“And off the top rope- HEAVY SLAM! There it is, The Onix’s signature move! Can Silver Dollar get back in the fight, or is he down for the count?!”
Menard Kaneth – Kenny to his friends, and ‘Moony’ to a couple of his new work buddies – listened to the television with half an ear. He wasn’t entirely sure why he kept up with it, the fights, the culture, the industry…
It gave him a weird feeling in his gut; not quite sad, not quite lonely. Something he couldn’t name. A lot bitter, cut with a few grains of sugar – not nothing, but not nearly enough to take the edge off.
…But he still hadn’t decided to stop, for whatever reason.
“And a-one! A-two! Last chance-! A-THREE! Silver Dollar is out! The Indigo Heavyweight Belt goes to The Onix! Look at him showboating, the rotten bastard- and OH, it looks like Dollar’s trying to fight off the paramedics! He thinks the fight’s still on!”
Kenny smiled listlessly. Good work with the medics, that. Looks almost like a real concussion. It wasn’t – you could tell by the eyes – but Silver Dollar was really selling it. Ha. Dollar, selling. He continued to watch the ending of the summer’s blockbuster storyline, before being turned back to the task at hand by an insistent squeak.
“Hm? Oh, sorry Bubbles. What were we doing?”
The sandshrew looked at him from its perch – a tall, padded stool – the extra height meaning the Pokémon only had to look up two feet, rather than four. It squeaked again, a rough sound that reminded Kenny of an exercise mat sliding around on unwaxed hardwood.
“Right, right, I remember.” His Rocket Dex had told him that Bubbles knew three moves: Scratch, Defense Curl, and Sand Attack – except it had displayed that last one in orange text, and when he had tried to use it in battle the sandshrew had just scrabbled against the floor, before looking back at him with a look like ‘well what am I supposed to do now?’
The easiest path forward would probably be to ask his bosses about it, but he was a trainer now, and that meant he was supposed to have an adventure. So… he and Bubbles would do their best to figure it out together.
And then they’d get one over on their rivals, that guy with the pompadour and his weird beetle. “Let’s try it again. Sand Attack!”
Bubbles twitched his nose, then, reluctantly, turned and made digging motions at the air. If he had been on loose ground, Kenny would have gotten a face full of grit – but perched up in the air, the attack did nothing at all.
“Nothin’, huh?” He reached out and patted his Pokémon on the head. “You’ll get it. Practice makes perfect!” It was just like learning how to do a suplex: at first you needed the help of the other guy to make it look real, but eventually you’d be able to do it with anyone, even someone who was resisting.
Bubbles just needed to learn how to put aside the crutch of needing real dirt.
They practised for enough time that the TV switched to the next program – without much progress – before a shaky voice came up the stairs.
“Menard, you have guests. Come on down here.”
Kenny blinked at his Pokémon, frowning. “Huh? Damn it, we were just’ getting’ a rhythm goin’… Be down in a sec’, Nana!”
Bubbles went back in his ball, and then the ball went under Kenny’s pillow; the bosses said everything would look legit, but he didn’t want to be the first person in their roster to test that out. If the guest was a blue, then they’d have to work for it.
He descended the narrow stairs with practised ease, coming down to the first floor nearly silently. He peeked around the corner just enough to see…
Whew, not a Jenny. It was just Suit – in a suit, construction worker my ass – and his piece, that orange-haired fat chick, making light conversation with his nana; it was easy to remember them- actually, it was easy to remember the whole squad, something that Kenny was thankful for. With nothing to fear, he walked into the kitchen.
“Hey Suit. Didn’t expect to see you today.” Or at all, actually; how the heck did you find out where I live? “Shit’s really coming down.”
The man gave him a surly look. “It’s a typhoon, Moony. Shit’s going to be coming down for a while.” Then he stilled, side-eyeing Nana, and lifted a teacup to his lips.
