What did a grunt do on a day to day basis?
Go out and terrorize 10 year old kids?
Kidnap Pokémon?
Research new and interesting technology?
Na. They did something worse.
Manual labour. A lot of manual labour.
Which Felis realized made sense in a way, when all you could really do was Pokémon battles…there wasn’t much else to do. Sure, some got to go around looking intimidating as ‘protection’, but for him? A new guy? Same guy that stole from Galactic? He wouldn’t be getting those fun jobs.
Which is why he was currently in one of the warehouses, loading up crates of medical supplies that Galactic both produced and distributed. Boxes of potions, mineral waters, antidotes, burn heals and revives (A couple of which he pocketed) were loaded up into massive boxes that were attached to the backs of larger Rhyperiors, Steelix’s, and Tangrowth’s.
Would trucks, roadways, and aircraft be more useful?
Absolutely.
Was using Pokémon, despite the inefficiency, a lot cooler?
Absolutely.
Felis had to admit, his first 10 minutes were spent just staring in awe as around him the sounds of shouting and machinery echoed in a cacophony of chaos. People and Pokémon ran too and from different stations, the humans using pallet jacks and other machinery while the Pokémon used their innate strength. Like a hive of bees, everybody going in their own direction, but all for one goal.
For a while he worked alongside a number of other Grunts, all relatively new to the company, all equally hating the fact they were doing lesser work. At the very least, they didn’t seem to hate him for what he did to Leland, like some of the older ones did.
No, much to Felis’s relief, they instead cheered him for it. Apparently Leland made a habit of ‘hazing’ some of the newer Grunts, and news of him not only losing a Pokémon battle, but a physical one as well had some of his previous victims warm up to him pretty quickly.
That was how he found himself sitting between a group of 5 during his break, all listening intently as the loudest, Hazel, regaled them all with his accomplishments.
“-And bam! Point blank hypnosis, washed right over Shuppet, then hit Felis square in the head, put the man to sleep.”
Raucous laughter dotted the table, as Felis put up an obviously insincere scowl.
“What happened next?” The one beside him said, her name was either Emily or Emillia or something with an ‘E’. They all called her “Ems” anyway so it didn’t matter.
“Well first, he fell face first onto the floor.” More laughter, “But after? Oh you should’ve seen it.”
Felis could feel the table leaning in, and he had to hand it to the man, Hazel knew how to tell a story.
“He used Curse.” Gasps from the audience, “Nails biting down across his arms and torso, his Shuppet used him as a catalyst! A war of attrition against Psyduck…and we know who won that of course. Felis! Show us your battle scars!”
He rolled his eyes but did so anyway, rolling up his right sleeve while also silently enjoying the positive attention he was getting at the moment. Dark spots, like the bruise that covered his eye lay dotted across his arm. Among the grunts poking and prodding the spots asking if it hurt (it didn’t), he idly wondered if the marks were permanent.
“Hey,” He said, after his new friends had asked their questions, “I thought Curse was supposed to hurt the one using the move, how come it hit me?”
“You're asking this now?” replied Ems, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Cut me some slack Ems, I was busy trying to wipe the smirk off Leland’s face.”
“It all depends,” Hazel interrupted, “Ghost, Dark, and Psychic types are all just a little different. The moves all have a general concept, but there’s room for improvisation, or bent rules. For whatever reason, Shuppet thought you could deal the damage better.”
Felis hummed in understanding. He already knew things were different, but it was a little worrying just how much was catching him by surprise. Well, it’d have to be dealt with another day, their break was up.
He got up with the rest, feeling a hand on his shoulder. His left hand twitched, reaching for the razor still tucked under his wrist.
“Felis, can we talk?” A grunt…what was his name? James? No, John.
“What’s up?” He replied, adopting a quick smile.
“Listen, a couple of the guys were happy about having Leland knocked down a couple pegs.” John scoffed, “Asshole going on about his position.”
“Hah. Glad I helped, so what’s up?”
“We’re going out tonight, there’s a club we go to, top notch.”
Felis patted his belt, “Got no money man, maybe another time.” Drinks sounded fun, but they needed all the money they could get right now, wasting would be a problem.
“Wait!” A hand abruptly reached for his shoulder, and instincts kicked in. He stepped quickly to the left, rounding on the man, before finally realizing the situation, stopping his fist from slamming into John’s throat. His hand still raised, he decided to simply awkwardly grasp John’s shoulder.
“Hm?”
“We’ll…we’ll pay for drinks man, don’t worry.”
