched her coat to stop the woman from proceeding any farther. Regardless, Alonzo was startled and took a few steps backward. “I can’t believe you have all of those Shiny Pokémon!” continued Sheridan, now in full-tilt gushing mode. “It must have been so hard to get your hands on them all! I’m envious… sooo envious!”

Alonzo chuckled, apparently having composed himself since Sheridan’s initial appearance. “I’ve gotten that quite a lot from others. They’re always asking what I had done to my Pokémon to make them look that way…”

Sheridan huffed. “Oh, I know! I can’t count the times I’ve been accused of harming Kaeo just because he’s shiny and purple! The nerve of some people!” Her expression suggested that Sheridan intended to continue (possibly with much less acceptable vocabulary), and so Clyde took the opportunity to nod briefly to Alonzo and drag Sheridan out by the arm. Saffron, noticing that her steed had been dragged away, plodded hastily afterwards.

Clyde having (rather rudely) cut the whole discussion short, the remaining three muttered repeated thanks to Alonzo and scrambled out after their companions hoping to reduce the casualties.

Casey had failed to notice that Alonzo’s eyes had turned yellow again.



Sheridan was still walking on the clouds when the Groupie Galaxy had hiked down the cliff that Alonzo’s house hung precariously upon. Her excitement had dampened slightly – slightly – when they returned to Epsil Town in general, but she was still babbling gaily about all manner of green Zubats the whole way through. Sooner or later the others grew tired of her antics, but didn’t really do much to silence her (they much favored the continued utilization of their left hands) until Clyde, again fed up with her acting like an idiot, clapped a hand over her mouth.

Everyone gave him a smile of gratitude. He didn’t respond.

Sheridan gave an irritated “mmph”, but took the hint.

Eventually, though, the Groupie Galaxy returned to the Pokémon Center relatively unscathed. There they spent a short time organizing their small number of things (Grant yet again taking the job of threatening foreman) and finally managed to get themselves back into the street carrying… well, nothing, thanks again to Clyde.

“You’re sure this is safe?” asked Saffron.

“Yeah,” remarked Clyde. “It’s Hammerspace. Can’t be entered by anyone not authorized for that part.”

“And who’s authorized for your part?” prodded Saffron.

“Billy, Tiffany, and me.”

“Nobody else?”

“No.” His voice was firm (and quite scary). “Anyway, all your stuff is totally fine, okay? Absolutely nobody will ever have any access to your things except two of my siblings. No matter how technology advances it will never be touched by anyone whose last name isn’t Gordon. Anyone.” This last part was directed at Grant, who apparently did not trust Hammerspace with the well-being of The Briefcase and insisted on carrying it again.

He merely frowned. “I’d feel better with it in my hand, thanks.”

One of his hands was occupied by The Briefcase, the other by The Pipe.

“Uh-huh,” remarked Clyde, eyeing the ex-Grunt and his amusingly-capitalized luggage with a similar expression. “Suit yourself if you want to drag around that stuff.”

“I will, thanks.”

Sensing the obvious tension between them, Caro cleared his throat – and immediately regretted it. All eyes turned on him, two pairs of them not looking all too pleased for interrupting their bickering. This forced Caro to look around, trying to find some way to justify his minor outburst – fortunately, he found it in the form of a giant thing in the sky.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing.

Sheridan looked up. “It’s a Pokémon, duh.”

“Sure doesn’t look like any Pokémon I’ve seen.” The body of the unidentified flying object looked thin as a twig, with long and short spikes sticking out on either side. The wings were mere lines, like someone took a Zubat’s wings and removed the skin from them. “Looks like a skeleton to me.”

“Well then maybe it’s a skeletal Pokémon!” gasped Grant in mock surprise.

“Name one moving skeletal Pokémon with wings,” retorted Clyde.

“Aerodactyl!”

“Aerodactyl doesn’t move when it’s just a skeleton, moron.”

“Guys, cut it out,” grumbled Caro. “I’m more interested in that not-Aerodactyl than you arguing.”

This actually worked – primarily because both parties had stopped arguing and were now glaring at Caro with fierce intensity. The teenager didn’t respond to this, and instead directed his attention back towards the flying thing. It had been going in the opposite direction than they had, back toward Epsil Town. He simply turned and watched as the thin creature soared above the town, circled a certain area, and made a steep descent.

“What was that?” asked Casey.

Rotom chirped almost immediately. “I’ll go see!”

“No, Rotom, you don’t have to…”

Casey cut his sentence short. It was too late; Rotom had already disappeared in pursuit of the mystery Pokémon.

“He won’t be coming back for a while, will he?” asked Sheridan.

“No,” sighed Casey. “Probably not. Let’s go.”

And with an unspoken agreement everyone trudged back towards Epsil Town, with only Grant moaning that they were already off schedule.



After scrambling down a few ridiculously steep cliffs, the Groupie Galaxy found Rotom again. He was floating above a lake, gazing across it in a way that could perhaps be called deep had this not been Rotom we’re talking about. He noticed their presence almost immediately and swiveled around, plasma-eye wide in awe.

“It went into the lake!” the Pokémon screeched worriedly.

“Into… the lake.” Casey’s eyes drifted out to the water. It seemed relatively skeletal-monster-free. “Did it come out?”

“No!” wailed Rotom. “It just… went under the water and never came out! It was freaky!” Beast’s eyes and mouth – much like Rotom’s – were wide open in panic, making the whole thing look absolutely ridiculous.

Clyde grumbled something about how “some people would find YOU freaky”. Rotom didn’t seem to notice, though, as he had occupied himself by pleading to Casey to deal with the situation at hand.

“Do something!” he wailed. “Fix it!”

Casey stared back at him. “…You should’ve learned by now that I can’t fix everything by willing it, you know.”

“You can try!” Rotom pouted.

His Trainer felt the waterworks – plasmaworks? – coming on, and so before Rotom had a chance to douse him with a gallon of likely-toxic plasma tears, Casey sighed and said, “Alright, I’ll try.”

“Yay!” Rotom returned to hovering around his head.

“Well, that wasn’t unusual at all,” said a voice from behind them. Upon turning around, they all discovered that it was Alonzo again. Most of the group chirped greetings, but Casey remained silent. This was primarily because he was the only one who even faintly recognized the significance of the man’s eye color.

They were yellow.

Today's installment of Wings Have We is a Very Special Chapter.
Do you know why?
Well, for the first time ever, WHW is being beta'd. Yep. So everyone go hunt down bobandbill on PokéCommunity and send some virtual flowers. =D​

 

[scizorstrike]

what about the bobandbill here? and this alonzo person is amking me very nervous. although that might be the oxmoronesque Fun Run i have tomorrow.
(i'm doing it again! i'm making up words!)

 

[Giratina!]

Yep, that bobandbill. I don't know whether B&B has an account in every place I put this on, so I credit it to the account I know does exist - the one on PokéCom.

 

[Giratina!]

{25} any way you’ve got to
​

Alonzo’s expression wasn’t at all the warm smile many of them had become accustomed to; it was very much emotionless, with the vaguest possible shadow of a frown. The Groupie Galaxy’s overall cheery disposition was quickly snuffed out at the sight of his serious-business face, though, and the bemused posture wasn’t helping all that much either. As if that wasn’t enough to suggest that something was off, there was another air of unnaturalness about him that Casey didn’t believe was a good thing. Indeed, every aspect of Alonzo Daly suggested exactly the opposite of what they had seen of him up until that point.

Casey had no doubt in his mind that it was because of the eyes.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

All thought processes turned on Casey, and he realized almost at once that he was the person expected to speak. It was his Pokémon, after all. Instead, the boy said: “I could ask you the same thing.”

“I live around here,” he grunted. “What of you all?”

“Rotom followed a strange thing in the sky back here,” said Casey. “We all agreed – well, most of us agreed – that it looked like a skeleton.” He paused. “Interesting, isn’t it?”

Alonzo faltered. “Wh-where did you see this?”

“Ask Rotom.” Casey pointed to the Pokémon in question, who was now floating aimlessly around having lost all will to search for the strange new thing. Upon noticing that he had been referenced, the Pokémon stopped in his tracks and said, “Huh?” in the cutest possible way.

It didn’t work.

Alonzo sighed. “No matter,” he said, shaking his head. And then: “I’m afraid I must ask you to leave.”

This made everyone hesitate, but almost immediately someone objected to his idea. “Why should we?” insisted Caro and Casey in tandem. (Clyde was a little late to the punch.) They were all sufficiently unnerved by this strange man’s double-sided personality, and following orders from him was totally out of the question.

“Because,” he said matter-of-factly, “I told you to leave.”

Nobody wanted to sound childish by retorting “You can’t tell me what to do!”, but then again, the common protest did have a good point. For that reason, everyone thought the phrase as hard as they could and took up a pose that implied that he most certainly was not the boss of them. Regardless, Alonzo put his hand on his hip and looked at them as if to say “I’m waiting”, and the stalemate commenced from there.

Saffron coughed.

Immediately all eyes turned on her; each one was set to “Glare”. Saffron made a little whimpering noise and fell silent.

Attention returned to the opposing side in the argument, and they continued to watch one another stubbornly until Alonzo pointed a finger in the general direction of “out”. His expression (and the excessively violent pointing motion) suggested that it would be an extraordinarily good idea to comply.

“Leave,” he repeated.

Casey opened his mouth.

“Just for your records, this is private property. Mine.” The Groupie Galaxy deflated quickly from there, and after some more of Freakazoid Hair’s prompting, they left in a procession of grumbling.



“Jerk!” concluded Saffron as soon as they were out of earshot.

“There had to be something wrong with him,” said Grant. “Otherwise why would he be acting so differently today than yesterday?”

“It’s the eyes.” Casey said this under his breath, barely loud enough for he himself to hear. Regardless, Caro caught it, and gave him a funny look.

“The eyes,” Caro repeated.

“Yep,” said Casey, having given up trying to hide what he said. “The eyes. See him once he’s got purple eyes, see him again and they’re yellow. He can’t remember what he did in each eye color when he’s in the other, to boot. That sounds pretty strange, doesn’t it?”

Saffron didn’t look particularly convinced, and perhaps even worried. “Are you sure?” she asked, even though the question she wanted to ask was, “Are you insane?” When Casey shook his head, she felt a little better, but not by much.

“Oh, come on,” snorted Clyde. “It’s a trick of the light or something.”

“Doesn’t explain his identity as museum curator one minute and random Epsil Town resident the next.” Casey had apparently forsaken his unsure thoughts within the last three minutes – they were replaced with the diabolical thoughts of an idea so ridiculous it might actually be insane. Maybe.

Grant and Sheridan shared a look.

There was a short pause, and then Caro said, “You really think so?”

“Yes.”