The old woman waved him off with a bony hand. “Oh, you don’t need to watch your language around me, young man. I know how men are in the industry.”
Hoshi’s eyes flashed as he froze, and Kenny had to hold in a laugh as the purple-haired man struggled not to spit out a mouthful of tea. Ha! Not that industry, man! But the amusement died a moment later, and he turned to his grandmother. “Nana, I told ya I don’t work there no more, remember? Got a new, better job.” He attempted a smile. “I’m a trainer now.”
She frowned, her wrinkled brows turning down and in behind large bifocals that made her eyes look wide as saucers. “You aren’t..? No, I don’t remember that…”
The two guests looked at each other, and Kenny winced. Ah shit, always awkward to do this in front of people.
“We’ll talk about it later, okay Nana? Don’t worry about it.” He turned back to the tall, thin man he had met a couple days ago. “What brings you here, Suit?”
“The…” he began, but then his eyes slid Nana’s way again.
“We just popped over to see how you were dealing with things!” the girlfriend smoothly took over. “Vermilion may be a sea town, but that doesn’t mean things are always built that way – so, you holding up? No leaky roof?” She smiled, and despite her being way outside his preferences, Kenny felt his blood stir.
“Oh, we’re going just fine young miss, just fine,” Nana answered. “Those new houses might be shoddy, but things on this side of town were built right. Why, I remember coming down the road the first time, it was all open ocean – they hadn’t built the big stone docks yet, it was just wood back then…”
As his nana drifted off into a story, Kenny felt relieved. Not too bad, today. Sometimes his old work buddies would show up, and Nana would screech at them – she had a foul mouth when she was upset, fitting for a sailor’s wife. He noticed that she had set out a place for him and sat, ignoring his coworker’s pointed looks.
Sorry man, Nana’s stories come before whatever you’re here for. Gotta care about it while it lasts.
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Hoshi listened with increasing frustration as Moony’s grandmother went on and on about how the docks were built, something he was more than familiar with already – he must have gotten this exact story a hundred times between his father, Surge, and random people at the museum.
Normally he wouldn’t mind, but today… Today is the last day before work starts up again. According to a message from Everheart, Hoshi had been right; they weren’t working outdoors in the heat – but indoor renovations and deskwork, no matter how much more comfortable they were than construction proper, would still take the same amount of time out of his day. He needed to get his ducks in a row before Monday.
“…I’ll tell you, the magikarp was bigger than I was. I’ve never seen one that big since, not even on the telly when they show those big fishing contests from the lake. Waddles was strutting around with his head up for weeks, you couldn’t imagine a prouder cat.”
The old woman, her grey-white hair held up in two loose buns, paused to sip at her tea, and Hoshi took the opportunity.
“That was a delightful story, ma’am. But I was hoping to talk shop with M-enard, just a bit.” He looked Moony’s way. “Maybe upstairs?”
She opened her mouth, but Casca pre-empted her. “That’s a great idea – why don’t the men go off and talk about work, while the two of us have our own chat? You must be starved for intelligent conversation, girl.”
Moony’s grandmother tittered, and Hoshi took that as his cue to stand. He grabbed his briefcase as he went, shooting his girlfriend a thankful look before taking his… underling, by the arm.
“Oi, hold up, I ain’t done with-”
“Moony,” Hoshi hissed into the over-muscular man’s ear. “I need to talk to you about the job. Do you want to have that conversation here, or in private?” Arc, you’ve already shown you’re shitty at operational security. Maybe I should leave you out of this…
After an uncomfortable pause, the ex-wrestler shrugged off Hoshi’s grip. “Yeah, fine. My room’s upstairs.” He gulped down what was left of his tea, before turning to his grandmother. “Be back in a sec, Nana.”
Then it was apparently his turn to take Hoshi by the arm. “C’mon. You wanna talk shop? Let’s talk shop.”
