“Might I have a word?”
Hoshi took a large step back, untangling his personal space from the larger Rocket’s – assuming that the man even had such a thing.
“…Sure? But what about-?” His eyes drifted around the man’s bulk, to see Puce sitting cross-legged beside a similarly posed alakazam and lounging slowpoke. “Huh.” Some kind of psychic thing, probably. “Yeah, I’ve got a minute.”
“My thanks,” Kiribo said. “Let us go to the corner of the room – I fear we might be interrupted otherwise.”
He turned, and Hoshi opened his mouth – only for a slight tremor to run up his legs as Casca’s voice reached over his shoulder. “Little eager there, but I love the energy! Bulldoze again, Quake!”
“What the- the battle hasn’t started!” came the annoyed reply from her opponent. “Fine! Jormungandr, Dragon Breath!”
Hoshi suppressed the urge to turn and watch his most annoying subordinate get taken down a notch, instead following after the Psychic Hunter. Plenty of time for that later – and besides, I’m curious what Mister Samurai has to say.
The man stuck himself all the way into the corner before turning, and Hoshi spun his hand, gesturing to get on with it. “Hmm…” Kiribo hummed. “I had it all straight inside the steel trap of my mind, but now that I must translate feeling into words, I find myself at a loss… Never before have I had to reveal this for another.” Reveal..? Arcus above, he isn’t going to come onto me, is he..?
The Rocket Hunter placed a finger to his chin, humming again, and Hoshi’s jaw set. He waited, increasingly awkward, until eventually Kiribo snapped his fingers. “Aha! I have it, the perfect opening! Tell me, Senior Grunt: have you ever seen strange colours where they should not have existed? A sparkle of the eye which was more literal than figurative, or perhaps even a disconcerting flavour upon the tongue when speaking to another?”
Hoshi blinked, and then his face contorted in a grimace. “Arcus, is Rocket hacked into the hospitals, too? What the fuck is this about, Kiribo?”
“Oh ho, then your answer is..?”
His grimace deepened. “Yes, I’ve got mild synesthesia. What’s it to you?” And don’t fucking play coy, there’s no way you could have guessed that on your own; you’ve known me for like, one day, and I haven’t even said shit about it to Casca. “It’s a harmless brain quirk. Is that really what we went all the way across the room to talk about?”
Kiribo grinned, ecstatic, and animatedly flapped his arms. “Oh no, Senior Grunt, this is just the opening line! Breaking the ice! No, what I wished to talk about is… this! Observe!”
The man made yet another of his middle-schooler poses, pressing two fingers of each hand to his temples. He sucked in a breath, held it for a moment, and then slowly exhaled in a slowly-building “Ohhhhh..!”
Hoshi’s nostrils flared, annoyance beginning to turn to confusion. “What are you..?”
“Ohhhhh..!” Kiribo continued – and as his voice rose something strange happened. The specks of orange in his bright brown eyes moved, seeming to drift across the span of his face like glitter caught by the wind.
Then he brought his extended fingers directly down, and with a sharp snap a tiny divot was pressed into the hard tile ringing the training grounds, the force coming from seemingly nowhere. Hoshi took a step back, this time in something that was stronger than apprehension, but not quite enough to call fear. “You’re…” he said, voice catching in his throat. “Psychic?”
The hunter nodded, crossing his arms in satisfaction. His expression betrayed how much that small demonstration had tired him, and the shards of orange had returned to his- no, the orange was gone, his eyes a uniform brown. “I am! And you almost certainly are as well, Senior Grunt!”
Hoshi was speechless. Obviously he’d known human psychics existed – there was an entire Pokémon Gym that employed them exclusively in Saffron, just a day’s hike north – but he’d never met one. “You… I…” What the actual fuck? “Explain. What the fuck does- how did you know I had synesthesia?”
“Oho! Well, I cannot claim the entirety of the credit; my partner was the one to first bring the possibility to my attention. Then I observed your battle earlier, and with my eyes opened to the idea…” He threw his arms to either side. “To speak honestly, I was expecting this conversation to end embarrassingly – it was quite a long shot, so I am glad I hit the bullseye! Ho ho!”
“But- but-” With one breath, then a second, Hoshi brought his flailing emotion back under control. “But what’s the connection there? Plenty of people have my condition – something like one in twenty, it isn’t rare at all. No way they’re- we’re all psychic.”
Kiribo nodded. “Indeed! I have no awareness of any concrete connection between that particular neurological phenomena and psychic abilities!” Hoshi opened his mouth, but the man held up a finger to shush him. “However! I recalled my uncle’s descriptions of his own experiences, specifically the manner in which he compared sensing emotions to seeing a cloud of colour around a person’s head! And since my partner had an inkling that your abilities were empathetic in nature, I decided to ask after your own perception of colour!” He nodded again. “And it seems I was correct! Most likely, you do not, in fact, have synesthesia at all! Now, the next step is to-”
“But you don’t know,” Hoshi interrupted, drawing a frown from Kiribo’s broad face.