“Well then we’re going to turn around right now and investigate.” Caro stopped in his tracks and crossed his arms, giving everyone else a grin that suggested that if they enjoyed feeling like they had no relevance in the world, then sure they could oppose him. Otherwise, though, they might as well suck it up and follow him, because when you give a Caro an objective he’s gonna get it done.

This attitude, unfortunately, was not infectious.

“What?” everyone else chorused.

“You said there’s something wrong,” said Caro. “So go see if there’s something wrong.”

Casey blinked.

“Oh, come on!” he huffed. “You’re not going to run off knowing there’s something wrong here, are you?” There was silence there – but Casey didn’t object, regardless if everyone else did, so Caro saw it as a personal victory. “Yeah, that’s right,” he continued. “Go. Turn around. Fix it, won’t you?”

Casey, much as he hated to admit it, was stumped.

There was a silence, in which everyone else inched slowly away from Caro. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care, because his cocky grin remained focused on the startled expression now taking up Casey’s face. It remained that way for a second. A minute. Then… oh, hey wait, it was changing. Twitching, more like.

…No, here comes the changing. His lips were turning up at the edges, and within a matter of minutes he was giving Caro an incredulous grin. And he said:

“You are an idiot.”

And then:

“Let’s go.”

At that moment, Caro didn’t notice the death glares that the rest of the group were giving him. People always glared at you when you get a personal victory against something, yes? So he said:

“So are you.”

And then:

“Awesome.”

Within the hour they were sneaking around Alonzo’s basement.

Casey was sitting in a counterproductively dark corner, reading a book. Actually, so were Caro, Grant, and Sheridan (Saffron perched on her shoulder). Regardless of how silly this seemed in contrast to the epic pep talk that Caro had delivered a while earlier, they were all searching for some scribbled margin comment, some forgotten reminder note, anything that was going to help them get to the bottom of Alonzo Daly. It was increasingly easy, Casey noticed, to forget that he was trespassing into the basement and library of a random adult who he barely knew, because Mewdangit he was going to get to the bottom of this.

He placed the book he was just holding and had consequently deemed empty onto the floor, making quite sure to set it down on a very fluffy area of carpet so as to make as little noise as possible.

“I’m not getting anywhere,” he whispered.

“Agreed,” breathed Clyde, who was standing in the corner with his arms crossed and a disapproving look on his face.

With that sour note tossed into the budding conversation, everyone was silenced again, and the arduous task of reading through a year’s worth of books in a much shorter period of time commenced. Everyone except Sheridan was speed-reading – the woman in question was apparently reading through a purple book with great gusto, and she certainly didn’t look like she was speed-reading.

And then she said, “I found something.”

Everyone perked up immediately at the thought of some ticket out of here (for one reason or another) and scampered over as silently as they could. Sheridan was pointing proudly to a certain paragraph in her book, which was one of the tomes whose print was so tiny that only someone with unusual eyes could read it. After squinting and looking closer, everyone got the general meaning, and when they had did that they looked at Sheridan like she was some sort of god.

“He did say he was interested in MissingNo., didn’t he?” she asked.

“Yeah,” replied Casey. “He did.” He continued to look at the few sentences.

MissingNo. is unusual compared to many other Glitch-types for quite a few reasons, among them being a vaguely plausible form (similar to that of a Haunter), but perhaps the strangest is its ability to enter others’ minds and manipulate them. Unless MissingNo. has been observing the subject for a while before entering their minds in their sleep, he has no way of recalling what their previous mannerisms or memories are, so he tends to make things up out of whole cloth. Aside from the previous mention, there is practically one way to tell if one has been manipulated for this Glitch Pokémon’s own ends, and it is one you can only notice over time. The subject’s eyes are prone to change color, alternating between their normal hue and a startling yellow. Not “hazel”, but “yellow” – regardless of how this sounds in a book, you will know it when you see it.

Sheridan was grinning. She was alone in that respect.

“Um,” said Casey.

There was a unanimous, worried glance to the ceiling.

Then Caro said, “We’ve got to do something about this.”

“Do we really?” asked Clyde.

“We do.” Casey answered him with a glance almost hidden by his remarkably large bangs, then returned to reading. “Does it say anything about getting it out?”

Sheridan shut the book and gulped. “Well, yes…”

“What is it?” whispered everyone else in unison.

The blonde woman sighed and looked down at the tome in her hands. “…Hey, have any of you ever performed an exorcism?”

“An exorcism,” repeated Clyde with a raised eyebrow.

“Are you serious?” hissed Grant worriedly. “We’ve got to perform an exorcism on this man? But that’s… how do we even do that?”

“Quiet.” Sheridan stood up, dusted off her coat, and handed the book to Clyde. “We’ll figure out the details later, but for now, I think we have some work to do. Clyde, put this in Hammerspace for me. We need to formulate a plan.”

“This is unbelievable,” moaned Casey in as quiet a voice he could, being quite possible the only one who remembered that they were hiding out in a brain-controlling fiend’s basement. “Was there ever any mention of an exorcism in the job description?”

Caro looked down at him. “Of course there was,” he said with a sort of wily amusement. “It was under the part that said ‘Anything can – and will – happen’.”

“Oh! Right.” He did not remember that part at all.

The group scrambled out of Alonzo’s basement via the same open window (his home was built on unlevel ground – who knew?) they had come in through without any further hitches. As a matter of fact, they were all back in the sacred Epsil Town Pokémon Center before somebody – in this case, Clyde – sat up in their wonderfully cushy armchair and asked the forbidden question.

“…How are we supposed to do an exorcism?”

Casey heard a giggling originating from somewhere in the area of his throat. He glanced downward and then, immediately and without questioning why, he knew. He was going to do an exorcism, because the almighty Giratina – the only creature he knew with a readily accessible means of contact with Arceus – was going to help.

I sat back in my swivel chair of destiny and cackled once again into the Megaphone Rock.

Zero was standing (er, levitating) beside me. He was not staring at me with the stare of someone who has just realized his co-worker was insane; he was staring at me with the stare of someone who had realized his co-worker was insane a long, long time ago. He had overheard the entire conversation just as loudly as I had, and when I looked at him out of the corner of my eye he put up his arms in a frail attempt to keep out of it.

“I refuse to take part in this,” he offered.

“We may need you.”

“Regardless, I refuse.”

I turned on him, giving the assistant a disappointed frown. “Zero,” I said seriously, “you also refused to take part in deleting the Megarig, and look where that got you.”

He scowled. “…Shaddup.”

I made a sarcastic grunt and turned back to the Dea Procol Machina, and in extension the Megaphone Rock. “Listen up, kiddo,” I informed Casey. “What time is it?”

“Oh,” said Casey, looking up at the sky on my monitor. “Hm. Maybe around five?”

“Close enough,” I remarked. “Just look around and wait a while in there. I’ll send help, and when she comes just explain the situation.” I paused, and then added: “She likely wouldn’t listen to me.”

“What’s her name?”

“You’ll know her when you see her,” I confided. “Sheridan will, at least.” I dropped the Megaphone Rock to the lovely sound of Casey protesting. I smirked as a gray fedora spontaneously appeared on my head, covering the ornate golden headpiece already on it with only minor casualties.

“Trust me here.”

I then grabbed a very odd-looking metal object from a hook hanging from the Dea Procol Machina. Zero, once again, looked confused; in his defense, though, it did bear a remarkable similarity to a key-ring. Fiddling through the various little charms on it – a volcano, then a pink flower, then a lightning bolt – I finally settled on the right one, a cute little crescent moon, held it between two of my fingers, and swiped a hole in the air.

Zero watched silently (having grown accustomed to this sort of thing) as the tear turned slowly rounder until it was a perfect circle.

“Yes?” inquired the figure on the other end.

“I’ve got a favor for you,” I replied coolly. “It’s for a friend, you’ll understand…”

She listened silently while I explained the situation, after which she regarded me with a highly bemused look in her eyes. “Giratina, this is a large undertaking,” she said. “It will not be easy, even for somebody such as myself. It is dangerous and has potentially lethal consequences for all involved. It may just move the parasite to some other host where he will continue to wreak havoc, it may anger Arceus that we performed this operation without his consent, and quite frankly, I just got back from Canalave and I am very tired.”

“I know, but you’re the only one who can do it and he won’t shut up until I help.” Okay, so I was stretching the truth. A little. But it was all for a good cause anyway!

“…Fine,” she grumbled.

A few minutes later, Casey was standing nose-to-nose with the extraordinarily pointy muzzle of Cresselia.

 

[scizorstrike]

and we meet Cresselia now. so Alonzo has Missingno. taking over his body? weird...

 

[Giratina!]

Indeed, there's Cresselia.

I did take some liberties with the MissingNo. thing, but it sounds like something he would do, doesn't it?

 

[scizorstrike]

He? Missingo actually has a gender?

 

[Giratina!]

No. But for the sake of simplicity the Legendary Court assigned him a gender, just like all the Legendaries assigned themselves a gender. Regardless of whether MissingNo. knows about it or not, he's a guy in the eyes of the Legendaries - and, therefore, Giratina the narrator.

 

[Giratina!]

{26} who you gonna call?​

Despite the gasping and hasty dropping-to-knees of the other witnesses to Cresselia’s appearance, Casey didn’t do anything immediately. He didn’t do anything later on, actually; all he did was stare into the glistening and somewhat beady eyes of the Legendary opposite. Through the lack of distinct irises and pupils, Casey could see that she wasn’t amused.

“I was sent here on behalf of the Celestial Librarian*,” said Cresselia, and then, “You may get to your feet.”

The other four got up and dusted themselves off, each in varying degrees of embarrassment. A few of them shot surprised looks at Casey, but then realized that he probably failed to understand that he was standing in front of the sacred personification of the Moon and not just another silly-looking monster he’d never seen before. Cresselia herself didn’t seem to get this, and her (inappropriately) stoic expression took on a small hint of confusion.

“Do you not know who I am?” she asked.

“I know you’re a friend of Giratina,” Casey offered, having already realized that it was the wrong answer by process of elimination – she had a name (probably something silly like Vilkodaz the Radiant), since evidently she was quite happy to kill her throat for the sake of sounding important.

Cresselia stared at him. “…You know who she is and not me? You are a straaange young man.”

Casey decided that it wouldn’t be wise to comment on this.

The Harbinger of the Beautiful Dreams continued. “Upon the request of the Celestial Librarian – Giratina, as you call her – I have been sent here to help with… an exorcism.” She looked around. “According to her, the demon in question possesses humans through their dreams…?”

“That’s right,” said Sheridan, stepping forward with a small bow. “MissingNo. is its name.”

“MissingNo.!” gasped Cresselia. “Not the one who we imprisoned on Cinnabar Island?”

“Are there any others?” asked Clyde.

“No!”

Clyde made a gesture with his head to indicate that she had answered her own question. The concerned Lunar Levitator backed up a few inches, looking around worriedly. “Where is MissingNo.? How did he—how did it escape?”