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Moony’s room was basically exactly as Hoshi would have pictured, if he had bothered to think about it: one half was taken up by a small at-home gym, while the other pulled double duty as both a sleeping space, and a shrine to Kanto’s professional wrestling circuit. Posters were hung so thickly that the actual walls were obscured, with a life-sized body shot of a female wrestler in a skimpy leotard taking centre stage, while a shelf over the bed held a collection of action figures.
“Look, man,” Moony growled out now that they were alone. “I know I said we could get it done in a day, but that was like, figurative, you get me?” Hoshi turned to look the man in the eye. “I didn’t mean it, so… no need to come to my house.”
Hoshi discarded the man’s words with a minute shake of his head, laying the mildly damp briefcase against a set of barbells. “What does your grandma know? Is she in?”
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
The man scratched his shaved head, his face tightening. “What? Naw- well, not really?” The fuck do you mean, ‘not really?’ Either she knows or she doesn’t. “She’s… She has bad days, sometimes. I’ve tried explaining things, but I don’t know what’ll stick and what won’t. So…” He threw his hands up.
Hoshi’s own expression tightened. “How about you don’t tell people you’re a criminal? I don’t care if you blow yourself out of the water, but that shit’ll bounce back on me – and the others, too.”
The man stilled, and for the first time Hoshi saw him angry, rather than annoyed. It was a cold thing, completely different from his normal expression, and it made his stupid, swollen face look menacing rather than just a product of steroid abuse.
“I’m not lying to my Nana. I ain’t about that, and you don’t tell me what to do.” The cold thawed a touch. “But whatever. I get what you mean – Nana’ll be chill with it, she’s always telling me about how Grampy used to hang with pirates. Rocket’s, like, pirates on land, right?”
Taking a deep breath, Hoshi expelled the deep, deep stupidity of that statement. “…I’m not going to tell you how to deal with family, but you’re actually wrong. I do tell you what to do, at least while we’re… on the clock.”
Moony’s lingering anger was washed out by confusion. “Huh?”
“Due to my connection with the Gym Leader,” and some kind of pissing contest between the instructors and another Rocket leader in Viridian, probably, “I’ve gotten a promotion. As a Senior Rocket Grunt, I’m in charge of making things go smoothly.” He shot the man a stern look and crossed his arms. “And that means whatever happens, my neck is first on the chopping block. I need to give a shit about your situation; if your nana has an attack of conscience – or just blabs to someone because she’s fucking senile – that is, and I hate this as much as you do, on me.”
The two men stared at each other, and Hoshi did his best to keep his hand on the leash. Don’t look at his hands, don’t think about punching him or being punched or anything. Deep breaths, be cool.
The grunt’s face was screwed up with different emotions, but after a second of two he nodded, slowly. “Senior Grunt, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Thought it’d be Blondie runnin’ the bird’s eye – he seems more the type, no offense.”
“Yeah. I’m surprised as you are.”
His eyes narrowed as the confusion, in turn, was washed away by… Conviction, or something like that. I’ve been in the guy’s presence for a few hours; I can’t read his mood perfectly like Surge or Danny. “You think he’ll, like, fight you for it?”
“…We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” The man doesn’t live in town, so I can’t even talk to him; he’ll have a whole week at least of assuming he’s the boss before getting that assumption thrown in his face. The situation might turn volatile, but there wasn’t much to do other than put his head down and plow through. “What about you? You gonna follow orders, Moony?”
For a tense moment the room was silent, and Hoshi could faintly hear the sound of his girlfriend laughing from downstairs. Glad we’re all having so much fucking fun. Then Moony blew air out through his nostrils, his posture relaxing.
“Yeah. On one condition:” Hoshi braced for some type of bullshit, but the request was surprisingly reasonable. “You call me Kenny, yeah? I don’t hate Moony, but it’s not my name.”
Hoshi felt his lips curl up in a half-affronted smile. “So you can dish it out but not take it, huh?” His arms uncrossed to offer the muscular man his hand. “I’ll call you Kenny if you call me Hoshi, deal?”
