it is with great pleasure that i give you the first three chapters of my jonathan sims in pokémon legends za (crack)fic! enjoy ;)
ALSO THIS TAKES PLACE RIGHT AFTER SEASON FIVE SO THERE ARE SPOILERS FOR THE FINALE!!!
Pokémon Legends: Z-Archivist
Chapter One: Where in the World is Jonathan Sims?
Content Warning: stabbing, blood, death
"I'm not going to kill you!"
"Cut the tether. Send them away. Maybe we both die. Probably. But maybe not. Maybe… maybe everything works out, and we end up somewhere else."
"Together?"
"One way or another. Together."
"I don't think I can."
"It has to be you. The Eye won't let me do it."
"Are you sure about this?"
"No. But I love you."
"I love you too."
And then he stabbed him, cutting off his connection to the Eye.
And then they died.
Died?
No, Jon couldn't be dead. You can't think if you're dead. Or could you?
And what was that rumbling? He felt it throughout his entire body, vibrating him down to his bones. He had a splitting headache, too, and it traveled from the very center of his brain outward, reaching his eyes with each pulse.
The sunlight certainly didn't help. Sunlight? Since when was there sunlight in the apocalypse? Come to think of it, Jon couldn't hear any typical end-of-the-world background noise; no screaming or crying or unholy silence. The former Archivist slowly opened his sore eyes, rubbing them to speed up the process of adjusting to the harsh light coming from the window. Window? Yes, there was a window, framed with silver. Outside, Jon stared at the sprawling meadows framed with the tallest trees he'd ever seen. There were birds, too, but something about them looked… off. They seemed too large to be any kind of bird from the UK, and wait a moment. Did some of those flowers have… faces? The train sped by too quickly for Jon to tell whether or not his eyes were deceiving him.
Wait, a train? Okay, Jon, think about this. You're on a train and you don't know how you got on it or where you're going. Before you woke up, you were stabbed. As he tried to recall the terrifying situation he was in what seemed like moments previously, painful memories flooded back to him. The image of Martin's distraught face as he raised the knife to kill Jon flashed in his mind, and the searing headache got worse. There was Jonah Magnus levitating in the Panopticon, muttering words incomprehensibly before the wet squelching of weapon tearing into flesh cut what once was Elias Bouchard's voice off. Then the sound of faint 'I love you's, the taste of blood in his mouth, and Martin's violent sobs as he brought the knife down on Jon's chest. How he wished he could've felt Martin's embrace one more time. If only Martin was here, in the seat next to his. Maybe then Jon would've felt safer, as if they were simply going on vacation together, traveling around the newly healed world with no Fears or Rituals or Avatars to deal with. No Magnus Institute, no danger. Just Jon and Martin, together, at peace.
But Martin wasn't there. Instead of Jon's partner's lovely, warm, bright face and welcoming arms, there was a briefcase. It was brown and very plain-looking, probably holding clothes and essentials for travel. Suddenly, a woman's voice came over the intercom system, making Jon jump in his seat.
"Attention passengers: the train will be arriving at the Gare de Lumiose shortly."
They really didn't have to make that announcement so loud. God, couldn't they give passengers a warning? The sudden noise had scared Jon practically half to death, that is, if he was in fact alive and not in some sort of purgatory. And what city did the woman say the train was arriving in? Lumiose? It felt familiar in the back of his head. Where had Jon heard that name before? It sounded French, but he couldn't recall coming across any city called Lumiose in his quests from the Magnus Institute. Luckily, Jon was fluent in French, even without the Eye granting him fluency in every human language.
