Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Altered Bonds
Interlude 2 — Another
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Kecleon Wares was the store that stayed up the longest out of all the market stalls, but even it had its closing hours. A Chansey and Whimsicott pair had rushed over at the last minute for a purchase of some fruits and berries, and once the relieved couple had been given their needed items and left with an apology for their lateness, the Kecleon family was set to disperse for the night.
For most of the merchants, that simply meant going to their cots in the storage area of their humble store, or to their rooms in the inns they were staying in. Kecleon, however, wasn’t one of those merchants.
“Gotta be real nice having a whole freaking summer suite to yourself, old coot, am I right? Must be one mean retirement plan the big guys upstairs gave you.”
The ‘old coot’ snorted, finishing up a quick polish of the counter before throwing a friendly glare at the fellow Kecleon beside him. The lad wasn’t that much of an adult — younger than the Lucario foreigner, and with a maturity not much better than Shaymin, down to his crass way of speaking. Possibly his little way of getting on the nerves of his supervisors.
He found it endearing though. “It’s a small house with four rooms, Lashbark,” he said. “And I stay here all year long. Maybe a few trips if I’m called for it, but no more.”
“Yeah, whatever. You’re missing out, you know — nothing like the freedom of being out there in the open, under the twinkling light of the stars and the love of the sunshine.” Lashbark held his claws behind his head, staring with tender affection at the constellations above. “Though having your own space sounds like a wicked good trade-off.”
Another snort. “I’m old enough to get away with it, fresh blood. You want to settle down someday, live on your own terms? You either work yourself to death for the next couple decades or find a demanding wife that’d put our bosses through the wringer.”
“Or I could just be a deadbeat runaway.”
“It’d be funnier if you got the wife.”
Lashbark cackled. With a spin he sat himself on top of the counter Kecleon had just cleaned, much to the merchant’s mild annoyance. “Gotta sleep on that one,” he said. “Though I dunno if I’m one to settle down.”
Oh, the naivety. “Best and worst decision you’ll ever make,” Kecleon told him. “Take it from a fool who never learned his lesson until he was too old for any lady to bother with.”
Or to have kids. Sometimes he wondered if that was the real reason he took up a tutoring job at the dojo — because he enjoyed having younglings to give guidance to? Because he saw them as if they could’ve been his own kin? It wasn’t like he went to the dojo for the sake of finding a warrior worthy of challenging.
Well, Shaymin was an exception. Spunky girl, that one. He admitted it, he was fond of the silly Mythical who dropped into his life, a powerhouse fighter who wasn’t sure where to go anymore. Who better to train? He’d put his all in giving her a sense of direction, both in her battle skills and even in life itself.
It would’ve been nice to have a real son or daughter to teach the ropes to, though. How to fight, how to haggle, how to compete and excel at life. Someone to keep him company. They wouldn’t probably stay too long, of course, what with the rigors of life as a family member of the Kecleon line.
But at least he’d be there with them for a short while. He’d be a father. He’d be someone special to them.
Someone to care about, to be their shining sun. Someone to mourn, when all was said and done.
It made him think of Lucario, oddly enough. And the girl. Kecleon shivered at the thought of the girl — a human child, alone in a world she had no place in, protected by a guardian whose loved ones were gone. As were her’s.
Eira.
Ironic how human speech was so meandering and obnoxiously wordy, yet they used single-word names packed with complex nuances, emotion, and hidden meaning. With the way the Pokemon tongue worked, Kecleon could even get a sense for those meanings — and there were a few things that leapt out at him whenever he thought of the shipwrecked girl’s name, especially when he heard Lucario using it. Things like mercy, tranquility, and beauty, but more importantly—
Innocence and snow. Funny coincidence, that.
Too many times did the human girl and Lucario nearly jeopardize themselves and himself by extension. The only thing that gave him more of a headache than making sure those two didn’t get themselves killed? The nonsense they attracted to his doorstep, like a Mismagius with way too much knowledge about prophecies and humans, or monstrous wizards in a desert dungeon deep within Tumbledust Island. And nevermind Lugia, or the Abhorrent situation.
And the junk about Ruptures and the Spacetime Pandemic. Working with Mismagius and Porygon-Z had left too much of his brain fried — but he supposed that was the cost of knowledge. He’d been lucky that he even caught Mismagius in the first place. He remembered too well his frantic search for the witch, how he finally cornered her in an odd grove not too far from town. And how, halfway through their tense dialogue about the human, Porygon-Z showed up out of nowhere.
