Liftoff 1.17

August 2015

As the sun began to set, the timer weighed on me. It had seemed so simple when I first received the mission. About twenty-five miles was easily doable for a veteran hiker. I’d thought that I’d be able to circle the manmade lake well before the timer ran out.

Once again, I’d been naive. I’d forgotten that many animals were crepuscular. It was a word of the day I’d learned from Sabrina which denoted animals that were active during dawn and dusk. Though the dungeon only had ground types, the forest came alive during the hour and a half or so of twilight.

On the upside, we did not encounter any larger predators, if there were any at all. No horde of graveler slid down the mountains to flatten me either. There was a large cave near the peak of one of the mountains, with a clearly defined path leading up from the trail, but everything about that screamed “hidden boss” and I wanted no part of whatever the fuck was sleeping inside.

On the downside, we encountered a variety of lesser pokemon. We met an abundance of geodude, sandshrew, wooper and quagsire, and an especially powerful cubone that I was pretty sure was on the cusp of evolving. They were all insistent on battling me. If I had to guess, the twilight hours were some kind of dungeon-mandated trainer gauntlet.

Or maybe it was simply how pokemon were after just waking up. For all I knew, this could be a natural part of their ecosystem. In which case, it was no wonder human-only parties had such a hard time.

Each battle didn’t take long, thank whichever god was listening for Seed Bomb, but they added up. Coupled with the uneven, waterlogged terrain, I was no longer confident in my ability to make it before the time.

All that to say, I was starting to worry. I wasn’t desperate, not yet, but it was enough to make me rush to get in a few more miles.

“Let’s keep going until we can’t anymore,” I told them. “Scout, feel free to hitch a ride on my backpack if the lighting gets too poor. You’ve done well steering us today.”

“Quil.”

I untied the flashlight from my belt and carried on. It was one of the hefty metal ones that could double as a truncheon when needed. I’d filched it from the police station in Truckee. The town was trying to save batteries because they weren’t a renewable resource, but being the new head of the rangers had its perks.

X

I was extra careful and forced myself to walk slowly. I’d never forgive myself if I failed this stupid mission because I sprained my ankle in the dark. Overall, I estimated about two miles of extra progress before we were forced to stop.

Night had fully set in and the torch in my hand was no longer sufficient to navigate. I couldn’t justify the risks of wandering blind. If I wasn’t careful, I might well turn myself around and waste our stamina for nothing.

“Dig us a burrow, Rocket,” I told him. “Cold rations for us tonight, buddy.”

“Lin,” he chuffed.

He was an old hand at it by now. Aside from Quick Attack and Odor Sleuth, Dig was arguably the move he had the most practice using. We used it to dig new irrigation ditches for farmers, make new fortifications, drive rabbits from their burrows, maneuver in battle, and of course, build safe havens while out ranging. It truly was the all-purpose move.

He began by digging a donut around the small clearing. Scout and I covered the ditch with small twigs and leaves. It was almost unnoticeable in the dark and would act as a perimeter warning system when something stepped on the brittle twigs. Even if I probably wouldn’t be able to hear, Rocket’s senses were far keener than my own. I also hung some bells across the branches to serve the same purpose.

I then stuck a stick in the ground and affixed a pine torch to it to give us some central light. The torch was fashioned by splitting one side of a thick stick into fourths, then stuffing that cavity with pitch made of pine sap, a pinecone, and an old rag. It was then tied closed with sinew. The torch would burn for about fifteen minutes when made right, a trick I picked up from a survivalist up in Bend.

Our sleeping area made me pause.

Typically, Rocket dug a ditch near the light source for us. It kept us out of sight, prevented our scents from spreading, and provided cover from the night chill. It could get cramped, especially with a seven feet long mongoose, but at least it wasn’t cold; and we could pop out at a moment’s notice to flee or fight.

But that was under normal circumstances. Here, in a dungeon for ground types, was a hole in the ground really the best place to sleep? How could I be sure I wouldn’t be ambushed by another pokemon who was just as good at Dig as Rocket?

I looked around for options and found one. I let out a quiet whistle to get Rocket’s attention. “Change of plans, bud. We’re surrounded by ground types. We’re not sleeping in a hole in the ground if we can help it.”

“Lin? Oone,” he whined, throwing me a stink-eye for making him build a camp we weren’t going to use.