A passenger sitting in front of him took his phone out without touching it. It has a reddish-orange case, and it was floating in midair! The boy, far too young to be traveling alone, Jon noted, said something to the phone, which zoomed up a bit higher and flipped around, revealing a cheeky face on the back. The boy then pulled a small red and white ball out of his pocket and clicked the button in the center. The ball grew larger. Jon recognized it as a Poké Ball. Some toy technology they had these days. Jon hadn't thought about Pokémon since about 2011, but he preferred to say that he'd gotten too old for the franchise when he was still a kid. This was a lie. Jonathan "The Archivist" Sims was a die-hard Pokémon fan for almost fifteen years. While it was true that he stopped keeping up with the new generations about a few years before he took the job at the Magnus Institute, embarrassingly, he still adored the games he grew up with.
As Jon was observing the boy, the Poké Ball opened up, and a Pikachu appeared. Jesus, they must've really upped toy tech recently. What are they selling to kids these days? The boy said something to the toy, and much to Jon's surprise, it moved into his lap. The floating phone made a clicking sound, taking a picture of the two.
No. There was no way. It was impossible. Pokémon are not real. There is no such thing as Pikachu or floating phones or Poké Balls or flowers with faces. It is a fictional video game, trading card game, manga, and anime franchise. Pokémon are most definitely and entirely not real. But no, here the boy was, playing with his yellow companion and talking to it, and much to Jon's surprise, it was 'Pika-Pika'-ing right along next to him. Then, the train squealed to a stop with a lurch.
"Attention passengers: the train has now arrived at the Gare de Lumiose. Thank you for choosing Ampharos-Trak Travel Company. Enjoy your time in Lumiose City, and we hope to see you again soon!"
Jon righted himself after being pulled forward by the sudden stop of the train and grabbed his briefcase. The thing was surprisingly heavy, and Jon stumbled rather ungracefully out of his seat. The boy with the Pikachu, who couldn't have been more than twelve years old, laughed as Jon tried to get his footing. Children. They were so impolite sometimes.
The doors of his train car slid open, revealing the large, robust train station outside. There were more people with more Pokémon of all kinds, about half of which Jon didn't recognize. How many generations of Pokémon had he missed? Which country was he in? Wait, they don't call them countries. They're regions, right?
Jon decided to talk to the conductor. Perhaps they would be able to shed some light on this situation. Surely, the conductor would've seen Jon board the train however long ago, or collected his train ticket. The train was almost entirely empty now, the crowd of people that had previously filled the cars dispersing. Nobody was getting on the train, Jon noticed. This must be the end of the line.
Jon passed through just two empty cars before he made it to the head of the train. He tried to knock on the door, but his knuckles hesitated an inch away from it. He took a breath. He raised his knuckles yet again, but just as he was about to knock again, the door opened, sending Jon jumping backwards with a startled yelp.
"Oh! Bonjour, sir," the conductor said, also shaken. "Can I help you?" He was a middle aged man with a white and brown striped coat, gray hair, and absurdly large white clown-like shoes. Odd choice, Jon thought.
"Excuse me," he said, recollecting his thoughts. "Where am I?" Thankfully, Jon didn't feel himself pulling the information out of the conductor. Perhaps the Eye had no power here.
"Yes, I don't know where I am, you see," Jon said. The conductor's eyebrows scrunched, concerned.
"Well, this is a train…?"
Jon sighed. "Yes, I- I know this is a train. I was wondering where this train is? The loudspeaker said Lumiose, but…" The conductor frowned. This was going just swimmingly.
"Sir, didn't you get on this train?" the conductor asked.
"Probably," Jon answered, immediately regretting his vague response.
The conductor rubbed his forehead. "Are you feeling all right, sir? Perhaps I could call a Lumiose Taxi to take you to a hospital?"
Jon frantically waved his hands. "No, no, that won't be necessary. Just, ah, what countr- region- are we in right now?"
The conductor brought out his phone and said something Jon couldn't hear into it. He nodded to himself. "This is the Kalos region, sir. I think you need to get to a doctor." He turned to his phone, which was now floating as the young boy's was. "Rotom, would you please call a taxi-"
"Wait, you really don't need to do all that!" Jon said. "Could you, um, look for my ticket? I just need to see my ticket."
