“Jonathan. Jonathan Wheatley? Your boss?” The figure in the doorway – previously in the doorway, now moving forward into the room – leaves the uncanny impression of a prayerbug: lank and tall and strangely deadly: slender hands stuffed into buckskin gloves, favouring the basket-hilted broadsword at his right hip the way some southpaws do. He speaks with the edging annoyance of an official whose schedule is being hampered by a clerk or a lower-level bureaucrat. His name is Benedict Cain.
“Ah, right. John. Well, he’s not in just now. What’s this about anyway?” Jarvis is staring through Benedict. His eyes are unfocused and glassy like the expression of a man who’s spent most of his life somewhere else.
“It’s regarding his financial assets. I really need to speak with him.”
“Hm. I see, but like I says, he ain’t here. Um. Could pass a message if you’d like?”
“No, that won’t do. Look, I’m sorry if I’m being impatient, but I was supposed to meet Jonathan here first thing in the morning. Now, I’ve come all the way from the capital to see him and it’s a bit too urgent to just leave a message.” Benedict’s eyes are brutal and bright and unflinching. The pause between the first statement and the following one is not long enough for an interjection, only for an effect. “I work for the treasury.”
“Oh. Ohhhh. Well— well, all I’m sayin’ is he ain’t here right now. Might have stepped out, not really sure, but, well, yeah. You—you best just come back later.”
Jarvis has spent the last nine years in a locked room inside his head. Years spent in the same routine, in a machine that he has no notion of its existence or control over the levers of its dominion. He is hollowed-out and numb by too much memory and not enough joy. He thinks about money and how there’s never enough. About food. About how, in secret, his stillborn child some months back is treated as a blessing. Mostly, though, he’s just waiting for lunch and that small spot he’d found for himself between two boulders. There’s whiskey there in his satchel by the desk for when the day gets hard, and it gets hard often. His tongue feels swollen and dry and he wonders how much he can get away with and still be functional; he’s got one more chance, John says. His life is coming apart, it seems. Between the cracks in his stare, a man can see it from a thousand miles distant and yet every day Jarvis the Derrickhand still has to wake up and do it all again. He can remove the drill string in his sleep, now. Can guide the pipe and line it up with the fingers by memory, done near on four thousand days, back-to-back, and thousands more to go. He feels nothing for the numbers because sometime before he’d emptied that feeling out with the hope. His hands are still sore from yesterday’s work and sometimes they’ll gnarl up at night and won’t go right again until the morning. He worries about his wife, sick at home, and about the fever she’d come down with in the night. He’d wanted to stay with her, but the medicine would be expensive, and he had to work. It’s not sadness that sits in his eyes anymore. He looks tranquilised, mostly. His knees haven’t stopped aching for nine years.
Benedict looks at the door he’d come in from while smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in his doublet and sighing. He looks back. Jarvis can’t help but think that Benedict is unusually beautiful and elegant or that his conciliatory smile unsettles him. He isn’t sure why, but it does.
“Forgive me. None of this hassle of mine is your fault. Mr. Wheatley can be a difficult, non-communicative man who expects everyone to read his mind. I know this. I expect he even failed to mention me or our business. That’s not your fault, sir, and you’ve been gracious enough with your time, time that I imagine you don’t need some quill-hand from the city robbing you of. John does enough of that himself for the both of us.” Jarvis tries to interject but is clipped off. “However, that doesn’t resolve my issue nor yours. I offer a concession – or a treaty, if you will: I’ll pretend I never saw you, that you were not here, but hard at work, while I sit here – right over there on the bench, to be specific – and wait for him to return and you can get back to whatever it is that needs getting back to.”