“I know, I’m sorry. Think of it this way though: That torch right there? That’ll be bait to throw them off.”

“Oone…”

“The trees. I’ll tie our supplies up there.”

He obeyed, and with only minor grumbling. In the end, we found a decent-sized fir to sleep in. We climbed it to the first branch and then tied ourselves to the trunk using some rope and the tarp we normally used for flooring. It wasn’t exactly a bed in a hotel, but I didn’t think it was too bad for an improvised hack job.

Scout settled a foot away and gave us a smug grin. “Tran. Tranquil.”

“Oh, shut it, you,” I grumbled. Rocket’s claws were digging into my jacket as we snuggled for warmth.

“Oone…”

“Just think of it as a hammock, alright? Tonight and tomorrow night, that’s all I ask.”

“Linoone…”

I dug around in my jacket and stuffed a beef jerky into my gluttonous ferret’s mouth. “Hush. Eat your dinner and go to sleep.”

We hung from the tree and ate an unsatisfying dinner of dates and jerky. Several minutes later, the last embers of the torch in the center of the clearing died and we settled into an uneasy slumber.

X

Sleep would have been nice. Sleep sounded fucking lovely right about now. Unfortunately, I was roused from slumber by Rocket taking a bite out of my ear. It was a sharp, shallow nip that didn’t quite draw blood, but it had me awake and alert immediately.

“What?” I groused.

“Oone!” he hissed. I felt his paw tap four times into my arm. I couldn’t see a thing, but I felt his perky ears swish past my face.

I knew what that meant: Listen.

So, trusting my partner, I quietly undid some of the knots securing us to the trunk. He slunk onto the branch and nudged Scout awake while I palmed my handgun. If he was spooked, I doubted it was just a wooper.

Then I heard it too. It was almost silent, impressively so. There was no way in hell a human would have heard something in any other situation. I was uncomfortable, paranoid, and had Rocket point out the noise to me and even then I barely noticed.

It was the breezy rustle of fabric, or perhaps tarp, an impossibility. Even if it was possible to enter this dungeon after the first party, it wasn’t, the gate closed behind me, no one else in Carnelian had the balls. If they, in a brilliant stroke of suicidal stupidity, did decide to come, they would at least know better than to try to catch up to me in the dark.

“Pokemon. It’s a pokemon,” I whispered. I ran through every ground type I knew. What pokemon rustled like that? And didn’t ring the bells I’d left around camp?

Then, I heard it again. Higher, as if it was climbing a nearby tree.

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‘Or flying…’

As soon as that thought hit my mind, I hurled myself from the tree branch. Pokemon? Projectile? Didn’t matter, the “sleep in a tree” idea was fucking stupid. It might have helped avoid any hits from underground, but I had no room to maneuver when shit went down.

I landed hard. Our impromptu nest wasn’t so high that a fall was bone-breaking, but it still hurt like a bitch. All I could do was to tuck in my head, brace, and land on a shrub.

My mind blanked as a spike of pain shot up my spine. Spy movies and Assassin’s Creed lied to me. Bushes were not in fact nature’s bouncy castles. They had branches too, and some of those fuckers were thick!

“Son of a bitch!” I hissed.

Thankfully, whatever I lacked in planning skills, I made up for with decent pain tolerance. I rolled away and quickly got to my feet. When I turned back, I saw a shadowy figure divebomb my supplies. I couldn’t make out any details, but there was only one ground type it could be.

“Gligar!” I barked. I pulled my pistol out of its holster and flicked the safety before snapping off three shots in its general direction. “It can fly and has venom in its fangs and spiked tail. Rocket, Seed Bomb!”

“Lin!”

Verdant energy coalesced around Rocket’s maw. Though his night vision was far better than mine, he was still a diurnal hunter. The blast of green struck the tree but failed to hit the gligar. I heard a rasping, cackling laugh as something, probably my supplies, hit the floor.

A gale of wind blew, striking the gligar and briefly sending it fluttering. Scout’s doing, though I wasn’t sure how aware he was. I took another shot and missed.

“Fuck! Rocket, spread stars! Scout, stay back and Gust!” I shouted.

Rocket knew that “spread stars” meant Swift, a move that launched a salvo of homing energy stars at a target. So long as Rocket could see even a flicker of motion, Swift ought to be a much better option than Pin Missile or Seed Bomb.