The conductor exhaled. "Of course, sir. Which car were you sitting in?"
"Er, the third one. The fourth one, I suppose, if you count this one."
"Right," the conductor said as he began rummaging through a stack of tickets. "Yours should be in here somewhere…"
As the conductor was distracted, Jon made a quick and quiet way to the exit of the head car. He took great care not to let his briefcase slam against the train walls.
"And what was your name again, sir?" the conductor turned around, but Jon was already gone.
Chapter Two: Jon Goes Through It
Content Warning: body horror, blood, flashbacks, evil visions, dog attack, paranoia, spiraling into madness, vomiting, undiagnosed/untreated PTSD
The Gare de Lumiose was a decently large open-air train station, constructed of gray stone bricks formed in arches and intricately carved green metal supports that held glass panes high in the air to let the sunlight in. Jon stumbled out of the train, gripping his briefcase and praying desperately that the conductor was not following him. Had he called the taxi already? Jon had to get out of there.
The station was decently crowded. Good, Jon thought. I'll disappear in the crowd. He weaved his way in and out of the mass of people that had just departed the train. He'd only gotten a few steps into the crowd when he slammed his briefcase into someone next to him.
"S- sorry!" Jon called to the man, trying not to show the look of panic on his face.
"All good!" the man said, waving. He was wearing a yellow sweatshirt that matched with what was probably his partner Pokémon, a strange lizard-dog thing with black and yellow scales and big blue eyes. "Massive bag you've got there! Enjoy your vacation!"
"GRRRAWF GRAWF!" Jon sidestepped a very angry-looking dog jumping on its hind legs, its unkempt white fur and sharp teeth gleaming in the sun. Was it a poodle? A hound? Whatever it was, it was quite upset with Jon. The dog yanked on the leash it was on, dragging the older woman with it.
"Down, girl! Down!" the woman commanded, but the dog didn't listen. "Come on, sweetheart, it's just a man. You're okay! So sorry about my Furfrou! She doesn't like men." Jon did his best to run away from this Furfrou, as the woman called it, but the woman lost her grip on the leash. The Furfrou howled and barked at Jon as he stumbled left and right, weaving through the crowd, hoping the mass of people and Pokemon and suitcases would get Furfrou off of Jon's tail.
Finally, the gate! There it was! If Jon could just get through those green gates, he'd be able to make a clean getaway. Just a few more steps!
But there was a sudden hard tug on the ankle of Jon's pants, and he was sent flying down face-first onto the concrete, landing just a few inches before the station gates.
"Oh, Arceus, I am so sorry!" the woman said, having finally caught up to her deranged Pokémon. She snatched the leash up off the ground and forced the dog backward with all her might. "Let go of his pants! Furfrou, that is not nice!" Furfrou whined and backed away from Jon, loosening her grip on his now-slobbery pants.
His hands stung with pavement burns, little fragments of pebbles clinging to the raw skin on his hands. He shakily stood up, boosting himself with his bag and the gate in front of him. The woman put herself under his arm, trying to help.
"Don't touch me!" Jon said a little too forcefully. He swiftly moved himself away from the woman, catching a glimpse of her guilt-stricken face. Something dripped down his nose and onto his shirt. By now, a small crowd had formed around the two people and the Pokémon.
Plops of red fell onto Jon's clean white shirt. When had he put on a white shirt? He put a hand to his nose. It throbbed painfully, but at least it wasn't broken, just bloody. The Archivist ran his tongue along the inside of his mouth. No teeth knocked out, thank goodness. That had been a nasty fall.
Jon managed to stand upright, brushing the dirt off of himself. He looked at the woman, who was gripping the Furfrou's leash like she was the only thing holding the devil itself back.
"Is there anything I can do for you?" the woman said.
"Just-" He took a deep breath. "I'm fine. Just be more careful with that dog." Jon huffed and took up his travel bag. He marched through the gates, leaving the crowd of people and that bully of a dog behind.