Moony- Kenny slid his palm in, and they shook on it. “Deal – though I think Suit’s a way better name.” A pause. “So’d you just come here to swing your dick around, or did you wanna actually talk about the Gym thing?”
Hoshi’s smile widened, and he picked his suitcase back up.
“Casca got a copy of everything.” Apparently a chunk of it was from her, specifically, seducing a night guard before she met me. She’s a fucking ‘kazam when it comes to talking to people… “We’ve got floor plans, employee schedules, the works. Even guesstimations on where the security cameras are, though obviously we can’t rely on that.” The juiced man’s desk looked to be just large enough to spread everything out. “Move that shit to the side and I’ll show you – oh, and where are you at with your Pokémon? I want to get as many of us as possible together next Saturday, after Rocket shit. See if we can get some group training done…”
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After M- Kenny came Nerine, who was almost painfully simple. The rainy trip over was more fraught than actually talking to the teenager in her run-down, one-person apartment; Hoshi walked into a smoky conjoined kitchen/living room/bedroom, told her he was in charge, and she said “Okay.”
He asked if she was free to train after ‘lessons’ on Saturday, she said “Yeah.”
He showed her the plans, she examined them intensely for a moment then said “Cool. You wanna smoke?” The intense redness of her eyes – and the lingering smell – told him she didn’t mean tobacco, and he would have declined anyway.
He was in and out inside of ten minutes.
Now he was ahead of schedule, and hoping for a third success in a row. Smooth sailing so far… maybe too smooth, actually. Nerine had actually been kind of frustrating with how nonchalant she was; the girl obviously didn’t take being in Team Rocket seriously. Hopefully she gets more professional closer to actually doing the thing. He wouldn’t bite her head off just yet, but he was prepared to turn into a miniature Everheart if he needed to.
“The place should be just up ahead. 14th and Caravan, number…” Casca put a finger to her lips. “Seven seven twelve. That’s what I said earlier, right?”
Hoshi grunted, moving his umbrella as the wind changed direction. “Sounds right to me.” A note with Puce Gracile’s address was in his suitcase, but opening it to check now would be momentously stupid – he would just have to trust his girl’s memory. “Six, eight…”
“Twelve, bingo! Let’s go up and knock.”
Puce – assuming they had the right house – lived in a medium-sized place way out in the southeast. Like Hoshi, she was right up against the water, though there was no gigantic Pokémon Gym blocking her view of the ocean. Nice area. The beach is her backyard – It would have been dirt cheap back before the expansion, when this stretch of road was almost inside Route 11, but now its prime real estate.
The path to the building cut through a well-maintained if somewhat boring lawn, and soon Hoshi was rapping on a solid wood door. Again, richer-looking than I’d have expected – the grass is professional. Why’d she say she was in Rocket? It can’t be the money, so… The recollection was on the tip of his tongue, but before he could dig into that long day’s minutia someone answered the door.
“Hello?” came a rich voice from beyond the entrance, and without waiting for an answer the soft fwip of a bolt being slid away sounded out, followed by the door itself opening.
Hoshi looked up at what must be Puce’s father, and his only thought was Arcus. I knew it must be genetic, but that’s a bit much.
The man wasn’t quite as tall as Surge, but he was wide, and not with fat – Hoshi couldn’t help but compare the forty-something man with the machamp he had seen recently, and it was entirely possible that the human was the more muscular of the two. Next to this guy, Dad would look thin. Arcus fuck, he is built.
The man had a cinder block of a head, nearly perfectly square, sporting a handlebar mustache accompanying extra perfectly average brown hair; if there was a specific name for the shade Hoshi didn’t know, so the only label he could assign was hair-coloured hair.
“Hello!” he repeated, his voice matching his figure, again, perfectly; it reminded Hoshi of a cartoon tank engine from some old half-remembered propaganda cartoon. Sergeant… Bill? Sergeant Shell? No, it’s not important, let it go.