What a strange sight that had been, seeing Porygon-Z there. And a stranger time it had been still, to behold his most unusual way of talking and learn of his human origins. His panicking over the recent news of Lugia and the human’s transformation backlash too, and his concern over the human’s presence and what Gabite and his team members might do in response. A concern that had been magnified when rumors of Stringed Forest reached them in the early morning.
Porygon-Z was more of a worrywort than one would’ve thought. And Mismagius, well, was something. But at least her illusionary skills came in handy.
Kecleon thought back to the conversations they’d shared. And then went back to the human girl, who had done the impossible and got past the warding towers meant to keep her out. As did several other humans, whom Lugia had removed.
Supposedly.
“Uh, old coot? Swiftcloak? Everything going swell in that noggin of yours?”
Kecleon blinked, before arching a brow at a concerned Lashbark. Boy had actually bothered to call him by his nickname for once.
“Nothing you ought to fuss over, kiddo.” Kecleon threw at him the cleaning rag he’d been using to wipe the counter, before leaping out of the stall. “I’m heading off. If I find any smears or streak marks where you’re sitting right now—”
Lashbark raised his claws to quiet him, taking the rag and getting off the counter to wipe off the smudges he had left on its surface. Kecleon smirked, before moving on.
He’d go home in a moment. But first, a visit.
The Explorer Board was a quick trip from the sleepy marketplace. Kecleon casually walked the quiet streets, under the streetlights of Electric Gem-powered lamps, before making his way up the cobblestone steps and past archways and flanking shrubbery that led to the facility. Past the bulletin board, with only a brief pause to look at the headlines — Stormsoaked Shores, a dungeon transformed in the wake of an Aerodactyl’s plot to strike down Lugia, only to be thwarted by explorers.
The story brought up the Lugia pillar the Feebas and Hattrem duo had discovered in the area, along with how there’d been a previous clash between Lugia and Aerodactyl a week back, and that Silver Wings were somehow involved. It didn’t mention the actual purpose of the wings, however. And it omitted Aerodactyl’s intentions to mutate said Lugia, and the identities of those who defeated him.
Though that’s a no-brainer to figure out.
The locals knew their explorers after all. Journalists had been very, very quick to assume the obvious, publishing articles about Team Heavendust’s involvement that Kecleon knew would spread through the archipelago like wildfire. That fame was a double-edged sword — but there were worse things to be concerned about the public knowing.
For once, Klinklang wasn’t at the Explorer Board’s lobby, so late it was in the night that even the mechanical Pokemon had gone home to rest. Instead, it was Porygon-Z that stood guard, right next to the door to the rest of the facility. Unlocked.
~I calculated a 88.72% probability you would arrive within this half-hour. Have you come to discuss matters, Kecleon?~
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
Kecleon read the textbox projecting from Porygon-Z’s antenna, his lips curling a little. If Pokemon like Klinklang had strange behaviors and ways of thinking, then Porygon-Z was on a level beyond it all. He thought like a Metagross, and moved and acted like — well, a Spinda was extremely tame in comparison to the quirky human-made Pokemon. “Stuff’s been cooking in my mind,” he said. “Need to get it off my chest.”
Porygon-Z waved him onward with an erratic whip of his arms, the twosome walking through the greenhouse hall that served as the main area of the Explorer Board. The quiet pitter-patter of the fountain and the shaded serenity of the place made the knots in Kecleon’s stomach unravel a little.
~Team Heavendust was kind enough to send me a couple papers this afternoon. They have proven instrumental in self-memory recovery — I approximate an 64% increase compared to my previous state. Do you wish to see them, Y/N?~ Porygon-Z zipped into the Task Management room without waiting for a reply, Kecleon catching up to find him behind his desk and throwing papers around like a messy child before finding the ones he wanted. The sentences scribbled into them made Kecleon raise a brow.
These were decently compiled lists, mentioning topics of various things like regions and technology and all. Kecleon took notice of a place called Sinnoh — cold climate, with a large mountainous range known as the Coronet Highlands, and an abundance of old legends and ruins. Places like Snowpoint Temple, Solaceon Ruins, and Spear Pillar.