Jarvis squints. Benedict doesn’t appear untrustworthy on paper, he notes. His sleeveless, damask doublet is well-crafted with golden patterns woven against a black background. The white shirt beneath it is immaculate, outfitted with ivory cufflinks and a golden pin tacked into the mandarin collar whose symbol is unfamiliar to him. A pair of dark, well-tailored leggings feed down into his tall-shafted boots and the craftsmanship of his blade is immaculate but utilitarian, presenting him as a man who is all business but spares no expense in whatever business that is. Eventually satisfied, Jarvis accepts the offer to the tune of something like ‘knock yourself out.’ He turns and spits between his teeth into a nearby pot.
“Gotta get back to work, then, but John should be in soon.”
Benedict watches Jarvis leave past him, out the door he’d first come. Alone in the room, Benedict sits quiet and immaculate like a statue, his back perfectly congruent with the wall behind him. He tugs at one of his coarse, leathern gloves. He looks around. The office is in one of those old adobe buildings built during the last era by men greater than the ones who use it now. Squat and ugly but made to withstand an entire calamity. He smiles. The land is now owned by one of southwestern Thanalan’s more insignificant oil-drilling operations which is in turn a subsidiary of Godwyn & Smythe. He has come to understand that the acquisition is recent. He’s in the front office, he tells himself. There are two doors but he watches neither of them. One leads out into the desert while the other (a smaller door tucked into the back-right wall) leads into Jonathan’s adjoining office. The overall décor is quotidian and spartan and the fresh furniture and the new doors are already beginning to crack under the stress of poor craftsmanship. His smile disappears and he ruminates on the tragedy of a job badly done: a tool is only as good as the stuff that forges it, he knows. There is an angry, sweltering sound of morning flies from somewhere outside an open window. Benedict doesn’t blink.
Several moments pass before he stands and strides across the room, his hobnail’d boots snapping crisply off the boardfloor. He circles the desk at the centre. The absentee receptionist is immaculate in his care, he notes, as his fingers pass over neatly-categorised stacks of paper, toiled at by a mind that functions primarily on order; this is not Jarvis’ work. He rifles through a sheaf of papers with only a dull interest before moving on, leaving them as methodical as he had found them. He stops at one of the windows and peers sideways at the land stretching out beyond. Everything looks dull and over-exposed in the midday desert sun. An empty, white light that is blinding and hungry.
Nearly an hour passes before the door opens. Benedict is standing before a painting of an idyllic, rural countryside when Jonathan enters the office in a hurry. He makes it halfway across the room towards his own door before he notices that Benedict is not his receptionist nor one of his workers.
“Can I help you?” Jonathan says, out of breath and agitated. Benedict doesn’t turn around immediately.
“In heaven and earth and all the realms, seventy and seven, I know not of a more depraved will than that which sits in the core of man’s heart and begins, simply, with the words: ‘I want.’ “
“Excuse me?” The words are spit out. Benedict looks down and smiles before turning to Jonathan.
“Never mind me, Mister Wheatley, I was only thinking aloud. Let me first say it’s a pleasure to be here. My name is Benedict. You’ve never met me, but I work for the Firm. You’re familiar with us.” Benedict speaks to Jonathan in a crisp, polite voice that stops just shy of worship. Jonathan’s face is already beginning to crumple into horror and the preliminary stages of sobbing. Benedict gestures towards the door he’d been heading for. “Please forgive me, but do you care if we step into your office?”
*
Benedict exits out onto the hot, suffocating porch as the sun sits still in the roof of the sky like a great and scorching eye. The air has a vacuum-pressure quality to it. He is smiling as he uses an old cloth to wipe at his hands meticulously. Benedict bends and unlaces his boots and tugs them off. Pushing them to the side on a small corner of the veranda, he tucks his socks and the old rag into their shafts. His doublet comes next, unbuttoned with his shirt, both folded neat and flat against the side of his boots. His leggings follow, the restraints unfastened with ease and care that seems both rhythmic and methodical. He holds his blade out in front of him resting on his palms. There is ceremony here in the way he folds his legs beneath him and lowers the schiavona onto the pile of clothes. He sings a hymn in a foreign tongue. He runs his fingers along the flat of the blade. He stands.