I was also hoping to catch the gligar in the crossroads of two attacks. I doubted Gust would do too much damage, but it was a general “fuck everything in that direction” move and the wind ought to keep it from flying well. I couldn’t give more complicated instructions than that, not when I couldn’t even see the damn pokemon.

Growling I dove for my supplies. I needed my flashlight ASAP or I was a sitting duck.

I tried to remember what I knew about gligar. They were flying scorpions, with venom in both their fangs and tail. Said scorpions were also given an immunity to bug zappers because Arceus had a sense of humor and it was shit.

Competitively, they were some of the best “walls” around, with Roost and Poison Heal to sustain themselves. They used Swords Dance, Acrobatics, and Earthquake offensively. And… And absolutely none of that was as helpful as the little dex factoid that said they liked to aim for the face.

Remembering that probably saved my life. The moment I heard a rustle of leathery wings, I covered my face with one arm and stabbed blindly. I felt my hunting knife skid against chitinous armor but fail to find purchase.

Then a rain of golden stars forced it to retreat. It took to the trees, hiding behind the boughs so they could act as buffers against Rocket and Scout.

I used that chance to dive for my supplies. Flashlight in hand, I quickly scanned the forest around us, not for the gligar, but for any friends it might have. I was pretty sure gligar were solitary predators, relying on the cloak of night to strike, but I’d made enough mistakes in the dungeon already.

The gligar flitted from tree to tree. From what glimpses I could get of it, it was incredibly agile but not especially fast. Sabrina would probably say that its leathery wings weren’t built for speed. A shorter wingspan allowed it to navigate the branches easily, kicking off nearby trunks and gliding around in a show of acrobatics that would humble a gymnast.

I wasn’t sure what it was looking for. The ambush failed; at this point, a wild animal would call off the hunt. Why was it still fighting instead of seeking easier prey elsewhere? Was this a quirk of the dungeon, that intruders needed to die? Or did it want something else? For all I knew, I smelled like a steak dinner to this fucker.

“Scout, Taunt it. Bring it closer. Rocket, get ready to take it out,” I ordered, keeping one eye out for any other pokemon.

Scout let out an ear-piercing shriek that would have made anyone want to shoot him. I assumed he was also insulting the gligar’s mother in pokespeak because the gligar abandoned its Naruto-esque bullshit and dove for Scout.

Rocket intervened with Swift again. Now unimpeded by tree branches, the golden stars struck their target, making the gligar cry out in pain.

He was a tough little shit though, or maybe the wall between “physical” and “special” moves wasn’t as clearly defined in the real world. Either way, he charged through to Scout and the two tumbled from the sky in a tangle of limbs and feathers.

“Separate them! Rocket, Liftoff!”

I couldn’t shoot the gligar for fear of hitting Scout so I ran to my supplies, not for a weapon, but for my tarp. It was a sturdy, plastic thing that I placed beneath my sleeping bag to keep the moisture from the ground from soaking my sleeping bag. It was also quite tear-resistant.

Through the flashlight, I saw Rocket launch himself into the tangle of bodies. I doubted a bird could beat a scorpion up close, not when they were similarly sized, but a murder-ferret was a different story.

Arcs of shimmering, white light streaked out from his claws as Rocket took his pound of flesh. In the chaos, I saw Scout take himself out of the fight, rolling in the dust before kicking off the ground. He flew to a nearby branch to rest.

Then, before the gligar could poison my partner, I threw the tarp over them both. “Rocket, out!”

As my partner left, I dove on top of the little fucker, hunting knife in hand. It could probably shred the tough plastic if given half the chance so I didn’t give it one. I pressed my knee into what I thought was its torso and brought my knife down hard.

It was about two and a half feet tall, fucking massive for a first stage pokemon. And it was stronger than me. I could tell; if I tried wrestling this thing normally, it would literally eat me alive. Even with my full weight crushing down on him, he managed to thrash beneath the carp, flailing his tail and pincers erratically.

The tarp didn’t last as long as I’d hoped. Already, I could feel its sharp pincers lashing at my legs. Thankfully, its tail lacked the leverage to puncture through the tarp and into my leg. My pants were thick and sturdy, but they weren’t “ignore a pissed off pokemon” sturdy. Already, I could feel rivulets of blood dripping down my leg from its sharp pincers.