Mentions of great beings like Heatran, Cresselia, Darkrai, and Regigigas. Shaymin, to Kecleon’s intrigue. The Lake Trio, consisting of Uxie, Mespirit, and Azelf. And most of all, the Continuity Quartet.
Dialga. Palkia. Giratina. And Arceus.
The regulators of spacetime and the integrity of the world at large. Their kind are important there? Kecleon’s eye twitched, catching on to a footnote about Lucario being native to the region. Huh.
~Sinnoh was my homeland, before I became a Faller. This information is of particular interest to me. Porygon-Z tapped on the word ‘Solaceon Ruins’, apparently a home for the mysterious Unown. This location stirs something within my fragmented memory banks. It is flagged as a top priority topic. Current intentions are that I question Lucario about it tomorrow.~
Kecleon grimly nodded, skimming over other bits of information that made his head spin. Mainly the bits on technology, from the oft-rumored devices that were Pokeballs to calming devices called Stylers that were used by human Rangers to placate a Pokemon. And stranger things still — the idea of a ‘television’, an entertainment tool that somehow used ‘radio waves’ to communicate with central stations that could broadcast pre-recorded shows with special effects, particularly amused him. So did the concept of an ‘internet’ that took the same concept of radio wave communication to allow people to connect, communicate, and share ideas through digital devices much like the databases in the Explorer Board, except far sleeker and far more advanced.
The merchant eyed the bulky steel device with an equally large monitor screen sitting on Porygon-Z’s desk, its heavy hum filling the room, and wondered what ‘far more advanced’ was like. “Do humans even use Elemental Gems?” he thought aloud.
~Mostly electricity. Humans have methods to generate it with Pokemon and through other natural means, if my spotty memory serves well.~
Humans. Crafty creatures.
Kecleon slid away the papers with a weary face. All this information about human things greatly interested him, but he had other reasons to be here. “About your Faller nature,” he began.
~As I have previously iterated, I am a Faller, deposited onto Haven Archipelago about six years ago, during the Spacetime Pandemic (locally known as the Ruptures). The consequences of my journey have damaged critical functions, including my memory bank. I remain uncertain of the exact means that led to my transportation.~
Porygon-Z took in Kecleon’s neutral face before stiffening, his arms and tail stretched out as if to form the Unown letter T. ~Ah. But I sense I have misinterpreted the question. Recalibrating — were you interested in my relations with humans, or my experiences? I cannot remember anything of note on such matters either, I’m afraid.~
Kecleon skimmed the text with a shake of his head. “How about something that doesn’t require your dump of a memory?”
~Memory dump? I do not follow. My memory dump is functional and records critical data in the event that my system crashes, and allows my self-diagnostic scripts to—
“What gibberish are you talking about?” Kecleon swiped at Porygon-Z’s textbox, making the artificial-duck pause. “Look, I’ve had a little something that’s been bugging me. Some things about humans and the prophecy. The stuff Mismagius said about them.”
Porygon-Z quivered slightly, a troubled beep emanating from him. Thinking of the Mismagius made Kecleon’s head throb a little more — the old witch hadn’t known too much of the prophecy, but what she had said was skin-crawling enough. And her deep knowledge of humans was just as perplexing. Mismagius had brushed off her fears of the false Vulpix that accompanied Lucario, but Kecleon knew the mask she wore.
She hadn’t told them everything. There were things she hid, from him and from Team Heavendust, and those things haunted her. She was truthful about preserving the ill omen’s life, but what other truths had she omitted? What was the girl to her, really?
But this too was off-topic. No, something far bigger was troubling Kecleon. “‘A transfigured human that doesn’t belong,’” he recited. “And a ‘guardian that serves the harbinger, ever fervent.’ That does describe Lucario and his human well, doesn’t it?”
A slight nod from Porygon-Z. ~But then, what of my Faller nature? It is tangential to the prophecy. What is its relevance in your query?~
Kecleon rolled his eyes, before resting his back against Porygon-Z’s counter. The hum of his machine filled the room for a couple seconds.
And then the dumb robot stopped being dumb. His head twitched with a maddened spasm, as if having an accursed epiphany — or just suffering from the quirks that made him, him — and he slowly faced Kecleon with squinted eyes. “Well?” asked the merchant.