“We don’t know,” said Casey. “But however it did that, it’s come here and caused mayhem under the identity of the person who lives in that house.” He pointed to the dwelling in question, which was still dangling nearly over the cliff face as it had always done. “The guy’s name is Alonzo Daly.”

“Alonzo Daly,” repeated Cresselia musingly, following his finger. “I see. Well, if you’ll excuse me…”

She backed up some more and, without further explanation, turned into a human being.

She was now a woman in her mid-fifties, wearing a kimono with plenty of dangling strips of multicolored cloth and an extensive collection of yellow beads (shaped primarily like circles or crescent moons). Some of the beads seemed to have fallen off, noticed Casey, leaving their silver tops without a bottom. (It made one wonder why she wore such a beautiful outfit and leave the beads out.)

“We Legendaries are capable of taking human forms, you’ll understand,” she said, flipping a lock of gray-streaked lavender hair from her face. “In case we need to handle business with mortals… how is you put it? Margorito?”

“Incognito,” pointed out Saffron.

“Yes, incognito. Thank you, dearie.” She gave the Mime Jr. a little smile, and everyone else felt slightly cheated that she was acting so reserved and impassive due to their species. “As I was saying,” continued Cresselia with an extravagant roll of the head, “Legendaries do need to hold discussions with human beings while not being openly displayed as Legendary, and so of course we all had to choose genders for that…” She laughed. “So of course I am female now and was genderless then.”

“Understandable, um…” began Casey, who suddenly failed to remember her name. He had a feeling it had something to do with her thing for stressed syllables.

“Oh!” said Cresselia. She had apparently warmed up to all of them by then, now that she had assured herself that none of them sought to exploit her feathers for fun and profit. “Good point, there. You need a human name for me, don’t you? Pleeease, call me Diane.” She, realized Casey, had missed the point completely.

Everyone nodded. A few said, “Hello, Diane.”

“No. Diane.”

“Hello, Diane.”

Cresselia nodded pleasantly and looked back towards the building where MissingNo. hid; Casey suddenly realized how scary it looked when hit with just the right angle of light. “I believe we should get down to the chaaase on this MissingNo. problem?”

The others understood her incorrect lingo shortly after (the delay primarily because of her silllllllll—oh, excuse me, her silly accent), but for that moment they just nodded and gave murmurs of approval.

Cresselia clapped her hands as she walked – drifted almost, under the kimono – towards the Daly house, expecting the others to follow her. Finding no other logical manner to proceed, they did. And so began the procession, peppered evenly and heartily with the amusingly-pronounced jabbering of their Legendary tour guide. Eventually, though, they actually got to the point in every navigational expedition where people realize that this is Serious Business.

Cresselia continued to talk.

Casey thought he was ready to pull a van Gogh. If only wooded areas had a readily available supply of razor blades.

Fortunately, they eventually found their way – after quite a lot of pointing and consulting various types of tree – to their destination, and it was there where Grant helpfully realized that they had no way to get in now that they had ransacked the basement. Surely he had noticed that, right?

“Oh, you humans are so siiiiiiilly,” gushed Cresselia. “We’re going to teleport our way in!”

“Ah,” said Grant, with the deadpan voice of someone whose brain had, just for a second, been dangerously close to giving up entirely. “Of course. You’re a Legendary.”

“Yeah.” Clyde added on to Grant’s intentionally-subtle discussion with his own unique brand of obnoxiousness. “Of course, us mortals are so far below that level of thinking. Whatever did we do without you, Cresselia?”

“Diane.”

“Cresselia.”

Cresselia huffed and transported the group inside, turning away from the ex-Quad with a distinct frown on her face. “How old is he?” Casey heard her mutter. “So disrespectful!”

At that moment, Sheridan coughed. “Excuse me,” she said. “I believe we failed to think over some things in this plan.”

“It’s simple, Sheridan!” exclaimed Caro. “We go in, Cr—um, Diane puts him to sleep, she exorcises MissingNo., we walk away! What is there to think over?”

“What we do with MissingNo.,” offered Casey.

“Pfft!” snorted Cresselia, waving an arm. “I can handle that.” Without another word, she stretched out her arms. The wind picked up, and it made a cacophony of noises that sounded vaguely like music. She watched with amusement as the others’ faces screwed up in various caricatured expressions.



Having found themselves in a considerably nice-looking room that everyone agreed from previous experiences to be the front hall, Cresselia immediately brought herself up to her full height and frowned disapprovingly at the furniture. “Comeeeee oooout, you!” she barked to the emptiness, leaving the Groupie Galaxy to watch in silent confusion. She continued at this for a couple of minutes, until the spell wore off and she brushed non-existent dust off her kimono huffily.

“No respect!” she repeated.

Just as she finished commenting on the politeness of thirty-somethings today, there was an ominous whoosh of fabric from somewhere behind all of them. They turned around at once to face down Alonzo; the whoosh was his olive green longcoat, complying with its owner’s wish to abruptly stop walking down the staircase.

This time, nobody failed to notice his yellow eyes.

“MissingNo.!” she barked. “What is the meaning of this?”

“I’m sorry, what?” asked MissingNo., raising an eyebrow. “I don’t think I can understand you through the… accent.”

“She’s asking what you’re doing,” said Saffron helpfully.

“Ah. Thank you. Well…” MissingNo. leaned on the staircase railing, regarding them with a look of disdain. “I’m afraid that I’m not—”

“You can stop now,” offered Casey. “We know you’re trying to impersonate him.”

MissingNo. gave Casey a ferocious glare. “What are you talking about?” He kept this up for another few seconds, but eventually the hostile expressions everyone else was wearing won over him. “…How did you find out?”

“By reading stuff in y- Alonzo’s library,” said Saffron with a smug overtone. She crossed her arms and stared expectantly at him.

Internally, everyone groaned.

“Listen,” said Cresselia. “I am here to put a stop to your antics.”

MissingNo. nodded. “Oh. You are, are you?” He continued down the staircase, walking slowly as if trying to mock them somehow. “I bet you were sent here by the higher-ups, to get rid of me once and for all. They certainly didn’t tell you much.” He chuckled at the bottom of the staircase. By now he was regarding them as less than minor difficulties – details almost – and that fact was evident in his grin. “Considering that they’ve been calling this ‘once and for all’ about thirty times.”

“Save it.” Sheridan didn’t look pleased. “We don’t want to hear your childish taunting, okay?”

“What, you don’t?” MissingNo. put a hand to his chest. “You pain me, Sheridan.”

Cresselia turned to her for a moment before returning focus to the situation at hand. “Cover your eyes,” she said simply. And, after making quite sure they did, she transformed back into her original form with much shimmering and grinding of carpet underfoot.

“Aw, and that was new, too,” complained MissingNo.

Cresselia regarded him with a death glare and waited.

There was a second’s pause – this was apparently all MissingNo. needed to assure himself that he was to make the first move. After that happened, something extraordinarily strange began to happen to his body. It got suddenly jerky for a few seconds, and after that simply collapsed at the foot of the stairs.

Everyone moved forward to react when Cresselia silenced them with a dramatic swish of her tail. “Watch,” she commanded.

They watched.

Out of Alonzo’s body seeped an unhealthy-looking gas. After a blob large enough to blot out everything behind it had been accumulated, the orb spawned two hands that zoomed out from its body as if connected by invisible arms. From the inky darkness in the middle opened two eyes which were an uncomfortable shade of yellow, with no pupils. Under that, a mouth of the same color opened like something ripped off a deranged purple Glameow. Overall, the sort of thing you would expect to see floating around Pokémon Tower, except… worse.

“Here you see his battle position,” relayed Cresselia flatly, as if she were teaching an extraordinarily boring school lesson. “He can fire water and dive-bomb from the sky, but that’s it.”

“I take offense to that!” snapped MissingNo., waving one of his detached hands angrily. “Generalizing powers like that is awful for your karma!”

“What would you know about karma?” snorted Clyde. “You’re a… you’re a body-stealing… thing.”

MissingNo.’s response was to fire a Water Gun at him.

“Oh, very tasteful,” grunted the aforementioned god of sarcasm after trying to run and subsequently getting doused. He got up, tried to wring out his coat, failed, and simply stood there, looking up at MissingNo. with one eyebrow raised.

MissingNo. sent another one into his face.

“Mmph!” Clyde thought it wise to not scream out loud when water was being shoved at his face, but apparently he had already begun to say something and that… thing was the result. Perhaps Clyde should learn to keep his mouth shut?

“Well, if you can fly and shoot water, then you must be a Flying- or Water-type!” cawed Caro in immense triumph. “Which means…” He whipped out a Pokéball and tossed it onto the ground, releasing his infamous Pokémon doppelganger. With a sharp-toothed smirk of triumph, he pointed one finger to the sky and bellowed:

“THUNNNNNDAHBOLT!” **

While everyone else was recovering from the system shock this battle cry generated, Raichu wasted no time in releasing a crackling, lethal-looking lance of thunder at MissingNo., who responded with a wail and another Water Gun. (Clyde cringed.) Cresselia, amazingly, looked impressed (or so they thought – it was hard to get any facial expression under the pointy snout).

“Well,” she said. “MissingNo. is a Bird-type.”

“Flying,” corrected Sheridan.

“Bird.” Cresselia looked up at MissingNo., who had now waged in total war with Raichu. The two were sending thunderbolts, water blasts, and their own bodies against one another, and the competition looked to be evenly matched. “We don’t know what else to classify it. It has neither weakness nor resistance, and there’s no other type like it… but its closest relative is Flying, as you said.”

“Who exactly studies this thing?” asked Grant.

“Arceus’ scientific team, of course,” said Cresselia primly. “They are quite good at what they do. Without the help of them and the mechanics, the world as we know it would surely—”

“Oh, the Arcanines!” said Caro, turning away from Raichu’s fight.

“Yes,” said Cresselia deflatedly. “The Arcanines.”

MissingNo., sensing his per-second attention quota was dropping to unacceptable levels, immediately set to work fixing this. Tragically, he couldn’t seem to gather any more attention by the “Oh really, you’re looking for me” setup Cresselia had brought into effect, so he decided to take the direct approach.

Clyde (who had just finished wringing out his coat) was re-introduced to the wonders of showering six times a day. He did not find it wonderful.

“I’m sorry, do you mind?” asked Casey.

“Mind what?” replied the Glitch innocently.

“We’re trying to have a conversation here.”

“Oh. Well excuse me. I hate to interrupt your epic midnight mission to, you kn—”

“Whoa.”

MissingNo. froze.

So did everyone else. Clyde stopped wringing out his coat again. Someone had clearly said ‘Whoa’, but the thing was, they didn’t seem to have anyone else around. Why, if word of this got out, it would—

“WHOA!”

The whole group looked around wildly, minds whirling to organize what had just happened – and, more importantly, who had made it happen. Finally, MissingNo. bothered to look down.

He said, “Oh.”