Huh. They really wanted him to come, why? No, what could he get from this? Free drinks, a chance to get closer to more people. His conversation skills needed a brush up, he revealed too much to Cyrus in order to come out alive, he needed to be better. A nightclub could be a good place to practice.
“Alright.” Felis said with a smile, “Let’s do it.”
“Perfect!” John looked relieved…a little too relieved, but whatever. “We’ll see you at 9?”
“Sure, good luck with your shift.”
He watched the Grunt jog away, before heading back over to his own station. A club, huh? It…it had been a while.
What’s the worst that could happen?
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sirius was used to travelling the dense concrete jungles of the city. Buildings and alleyways, rooftops and fire escapes, those were his bread and butter. His home turf.
Forests? Where there were possible dangerous Pokémon at every turn and corner? Loose foliage that crunched and cracked if he didn’t tread carefully? Random holes covered in leaves that nearly twisted his ankles?
Nope.
Much to his annoyance, he was too loud for Quinn to reasonably trust, so the man was a few paces ahead of him. Barely visible in his camo uniform save the bright blue wig, which he was certain he wore just so Sirius wouldn’t get lost. He frowned at that, he wasn’t used to…following.
Having no Pokémon of his own, Quinn had allowed Golbat to stay with him. The Bat Pokémon regarded him with absolute disgust - no doubt due to his prior treatment of its trainer - and now sat squarely on his shoulder, digging into it just a little too much. Not that Sirius would give it the satisfaction of knowing.
They tracked the robed party for hours, keeping to beaten off roads and denser foliage. Quinn kept a Pokémon out as well, a fierce looking Heracross nearly as tall as Sirius that moved with quiet grace. Wild Pokémon made sure to steer clear from the two, most of them being too young or too weak to try anything against them. That was good. Sirius he…he didn’t want to see any more broken Pokémon than he had to.
By now the sun was beginning to set, casting the forest around them into a beautiful contrast of golden light and dark shade. He was beginning to feel tired too, his legs burned with every step, sweat dripped freely from his locks, splashing onto the forest below. He wiped his brow and let out a quiet breath, stopping himself from massaging the shoulder Golbat remained perched on.
He was beginning to really hate the Golbat species.
It wasn’t as if he was not used to long roads either, he had dragged Pran along the streets many times, using wheels during the summer, and sleds during the winter. But when every step through the forest felt like 3, and the landscape constantly shifted from uphills to downhills? To call it taxing would be an insult to how his legs screamed at him.
Much to his relief, Quinn signalled him from ahead, and he rushed his way over, ignoring the strain as he did, finally sitting by a tree as the man stared ahead at their quarries.
“They’re setting up for camp.” Quinn whispered, finally removing the wig, revealing short-cropped black hair.
“So, got a plan?” Sirius replied, in-between deep breaths.
Quinn gave him a sidelong glance, before reaching into his belt, withdrawing a capsule. Pressing it into the floor, he clicked it open, and in a flash of light - thankfully covered - 6 bottles of water appeared.
Dude. What?
“Why is this surprising you?” Quinn asked, chuckling softly.
“I thought…I thought it was just for Pokémon…”
“In Sinnoh where half the land is dense forest and Mountain? You’re going to need all the supplies you can get, and as compact as you can get them.”
Sirius hummed, uncorking the bottle and savouring the cool taste. That was better, he probably would’ve been okay if they didn’t have any supplies, but this would keep him in top form..
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“I need to get in a battle with them.” Quinn said, returning his Golbat back to its ball. “I’m confident I could take on two of them…”
“But there are four.” Sirius finished.
“Exactly. And you don’t have any Pokémon.”
“Who says we need any at all?”
Quinn raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t interrupt, so he continued. “If you’re confident you can take out 2 of them, I can get rid of the others before the battle even starts.”
“Knocking them out will just anger the Pokémon if they’re brought out in time.” Quinn pointed out, “As much as I’d enjoy seeing you as a meat shield, Galactic still has some use for you.”
“Gee, thanks. But no, I’ll knock them out before they get the chance. Even If I fail, all I need to do is to get my hands on their belts, and I can remove the extra Pokémon away from the fight.”
“Meanwhile I’ll be keeping the other two busy, so you won’t have to worry about being attacked…”
“Exactly.”
Quinn considered for a moment, staring at the men who made their camp, his fingers brushing over the Pokeballs strapped to his belt.
“Ok. Let’s do this.”
“Not yet.” Sirius whispered. “We wait for them to settle down fully. Second watch, when it’s darker.”
Quinn sighed, slumping down next to Sirius.