~Kecleon, your concern is of no relevance. Calculations indicate it is impossible.~
Well, okay, the robot was still half-dumb, but it was progress. “Let me put it this way,” said Kecleon. “Over the history of Haven Archipelago, we’ve had a scant amount of Pokemon from outside show up. A couple of marine-bound Pokemon who’ve only heard tales of humans, for example, or some unlucky soul that happened to get thrown here by means of portals or whatever. When the Ruptures occurred, there were still very few foreigners that ended up here, but the number went up drastically.”
~Erroneous logic detected. It does not—
“Everyone knows Fallers exist, but hardly where to find them. And of course, it’s not like we’ve documented every entity that the Ruptures tossed onto the archipelago, have we?” Kecleon clasped his hands together. “But that’s just one of my concerns. Don’t forget, we’ve also had an influx of humans that Lugia had purged from our lands, except for Lucario’s girl. Or so Lugia believes, at least.”
~‘Swiftcloak’ Kecleon, I must ask—
“And that’s without considering the fact that humans once existed here, and that we may have a few naughty remnants of their ilk in Tumbledust Island, equipped with mind-rending magicks. Furthermore, we know Eira has magic herself, and we know Mismagius can teach her illusions. And the wristband? That thing may be a magical wonder, but chances are, it may not be one-of-a-kind.”
Porygon-Z’s squint was so narrow Kecleon thought he was grumbling on the inside. ~Meritless points, he said with a strained series of beeps. Your body of flesh will lose needed sleep over such things.~
Too late for that. “Do the math for me, Porygon-Z. Are we sure there are no other humans on this archipelago?”
The Pokemon stared blankly at him.
“If Lugia could’ve overlooked one human, he could’ve overlooked others. If Fallers fell into the archipelago en masse during the Ruptures, one of them could’ve been a human. If humans used to live here, chances are that stragglers still exist, hiding from the world at large like the Abhorrents have.” Kecleon tilted his head, putting on a mirthless smile. “Any one of them could have their own guardian. Maybe a way to transform too, if we’re darned unlucky enough. And is it needed for a transfigured human to be a Pokemon, and not something else?”
An Abhorrent human, for example. Or perhaps even the human-like creatures that tormented Gabite. The more Kecleon thought of it all, the more he saw possibilities.
This prophecy thing could be far, far more complicated than they realized.
A groaning, static-y noise emitted from Porygon-Z’s beak. ~Fine. Accounting for all statistics. Probability: 2.23% that another human exists. Caveat: it is pointless to worry about such an unlikely event. Mismagius has clarified that Eira best matches the prophecy.~
So she had. “But there could be another that triggers the prophecy, right?” mused Kecleon. “Even if the girl escapes, that prophecy’s still going to loom over our pretty little heads.”
~It may be so. Nevertheless, this exercise is fruitless. What are we to do anyway, if other humans exist? How would we find them?~
Kecleon turned his head northward, seeing past the Explorer Board facility and the town at large. His mind’s eye saw past the forest where Sapling Woods lurked and Team Heavendust resided — where a human and her guardian lived in secret — and further out still, until the beach was before him. And past that, a grand black tower jutting out of the sea, and a shimmering light that marked the boundaries of the distortion field that encapsulated the entire archipelago.
Outside that barrier, a human vessel had been sunk by Lugia and Aerodactyl’s fighting. An act that perhaps was the final requirement for the gears of a prophecy to begin turning.
“I’m just saying. Maybe Lucario’s girl isn’t the one. Maybe the prophecy will happen sometime in the distant future, beyond our lifespans. Or maybe it’ll happen this very moment, by another human we never accounted for.”
~But you understand there are no other humans, Y/N? Escorting Eira out of the archipelago will be sufficient to avert the prophecy. There is no reason to worry.~
Porygon-Z was worrying, Kecleon knew — worrying big-time. Clinging to denial as a coping method. But he chose not to call him out. “No other humans, you say?”
~None.~
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Eyes blinked. Bleary. Everything was hazy.
Cold. Warmth. Warmth to drive away the immense cold.
Voices. Alien voices. So tired. So cold. More sleep? Sleep was good.
A hand. His. He was—
Was—
Tip of his tongue. He forgot? Funny.
No thoughts. Head empty. Drifting.
Hand? His. Five fingers.
He—
So numb everywhere.
He was—
Eyes shut. Gone. No name.
But.
One word.
Human.