Yo.
So, I hate to sound like I'm begging for attention or something, but do you guys think you could try and leave a little feedback when you read the new chapters? I know somebody does read it besides me, and even a "cool story, write more" would suffice. Thanks - I appreciate every piece of feedback I get, even when they're picking the story apart bit by bit. 8D
​

* Who, as a side note, would like to apologize for Cresselia’s exceptionally irritating habit of over-stressing syllables. She doesn’t seem to do it when she’s in her true form, but there’s something about human vocal chords that mess up her speech. I’m just relaying the facts here.
** If you’re crazy enough to try and pronounce this, remember to change the last ‘t’ into ‘tuh’ as if releasing air from your mouth. Also, yes, it’s DAHBOLT. Not DERBOLT. DAHBOLT.

 

[Giratina!]

{27} invaders! encroachers!

MissingNo. and Alonzo remained in their positions, staring at one another noiselessly for what seemed to be a long time. Finally, MissingNo. got his act together and said, “I was never here. Forget you ever saw me.”

“…But…” spluttered Alonzo, clearly unable to fathom waking up from what was a very nice nap to find the subject of his obsession hovering over him. “…but you’re… you’re MissingNo.!”

“He is also a thief,” said Cresselia in perfect deadpan. “Of bodies. Including yours, Mister… Daly, was it?” Alonzo looked over to find a Cresselia staring back at him from halfway across the room – if MissingNo.’s appearance didn’t wake him up completely, that certainly did. He blinked at her, swiped at his eyes, looked again, and then decided that his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him and that he really had died.

Of course, then he saw the Groupie Galaxy, and he realized that this was not a vision.

What would those travelers be doing in an otherworldly dream, anyway?

“Well,” said Alonzo. He was trying desperately not to make a fool of himself in front of two of the most powerful beings on Earth. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what on Earth is going on here?” He tried to stand up, but when Cresselia twitched her neck he decided that maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. Instead, he resolved to listening while sitting on the floor.

“To put things short…” began Casey. He had to pause there, because he really couldn’t find a way to explain what was going on. “Um, do you remember those times when you were doing stuff you didn’t seem to remember doing, and how people commented on your eyes changing color?”

“I do,” said Alonzo suspiciously.

“That was this guy taking over your body.” Caro chose now to cut in, pointing at MissingNo. for dramatic effect. Alonzo looked upwards at the giant ball of mass, apparently trying to piece together what he had just said. Finally, the man came to a conclusion and voiced his thoughts intelligently and clear as crystal.

“…Really?”

“No,” said MissingNo.

“Yes,” said everyone else.

Alonzo wisely chose to trust the mob, and looked up at MissingNo. again with a very different expression on his face. “Why is this?”

MissingNo. didn’t respond.

Casey half-expected Sheridan to demand an answer out of the gaseous ball of matter, but no protest came. He tried to glance at her, but found out that she was not in the position he thought she was in. Casey turned the other direction – nothing there, either. He didn’t randomly shout out “Hey, where’s Sheridan!?” in the middle of what was going on in front of him, but he returned to his previous position feeling pretty crummy.

“Well?” asked Alonzo once more. “I expect an answer from you.”

“Or what?” asked MissingNo., taking a swipe at Alonzo with one of his detached arms. It passed right through his chest, but managed to give the man a spook. MissingNo.’s mouth curled into even deeper amusement as he listened to Alonzo squeak, but a second later he glided backwards so that they could look at one another with nothing obstructing the view.

“You were just in the right place at the right time,” said MissingNo simply. “I didn’t care whether it was you or a passing Articuno, don’t get me wrong, but nobody visits the southern shores of Cinnabar Island anymore. It was very simple, you’ll understand – take the body of a random passerby, get back to the mainland, escape.”

Alonzo didn’t look happy. Neither, for that matter, did MissingNo. The others… well, they felt this was probably some sort of corrupted personal matter and wisely decided to keep silent for fear of getting doused (again).

“However,” continued MissingNo. while showing no signs of stopping, “I was out of practice at the time; as I said, nobody ever visited south Cinnabar since the Mansion burned. Said it was haunted or somesuch… visions of an enormous Haunter demon on the coast didn’t help anyone, now did they?” MissingNo. waved his hands around; his face, which had been ever-so-slightly bitter the minute before, broke out into another sinister grin.

“Oh yes, it was very pleasant down there, nothing but myself and a little apparition I made. However… it did get boring with nobody to talk to.” MissingNo. gave a fake swoon. “The Pokémon couldn’t understand me! The humans didn’t dare come near! It was a dragging existence, I tell you.” MissingNo. paused. (It was here Casey finally realized that he was taking utter joy in this monologue.) “But lo! One day you wandered along and I saw a beautiful opportunity. I say ‘beautiful’ in reference to the opportunity, taking into account your hair.”

Alonzo’s expression darkened further.

“Yes, that was a… minor inconvenience,” noted the Glitch wispily. MissingNo. either didn’t notice or didn’t pay attention to Alonzo. “Overall, though, a fantastic deal! And yet… there was something wrong. Can you guess what that is?” MissingNo. ducked and leaned closer in to Alonzo, who faced him with a sturdy expression and yet remained silent. MissingNo. made a tsk-tsk noise and returned to his original position. “No? Oh well. The problem was, I couldn’t quite keep you under a leash.” MissingNo. tilted to the side and regarded Alonzo with head-shaking disappointment. “Apparently your soul was resisting. And me, being as out of practice as I am, I couldn’t find a way to shut you up!”

“So why didn’t you leave when you got to Vermillion?” asked Alonzo.

“And another thing,” said MissingNo. “I figured that living as a human – through you – was much more appealing as a life choice than being a ten-foot-tall bubble of purple fog.” MissingNo. regarded himself with a sweep of the hand. “Trust me, if you were put through what I was, you would sympathize completely. Anyhow, I remained dormant in your body for a while until you got back into the ‘swing’ of things…”

“And then you took over,” finished Alonzo.

“No,” said MissingNo pleasantly. “I began beating you down in preparation for taking over.”

Alonzo’s expression implied that he wanted to respond to this with a sarcastic “Oh, of course” but obviously thought better of it. In any case, he wasn’t a happy camper – and all admiration for the Glitch in front of him had long since evaporated.

MissingNo. turned his body ever so slightly, to imply looking up at the others. “Of course, then these meddling humans came trooping in with a goddess, and I felt that maybe I ought to get going, hmm?” MissingNo. began to back away from everyone present, the smile on his face misleadingly sincere. “It was a great time meeting you all, really it was. So I’ll just be leaving.”

And he almost got away with it too, if not for yet another meddling mortal.

The double doors to the front hall flew open and in soared a giant teal monster – somewhere between wildcat and bear – with insanely large feathered wings. Small, light blue wings fluttered from each of its broad paws, and there were similarly-colored patches of fur on its body. As it blasted in, the entire group was subjected to an immense tidal wave of sparklies that could come only from the strange creature in the corridor.

And then, a few seconds later, the silhouette of a Drowzee and a woman in a billowing coat appeared in the door.

Sheridan stood there with her arms crossed, smirking. Kaeo, standing beside her, retained his perpetual bored expression, but turned to the winged bear-cat and nodded. The creature roared happily in response before… disappearing into the air. A second later MissingNo. recoiled with a scream and the Pokémon was flying in the air, each immense wingbeat sending a mini-tornado in all directions.

Temporarily ignoring the fact that this creature had recently come stomping in and destroyed his front hall, Alonzo beamed, eyes sparkling. “Aeveon!”

The creature roared in response.

MissingNo. made a screeching battle cry and fired a Water Gun (miraculously, not at Clyde). Aeveon took the hit and dropped itself gracefully to the ground, handling its bulky body with utmost ease. It leaped back into the air and swung one feathery wing like a fan, sending a scythe of air – an Air Slash, as it were – hurtling towards MissingNo.

In deft response, MissingNo. whirled out of the way of the Air Slash and sent himself hurtling towards Aeveon, the normal purple haze mixing with the blue mist that came with his Sky Attack.

“This is the strooonger of his attacks!” called Cresselia, who had recently returned to human form. Because MissingNo. had escaped Alonzo’s body on his own before she could exorcise and relocate him properly, her entire purpose had been defeated and she now stood as the lone lady in a kimono. And now, as MissingNo. and Aeveon – who, by the trail of sparkle dust he left behind, was obviously Shiny – continued to trade blows, all she could do was clasp her hands together and inform Arceus that one of his difficulties had escaped.

In truth, she should have been doing it before, but like the rest of the Groupie Galaxy she realized that praying out loud to Arceus in the middle of a serious catching-up discussion was probably not that safe. Now though, considering nobody could hear themselves think over the din and was therefore much more appropriate for prayer, she did what she should have done a long time ago. Besides, this was growing into quite a dangerous matter, and if any humans came to discover Cresselia and MissingNo. in the same building…

Fortunately, Arceus’ third vice-secretary got her call before he was swamped with more offerings from the Hearthome Chapel. Within three minutes, about twenty Arcanines had trooped through the door and set to work chasing MissingNo. down.

There was massive pandemonium after that. Everyone was attempting to attack someone while keeping out o the way of the other attacks, and Aeveon found his feathers singed on more than one occasion. MissingNo. was actually using Sky Attack and firing Water Guns at the same time; it didn’t matter who he hit, as he had realized by then that everyone was against him anyway and any connected blow was an improvement (except for Clyde, who just started shouting). Caro was vainly trying to order Raichu into attacks, Sheridan gave up on controlling the now battle-crazed Aeveon altogether, and it was a small miracle that nobody died in the general crossfire.

However, since most of the Pokémon’s attacks involved fire and MissingNo. was fond of using Sky Attack to swerve out of the way, Alonzo’s house was very close to getting torched. After all the abuse it had gone through up until this point, the possibility of his home going up in smoke was apparently too much for the man to handle.

“STOOOOOOOP!”

Within a few seconds, everyone froze and stared at Alonzo wide-eyed.

“I hate to interrupt your investigation, I really do, but I think there are some things we need to set straight here,” he continued. It was blatantly obvious that he was fed up with today’s events. “One: this is my house. Where I live. If you keep shooting thunderbolts…” he pointed at Caro and Raichu, who had since rejoined the fray, “…and you keep firing air bullets…” the Index Finger of Wrath turned to Aeveon now, “…and you keep setting things on fire, and you keep dive-bombing people…” he moved to the Arcanine troops and MissingNo. “…then this place won’t last another two minutes! And what’s going to happen when it burns down? Oh no, the battlefield’s dead, let’s run away? Oh, sure, you lot can do that. Go right ahead, be my guest! However, you have apparently failed to realize that this place is my responsibility, and I DON’T WANT TO GO BROKE FIXING UP THE MESS THAT YOU ALL HAVE MADE!!” His rant increased in volume until it was threatening to splutter out at any moment. He took a breath while everyone else stood (or hovered) in stunned silence.