Benedict looks out on the horizon. An entire country of quiet and violence whose remoteness feels so total as to swallow up man, creature, and meaning. His eyes never blink. To the north, oil pylons rise dark and spider-like, ironed out against the sky. He can see the rumour of motion as the drill line and the primitive pulley draws the Kelly drive towards the sky. A breath. He watches the vague shapes of men, small and vaporous in the heatwaves, guide her back down to the earth. A heartbeat. In some stories, a future. In others, a womb.
He smiles and steps out, barefoot and naked, onto the hard, sand-and-dust earth and disappears into the world beyond.
*
In an hour’s time, Jarvis finds a pile of familiar clothes on the porch and a strange smell. In Jonathan’s office, he finds Jonathan. The men find him screaming.
That evening, someone from the village with a steady eye and a careful voice visits Jarvis and tells him that there are brushfires up in the hills and to stay inside. As the evening redness sinks into night, a fever dream takes his wife in hand and leads her down into a delirium that fills their small cottage with yammering and cries. She is drenched in sweat, the bedding entire one acid-yellow wash of colour. There is the unmistakable droning of flies. Through the windows, a pale corona of light from the fires ascend the ridges around their homestead. To keep her from hurting herself, Jarvis eventually restrains her wrists and her ankles by winding up old cloths and sheets into cords and tying them off to the bedposts. She says she sees eyes in the windows, in the dark corners of the room. She says a man is sitting at the foot of her bed and that his stare hurts. There is ash in the air. Jarvis is sobbing as the nightmares deepen. The flies are screaming. A crescendo that draws across a handful of hours. Sometime, just passed midnight, she falls still at last and all is quiet save her, and she is murmuring. She says: the prophet comes with many crowns to this, His house. He comes with the sword and will wake this old country. He aims to make the land anew.
And then she dies and the fires rage all throughout the night.
*
In Ul’dah, Ja’rhem wakes in a cold sweat from a dream that he can’t remember. His bones ache. His skin screams in psychic agony. He draws himself up into himself while his body quakes. He lays on a pallet of linens and hay in a lightless cellar that he had crawled into earlier that night after a botched job. The darkness in the room is implacable and hostile. Clover is not here because he hadn’t invited her and he wishes he had and he’s grateful he hadn’t. Phosphene phantoms float among the black. A small flame still licks upwards in the crown of his opium lamp, bathing the pipe beside it in a warm and attractive glow. A flood of craving precedes self-loathing, both entering him in a sick and slick way. Or radiating from somewhere deep inside, from an illusory organ or gland that permeates a slavery so total that he doesn’t even know how to wish he wasn’t shackled to it. The sound of a rat dragging its feet over the stonework feels deafening when partnered with the crippling bloodbeat in his head. He can feel their black, beady eyes watching him from the dark. He throws a clay jug across the room in a fit of rage to dispel them, but it smashes ineffectually against one of the back walls. They are with him among the linens, now. He can feel them by the dozens, all skittering feet and coarse hides and squamous tails, always just out of his vision. Always slipping through clutching and thrashing hands. He shudders and something inside him cracks. It tells him that he doesn’t have to hold on so hard. There’s still a little left, it says. He reaches a trembling claw towards the pipe and weakly holds the bowl over the lamp. He waits. His ribs feel shallower than he remembers them. It’s been a bad month and it’s only going to get worse. Were a man privy to the hunger in his eyes, that man might never sleep a solid night in his life again. A sea of madness and raw nerves now shot, backfiring or firing off into a nothingness that swallows everything. He drags the pipe and the lamp back onto the pallet with him and curls around them like a cat finding warmth somewhere inside itself. As he smokes, in this small house of god that looks like bones and skin and a broken boy, Ja’rhem is crying. He disappears into a warm lap that he can’t see but he knows with all his desperate hope that it is Clover and that she is smiling her gentle and patient smile that tells him everything is going to be okay now. That she has him, now.