“The way you reacted to my demonstration, you were obviously-”
Fuck off, we’re not half-assing this. “There has to be a real test, right? It’s not that I don’t believe you, but… come on. All we’ve established is that I have minor visual hallucinations – something that I’ve known for years. I…” I don’t want to get my hopes up. If it turns out I’ve had some special power my whole life… Fuck, no, that doesn’t just happen. That’s some storybook cartoon fairytale shit. “Let’s not jump to conclusions, here.”
Kiribo’s frown moved around his face as he chose his hext words. “…Well, I suppose you could be right. My partner wasn’t entirely sure… Are you certain this isn’t a stunning revelation? A grand key undoing the lock for an equally grand mystery, which you’ve been pondering your entire life? Disparate events suddenly lining up with perfect clarity?”
Hoshi shook his head, speechless.
“…Well. Fiddlesticks. That’s how it was for me.” Kiribo once again cupped his chin, fingers idly stroking his goatee. “Hmm… I suppose my uncle would know how to test you properly. Are you free later- no, we still have that blasted job from the Professor, he’ll become so irritable if he learns we’ve been doing more important things…”
Hoshi’s mood brightened. “Actually-”
As if on cue, the doors to the training field opened. A man – after a moment Hoshi recognised him as the guy who usually manned the front gate – poked his head in. “Is there a Hoshi Mutsu in here? I swear if this is Nak pulling another stupid prank, I’m gonna…”
“That’s me!” Hoshi called, grinning. “Let me guess: older guy with a rainbow-vomit hat?”
The guard nodded, his face exuding cool blue relief – and for the first time in years Hoshi questioned if maybe that illusory blue was something more than just a mutant neural connection. “Oh, yeah, that’s exactly how I’d describe it. He’s pulled up at the gates in the world’s shittiest bicycle – I almost sent him away, it looked so sketchy. C’mon.” With a beckoning gesture he retreated back through the doors, and Hoshi turned his grin towards the Psychic Hunter.
“Actually, we might just be done with that.”
----------------------------------------
“…Eleven, twelve, and thirteen makes twenty,” said Nak the Rocket Grunt in his retail-employee drawl. “Huh. Didn’t expect you to get it done in two days, even with a Hunter. Payment’ll be ready by next week.” He yawned. “You waiting for something, Kudzu? Door’s right over there, if you forgot.”
Even the asshole handler’s insults couldn’t dampen Hoshi’s smile. Ha. Fuck off Dabi, that was basically no work at all. “And I’ll be compensated for the balls?”
Nak gave him a sceptical look, idly rolling one of the balls around the counter. “Man, these are the most scuffed Pokéballs I’ve ever seen. Where’s you get them, the trash?”
Literally yes, but also fuck you. “They’re still real Pokéballs. So?”
“Fuck no. We’ll swap ‘em for something that doesn’t look like shit and you can take them back – though I’m considering just throwing the lot out.”
“Eat shit and die. I’ll be over to pick them up later.” Hoshi turned and, without giving the man time to retort, made for the door. He exited Bio 107 – which was usually a requisitions office when it wasn’t being used for Grunt orientation – to find Kiribo waiting for him, leaning against the wall in a pose he probably thought was cool. Damn it, does it count as an act if he can actually back it up? He’s a samurai gangster psychic with an alakazam and giant badass scar; how does he manage to make everything he does seem lame as fuck?
“Ah, Senior Grunt. Everything go swimmingly?” Some of the tiredness had been replaced by his usual enthusiasm, but…
But the orange bits are still gone. This isn’t, like, psychosomatic, right? It’s actually real?
Hoshi wasn’t sure what he was more afraid of: for the answer to that question to be yes, or no. “As well as can be expected with Nak on the other end of it. So… that’s the job done, and the rest of our day freed up.”
Kiribo pushed off from the wall. “Splendid! In that case, we should definitely visit my uncle.” He began walking, his gait even more animated than usual. “My partner should be more than capable of teaching your grunt’s slowpoke alone, so we should have-”
“Hold it.” Hoshi’s interruption caused Kiribo to look back, his expression asking what is it now? “Look, I’m as excited as you are,” Hoshi lied, his chest filled with a semi-sick trepidation more than anything. “But this… isn’t exactly urgent. I need to go back out and thank Danny, then tell my team I’ll be occupied with something; just leaving them not knowing where I’ve disappeared to would be…” Idiotic. “Ungentlemanly.”
The man’s face twisted in impatience. “Oh- fine. Rain on my parade. I shall go ahead to the basement to explain – do not make me wait too long, or I shall become cross!” He turned, startlingly mad, and marched off down the hall.