“And TWO…”

He paused here, looking upwards. Now that the room had been silenced by Alonzo’s temper tantrum, sirens could be heard wailing in the distance.

“…and TWO, you’ve gone and summoned the freaking POLICE!!”



Well, by all standards, the story ended well.

Cresselia and the Arcanine Guard contained MissingNo. and dragged him back to Cinnabar Island (but not before leaving it in a stunned state as proof that a rampaging Glitch really did destroy half of Alonzo’s house), and the whole thing was covered up as MissingNo.’s doing entirely; no serious casualties were had. Immensely relieved with Casey’s group helping him with the problem that was sure to get worse if left untreated, Alonzo had jubilantly allowed him to take a Pokémon from his entire stock. Casey, not particularly wanting any of them, gave the decision to Sheridan – now bordering dangerously close to Fangirl Eyes – who selected Aeveon as her new team member.

By the time they left the sun had dipped quite low in the sky, and (to the sound of Grant’s continued moaning that they had stayed here much longer than they were supposed to) the Groupie Galaxy found themselves in desperate need of a Pokémon Center. Once there, the monsters in Grant’s head had a revelation.

“HELLO,” they said pleasantly once I had fallen into sleep.

“Hi there,” I responded.

“WE HAVE COME TO INFORM YOU ON CERTAIN THINGS,” continued the Karmada. “ONE, WE RECOMMEND STRONGLY AGAINST SETTING FOOT IN RAXI CITY. THERE ARE MANY PROBLEMS THERE.”

“Problems? Like what?”

“GRANT STERNBERG… DO YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS WHEN TWO PEOPLE HOUSING KARMADA COME IN CLOSE CONTACT WITH ONE ANOTHER?”

“No.”

“THE RESULT IS NOT PLEASANT. IF ONE GROUP OF KARMADA IS PROVOKED BY THE OTHER, A SORT OF BATTLE WILL ENSUE, CAUSING MASSIVELY PAINFUL HEADACHES FOR ALL INVOLVED. WE HAVE SENSED A NUMBER OF KARMADA WITHIN THAT CITY, AND IT IS SUGGESTED THAT YOU CONVINCE CASEY BLAIR TO TAKE ANOTHER ROUTE.”

“But… he needs to get a Badge from there.”

“THEN HE CAN DO IT WITHOUT YOU,” said the gray ghosts pleasantly.

I frowned at the Karmada. “What will you do if I don’t comply to this?”

“WE WILL FIGHT VALIANTLY AND TRY NOT TO GIVE YOU A MIGRAINE.”

“Oh. Um… thanks, I guess.”

“OUR PLEASURE.”

“So… what was the second thing?”

“WE DON’T SEEM TO BE MAKING MUCH HEADWAY ON FINDING WHAT WE SEEK. FOR THIS REASON, WE HAVE NOT YET ESTABLISHED AN ESTIMATE OF WHEN WE WILL BE ABLE TO EVACUATE YOUR MIND. WE APOLOGIZE FOR THE INCONVENIENCE.”

Not really having anything to say to this, I opted instead to ask one of the questions that had been bugging me. “So… why did you pick me to search for your thing?”

“THERE SEEMS TO BE A SIMILAR TRAIT IN ALL OF THE PEOPLE THAT WE SEARCH,” said the Karmada. “WE BELIEVE IT TO BE, AMONG OTHER THINGS, A SORT OF POWERFUL NEGATIVE EMOTION. WE’RE STILL WORKING ON YOURS…”

“Powerful… what? I’ve got nothing to hide here.”

“OH, BUT YOU DO,” said the Karmada. “WE’LL HUNT IT DOWN, WE ASSURE YOU. ONCE WE FIND IT WE WILL TAKE IT FOR OURSELVES AND YOU CAN BE RID OF THE BURDEN. THINK OF US AS A SORT OF PERSONAL PSYCHIATRIST.”

Not particularly enjoying the thought of this, I was about to respond when—

“Grant!” called a voice rudely, kicking the bed and cutting into the previously pleasant slumber of its occupant. “Get up! We’re waiting on you!”

“…what?” said the disheveled mop of brown hair that was supposed to be Grant. When he finally woke up, he found a very bemused Sheridan face in his line of vision – she, as the next most mature person in the group, took it upon herself to motivate the motivator. Grant’s half-awake brain failed to notice this; instead it chose to observe the fact that Sheridan’s chest was leaning dangerously close to his face.

“Hey!” he squawked.

Sheridan stood up, looking quite pleased with herself. “Get yourself ready. Casey says that we’re heading out today.”

Grant didn’t stop glowering at her as she left the room, and the stare continued to fry the door from which she left. After that incident had been sent to the back of his mind where nobody else had to deal with it and he began to get ready, Grant set his thoughts again on what the Karmada had said. Negative emotion of some sort. He certainly didn’t hate anyone in the immediate area, nor was he particularly sad about anything…

Suddenly Grant looked upwards, eyes wide.

They weren’t talking about… no, they couldn’t have been…

That wasn’t…

…that wasn’t his fault!



Five people (and a computer) sat around a table. A sixth was leaning against the wall.

There were a couple of things wrong with this picture. For one, there was never a man dressed in a dark suit and FBI sunglasses standing in the corner before. There was also the fact that Mr. Bodyguard had placed Rodney’s laptop on the table, which Anima was supposed to do – but couldn’t. This was the third strange thing: she didn’t seem to be present, even though the other Leader was.

“Um…” began Stathis intelligently.

“Ah yes!” chirped Mina, giving a disgustingly sweet smile around the table. “I must have forgotten to mention this at the last meeting. Today we have a special guest from the PIA, who is here to both explain a couple of things that are obviously unusual right now, and also observe us as we go about our business. Okay?”

“Okay,” they chorused. If the PIA agent hadn’t been there, at the mention of his company there would have been an incredibly loud groan. (Actually, there was a groan, but thanks to the wonders of pretending to cough nobody noticed… much.)

The PIA – that is, Pokémon Inspection Agency – was an official group founded in Kanto. Originally, it served as peacekeepers where the PIKA (Police Institution of Kindred Areas*) failed to do so. However, other organizations were soon established and did a much better job of international crime-fighting than they did, and the PIA was reduced to keeping tabs on Gyms. They are notorious for being incredibly unfair, picky, and all-around maniacal. They were so irritating, in fact, that some less tactful Gym Leaders have taken to calling them a pain in the…

…Oh dear. I can’t seem to remember. This is so strange.

Well, whatever the word was, it was making fun of ‘PIA’. Among the various Regions, Holon’s Gyms were without a doubt in the most trouble with the PIA and their yearly inspections – they had a bone to pick with almost every Gym Puzzle for being ‘too dangerous’ or ‘too time-consuming’ or ‘too mind-breakingly difficult’ or somesuch. Only in a few cases did they comment on the Gym Leader themselves, but in all fairness they deserved it. The relationship between the organizations was strained at best.

The PIA agent stepped forward with not even a nod to Mina – who, behind his back, looked quite miffed. Instead, he walked to a part of the table not currently occupied by a Gym Leader and stood there. “Ms. Minam—”

“Oh, please, just call me Mina. Everyone else does.” Mina gave another sickly-sweet giggle and waved one hand.

“Ms. Mina has already summarized why I am here,” he corrected. “I – or rather, the PIA – have some matters that we wish to discuss with you all. Before we continue, I would like you all to refer to me as Miles; I already know all of your names.” At this he gave a smile that was obviously meant to be pleasant and, in that respect, failed spectacularly. “Um… yes. First off, you will have noticed the absence of Miss Anima Ardall. She has not disappeared off the face of the earth, I assure you.” He waited for the giggles, but when none came he continued. “She is currently on break from her Leaderly duties in order to pursue, as she says, ‘another personal goal’. When she will return to the spot is unknown, but until she does all challengers will simply have to be redirected to the other Gym Leader in the city.”

One could practically hear Rodney seething through the microphone.

Miles acted like he didn’t notice. “Well! That’s one of the things out of the way. Second order of business, I’ve heard rumors from others within my company that Gym Leaders in this Region are using Pokémon not authorized by the Pokémon Master Encyclopedia. That said, I will need to ask you to release all of your Pokémon while we search your person for any illegitimate Pokémon you may have on hand.”

“Excuse me, sir,” said Garret meekly, raising his hand. “No one ever brings their Pokémon to these meetings.”

Miles blinked. “You’re supposed to. The PIA informed your Champion that…”

“Well, if Roman heard it, he never told me,” said Mina. “Because I wasn’t informed of it, they weren’t informed of it.” She folded her hands in front of her and regarded Miles with a stare so frigid that it wouldn’t be out of place on a mommy Articuno protecting her young.

Miles looked back at the other Gym Leaders (mostly to look away from Mina). “Well, then, I suppose we’ll need to have a talk with Mr. Roman about this…” When the others offered no comment, the PIA agent pulled himself together. “All of that said, I hope you will all have a pleasant meeting.”

“Are you going now?” asked Marianne. Buck kicked her shin disapprovingly.

“No,” said Miles. “I’ll just be watching in this folding chair over here.” He backed away from the round table and sat down on – lo and behold – a steel chair in the corner. He picked up a clipboard, already supplied with a pen and some paper, from the floor and sat poised to write his observations.

The discussion was very uncomfortable that day.



* The International Police are a very different beast than PIKA; do not get them confused.

So! For those of you who cared enough to notice, the title of this fanfic has been changed from Delta Species to the name it takes on most other forums, Wings Have We. This also means I could take down that banner - granted, it was a pretty good picture of Casey, but it's generally just... urgh. Now we have a creepy space entity instead. Cool, eh? =D
​

 

[scizorstrike]

*stares for an hour picking out random tiny little pieces*
so MissingNo is gone... but what was that thingywhatsit that crashed into the lake?
and why is Garret now a Gym Leader? *mind explodes*

 

[Giratina!]

The thingywhatsit that crashed into the lake was also MissingNo., taking a field trip. honestly i just wanted to kill that mini-arc but still x.x As for Garret... well, he was always a Gym Leader. Didn't you notice before?

 

[Giratina!]

{28} please take me down​

Poliwag stared down her opponent in defiance, not particularly enjoying the jeering look that Aeveon was giving him. Sheridan, on the other hand, looked outright worried, and after her sixth cry of, “Aeveon, are you sure you want to do this?” and the blue lion’s sharp-toothed, admittedly wicked-looking grin of approval, Casey finally decided to say something about it.

“Sheridan, it’s a Pokémon battle,” he called across the battlefield. “What’s the problem?”

“I told you before,” she said. “I don’t like battling with my Shinies. I don’t want them to get hurt, okay?”

Aeveon spat on the ground and walked into battle position, lashing his tail expectantly. “…Whereas he can’t seem to get enough,” Sheridan concluded sourly.