Esmeralda clutched the straps of her backpack as she walked into Santalune City. At least this city was much more easy to traverse than Luminose and she didn't need to be forced to walk up to a taxi just to find the nearest pokemon center.
Appreciating how this town was much smaller and easier to traverse Esmeralda grinned as she looked around and decided to take a small break. Taking a seat in a small cafe she decided to order some coffee and a cherry pie.
Today would be the day that she took on the local Gym and according to her notes it was a bug type one. This was apparently the best gym for beginners too so she shouldn't have much trouble even if she did use some of her newer pokemon so that they could gain some experience.
Once she was done with what she ordered from the cafe Esmeralda made sure that she had everything she needed and walked off towards the gym. As expected the design of the place really made it stand out and as she walked in the place sort of seemed like a photo gallery for bug types.
--
“Alright miss... Esmeralda come this way to the arena. And glad to see you have come to Kalos, it isn't often someone challenges the gym and they are from a different region entirely.” One of the gym assistants said as he looked over her challenge form and smiled.
“Yeah, my friends told me to take a bit of a vacation and I decided to try out the local Gyms for a bit of excitement ya know.” Esmeralda replied with a slight chuckle as she wondered which pokemon she would likely be put up against. Surely they were going to be bug types but it wouldn't be easy and her pokemon shouldn't have any type disadvantages.
Walking down the hallway leading to the arena the man leading the way seemed to be talking through a communicator and was nodding and answering questions to someone on the other side.
“That does sound like a fun way to take a vacation if you ask me. Anywho Gym leader Viola is waiting for you so good luck!” He turned to Esmeralda and led her to a door that slid open and revealed a rather large and elaborate arena.
At the opposite side a woman with blonde hair and a camera in hand waved at Esmeralda as she introduced herself.
“Welcome to the Santalune city gym, I am Viola the gym leader and I welcome you and your pokemon to my gym.” Viola stated as a referee took his place on the arena.
“This will be a two vs two match. The match will end once one side has all of their pokemon unable to battle. Does the challenger have any questions?” The referee turned to Esmeralda who gave him a gesture and a look that meant she was ready for the battle.
“Let the battle commence!”
“Go Surskit!” Viola set out her first pokemon and awaited for the challenger to set out their own.
“Go Echo!” Esmeralda called out as she tossed her pokeball and in a flash a rather confident Noibat popped out.
“Noi!” Echo growled fiercely as she stayed aloft and looked fairly serious.
“Surskit use Quick attack!”
“Dodge it!”
But Echo wasn't fast enough and as the bug type made contact the bat crashed into the ground but quickly got up and growled.
“Echo time for Freestyle!” Esmeralda commanded and Echo nodded.
“Ah so your pokemon are trained to battle without orders, impressive... but risky.” Viola commented as she seemed to concentrate on the battle more now. It was fairly uncommon to see a trainer command their pokemon to battle on technical autopilot. It made for a more unexpected fight and came with the benefit of not knowing what their next move was... but it was just as risky. One wrong move and the pokemon could be signing over their victory to the opponent.
Whipping up a Gust Echo quickly flew towards the Surskit while doing a barrel roll to confuse her enemy. For the most part her plan worked as the Surskit tried to jump out of the way but got caught in the Gust instead. Letting out a pained cry the bug was quick to move back onto her feet but the damage from Gust was definitely there. It had just gotten hit by a super effective attack afterall.
“Noi!” Echo growled triumphantly as she flew upwards and waited to see what the bug would do now.
“Use quick attack!” Viola commanded again as the small spider quickly moved and jumped towards Echo... but the bat had been waiting for something like this.
Flapping her wings quickly she made sure that Surskit got caught in a direct close range Gust attack. Both pokemon ended up getting hit by the intended attacks which caused a small explosion of dust to rise up. By the time the dust cleared Echo let out a triumphant call as Surskit was knocked out before her.
“Surskit is unable to battle Noibat wins!”
'ehehehe Serves em right' Echo snickered even if she knew no human could hear.