And now they’d wait.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sinnoh alcohol was…interesting. It smelled decent enough, none of that heavy medicinal smell that often came with the cheaper types, rather a pleasant aroma of berries and…wood? Like all alcohol though, it tasted awful, like a mouthful of scented chemicals washing down one’s throat.
Felis, being not of the Sinnoh region, pre-gamed on the strange drink, called the ‘Coronet Citrune’ with several others. The only one he really recognized was John, the man that had invited him out. He’d joked and laughed with them as much as he could, but his goal tonight wasn’t to get buddy buddy with nobodies. Na, he’d respect and have fun with them, but he didn’t need extra connections from them right now.
“10 o’clock!” One cheered, “Time to go!”
Felis downed his last shot, grimacing at the taste. 4 shots spread out over an hour, it was enough to make him not tipsy, but just slightly giddy. The others had taken 2 or 3, some of them slightly flushing pink. They scowled and jeered at the lack of effect it had on him in good jest, the man who bought the bottle, Terrance, loudly complaining about how expensive it was and how he was wasting it.
Felis didn’t want to admit it, he really didn’t want to…but It reminded him of his University days, where it was just him and his boys, talking, getting drunk, playing video games together.
Better days.
He stood with the rest of them, clapping an arm on the back of one and walking out the building, into the streets of Veilstone. The city's nightlife was something else. Adults walked in droves, quietly chatting amongst themselves and often accompanied by Pokémon. Music drifted through the streets, an odd echoing mashup of classical pieces and heavier bassy tunes that rumbled in the stones.
The classical pieces faded away as they got closer to the “Games” district, where people had gone from polite and open, to downright rowdy. Even among his peers, where before they kept their voices soft and small, they were downright shouting as soon as they crossed the threshold, like a switch had been turned on.
“What the hell just happened?” Felis asked incredulously.
“What do you mean?” John laughed.
“It’s like I just stepped into the fucking Rolling Loud man.”
“Rolling what?”
“Canada thing.” America thing, really. But hey, no Americans to correct him.
They pushed through the crowded streets, walking past different bars and casinos, before finally arriving at their destination. A 3 story building slotted in between alleyways, bright neon lights etched into brick walls spelling out “Euphoria” in fancy writing.
Already there was a decent crowd waiting up front, Felis made to move to step into the line, but John grabbed his shoulder with a laugh, “Not that way, champion, this way.” They pushed past the lines, people shooting them annoyed looks, but nonetheless making way for them, some even nodding their heads in respect.
The bouncer stood at the entrance, a mean looking Graveler sitting squat beside him, four arms crossed with a pair of pink tinted glasses on. Felis wanted to gush.
The bouncer didn’t stop them either, simply nodding once and letting them through, John flashed him a smile which he returned with ease. Inside heavy music kicked up around them, building a pressure in his ears, he let it wash over him, filling his mind, there was an unusual peace there. Not the one of quiet, but one where you knew you could let yourself go if you wanted to, another face in a crowd, another body among hundreds.
But that wasn’t what he was here for. No. He was here to do what he was good at, talk. To manipulate, to convince. What better practice than a bunch of drunk adults?
“Only reason I’m still alive is because I told Cyrus more than he should know.” Felis thought angrily, “If it was me from before, I could have convinced him easily, I’d have found a way. I’m out of practice.”
Find a group, make friends, get information he could use to manipulate them later. Simple things, childhood traumas, things they enjoyed, people they hated, all of it could be used if laced together correctly.
The group he was with settled into a booth nearby, a bartender walked up to them immediately, flashing a pretty smile as she held out a menu. Felis let John handle it, even as he wanted to cringe at his attempted flirtation which she took with a casual laugh. After he pointed out what he wanted, the waitress disappeared into the crowd, and he was left alone with them.
“So? What’s the plan?” He asked to the Grunt.
“Plan? We’re here to have fun man, get drunk, talk to people.”
“Heh. My bad, it’s been a while. Who’s paying for all this anyways?”
The man wriggled his eyebrows at him, “Galactic’s tab. A lot of this gets written off as a ‘business expense’, you won’t believe how much we get away with. Used to be days where Grunts would be coming home drunk and hungover every night.”
The image of a bunch of blue haired idiots bumbling through the streets brought a laugh out of Felis, “So? What happened to those good old days?”
“The Admins.” John shuddered. “The new ones, at least. Saturn, Mars, Jupiter. Cracked down heavy. We still get to go out and stuff, it’s just we have to be professional about it…at least, not come home wasted every night.”