Jon pulled himself together after that disaster as he stepped out onto the plaza outside the Gare de Lumiose. It was a beautiful city, with buildings constructed of tan and gray bricks, inlaid stones in the sidewalk, and people smiling, chatting, and walking. Maybe Lumiose won't be so bad after all. Maybe Jon just had a rough start, and the hardest parts were over with. Maybe Martin would come running up to him in a few seconds, smiling and laughing, so excited about being in the Pokémon world. Jon smiled as he recalled Martin's obsession with Pokémon. It was adorable. He would burst into Jon's office, always at the most inopportune times, with a "look at this cute card I pulled!" or a "Jon! Jon! I need to know: what's your favorite Pokémon? What would you have on your team if you could have any Pokémon ever? Full team of six, what would you have?" Martin would probably already have so many Pokémon friends in tow, drawn to him by the pure brightness and joy that was Martin, now free of the Lonely's freezing cold grasp upon his shoulder. Damn that Peter Lukas. That bastard. How dare he force poor Martin, who'd already gone through so much, to endure even more pain and suffering? How could he take the light of Jon's life and blow it out like a mere candle? Killing Peter Lukas in the Lonely pocket dimension back then wasn't enough. If he somehow found him here, Jon would kill him again. Deliberately. Painfully. Kill Bill, just like Martin said all those days ago. Was it days? Had it been just days? How long ago did Jon and Martin die in that accursed tower?
Jon took a deep breath. He didn't have the mental capacity to spiral right now. Spiraling into madness was the least helpful thing he could do. He'd learned that the hard way. What to do now?
Find Martin. He had to find Martin. Surely, Martin was here already. Jon was sure Martin was looking for him as well. The city couldn't be that big. They'd have to run into each other eventually. Martin had to be in Lumiose somewhere. Why wouldn't the universe put them in the same place after all they'd been through? Jon promised Martin they'd be together. Always. Jon intended to keep that promise, even if he had to go head to head with fate itself. The odds were against Jonathan Sims, but hell, when were they with him? Finding Martin was possible. One city. Two men looking for each other.
Jon stopped staring at the ground. He'd been doing this for a while, he noticed. It was a bad habit. Whenever he thought too hard or too deeply, he'd stare at the floor or his shoes, attempting to block out the rest of the world.
Then he saw the tower.
No.
No. It was just like the Panopticon. A tower, taller than any building in the city, right in the center of it all. You could see it from everywhere. It could certainly see you.
And suddenly Jon was back in the apocalypse. That dark, grim tower that sees all and knows all and is all. The tower that watched over everything.
There was the empty seat in that dingy room, covered in paper and books and tape recorders. Something drew Jon towards the unholy throne. Was it the Eye beckoning him to fulfill his purpose? The Archivist fell to his knees, his breathing sharp and labored. He could feel his hands reaching towards the throne, his rightful place under the Ceaseless Watcher. The whirlwind of papers soared around him as he crawled closer and closer to his seat. He struggled, writhing on the floor as his body forced him to move to the throne. He hoisted himself up, shaking, trying to pull away from whatever force was taking over his body. From the moment he sat down on the seat, The Archivist's flesh began fusing to it, binding body and object together. Something grabbed his ankle. The Archivist turned around.
He looked down in horror as a skeletal figure groaned and tried to pull Jon off the throne.
"Jon…"
But the knowledge was already consuming him.
"Jon, it's me…"
The fingers around Jon's ankle gripped him tighter.
"Please…. just look at me…"
The Archivist, loyal servant of the Ceaseless Watcher, turned his gaze upon the wretched thing that held him so tightly.
"How could you…"
It was Martin, or what was left of him. His flesh sagged off of his bones, eyes wide like a sacrificial lamb on the altar, mouth agape, blood pouring from a wound over his heart.