“Hello. Is this the Gracile residence?” Unlike the giant, Hoshi had to raise his voice to speak over the weather.
“It is! Mauve Gracile, at your service!” An appendage that Hoshi struggled not to label as a paw darted out to snatch up his hand, and he was subjected to a bone-threatening handshake. “Are you here about the election? I’m afraid my vote’s already spoken for!”
He boomed out a laugh, and Hoshi extricated his hand and upper arm from the man’s fingers. Sausage-like would be entirely inappropriate; those are rebar-like. Solid steel. “Uh, no. I’m Hoshi. I’m… a friend of Puce’s.” I’d say I’m a work friend, but I have no idea what she’s said. For all I know she’s told her family she’s taking weekend classes, or something. “Me and my girlfriend just wanted to make sure she’s all right, with the typhoon and all.”
“Oh! Well, come in out of the rain!” The door opened wider as he stepped back, beckoning them. “You’ll be other students of the Electric Academy, then? Or did you meet somewhere else? That girl doesn’t talk to her old man anymore!”
Hoshi blinked at guessing so rightly in his head, before a poke in the side sent him forward. “Yeah, we both take classes there – well, Casca’s graduated, but…”
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“And then after instructor James, the persian introduces itself too, dressed up in its own little suit. It was the strangest thing I’d ever seen.”
Mauve’s cannon-shot laugh was accompanied by his wife’s – Mint Gracile’s – more subdued one. It turned out that Puce was off ‘on a little errand, but she should be back any minute,’ but despite being delayed Hoshi was feeling at ease.
The Gracile house was richly appointed, and more importantly air conditioned – and her parents were disarmingly cordial, not balking in the slightest about entertaining a friend of their daughter. While she obviously took after her father physically, it seemed the woman she hadn’t inherited a single shred of either’s personality.
Mauve was friendly in a very touchy-feely way, always reaching out to bop a shoulder or pat a back, and had physically dragged the two of them around on a tour of the house. Mint was much the same, but oriented around conversation; from the moment they met her, the stately woman had kept firm control of the room’s mood, dictating the topic with an iron fist.
It could easily have been overbearing or miserable, but the pair were so damn personable that it ended up not entirely different from the Rocket instructor’s song and dance; just audacious enough to be entertaining rather than annoying. Less attractive than those two, though.
“My little girl never mentioned anything like that!” Mauve said, words coloured by the lingering aftershocks of his laughter.
“Yes, all she does is complain,” Mint slid in. “We were hoping that she’d do well, but the moment we ask about the school, it’s like her lips are sewn shut! I’m terrified it’ll end up like her prior schooling…” She tutted with a slight shake of her head.
“She did poorly?” Casca asked.
“Oh, just dreadful. I swear she can be such a bright girl, she’s just so distractible…” Mint fanned herself. “But I’ve heard amazing things about the Electric Academy, so hopefully they’ll sort her out. She should be getting her licence any day now.”
Hoshi made an agreeable sound, then helped himself to a pastry. I wouldn’t have thought Puce a capable liar, but it doesn’t seem like she’s done half bad. “I just started recently, but I have to agree. The academy is really something special – I wouldn’t worry about her.”
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Eventually Puce did come back, though they weren’t able to get her alone – Hoshi would just have to get her up to speed when they saw each other at ‘school.’
Three out of five, plus arranging things with Danny. The junkyard owner had taken a look at the fridge’s innards, and pronounced that dragging it all the way to his workspace was unnecessary; instead, he would just lug the parts in and fix it right there inside the apartment. Overall, not a bad day’s work.
He went to bed with his alarm set for the first time in a while, fretting just slightly about going back to work. But eventually the lullaby of the rain – and his girlfriend’s quiet breathing beside him – forced his eyes to close. Not entirely sure what kind of timetable we’ll settle on, but I can only hope that things‘ll go smoothly.