The journey to Raxi had gotten rather tedious, and so the group had earlier on decided that they ought to stop and enjoy the scenery. Eventually, someone brought up the subject of Aeveon, and within ten minutes everyone was egging Sheridan on to use her new Pokémon in its first battle. She had vehemently refused each time, but the pestering – while good-natured – eventually got to the point where she would be ready to do anything to shut them up.

It was at this point Sheridan realized that she really was the only mature one in the group, the other members being boys. Saffron didn’t count.

So here she was, swallowing her unease. Aeveon looked positively elated to stare down Casey’s Poliwag and was apparently unaware of his owner’s dubious thoughts. Sheridan realized that she was supposed to make the first move after only ten gestures from Casey, Aeveon, and Poliwag, and the woman took out a JAWS of her own and pointed it at the Flying-type Eeveelution. She wasn’t psychic; she didn’t know what moves this beast had!

After that was done, she looked up and said, “Gust.”

Aeveon batted his immense wings (large because otherwise they wouldn’t support his similarly immense body weight) and sent a gust of wind hurtling toward Poliwag. Little sparkles swirled along in the air torrent, thanks primarily to more of Aeveon’s spectral dandruff loosing itself from his wings. The light Water-type ground her feet into the dirt and shut her eyes in an attempt to root herself to the spot, so as not to get blown away; it worked, and upon her Trainer’s command directed a Water Gun into Aeveon’s chest. He roared loudly, apparently finding the rather weak attack painful.

However, he kept fighting, and within seconds Poliwag was on the receiving end of a Bite from his massive jaws. In response Poliwag fired another Water Gun; Aeveon took this valiantly to the face, his molars still clamped around Poliwag’s round body. Eventually he found that if he didn’t let go then Poliwag would continue to blast him with water; when that happened, he wisely decided to let it be.

“Hypnosis,” ordered Casey. Poliwag followed his instructions, and within minutes a swirly apparition was floating towards Aeveon. The Eeveelution’s eyes followed its twirling path vainly, though that was just wasting time; within minutes his eyes drooped and the wingbeats got progressively slower.

The battle ended swiftly after that.

Sheridan was forced to recall Aeveon as he fell, lest the creature fall to the floor and break at least ten bones in the process. She held the occupied Pokéball in her hand, staring at it grimly for a few seconds. It was then she realized that nobody was making any noise; this was unusual for the group of men who had just fifteen minutes earlier been laughing at her for not wanting to battle, and so she looked up, wondering what was holding their amusement. She soon found out.

Poliwag seemed to be glowing.

Sheridan’s eyes immediately lit up, prancing across the battlefield to hover blissfully over Poliwag. Her body began morphing – getting larger and rounder, arms sprouted from her sides (‘Finally,’ thought Casey), and her tail promptly sucked itself back into her spine. Finally, the glow faded and the result was a Poliwhirl – same color blue, same swirly internal organs, but a lot of other things that made the little mediator adorable had changed.

“Oh,” said Casey. Sheridan, now no longer having to worry about interrupting her Evolution, pounced upon Poliwhirl with the enthusiasm of a hyper-caffeinated fangirl. Casey thought it wise to return Poliwhirl before she got there, though, and did so with expert timing.

“Alright then,” said Clyde after everyone had recovered from the ensuing giggles. “I think we’ve established by now that Sheridan really shouldn’t be battling?”

Casey shook his head, smiled, and started along the road again.



“She’s what?”

“Gone,” said the Gastly nonchalantly, inspecting a seemingly random fraction of its eerie purple smog. “She’s left the building, and we don’t know when she’ll be back. Her Pokémon are gone too.”

“So who are you, then?” asked Caro, pointing. They were standing in front of the Raxi Gym – a bright, well-kept place in a nice neighborhood. Unfortunately, their path inside was being blocked by a rather insolent Ghost-type, and as resident Pokémon whisperer Caro had been nominated to move him out of the way.

It didn’t seem to be working.

“I live upstairs,” Gastly remarked in the same bored tones. “She’s a very kindhearted woman, you know. She’ll let any Pokémon under the sun make themselves comfortable in the unused parts of her Gym… too bad she’s gone, though.” The Gastly smiled devilishly. “The Gym Leader doesn’t believe in any frilly mazes or mind games, see. She just wants the Trainer to prove their bonds with their Pokémon, that’s all… but since she’s gone…”

“How long will we need to wait?” asked Caro grimly.

“You’re looking for the Midlight Badge, aren’t you…?” asked Gastly, looking up to regard him just slightly more than he had beforehand.

“I’m not. He is.” Caro pointed his finger at the appropriate red-haired youth, who waved meekly and then returned to inactivity. “How long do you think it’ll take this Gym Leader to get back so we can fight her?”

“Well… that depends.” Gastly tapped a wisp of gas to its mouth. “Which is more important to you: fighting this Gym Leader or getting the Badge?”

“Badge,” volunteered Casey, after Caro had translated the question.

Gastly peered at him then turned back to the Pokémon spokesman of the group, shaking his head sadly. “And you’re sure in that decision? There is another way to get a Midlight Badge, but…”

“What is it?” asked Caro.

“If you want the Badge fast, you could start by going to the other half of the city,” said Gastly. “The city of Raxi used to be two separate settlements, see, with two different Gyms. Eventually they merged into one, but there’s always been two official Pokémon League Gyms here… mostly because both of the original Gym Leaders were too stubborn to let his building be closed down.” The Gastly snickered in amusement. Caro relayed the explanation with most of the important details intact.

“That’s all we need to do?” asked Grant in disbelief. “Go to the other part of the city and fight the other guy?”

Gastly’s pointed teeth became strikingly apparent in his next antagonistic smile. “Easier said than done. You have to find it first!” With his ominous message conveyed, the Gastly disappeared and the door to the Raxi City Gym clicked firmly into what was obviously the locked position. After emitting a series of irritated muttering (with Saffron kicking the door for good measure), the group accepted their fate and walked away from the Gym.

“Well,” said Sheridan. “That was unexpected. Looks like we’ll need to go to the other Gym. I think I remember the way…”

“You know where it is?” gasped Casey.

“Maybe.” Sheridan shrugged. “Hey, it’s been years since I’ve been there last.”

“Personally, I’m more concerned with what the Gym Leader is like than any Gym,” pointed out Grant. “You should at least figure out what Type they use.”

Clyde snorted. “Are you kidding? That Gastly acted like the Gym must be a pain in the tail to get to, so the Gym Leader must be unused to battling. He’s probably some little kid.” He shook his head. “No, Casey, you should definitely just go over there.”

Sheridan shook her head. “He’s not a kid! When I was there the Gym Leader was around fifty. He was actually a very nice man, good at battling too.”

“When was this? Ten years ago?” asked Clyde mockingly, putting a hand to his ear. “It’s a small wonder he kept the job that long. No, he will have retired and there’s probably going to be a new kid around, and he’ll be a total pushover. I can tell you now, your nice skilled trainer won’t be there anymore.” Clyde paused for a moment, apparently finished, but then went on. “So how come you took this challenge back in the day if you hate battling, then, huh?”

Sheridan scowled ferociously at him and turned away.

“Cool it, Clyde,” grumbled Caro. “We don’t need you making zingers at people all the time.”

Grant appeared to have opened his mouth to say something considerably ruder, but with Caro delivering his message in language appropriate for people under eighteen he wisely decided to shut up.

A few seconds passed until there was a collective realization that with Sheridan not talking, nobody had any idea where the Gym actually was. When this happened, Casey turned to her in the most casual manner possible and said, “So where’s the other Gym?” Sheridan finally snapped out of her moody trance and looked up.

“I don’t remember,” she said. “I mean, I know it’s in the… er… other half of the city, but it’s like a maze in there.”

“Other half?” asked Casey.

“Yeah, other half.” Clyde, miraculously, seemed to have sobered up. “Call it whatever you want. Backstreets, Raxi Slums, Twilight Town, that place. Remember when I said Raxi’s ecosystem wasn’t inspiring? That was why.” He said this as they walked through one of the clean and impeccably bright streets of Raxi, which Casey had taken to be true across the settlement. Of course, just to throw a wrench in his logic, this was not so.

“It’s not that bad,” defended Sheridan.

“Let’s remind ourselves the date you—” Clyde stopped talking when he caught the glares everyone else was sending him. Having admitted defeat for now, the man shook his head and dropped the subject. “Whatever! We’re just going to need to find this Gym. Faster we do that, faster we can see the back of this place, right?” The others muttered agreement; albeit in crude and juvenile terms, Clyde had summarized their goals here.

Finally, they came across a large wrought-iron gate not unlike the one they had entered Raxi City in. Except now, instead of having a nice little arch over it, the pointy fence was no more than a rusted barrier with a hinge on it. It was evident immediately after entering this side of town (the gate, though it looked locked, opened at the slightest appliance of pressure) that they weren’t in Kansas anymore.

“So… um…” Casey opened his mouth to attempt to inspire some sort of conversation within the traveling party, which would hopefully lead to the sort of communication that would get people where they needed to go. This failed, and the group lapsed back into silence.

Grant peered into a side alley, curious to see what demons spawned in this particular sub-species. All of the other backstreets in this area of the city were generally dark and dirty; however, he was pretty sure that this was the only one that looked like a bomb had exploded in it. Looking closer, Grant noticed with a distinct shiver the cracked, separated halves of three Pokéballs.

He quickly resumed his pace.

“Aren’t there supposed to be people here?” asked Casey, looking around and seeming just as unnerved as Grant was.

“Yeah… somewhere else,” said Sheridan. “I think we’re in the Raxi Backstreets…”

Clyde, Saffron, and Grant shuddered, whereas Caro and Casey looked downright confused. “What’s wrong with that?” offered the former, looking around.

“If it’s any indicator,” said Grant worriedly, “this place has also been called a man-made Labyrinth.”

Caro missed the significance entirely, but Casey didn’t. “Labyrinth as in… capitalized?” His face was white. It didn’t improve when Grant nodded grimly. The Labyrinth, in ancient Shinolite mythology, was an endless maze designed with multiple spells set on it so that once you entered, you were forced to wander for eternity, with the only salvation being death at the hands of a man-eating, saber-toothed Tauros.

As was to be expected, Casey moaned loudly.

Finally, through the miniscule amount of light that came through to the Backstreets’ floor, the group managed to locate a building that looked like it was the Gym if the sign next to it was any indicator. It didn’t seem occupied, and indeed looked to be in a state of disrepair. After sharing a few concerned glances with one another (Sheridan looked faintly like she was going to be sick), Casey took a breath and walked up to the door.

Somehow it was open; this meant that it wasn’t just a broken-down husk of the Gym of years past. This was both good and bad news. The Gym was open, so he wouldn’t need to go waiting for the other Gym Leader to come back. On the other hand… well, Casey shuddered at the thought of whichever creep ran this place.



The creep who ran this place was, at that given moment, scowling at things.

Well, alright, he was always scowling at things. But this time the scowling was actually relevant.