I ignored the pain. Again and again, I plunged down with my knife where I thought its head was. The plastic tore, revealing a strange, chitinous face that snarled up at me. One eye was bruised shut but that only made it look even more malicious.

When my knife broke on its natural armor, it saw its chance. I saw violet light gather in its mouth. Poison Sting, there wasn’t anything else it could be.

I couldn’t dodge, I was too close, so I did the only thing I could: I brained it with the flashlight in my offhand. It didn’t hurt it, not by a long shot, but the brief moment of surprise allowed me to roll away from the poisoned needles.

That allowed it to rise back into the air, but its freedom was short-lived. A massive Air Cutter, charged and launched from a nearby pine, beheaded the injured gligar.

The clearing descended into an eerie silence. I took a deep breath and slumped into the dirt. I was filthy. There were bruises all along my back and lacerations around my calves, but I didn’t care. I just wanted some fucking sleep.

X

The next morning, I gingerly bandaged my legs. The blood had crusted over so I scraped it off and disinfected the cuts as best as I could with the small first aid kit I had on-hand. I was lucky again, none of the cuts would keep me from walking, but my pants legs were in tatters.

Next, I rearranged my supplies and took a look at Rocket and Scout. Rocket was fine, but Scout took a bad bite to his left wing. I wasn’t sure if he was poisoned or not, but I opted to have him ride on my backpack rather than strain it further.

I finally turned to the gligar’s corpse. Yes, this was a dungeon, like in a video game. No, corpses did not vanish in motes of light and leave behind convenient loot boxes. It was highly inconvenient; I would have loved for the dungeon to give me conveniently sterilized loot, maybe a vial of venom from the gligar’s venom sacs.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t afford to take the body with me. Doctors Lansdowne and Nguyen would probably be disappointed when they heard, but me lugging around a bleeding corpse would probably attract predators, maybe even advertise that we’re looking for a fight here.

So, I tore out the fangs with some effort and moved on. If I remembered right, Razor Fang was the item that allowed a gligar to evolve into a gliscor. I wasn’t sure if the same rules applied, or if the evolutionary item was a literal fang, but it was a neat keepsafe if nothing else.

Tired, sore, hungry, and thirsty, we trudged on. By my count, we were about fourteen miles in and halfway through our timer.

Poor sleep aside, I had to admit, the Stampede Reservoir was beautiful. There was a stark difference between night and day, as if the gligar had been nothing more than a nightmare. Even so, though the reservoir had been reclaimed by nature, there were just enough signs of humanity to serve as yet another reminder that I was not the apex predator here.

The hours whiled by as we made steady progress. We were about three quarters of the way to the finish line when Scout saw something interesting.

“Tran-tranquil,” he cooed. It was a soft sound, not of alarm, but curiosity.

I looked where his beak was pointing and tensed. There were a pair of tentacles waving languidly from a tree a dozen yards to my left. I’d seen them as well but my eyes had glossed over them.

“Thanks, Scout. Definitely a pokemon. Either of you recognize it?” I asked quietly. I received a pair of negatives. “Fuck. Neither do I, so we’re going to give it a wide berth. Avoid anything else that looks like that too.”

“Lin,” Rocket chuffed back in the affirmative.

I knew there were pokemon that I wouldn’t be familiar with. I’d seen the ice type sandshrew and the weird pika-clones. Judging by the “vines” that were hanging from the treetops, this was a grass type, meaning a grass-ground hybrid.

I wanted no part of it. If I wasn’t in a time crunch, if Scout and I weren’t injured, maybe I might have considered checking it out. As interesting as a new pokemon sounded, there was a distinct chance that it would be hostile.

So, I kept an eye on any hanging vines and moved on. “Just forty-eight hours” hadn’t seemed so bad… I wished I could go back in time and slap past-Shane across the mouth.

Author’s Note

Shane is not some ex-special ops. He’s not going to make the optimal decision every time, probably not even most times. That said, he’s very determined, good at thinking on his feet, and will happily get his hands dirty. He’s a very “in the moment” kind of guy, and without the right training to mitigate that.

Gligar are on average three feet tall according to the pokedex. The one Shane fought was on the smaller side. He’s allowed to be wrong. It’s like the uncle who comes back from fishing and says he caught one “thiisss biiggg!!!”

Why yes, that was indeed a toedscool.

Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.