Hoshi could only stand for a moment, surprised by the outburst. His face went through several expressions before he was able to shake off the emotion, lips finally settling into a grimly hopeful line.
Arcus, no need to blow up. It’ll be a half-hour at the absolute most. He started after the man, but didn’t encounter him again on the way to the ground floor. I’ll need the time to keep processing this, anyway.
A few minutes later, and Hoshi was back at the front gate. “Good news Danny: you're getting all your balls back,” he called, striding towards his friend with a smile.
“Damn it,” Danny cursed. He plucked the hand-rolled smoke from his lips and blew out a cloud of foul-smelling grey smoke. Huh, that’s a picture-perfect koffing – got the skull marking and everything. It drifted down slowly, holding its shape surprisingly well even as it bumped against the ground. “Was hoping to get some cash back – those things are on their last legs.”
With a roll of his eyes Hoshi passed through the open gate to stand beside the poacher. Can’t turn it off for five seconds, can you? “Thanks for coming all the way out here.”
Danny snorted. “Thanks for the payment, kid. I’m already starting to have fun with it – hey, where’d that weirdo with the sword go?”
“He had other shit to do – and so do I, actually. But seriously, thanks.” Hoshi bumped fists with the man, and the old bastard laughed.
“Ha! Seriously Hoshi, don’t mention it. Actually, you can thank me by sending a few more young ladies my way, yeah?” He stubbed the smoke out under his sneakers, and Hoshi rolled his eyes a second time.
“Maybe. I’m outta grunts that fit that description – but I know a rich young blond who might be interested.”
“Fuck yeah you-” Danny cut off, eyes narrowing. “It’s that fucker with the speedo, innit?”
Hoshi answered with a light punch to the man’s shoulder. “Take care of yourself. See you around, Danny.”
“Fuckin’ get my hopes up…” he muttered, using his foot to swing up his bike’s kickstand. The guard hadn’t been wrong; it was truly a sketchy piece of machinery, so shoddy-looking Hoshi felt like a stiff breeze should make it fall to pieces. But as Danny rested his weight on the beat-up old seat, it seemed to hold him well enough. “Take care yourself, Hoshi. Remember, don’t go too deep in this shit! Stay loose!”
With those parting words the man kicked off, his legs furiously working to get up to speed as he raced down the street. Hoshi watched him go, feeling his smile dim slightly as some of the tight, mixed-together emotions the banter had washed away returned. Don’t go too deep… I think I’m a bit past that, Danny. He was about to have a long conversation with a mad scientist, one that would probably – hopefully probably – result in something other than disappointment.
Speaking of hope… Hopefully I don’t take a swing at this Rocket Professor; I’ve only got the one hand left.
The tepid joke dislodged enough anxiety that he could turn back to the academy, and as he passed through the gate and into the grounds, the guard gave him a strange look. “What the fuck language was that guy speaking?” the man said, voice dripping confusion.
Hoshi looked at him, then snorted. “Man, I don’t even know. You get used to it, though.”
----------------------------------------
“Another breath, Jormungandr! I can feel them flagging!”
The desperate words from her man’s main rival were sweet as they washed over Casca’s ears. “You think so?” she replied. “Well think again! Quake, give us another Mud-Slap!”
Like their earlier battle, this could also be called a grind – but unlike before, this was a grind she was winning. Quake was just too fast, and the dragon too slow. And it helps that all those hits to the legs are adding up, she thought with a giggle.
A thick wad of mud struck the bagon right in the face, and its beam of blue fire went wide. Ryan growled, all but gnashing his teeth as his composure broke. “Damnation! Again!”
“You heard the man! One more Mud-Slap, then follow it with Bulldoze!”
The exchange happened again, nearly identical, and Casca continued to giggle. It’s funny. They both have the exact same flaw; they get angry too easily. Ryan was a good battler – much better than her, at least – but the moment things turned the man absolutely lost his cool, and resorted to spamming his dragon’s ‘strongest’ move – which it didn’t seem to be super well equipped to handle, each Dragon Breath draining the little guy’s stamina in a way its other moves didn’t.
As yet another beam was dodged by her dugtrio simply ducking beneath the earth, Casca’s eyes passed behind her opponent to notice the doors opening again in the background. There he is. Oh, but no Kiribo? Bulldoze sent shockwaves across the entire room, bouncing Jormungandr a foot up into the air and rattling her knees.
Ryan actually did gnash his teeth, finally conceding as his dragon flopped down with a squawk. He pulled his lone ball free, his voice and face both tight. “Fine! It seems my winning streak has ended prematurely. Jormungandr, return!”
“Yeah!” Casca crowed as the bagon disappeared. “First battle, first win! Hoshi, get over here!”