"HOW COULD YOU LEAVE ME HERE?"
Jon screamed. His partner's face melted off of him, revealing a fractured skull with sunken eyes. Despite there being no muscles or skin to make facial expressions with, Jon could tell Martin's face was frozen in agony and fury and abandonment.
Tears welled in Jon's eyes. He had to do something, anything, to fix Martin, but the only words that came out of his mouth were "Ceaseless Watcher, turn your gaze upon this wretched thing!"
Martin let out a guttural scream, a cry for help, for mercy, as he was slowly destroyed from the inside out by the sheer horror of being, of knowing. It was devouring him from the inside. The screaming and crying seemed to go on for eternity as Martin's body disintegrated until there was nothing left of him but his shattered glasses.
The Archivist felt dizzy, falling in and out of consciousness. The tower began to crumble underneath him. He tried to move, to cling to something, but he was still fused to the throne. He began to fall, the ground rushing to meet him, opening up like that damned coffin. Do Not Open.
And then he was back in Lumiose, back under the sunshine in the plaza. Jon took a shaky breath. That tower wasn't the Panopticon. It was just a tower, a tourist attraction.
His vision darkened, he mindlessly dropped his briefcase, and he promptly vomited into the nearest trash can.
Chapter Three: Jon Gets Chomped
Content warning: blood, animal bites
"'Scuse me?"
Someone's talking to you, Jon.
"Yeah, hi!"
Go away.
"Can I help you?"
What?
"You seem a little…"
Jon let out a groan.
"Um…"
"Sorry, just… sick…" Jon waved his hand, his head and neck still bent over the trash can, eyes closed to stop the world from spinning around him.
"You just arrived from the Gare de Lumiose, right?"
Jon inhaled slowly and steadily. "Yeah." He stabilized himself with the metal side of the trash can, stumbling to his feet. He fumbled for his bag and attempted to see whoever it was that interrupted his unpleasant conversation between the garbage and his stomach. It was someone Jon had never seen before. They looked to be in their early twenties, with pale skin, platinum-blonde hair colored pink at the bottom half, and sky blue eyes.
Shit. They probably think I'm drunk. "Can I help you?" Jon said woozily.
"I think I should be asking you that!" the person said. "But, yeah, I think I do need your help. Judging by that big old travel bag of yours, and that accent, I've got a hunch that you're a tourist!"
Jon clutched his bag closer. "That I am, I suppose."
"Thank Arceus!" said the person. "If you turned out to be a local, I'd start to think I was losing my grip on reality!"
Jon let out a single stifled laugh. "I know that feeling."
"The name's Taunie, by the way," Taunie said. "You're a little tall to be next to me in the video, but we'll make it work. What's your name again?"
"Wait, video?" Jon said.
Taunie grinned. "Yeah! You said you'd help me with something. Well, this is that something!"
Jon sighed. "You see, I just had a… moment." He looked back at the trash can, then at the three Pokémon accompanying Taunie. Jon recognized two of them as Totodile and Chikorita. "Can I please recollect myself?" Maybe petting the Pokémon would clear his head.
Taunie was already setting up their phone, also floating, to record. "Yeah, go ahead!" They waved a hand at Jon, not paying him any attention at all.
Jon rubbed his temples as he knelt down to greet the Pokémon. His headache had lightened up slightly, but it still hurt. Maybe getting flung into a different dimension gave you unending headaches.
'Hey, it's all set up! Mr.-" Taunie called.
"Jon," he said. "My name is Jon."
"Jon! Great. Nice to meet you, Jon!" Taunie said as Jon tried his best to walk normally over to where Taunie was standing. "Okay, all I need you to do is say 'Hotel Z is a hidden gem of Lumiose!' It doesn't matter if you're staying somewhere else. I just need to get this ad out there. Ready?"
Jon stared blankly at the camera.
"Perfect! Lights, camera-"
An advertisement lit up the electronic billboard on the building next to the two people.