“AARGH!” He ground one fist into the other. Everyone else present (i.e., one human and two Pokémon) was well aware that Mt. Gym Leader had blown its top again, though the reason for this was – as usual – unknown. The onlookers wisely decided to remain silent, lest they invoke the full power of their master’s wrath. He continued to ramble angrily for a few minutes further before abruptly stopping. “Jordan!” he barked.

“Ah, yes?” said the human, a man of around thirty with large glasses that seemed to amplify his eyes. Jordan was the Gymkeeper; every Gym had one, but rarely do they do anything when challengers are around. Only a few plucky ones wander around, following promising young charges. Jordan here was not one of them, instead opting to remain in the Gym.

Goodness knows why.

“Release Inverse and Reverse,” said the Gym Leader icily, his voice rasping. “If the impatient fools don’t want to wait for her to get back, then they’ll just need to suck it up and go through the trials, won’t they?” These sorts of outbursts were not uncommon, and it was mostly agreed among the few other people living there that they would be more disturbed if it didn’t happen. Everyone had long since learned that the best way to escape with your life was: A, make your presence as little-known as possible, and B, carefully step out of the way.

Jordan did just this and slipped gratefully out of the room to follow his orders. That Natu always creeped him out.



“What. On Earth. Is that.”

Clyde was considerately regarding the monster which was standing at its station when they entered the second room. This was made a slightly more justifiable question due to the fact that the room was practically pitch-black. (The first room was normally lit, but hilariously the door locked audibly behind them.)

The Groupie Galaxy now stood in what looked to be a room with walls made of stone, furnished sparingly with a scratched-up wooden side table, a rug, and of course the two-headed beastie before them. One of its heads looked like a horse’s, but the other had a rounded snout and grossly oversized, pointy teeth. The horse head had two white alien antennae on it and a short pink mane, and its neck was attached to a yellow hoofed body. This pattern continued until one got to the other half of the creature, wherein the fur abruptly changed to chocolate brown and canine paws designated where the hind hooves should have been. Following this metaphor, in place of a tail was the round head.

The only bright light in the room was what appeared to be a stage spotlight, pointing at the wall. On the wall, directly in the center of the beam, was a framed piece of paper. Typed on that were the words:

“So you’ve decided to try the Raxi City Gym.

In the event that your delusional brain is capable of reading this, I have considerately prepared instructions on how to get past this Gym puzzle. I’m sure you’ve dealt with more than enough of them by now.

In front of you is a two-headed Pokémon, and beyond that, two doors. There is only one way out of this room, and that way leads to the chamber where I am. If you open the doors you will observe that both ways ahead are pitch-black, and so the only way to know if you are taking the correct path is to merely walk through it. If you don’t, you will plummet to a room below. No, the landing will not kill you, but you’ll also be at the total mercy of whatever horrible beasts lie down there.

Ah, but you will notice the Pokémon. By now one of the heads will be looking around nervously and the other will be giving you the evil eye. This is normal, and if either head is doing anything other than that, you may as well dive into one of the doors at random. The Pokémon – whose species, by the way, is a ‘Pumipuyu’ – knows the way out. You may only ask the Pumipuyu one question total, and you must ask one of the heads in particular, not both.

There are two ways to solve this puzzle. One is easier said than done, the other easier done than said.”​

This invoked a rather long pause in the Groupie Galaxy, as they read the Gym Leader’s note over and over again both to themselves and out loud. Finally, Saffron came to a conclusion: “This dude is crazy.” There was murmured agreement, not too loud in case Pumipuyu was listening, and finally Casey pointed out that this would require a lengthy and strategic discussion.

And, huddled into a circle, discuss they did.

Well, except for Caro, who loudly proclaimed that he was going to think in that corner over there. The others didn’t try to convince him otherwise, considering that Sheridan was offering a much more plausible solution.

“Okay, so I’ve heard of this before,” said Sheridan in an undertone. “It’s called the Knights and Knaves’ Puzzle. One of the heads speaks only truth, one of the heads speaks only lies. The whole point is to trick the guys into giving you some sort of competent answer which will then tell you where you need to go… but we can’t do that, so I guess we’ll have to find out some other way to work it out. There has to be a way.”

Caro stared at the Pumipuyu. “Hey,” he said. “Um—”

“We’re trying to work here,” Saffron informed him irritably.

A little bit later: “You guys—”

“Caro,” said Casey patiently, poking his head out from the huddle, “as much as we all value your input, we’re trying to work this thing out, okay?” He then dove back in to continue discussing how they were supposed to surpass the classic puzzle under these special circumstances.

“Listen to me!” said Caro exasperatedly.

If anyone had been paying attention, they would have noticed that Clyde’s expression had been getting consistently sourer from both Caro’s pestering and the inability to get the answer out. Finally, he hit boiling point.

“Alright then!” he snapped, straightening to his full (and considerable) height. “I don’t know if you idiots are going to try anything today, but to be honest I don’t want to spend any more time in this place! We’re getting nowhere, you hear me? Nowhere! We might as well just go right up to that deformed Girafarig and say, ‘Hey you! Yeah, you with the pink hair! Where’s the door that gets us to your sleazy Gym Leader?’ Yeah! We could just go right up and do that, and…”

“Pumi,” said the yellow head politely, cutting into his rant. “Pumimipumimipu.”

Just as everyone was about to give Clyde a collective kick in the shin, Caro’s eyes widened and he said, “Ohhhhhhhhhhh!”

“What?” snapped Sheridan. “This moron just wasted our question by…”

She paused at the look Caro was giving her. “He didn’t waste our question,” said Caro, beaming. He leaned against the wall, which was a surefire sign that he had gone into exposition mode and had somehow figured it out better than they had. Sheridan looked miffed.

“Look… this isn’t the Knights and the Knaves… don’t you get it?” At everyone’s bewildered expression, Caro continued, getting steadily more excited. “The puzzle isn’t to figure out which of the heads tell the truth! That has nothing to do with it! Look, they both know the correct answer! He – the Gym Leader, whoever he was – he knew we were going to figure this much out, that we would think from what he gave us that it’s the Knights and Knaves! He did it on purpose, don’t you get it? He set up his puzzle almost exactly like the normal one, and he made us impose the usual rules on it ourselves!”

“So?” asked Saffron.

Immediately, Sheridan’s brain clicked the facts into place. “He must expect us to be able to get an answer out of the Pumipuyu heads, ignoring the fact that it might be a lie!” Sheridan thought for a moment on how to continue. Then, “Caro, there’s a problem.”

“What’s that?”

“None of us here speak—”

There was a pause. Caro looked at her, smiling wildly, while Sheridan’s expression slowly morphed from irritation to revelation and finally to glee. She opened her mouth to speak.

“The trapdoor,” interjected the ex-Raichu, turning to the others. “It’s the trapdoor.”

EEEEEEE
RAXI CITY ARC
EEEEEEEE​

 

[scizorstrike]

uuuuuhhh.... interesting, but i'm geussing that the difference was the fact that both of them told the truth? if not then... *mind explodes*

 

[Giratina!]

Yeah. Both of the Pumipuyu heads tell the truth; you don't need to worry about which one tells the truth and which one lies. The primary problem is, for once, the obvious one; Pumipuyu is a Pokémon and you're not. It'll just say "puyuyuyu" or "mipumimi" or something and you won't understand a word of it... well, unless you have the amazing Pokémon Whisperer Caro in your group, that is.

 

[Giratina!]

You thought I was gone, didn't you? DIDN'T YOU?!?
​

{29} i’ll fight them away through you​

“The… trapdoor.”

Saffron clearly failed to understand Caro’s statement. She saw no trapdoor – not that there was sufficient lighting anyway, but still – and she also saw no way for Caro to get the idea that there was, indeed, a trapdoor. She looked around on the floor, and there was no trapdoor in sight. The others did the same, and none of their multiple lookarounds came up with the location of any sort of trapdoor.

Hilariously, in that room, there was a trapdoor.

Caro walked forward and made motions with his hands for everyone to step back, and after some prompting and insistence that he really did know what he was doing, they actually complied. Smiling smugly, Caro whipped aside the rug that was previously under their feet, gesturing and holding out his hands like some sort of demented, hoodie-sporting stage magician. Everyone looked down and simultaneously found some hard surface to mentally slam their forehead against. Where the rug had been was a trapdoor.

“Oh,” laughed Grant. “Caro.”

“Yeah?” he asked brightly, glowing in his own success.

He shook his head and walked up to the trapdoor, kneeling down to pull it open. “You speak to Pokémon… I had forgotten.”

Saffron and Clyde suddenly had a look of great revelation, which was swiftly replaced with confusion. “Wait,” said the former. “What?”

“I used to be a Raichu,” explained Caro helpfully as he went down the ladder after Grant. “Ask someone later. We’re in a Gym, aren’t we? So we’re here to watch Casey beat his next creep and win a Badge.”

Saffron turned to her sister with an asking expression, but Sheridan wisely said, “Later.”

When everyone had descended the ladder into the room below, they found that they were in an even darker room than before. Only the very faint blue-and-red glow of Rotom illuminated the narrow room. Suddenly, Casey had a revelation. “Wait a minute!” he said. “If we’re under the Gym floor, then if we had gone through the doors, wouldn’t we have come down here as well…?”

“Ah, no,” said a voice from the darkness. “You actually wouldn’t. You would have wound up on a very large warp panel which would have taken you to a side room, and from there you would exit the Gym and try again.” A man stepped into Rotom’s faint glowing halo, the plasma’s radiance catching on his thick glasses. “My name is Jordan, the Gymkeeper here. Your final opponent is just down the passage, and I am here to deliver the rules before you begin.”

“Er… why?” asked Casey. “What rules are there?”

“Only one, and it’s not that hard,” said Jordan. “No Electric-types may pass beyond this point.” He turned his head slightly to reference the chipper light source. “Including your… wait, is that a Rotom or isn’t it? I’ve never seen that form before!”

“Oh, uh… he kinda possessed his own Pokéball,” said Casey embarrassedly. “We can’t actually return him right now.”

“Well then one of your traveling party will need to wait here with him,” remarked the Gymkeeper sternly. “I assure you that the rule is not meant to hamper your progress or battle in any way. The Gym Leader here trains Psychic-types, as you may be aware, and Electric Pokémon do no damage difference against them.”

“If it’s not to bother us, then what is it?” requested Clyde.

“The Gym Leader… well…” Jordan grimaced. “Alas, he has a phobia of Electric-types. I do not recommend crossing the Gym Leader.”

Glances were shared. A phobia? Were they even allowed to have that sort of thing?

“Are there any lights down the remainder of this passage?” asked Casey, deciding to change the subject. It obviously couldn’t be helped.

“No. You must light the way using your own or your Pokémon’s power.”

Casey turned back to the group from his then-appropriate spot in the front of the procession. “Alright… does anyone here have a Fire-type on hand?”

Everyone shook their head.