He chuckled, letting John talk to the others while he waited for the bottles to come in. The admins, he’d only really met Saturn, but he’d be assigned under Mars, right? Saturn appeared to be more of a ‘lead from the back’ guy, he wondered if the others would be more of the same. They never really stepped in unless the player cut through the hordes of Grunts…so, maybe?
The bartender/waitress lady came back into view, pulling Felis away from his thoughts, he’d grab a quick drink, move to the dance floor and let himself go for a little bit. Shots were poured, drinks were taken, jokes were swapped, and when he felt he’d talked enough he excused himself, making his way to the dance floor.
Sinnoh rave music was…wild? For whatever reason every track featured a violin of sorts, or a keyboard, mixed with the heaviest of basses, guitars, and percussions that somehow made for relatively catchy music.
People bounced around him, shouting lyrics he didn’t know. In all honesty it made him feel lost, a bit of an outsider, but he squashed the feeling down, instead losing himself to the energy around him. He didn’t really know how to dance, but anybody could two-step to a beat. Just add a couple arm movements and he was moving with the crowd, yelling his approval when the DJ shouted out her lines.
The crowd moved suddenly, and he found himself bumping into someone rather roughly. His arm shot out to steady the person, and he turned to apologize. A pretty set of eyes quirked up in amusement, the shorter woman looking him up and down with interest.
“Still got it.” Felis thought with some relief. Well, now came the hard part.
He tugged at her a little bit, motioning her to come close, she did, letting him bring her close enough to speak into her ear.
“Hey. Name’s Felis, can I get you a drink?”
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Magmar! [Body Slam!]”
“[Counter!]”
The Spitfire Pokemon surged forward, a blazing streak of white energy, aimed directly at Quinn’s Heracross. In response, Heracross’s wings snapped open as wings beat furiously, jetting him to the side. In the same moment, he grabbed Magmar from behind, muscles flexing as he used the Pokemon’s own momentum against itself, slamming Magmar into the ground with a heavy thud.
“[Flamethrower!]”
Quinn’s eyes widened as his second opponent shot a beam of fire towards his Heracross from behind. It splashed onto his friend’s back, the Pokémon screeching in pain before diving out of the way, taking cover behind a tree. Thankfully, the fire didn’t catch on any of the foliage.
This time, at least.
A Magmar and a Flareon, that was who he was combating. He’d sent out his own Heracross and Golbat, not daring to use his Houndoom for obvious reasons, nor his Haunter who was still inexperienced compared to the others.
Quinn was a good trainer, not the best of what Galactic had to offer, but certainly enough to carry himself with confidence. The problem however was that he was managing two Pokémon at once, while his enemy’s had one Pokémon each. He needed to act and react at twice the speed to keep up with them, while their attentions were more focused.
A distant explosion caused his eyes to flick backwards, before he turned back to his own battle. There was the other factor, Sirius. The plan was to ambush them and take two out before the fight started, and while Sirius got to one with surprising efficiency, this team…team Aura as they called themselves, were no strangers to surprises. The remaining 3 reacted instantly, one charging off after Sirius, the final two remaining to deal with him.
His eyes narrowed. Well, they could try.
“[Brick Break!] On the tree! Golbat, keep that Flareon occupied with [Air Cutter!]”
Golbat screeched its challenge, homing in on the Flareon who broke its flamethrower to dodge and dance around the razorlike wind slashes sent its way.
The groaning of wood signalled Heracross had done what was asked, the great tree it used as cover toppled over, heading straight for the spitfire Pokémon.
“[Fire Punch: Perpetual Agony!]”
“[Fire Spin: Limbo’s Embrace!]”
Quinn’s eyes widened at the sudden callout of variations. His eyes instantly shot to Golbat, who he’d trusted to keep the Flareon at bay while he focused his attention on Magmar. His friend was trapped in what could only be described as a patient fire that somehow left the area it covered unmarred. It burned, Golbat’s panicked screeching was evidence enough. But rather than roar and rage, the white flames simply undulated like water, the heat that rolled off warmed him slowly, but to Quinn’s surprise, they lasted, heat clinging onto him even as he stepped back.
Magmar on the other hand had smashed through the tree, and now rushed at Heracross with roaring fists, the latter readying himself for a defense with Brick Break still active. Pokémon met Pokémon in a rapid exchange of blows, though Heracross stayed on the defensive, using his wings to throw himself backwards, giving ground when the situation became too dangerous.
They darted around the trees, snarling and taunting at one another as fists flew. Magmar’s superior speed meant Heracross couldn’t keep up with the onslaught, and earned a few hits that seemed to blister and boil on impact.