"Ugh!" Taunie groaned. "That's totally going to drown out whatever you say."
Jon shifted his gaze towards the billboard, where an older woman, also with platinum blonde hair and blue eyes, began to speak.
"Welcome to Lumiose City, a place where people and Pokémon flourish together," the woman said. She was very well put together, wearing a sharp coat with a dark blue collar that fanned around her neck. "My name is Jett, and I am the CEO of Quasartico, Inc. I am pleased to announce today that the Wild Zones housing Pokémon in the city have been a rousing success!" The screen changed to show images of Pokémon Jon didn't recognize in parks, separated from the city by green hologram-like fencing. "These Wild Zones are comfortable places built to simulate the natural environment a Pokémon would be most comfortable living in right here in Lumiose City! Furthermore, Quasartico is imagining a new future for Lumiose City through our urban redevelopment plan. Our patented holo-tech is now employed in many corners of Lumiose so interactive guides can teach you more about your surroundings. An even more beautiful city awaits us! We hope you'll bear that in mind and pardon our construction work.
Then a logo flashed on the screen. It was gold, and appeared to be a star, or perhaps a sword, circled by a ring. The commercial ended with the words "The Mega Evolution of Lumiose is coming, brought to you by Quasartico, Inc."
"I like how that CEO thinks," Taunie said. "Even if her ad kept us from filming. Anyway, let's get to filming!" Taunie paused. "Hey, wait, where'd your bag go?"
"My bag?" Jon asked, looking around. "My bag! I must've dropped it during the announcement…" He swiveled around, searching for any sign of his bag.
"There!" Taunie said, pointing to a small, panda-like Pokémon. "That Pancham has your bag!"
Jon whipped around, sending another wave of dizziness through his body. The Pancham danced with Jon's bag, taunting him. Jon lunged at the thief, but it took off. "Get back here, you little-!"
"Come on!" Taunie said. "After it!" The three Pokémon took off first, the Totodile in the lead, Chikorita and the little red pig fellow in pursuit.
Jon ran as fast as he could, narrowly avoiding slamming into more city folk. He followed the Pancham as it turned a corner, sending Jon skidding into the brick wall, thankfully avoiding crashing into the window.
"There's a dead end up there!" Taunie called. "We can stop Pancham there!"
Jon gave a thumbs up without looking back. His sights were locked on the thief, but when he reached the dead end, there the Pancham was, reporting back to two people.
The woman near the Pancham frowned. "Come on, Pancham! Even a backpacker like me wouldn't be caught dead with a bag this tacky!"
The man next to her laughed. "Maybe it was trying to get this eyesore off the streets! Let's turn it in to the police. I'm sure they have a couple bucks to spare."
Taunie stepped forward. "That nice bag happens to belong to my friend Jon here!"
The thieves jumped back. "It's Taunie!" the man said.
Taunie smiled, confused. "Sorry, I can't say I know you… did you see one of my ads?"
The woman's jaw dropped. "It's me! Andi! From the Z-A Royale! How could you forget already?"
"Yeah, I'm Andre!" the man chimed in. "We faced off just last night!"
"Ohhh, right," Taunie said. "Now I remember. You two weren't much of a challenge."
Jon looked at Taunie. Had the first person he'd had a proper conversation with turned out to be some kind of ruffian? This was going to be messy.
"Anyway!" the man said. "If your friend here wants his bag back, you'll have to battle us for it!"
A battle? An actual, honest to goodness Pokémon battle? Jon's inner child started screaming with joy. This was something he'd dreamed about since he was little!
"You'll be easy to beat," Jon said without thinking. He put on his best concentrated, intimidating face and gave the thieves his signature death stare.
"J- Jon!" Taunie exclaimed. They leaned in close to his ear. "Do you even have a Pokémon?"
"No," Jon whispered back.
"Shit. Just- borrow one of these, okay?" Taunie said, panicked, gesturing to the three Pokémon they'd been traveling with.