“Oh,” he said grimly. “Then… does anyone want to stay out here with Rotom…?”

Sheridan raised her hand, of course wanting to skip out on a battle; however, then she gave off a little ‘oh!’ and everyone knew that a plot was bubbling in her head. “Casey, I have an idea!” She handed Saffron to Grant, who took her with a startled expression, and sent out Kaeo in all his sparkle-skinned glory.

Casey waved at the Pokémon, not at all seeing where this was going.

Kaeo waved back, completely seeing where this was going.

“Kaeo here makes things glow blue when he uses Levitate on them,” explained Sheridan. “Kaeo, can you levitate yourself, dear?” The Drowzee made a mellow grin and floated into the air. Lo and behold, he was glowing with a strong blue aura. “See? Kaeo is strong enough to keep up his levitation down the course of this passageway… right?” She turned to Jordan.

“It’s not that long,” explained Jordan with a smile. “Telekinetic glow is a perfectly usable resource. I must also commend you; usually people use their Ponytas or somesuch to make fire light the corridor.”

Sheridan beamed and held out a Pokéball, which she also gave to Grant. He was now in the process of juggling two heavy and extremely valuable objects in his arms – Saffron and the Pipe – and so the former took a little slack for him and held the Pokéball instead. With that, Sheridan made a little motion to Rotom, who happily zoomed over and rested himself in her arms. “Have fun, guys,” she said, sitting down on the floor cuddling Rotom. Fortunately, her coat covered the thin layer of dust and debris that the others’ shoes merely ground over.

Kaeo waved and began floating forward, prompting the others to follow him.



From the end of the passage, someone looked up from his previous position – not that it made any difference. He said, “Kh!”*



Standing in a large room, surrounded by flickering computer screens, stood a girl.

Her mouth was tightened into a line of seriousness and determination, not the type of thing you’re supposed to see on a child of her age. Around her neck and down her back was a giant pink robe with a collar that stood of its own accord, and on her feet were large boots. Her hands were covered by pink gloves, and red hair fell from her head in thick, long curls. Under this wild bush there was a mask. A pink one, with little black dots where the eyes should be, and large cat ears.

Amarachi meant business.

She had gotten in here the hard way, for it had been a long time since her Mewkizuu powers had faded. And whose fault was this? Why, the owners of this room, of course. Amarachi looked at the machinery in disgust, but she knew that right now she must not destroy it. She had witnessed the prophecy of the Hatsudsu – ‘Future Seeker’, or prophet – and she knew that while these ideas could, and would, release mass destruction, they would also bring about hope.

So much hope.

The demented creatures ran around this Region. When humans could tell who they were, they regarded them as if it were a natural occurrence, like it was not their business to ask about the unusual but to inch slowly away from it. Meanwhile, they left one Region to ruins, and they were coming for the next.

She was standing within the power source, the flickering of unnatural blue lights scanning her well-disguised body.

“So be it,” she murmured. “Your horrors live today… but what of their skeletons?” She walked up to one of the machines, staring at it with sightless and painted-on eyes, and took off her mask. The pale pink fur fell to its natural alignment, having been stuffed into an unusual pose for so long. Giant iris-less eyes took in the lights, the neon blues of both catching and flickering upon one another. Hanging the mask around her neck, the girl with the natural face set to work.



As he walked down the corridor, it became increasingly apparent to Grant that it was long.

Placing one foot in front of the other became a difficult task about halfway through. As they walked, he holding Saffron in one arm and the Pipe in the other (with the Briefcase having been previously succumbed to Clyde’s Hammerspace), a pounding in his head began to grow steadily louder and more painful. Finally, he groaned and set Saffron on the ground, using the now-free hand to hold his head while he moaned.

“Grant? Are you okay?” asked Casey. The troop stopped immediately.

“Ungh…” was his response.

Finally, he got down on his knees, and then sat, clutching his head and making quite pained sounds all the while. Everyone else watched, scared, as he leaned back and rested his head against the wall.

From somewhere distant, they heard a cry of great pain.



“THIS WILL BE BRIEF, GRANT STERNBERG.”

“Will it really.” The sarcasm was evident in my voice.

“OF COURSE. WHEN HAVE WE EVER LIED TO YOU?”

I was not in the best of moods, and I was also willing to bet that the horrendous headache was these Pokémon’s doing. “What do you want?”

“WE HAVE FOUND MORE OF OUR KIND, GRANT STERNBERG,” the Karmada said. “SINCE WE CARE ABOUT YOUR MENTAL WELL-BEING, WE SUGGEST YOU LEAVE. NOW.”

“Oh… this is about the migraine, isn’t it?”

“PRECISELY.”

I bit my lip.

“YOU HAVE NOT LISTENED TO OUR WARNINGS,” observed the Karmada. “THE OTHER KARMADA TROUPE HAVE…”

They were cut off in a flash of light.

I heard a scream.

A roar.

And then I woke up.



“…Grant? Grant!”

When the man woke up, it was Caro who was leaning dangerously close to his face, and the giant brown eyes were not what he needed to see after that uncomfortable soundtrack. Fortunately, Caro returned to an acceptable distance once he realized that Grant was awake, and sanity was restored.

“Are you okay?” he demanded as soon as Grant looked like he was able to breathe.

“Yes…” he groaned, using the wall as support to stand himself up again. “Casey, I’m sorry about this. But I think I need to skip out on your battle.”

“What? Why?” Casey was genuinely worried. Oh dear.

Grant looked around, wondering if he ought to spill the Karmada beans, then decided against it. “This place has been giving me… well, a really bad headache,” he said. “It’s only gotten worse as we walked down this hallway. I… well, you saw what happened.”

“Go,” he said immediately. “You shouldn’t get hurt to watch some battle.”

Grant smiled shakily. “Thanks.” He picked up the Pipe and walked back down the corridor.



From the end of the passage, someone’s brow furrowed – not that it made any difference. He said, “Kh!”*



Amarachi was running. With a briefcase. And her mask covering the whole Mew thing.

Normally, this was a terrible safety hazard and she wouldn’t do it unless she was particularly eager about something. And she was eager about something – to escape the snapping jaws of the Houndour that were chasing her. She had been caught, and three of the robed fools had showed up, tossing out the dark dog Pokémon in order to capture her somehow. Amarachi realized that they were trained to egg her on in a certain direction, never quite catching up but always on her heels, until she hit something nasty and they could advance.

Amarachi would not take this, so she dove into an elevator. At least she had gotten away from the Houndour, keeping her briefcase – not the Briefcase, but merely a briefcase – entirely safe. Elbowing to the side the person already there, she stabbed the button that said “1F” and waited, panting, for the startled scientist to regain his bearings.

“Um… hello,” said Torsten Lund. “Can I help you?”

“I think you might,” said Amarachi. “Do you believe in space monsters?”

“I do,” he said immediately.

Amarachi nodded. “Good. Then you are obviously an impostor and, by ancient Shamoutan logic, I can trust you.”

Torsten looked down at her quizzically. “…Come again?”

The girl cleared her throat. “I trust you,” she said, “and I also trust that you don’t like your job here at all. These nincompoops wouldn’t hire anyone who believed in true things like space monsters.”

“There actually is a kind of Pokémon that’s born from a meteor,” offered Torsten a little uneasily, wondering why a girl like this was asking such adult questions. “It’s called…”

“Deoxys, I know,” said Amarachi.

Torsten nodded, assuming that perhaps this girl was some kind of child prodigy. “You’re a follower of the works of…” he faltered, apparently not enjoying the concept of saying this person’s name. “of… urk… Rondot Lund?” He was rather surprised that someone so young would be aware of the otherworldly Pokémon, but it was a pleasant, retain-small-string-of-hope-for-humanity sort of surprise.

“I’ve seen some of them,” said Amarachi. “Though personally I don’t like to rely on other people’s research to get my information…”

Torsten looked down at her now, not at all expecting what she had just said. “…You mean you’ve seen a Deoxys?”

“Well, yes,” said Amarachi airily, “but only in passing, you know. Not up close and personal or anything… since the species is so enigmatic I haven’t really had much of an opportunity to talk to it…”

The scientist nodded vaguely. However, it was at that moment that something clicked in his mind, and his head whisked to stare at the girl who had put a hand over her mouth. Even underneath the mask he could tell that her eyes widened in surprise at what she had just said. “Pardon me… but did you just say talk to Deoxys? We assume it speaks a dialect of Pokémian,” he said, tone growing more concerned by the second. “Unless—”

“Um, no,” said Amarachi. “B-but that’s not the point!” she blurted out.

Torsten raised one silver eyebrow. “Then what on Earth is?”

“There is a problem here, a corruption if you will,” explained Amarachi.

Her considerably taller companion snorted and folded his arms. “I knew that already, young lady.”

Amarachi looked peeved by the reference to her as a ‘young lady’, but she decided to ignore it in favor of the obviously more important factor here. “Well, whatever you feel the corruption is, honest truth about it is probably ten times worse. Now, before I continue…”

The elevator dinged then.

“Sorry, kiddo,” said Torsten. “I can’t stay. I’m expected somewhere.”

Amarachi imitated his arm-crossing. “I can wait.”



Casey had checked at random intervals to make sure that none of the remaining celestial bodies of the Groupie Galaxy – Kaeo, Clyde, Saffron, Caro, and himself – were feeling any ill effects as a result of walking down the corridor. Aside from Clyde looking slightly peeved, justifiable considering he was toting around a chatty little Psychic-type, nobody was feeling any effects, and eventually what they assumed to be the end of the tunnel emerged.

The word ‘assumed’ was used because there was, unfortunately, no light at the end of it.

What they did find was another room, much taller than any other part of the Gym. It was hardly lit at all, rather a lot like the other parts of the building, but they could make out enough to establish that this was the stadium, and that their trek through the world’s most sadistically difficult Gym was nearly over. However, before that could happen, they would need to face the wrath of—

“Hey, this ceiling is higher than the other rooms,” said Caro. “I guess that must be the bulk of the Gym?”

Gee, Caro. You really do know how to tick off an author, don’t you?

…Oh wait, here he comes now.

“Unbelievable,” said a dry – literally – voice from the corner. “Someone actually pulled through with it.”

Then, with a soft creak, one creature let his presence be known. Casey braced himself for daring to look at the Gym Leader responsible for that whole trapdoor idea. Whatever devilish monster he had in mind suddenly whimpered like a puppy and hid in a corner. For behind the sandpaper-y voice was a very different beast indeed.

‘Can they even do that?’ wondered Casey in between attempts to close his jaw.








* For those wondering how to pronounce ‘Kh!’, merely make a K sound and sound very, very irritated.

Gee, that guy’s voice doesn’t sound too good. I wonder what he did to make…

for want of a wing (character profile 12)

…oh.​

 

[scizorstrike]

well, i know already how to make a Kh! noise, as i do it already. but a phobia of 'lectrics? never heard of one of them before