Golbat trapped, Heracross losing, a thousand different scenarios played out in Quinn’s head. How could he change the situation? What did they have that he didn’t? Fire. They were in woodlands, a high chance of the surrounding areas catching if the trainers weren’t careful. Could he use that? It would mean smoke and wild angry Pokémon. It would be a distraction, a dangerous one, but one that would give time for Sirius to swipe the stolen Pokémon.
“Need to focus on now,” Quinn chided himself, “Get Golbat safe, play distance, buy time.”
The commands in his mind set, he turned to Golbat, who attempted to fight the flames with Air Cutter, buying herself some time.
“Return!” Quinn barked, his friend shooting him a grateful look. A battle between trainers would allow for some degree of honor, a code of chivalry for Pokémon to battle until one no longer could. That was how respected trainers fought, how warriors fought.
Quinn was no warrior.
As soon as Golbat was safe in her ball he tossed it back out again, “[Confuse Ray!] Get in close! Heracross! [Take Down!]”
The Pokémon did as commanded, Golbats eyes flashing as she returned to the field, a streak of gold landing between Flareon’s eyes causing the Aura grunt to curse. Air cutters ripped through the air as Golbat made her way in close, scoring several gashes into the flame Pokémon.
Heracross in the meantime had stopped his defensive flight, gritting his teeth as the bronze energy in his arms fell, allowing the Magmar to score several extra hits into his armoured carapace. Its confident smirk faltered however, as Heracross stood with its arms wide, and rushed into Magmar, who had grown used to chasing during the battle.
“[Flamethrower!]” The other Aura Grunt called, “Use the momentum to gain distance!”
A good move, but too late. The beginnings of a fiery jet bubbled in Magmar’s mouth, but was immediately cut off as Heracross slammed into it with a snarl, powerful arms crushing the smaller creature against him. Its squeals and cries were drowned out as Heracross tore through the woods, slamming through trees and rock using Magmar as a body shield before finally leaping into the air, wings beating hard and crashing into the ground.
“Enough!” Quinn's opponent spat, “No more holding back Magmar! [Lavaplume!]”
Quinn cursed as the ground began to glow red, lighting up the entire field around them in soft embers. For a moment, it was almost beautiful, the two Pokémon locked in a deadly embrace with soft red flakes dancing around them.
Then it all burned.
Fire exploded, drowning out Heracross’s pained screams, all three trainers backed away from the sudden blast of light. Quinn could feel the roiling heat wash over him, a dreadful reminder that whatever he felt, Heracross would be feeling 10 times worse.
Did he call Heracross back?
“No. Magmar’s pinned.” Quinn thought, with sickening realization, “If I call Heracross back now, I won’t get another chance.”
“[Close Combat!: Shattering Impacts!]”
Heracross’s screams turned into howls of fury. Coated in flames Quinn could only make out their shadows as his friend rained down blow after blow in rhythmic succession, Magmar’s flames only burning hotter and brighter.
Shattering Impacts, it sacrificed speed for power, aiming to break bone, rupture vitals, cause as much internal damage as possible with as much efficiency as possible. The move variation was banned all over the entire world. Why?
Because it killed.
85% of Pokémon hit with the full fury of Shattering Impacts never survived the journey back to the Pokemon Center. 8.98% would forever be crippled from the sheer destruction of the move.
Whether or not Heracross would stay conscious for the rest of the fight didn’t matter. Magmar would never be able to fight again after this.
When Quinn heard the 8th impact of carapace on flesh, he knew it was done, he raised Heracross’s Pokeball. “Return.” He called, his friend eagerly accepting the escape from the burning flames.
Magmar’s lava plume died down shortly after, but the flames still held, foliage and trees beginning to catch and burn. Sighing, he reached for his partner’s ball still holstered at his side. Houndoom, he didn’t want to cause an ecological disaster from his flames, so Quinn held his partner back. Seeing the situation now though?
Houndoom entered the field, the Dark hound growling like a demon in the night, flames sparking across razor sharp teeth. In response Magmar was returned, the spitfire Pokémon lying there useless as it gurgled and struggled to stay alive. A second ball was thrown out, the already oppressive heat of the flames burning even hotter as Magcargo arrived on the field.
Quinn’s 2 Pokémon to their 3. Golbat injured, Flareon barely, Magcargo, Houndoom, and one mystery Pokémon still fresh. Smoke and fire that would absolutely cause the rangers to come running down and bring in unwanted attention.
Quinn sighed, this wasn’t going well.
Hopefully Sirius was doing better.