Jon beckoned to the red pig. It was a cute little thing, with a springy tail and black tipped ears and a big smile. It began to trot over. Jon smiled and reached out to pet the Pokémon. "Hello, little guy. What's your na- OW!" Jon cried out in pain as something sank its teeth into his arm.
"Oh, sweet Arceus! Jon, are you okay?" Taunie said, rushing to pull the biter off of his arm. "Totodile, that is NOT POLITE! We do not bite our friends!"
Jon seethed as the Pokémon, Totodile, gripped his arm in its powerful jaws. It hurt like hell, almost as bad as the burn he got from shaking Jude's hand. He felt sharp fangs dig deeper into his flesh like swords.
"Fucking- Totodile? That's your name, right?" Jon said, exasperated. Immediately, the Totodile loosened its grip on his arm, leaving slobber and bite marks on his bloody wounds. It stared at Jon expectantly, almost as if it wanted praise.
"Help me. Please. I need my bag back." Totodile cried out happily and jumped in front of Jon, shoving the poor pig out of the way. Jon held his injured arm close to his chest to stop the bleeding. He looked to Taunie for assistance, but they were already in the middle of their battle with the man. It was just Jon and Totodile.
"Okay, Totodile," Jon said, wincing. "Use Water Gun!"
Totodile blinked at Jon.
"Use Tackle?"
"Toto!" The baby croc Pokémon leapt into action, charging at the Pancham. Before the opponent had time to react, Jon's Pokémon had landed the hit!
"That was great!" Jon said, ecstatic. Battling was just as epic as he'd imagined! So epic that he had almost forgotten about his arm. "Continue using Tackle and don't let up until Pancham is down!"
Totodile rammed the Pancham over and over, until finally, it fell.
"That was amazing, Jon!" Taunie said, having already finished their battle. "Especially with your… arm… there… You need medical attention. Like, now."
"Oh, do I?" Jon said, feigning surprise. "Gosh, I hadn't noticed! It's not like YOUR POKÉMON BIT ME- AGH!" He tried to point at Taunie, but moving his injured arm in any fashion sent shocks of pain through him. He seethed and pulled his arm back to his chest, where more blood was drying on top of the previous red stains from his nosebleed. "Taunie, I need to stop the bleeding. Give me your jacket." He stepped towards them with his hand out.
Taunie jumped away from him, hugging their jacket closer. "No! You- you can't have it! Use something else! Isn't your stupid giant bag full of clothes anyway?"
Jon stormed over to the thieves and snatched his bag with his useful arm, then shoved it open. Inside were white shirts identical to the one he was wearing. Some wardrobe. He grabbed the topmost shirt and wrapped it tightly around his bleeding arm. The thieves were still eyeing him.
"What are you looking at?" Jon growled. The two thieves yelped and ran away as fast as they could.
"Damn, Jon, you have the Intimidate of a Krookodile!" Taunie said. "I'd offer you a fist bump, but your arms are… occupied."
"Thanks."
"Come on, let's get that arm of yours looked at. I know just the place. Follow me!" Taunie, Chikorita, and the little pig took off from the dead end, leaving Jon and Totodile behind.
"Taunie-" Jon started. He sighed. The Totodile looked at him expectantly. "You need a name, don't you?" He slung his travel bag over his shoulder and bent down to pick the Pokémon up. It would be a cute little thing if its mouth wasn't red with Jon's blood. "I'll call you Daisy. It's a good name for someone with teeth as sharp as yours." Jon scooped Daisy up with his unhurt arm and left to follow Taunie. "This has better be a damn good hospital, Daisy. You little killer."
I do hope you enjoyed reading the preview of Legends: Z-Archivist (working title). If you liked this, I'll be posting the rest of it on ao3 once I have a bigger buffer of chapters. these three chapters will be up very soon on ao3 @the_paper_otter
thanks for reading!