“Exellent battle Esmeralda, I can see that your Noibat is well aware of her solo capabilities. But can she stick around long enough to defeat my second pokemon? Go Vivillion!” Viola said as she set out her final pokemon who fluttered effortlessly and was clearly well trained.
“Vivillion use Infestation!”
Echo's smug grin quickly vanished as she found herself being drenched in what she could only describe as thousands and thousands of small itchy and biting bugs...
“NOOIRR!” She screeched out as she started to fly around and try to shake the bugs off but no matter how much she tried she couldn't there seemed to be too many of them.
Letting out an angry hiss Echo started to whip up a Gust and flew straight towards Vivillion. The bug was fast though and so was her trainer.
“Quick get back at Noibat with a Tackle!”
Both pokemon clashed and as both attacks made contact Echo couldn't resist the direct Tackle and was sent crashing onto the ground.
“Grrh!” The bat hissed as she tried to get up but she felt the infestation kick in again and she knew she was done for as she felt her legs give in and she fell.
“Noibat is unable to battle Vivillion wins!”
“Your Noibat sure put up a good fight. What will your next pokemon do?” Viola asked as Esmeralda went into thought.
Thinking of what pokemon to take out next Esmeralda's thoughts went to 'Dart' the Froakie she had recently obtained. She had decided to give the frog a proper name after some general training had wielded promising results. For a pokemon that seemed a bit stubborn and carefree she sure had a pretty good aim. As for the pale coloration a few trips to the local pokemon centers had revealed that it was nothing affecting her health, turns out it was an unusual skin pigment mutation that didn't really affect a pokemon's health or battle capabilities.
“Go Dart!” Esmeralda called as she tossed her second pokeball and in a flash of light the frog emerged as she puffed out the bubbles around her neck.
“Alright Dart show me what you can do! Freestyle!”
“Froak?” Was all Dart could say as she looked back at her trainer with a confused look. Freestyle what the heck was that? Sure she had taken a few orders from Esmeralda before but what the heck was Freestyle?
“Come on, show me what you got. Show me how 'you' like to fight!” Esmeralda ordered in as the frog practically froze in place. What did she mean by these orders? She was expecting a clear attack order not whatever this was-
“Vivillon use sleep powder!” Viola commanded and Dart practically screeched as she felt her face get hit by a cloud of dust. The rest was obvious, no pokemon could last long after being hit by sleep powder and she quickly fell asleep right on the battlefield.
“Vivillion use Solar beam!” Viola commanded as Esmeralda simply sighed in defeat. The moment the attack charged up and collided with the sleeping frog the outcome was obvious. By the time the smoke cleared Dart was as knocked out as a sleeping rock type.
“Froakie is unable to battle Vivillion wins. And because the challenger no longer has pokemon I declare Viola the winner!” The announcer spoke as Esmeralda returned Dart to her pokeball and sighed.
“Your pokemon put up a good match but it seemed like your Froakie still needs some training. Feel free to come back for a rematch once it's better trained.” Viola said with a smile and had clearly enjoyed the match... Esmeralda on the other hand seemed fairly neutral despite the loss.
Taking her leave once her pokemon were healed at the pokemon center Esmeralda let out all of her pokemon so that they could get a bit of running space as she decided to take more notes.
“Satsuki, I need you to teach Dart how to fight Freestyle.” Esmeralda asked the Mienshao as she nodded and went out to seek the frog. It wasn't too hard to find her though, she could hear Echo's insults towards her all the way from the inside of the building.
Dart had curled up a bit under a tree as Echo glared down at her and continued to spit out some fairly nasty comments such as 'we lost and it's your fault, I knew you were weak, maybe we should trade you for a more competent water type... and the insults went on.
“Stand down Echo, you were just as bad before you knew how to Freesyle so give the newbie a break.” Satsuki appeared from behind Echo and the bat was forced to fly away... everyone knew that messing with the eldest of the group was a fairly bad move.
“Don't worry we all make mistakes at first Dart, but in due time you won't” Satsuki reassured her as the frog sniffled and seemed to try and hide the fact that she had been at the verge of tears no thanks to Echo. Obviously that embarrassing loss had really taken a toll.
“B-but why didn't she tell me to use an attack we could have won.” Dart hissed in defiance as she glared at Satsuki who didn't move or show any emotion.
“This world isn't all berries and roses frog. What our trainer asked you to do is essential and the earlier you learn to not depend on her all the time the better off you will be.” The weasel spoke back in a serious tone that made Dart ponder on it for a moment.
“'Freestyle' is an uncommon way to battle. Some trainers believe it to be reckless but it does have it's benefits.” Satsuki added as she sat down next to Dart.
“Don't depend on the orders of your trainer. You too can fight in your own way and sometimes you can see or hear things a human can't so use that to your advantage... let me show you the basics.” The weasel added as she quickly jumped back onto her feet.
“Attack me!”
“What?!”
“You heard what I said attack me frog! Use your fangs, use the frubbles around your neck! Attack!” Satsuki ordered as she whipped her long arm ribbons dangerously close to Dart who recoiled for a moment but then became serious.
“WRRAH!” She roared as she did a pretty good job to evade Satsuki's swipes and aim a Bubble attack directly at her chest. Grinning once it made contact Dart hardly noticed how her leg had gotten tangled up by Satsuki's ribbons and she quickly fell face first into the dirt with a pained groan.
“Good... that's the start of how you learn Freestyle... how did it feel?”
“A bit odd but...I guess I could deal with it.” Dart confessed as she shrugged her shoulders. What Satsuki said next made her feel like this was going to be a looooong day...
“Good... take a breather. In a few minutes we will practice again. Surely you will be up against the Gym leader tomorrow again but this time you will be prepared.”
“Alright... I guess this is Kalos and it’s time for us to move out and look around.” A dark teal haired woman sighed as she looked around and walked down the streets of Luminose after exiting the airport.
Following close behind the woman were five pokemon. A Mienshao, a Ponyta, A Noibat, a Deino, and finally an odd white and fluffy Vulpix. All of them seemed both awed and overwhelmed at the new sights.
They DEFINITELY weren't on Alola anymore...
-----
A few days before ~
“I smell food” A Totodile raised his snout as he quickly stood up and confirmed the smell. Licking his maw he gently poked the sleeping Froakie next to him. Letting out an annoyed sound the frog yawned as she sat up and didn’t look too amused about being awoken from a perfectly fine nap.
The water type sanctuary was quite a large place despite housing multiple water types under one roof. Usually the species were separated into their own specialized environments... save for the mix breeds. These pokemon were usually donated as eggs and tended to be the blunders of amateur breeders or odd mishaps. Luckily they all were useful when it came to trainers who couldn’t afford the price tags associated with purebreeds or were not on the waiting list for professors.
“It's a bit early for feeding time don't cha think?” The Froakie commented as she seemed a bit weary. Unlike her brother she tended to keep track of when the humans showed up with food to get herself and her brother there early. From a glance the two hardly seemed related save for the Totodile seeming slightly slimmer and the Froakie was a bit on the lean sturdy side with some black eye markings under her eyes much like those seen on a Totodile.
Quickly moving towards the source of the scent both pokemon arrived at the place where the humans often dropped food for them. However today was different as a new human appeared to be with them and seemed to be pretty exited as he saw some pokemon appear.
Looking up at the young man he smiled down at the water types that had shown up and started to promptly eat the food presented to them. Something sure seemed fishy and the Froakie was keeping cautious and staying a few feet behind with some of the other pokemon who seemed a bit confused. Much to her shock though the man bent down and picked up her brother with a smile.
“I like this guy he seems like a lively one and has a good appetite too.” The young man said as he smiled down at the Totodile and he let out a content ‘Toto’ as he quickly glanced back at his sister and gave her a thumbs up.
“WOAH! Sis I think I finally got a trainer!” Totodile said with a wide toothy grin.
And that was the last time she saw him...
But she didn't envy her brother. In fact she was happy that he got chosen and was somewhere out there on some adventure that she could only imagine.
Luckily a few days later fate seemed to decide that it was her time to get chosen. Her trainer seemed less rugged and though though. The human who ended choosing her was about ten years old, said his name was Vincent, and seemed pretty confused about the situation... but surely he would get better with time right?
Present
Esmeralda yawned as she walked through a poke mart and started to browse through its wares. Ever since arriving she had decided to try out a gym or two to see if she could find any amusement in battling. She was supposed to be on an extended (forced) vacation by her old colleagues who had noticed her usual self had been deteriorating ever since... that.
Sighing she hoped that fighting the regional gyms might give her something interesting to do as she tried to keep her mind off things. After all she had been told to leave Alola and cool off and hopefully once she returned back home her head would be cleared and she could return back to her normal life... little did they know that Esmeralda had no intention to return to that road. No she was out to take her own form of justice into her own hands in due time.
Sighing as she grabbed a few potions and an up to date Kalos pokemon encyclopedia Esmeralda couldn't help but notice a young boy and his Froakie seeming to be in some form of argument over snacks. The boy seemed to want to buy some sweet and sour doughnuts but the frog kept making annoyed sounds as it kept poking in the direction of some spicy ones... clearly it's flavor preference. That wasn't what caught her eye though, flipping through the encyclopedia in her hands she couldn’t help but raise a brow... very interesting.
“Errm...Could I see your Froakie for a moment?” Esmeralda said as Vincent looked at the Froakie and then gently handed her over to the older woman who seemed to look over her quite intently. The kid took the chance to get what he wanted though despite the frog clearly not looking happy.
It was hard to tell if either the frog had a skin condition, was dehydrated, or was a rare instance of some color mutation. Either way Esmeralda seemed quite amused with the slightly odd color the frog had compared to the breed standard picture shown in the encyclopedia.
She was so into comparing the pictures and the live pokemon that she hardly noticed her own Deino walk up to her and then turn her head towards the young boy.
“Woah is that a Deino, I hear those are pretty hard to get and they grow up to become big strong Hydreigon” Vincent suddenly interrupted as his eyes went wide and he walked over to the dragon type. For someone who Esmeralda had just met he sure seemed quite interested in a stranger's pokemon-
“Hey how about we trade. I’ll give you my Froakie in return for that Deino.” Vincent grinned as he petted the dragon type who let out a small “Dein”
Well... that was a bit unexpected. Thinking for a moment Esmeralda considered the offer. She could use a water type and as she looked through her pokemon encyclopedia a Froakie seemed to have potential... hmm this really was a moment of deep thought. However since she already had a Noibat that would eventually evolve into a Noivern she did suppose that having another dragon type would be a bit counter productive...
“Well if you insist. I wouldn’t mind having a Froakie.” Esmeralda finally decided as Vincent seemed exited and looked at the Deino with a smile. The Froakie on the other hand seemed to notice something was up and narrowed her eyes as Esmeralda now held her in her arms and showed no intent of returning her to her trainer.
----
Some time later at the nearby pokemon center
The next few minutes had been shocking and life changing. The frog had practically jaw dropped the entire time as both Vincent and Esmeralda walked over to the nearest pokemon center and signed some trading papers to confirm the trade of their pokemon.
“You... got to be... kidding me.” The frog felt her left eye twitch as she watched her ex trainer Vincent walk out the door with a Deino in tow and looking pretty exited. Not even two days in and she just got traded?! For a moment she felt a bit betrayed as she glanced at her apparent new trainer. At least she looked tough and the rest of her pokemon seemed interesting... had she really just gotten traded over because her trainer had gotten the chance to get a better pokemon.
She really hoped her brother hadn't or wouldn't go through something like this ever... wherever he was she hoped his journey wouldn't be like this one.
---
Some hours later
“Okay... this is the new addition to the team so welcome her in.” Esmeralda said as she set the Froakie down. Ever since the trade the frog appeared to be both curious and mentally conflicted. Even after being set on the ground the frog just eyed the rest of her team cautiously. She didn’t feel like introducing herself just yet though and was quick to bounce over to a space under some nearby tree.
Deciding to let her have her space Esmeralda left her alone and her other pokemon began to comment on how Deino was now gone and this new pokemon had taken her place.
“I knew it... she's not attached to any of us just look how she just traded Deino away... and we just got her too. What if any of us might be next Satsuki?” The snowy Vulpix said in a low concerned tone as she glanced at the frog and then at Satsuki the Mienshao.
“Think of it this way Luna... at least now Deino can live like a normal pokemon. Ever since we got her I don't think she could have handled the life we will have.” Satsuki said as she crossed her legs and took a comfortable sitting place over some rocks.
“True... but what makes you sure this frog won't be any different.” Luna asked with a frown.
“I'm not sure... but if she stays she will have to learn” Satsuki replied as she now crossed her arms and noticed that Echo the Noibat had gotten up and started to fly.
“Well whatever is the case I'm going to tell her how the river runs here.” Echo snorted defiantly as she quickly flew off to where Froakie had gone to.
Breathing out a few bubbles Froakie sighed as she let herself lie down on the cool grass. At this point she wasn't sure what to make of the situation. She had just gotten traded after barely getting obtained and now she was surrounded by new... very judging faces. She really wished she was just back at the sanctuary with her brother... laughing, playing, and simply worrying about when the food would come.
“Listen here punk, just because you are the new pokemon here doesn’t make you special. We are all tough and pull our weight here and you will be expected to do the same” Echo nearly made Froakie jump as she squeaked a bit and turned around to face a rather stern looking Noibat. Not really sure how to react at the situation the frog practically froze up as she seemed to be staring into the distance.
“Hey are you listening to me!” Echo hissed as she flew over to the frog and bared her fangs. This action seemed to have made the Froakie jump back into reality. Perhaps the sight of sharp teeth had triggered some sort of defense response.
“AUGH WHAT THE HECK!!!” Echo suddenly screeched as she felt some dull teeth snap at her foot. She hardly had time to respond as the frog had moved pretty quickly and in the matter of a few seconds had bitten into her foot.
“Well... at least this one has a bite that's worse than her croak.” Satsuki chuckled as she quickly frowned and glanced at her other young teammates... clearly none of them were ready or prepared for the journey they would be traveling soon.
"Looks like Ko-Chan is getting ready for Splatfest- in which I'm stuck in Octo Valley; cleaning up the mess some agents made. Welp- hope Team Marshmallow wins; Ko is not going to be happy if the wieners win..."
[Elsewhere, an Inkling quietly puts on "special gear"...]
A few months ago all her old suspicions were confirmed. Selina Kyle was the daughter of Carmine Falcone. She disappeared for a few months heading over to Europe, to where the family was born, it was the second time she had done this - visited Rome. But now she knew the truth. Selina intends to take her place at the head of the Falcone family, and bring all the mobs to heel under a rogue's boot. She will need alliances, she will make enemies. If you want in on this let me know.
Starring: James Bond/007, Veronika Crayne, Nathan Myatt, Q, M (Gareth Mallory)
Plot: It has been a year since the events of Skyfall have occured. MI6 has discovered that international weapons corporation, Myatt International, ran it's Irish CEO, Nathan Myatt, has been taking liberties with the law. MI6 sends out American CIA liaison Veronika Crayne to recall whom MI6 and their ODG affiliate believe can get the job done: 007. Returning from his indefinite hiatus, 007 will use any means necessary to neutralize Myatt and his insidious plans.
Subplot: Bond will be delving into the development and the creation of the 00 Section and looking into MI6's Cold War-era missions, which may shed a whole new light on both MI6 and the ODG.
[[If anyone is interested in taking part in this plot, do not hesitate to inbox me.]]