Her man walked onto the field, passing close enough that he nearly rubbed shoulders with Ryan – which had to be intentional; they didn’t look at each other but she could feel the sparks fly. He opened his arms and she flung herself forward for a hug.
“Ha! C’mon Casca, you win all the time.” He leaned down, planting a small kiss on her forehead.
“Don’t care,” she dismissed. “Quake’s got a one-hundred-percent win rate. Gotta milk that as hard as possible!” The hug continued for another second, but as they pulled away she noticed something peeking out from behind Hoshi’s seemingly content smile. “…Bad news?”
He blinked, somehow still surprised by her ability to judge his moods. “No. Not at all, actually.”
“Hmm… What’s with the long face, then?”
As Hoshi lapsed into a brooding silence, Ryan approached. “Good battle,” he conceded. “I suppose I should have expected this outcome, pitting a young Pokémon against a fully evolved one. Tell me, what would you have done if I’d gone for Rage rather than Dragon Breath?”
Her smile came back. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Sucker Punch is the perfect counter to buffing moves – even if you didn’t turn sloppy there was no way out! Quake had you in a losing fight from the very start!
The grunt made a dismissive sound. “Fine, I suppose I’ll simply have to uncover it in our next battle. Mutsu, you up for another round? Jormungandr and I remain undeterred, despite today’s poor showing!”
Hoshi’s expression evened out, though his mask wasn’t quite thick enough to hide the worry and… hope, maybe, lurking behind. “Actually, I’ve got to split early. Something… new has come up.” He reached up to rub at his temple. “Hopefully I’ll be able to finish up before you all are done, but if I don’t then don’t wait up.”
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Something that isn’t bad, but that complicates things… “Are we getting another job?”
Again, Hoshi refuted her. “No – not that I’ve heard, anyway. This is a personal thing – a, uh, medical thing, I guess. I…” He wet his lips. “I don’t want to say what it is right now. Might be- probably it’s a false alarm.”
Okay, now you’re getting me worried, stud. “Hoshi…” she said warningly.
“No, seriously, it’s nothing bad. Promise.” He sent a smile her way, then turned to where Kenny was doing pushups with his sandshrew. “Can you tell the other two I’ll be gone? I shouldn’t keep Kiribo and Hypno waiting.”
Casca let out a disgusted moan. “Hoshi! You can’t say that and not tell us anything! Now I’ll be on pins and needles until you come back!” She put on an exaggerated expression of annoyance, puffing up her cheeks, which drew a small snort. “Jerk.”
Ryan rolled his eyes at their exchange. “Must you flirt so egregiously at our place of work? I can feel myself losing more respect for the chain of command with each passing second.” Hoshi sent a middle finger the man’s way, which he returned in kind. “But fine, I shall cover for your absence. I hope this mysterious issue is resolved to your satisfaction.”
“Hopefully,” Hoshi replied, and after a moment of hesitation he trotted away – only to stop and look back. “Wait, one last thing. What colour are Kiribo’s eyes?”
Casca’s eyes narrowed at the strange question, letting Ryan answer first. “I can’t say I recall. Brown, perhaps?”
“Would you say they were dull or bright?”
Ryan shook his head, and she tentatively answered. “I’m having a hard time thinking of anything to say other than chestnut brown. Does that answer your question?”
Hoshi chewed on his tongue. “…Yeah, thanks. I’ll see you later.”
----------------------------------------
Down the stairs, navigate the less maze-like layout of the basement, cut around a section where diglett decided to rearrange the tunnels…
And Hoshi was standing in front of the door. Elec 303 stared back at him, bronze paint catching the light as if to mock the butterfree flapping around in his stomach.
This… This can’t be real, right? I’ve never done anything even vaguely psychic; no bent spoons, no premonitions of the future, no hearing thoughts… Oh fuck, has Hypno been reading my thoughts this whole time? Has Kiribo? Hoshi’s heartbeat was frantic, fast and weak to match the fluttering wings brushing the inside of his gut and the half-formed thoughts rushing around his head. What will even happen if it turns out I am? Do I- I don’t-
He had no idea what he would do with that information. It was so… foreign, the idea of Hoshi Mutsu having some special power. All his life he’d had to scrape by, his pride tied tightly to the anchor of his self-sufficiency. Having something handed to him like this…
Don’t. Stop thinking about it and just… move. Move forward. Slowly, haltingly, his hand moved forward. No blast of red annoyance cleared out his anxiety as he turned the knob, fingers gripping only weakly, wrist limp like old celery left too long in the fridge.
The chaos of Hypno’s laboratory washed over him as he stepped inside. It was even more frantic than he’d remembered, dozens of scientists whipping across the room or hunched over desks. Even the Pokémon in their giant tubes seemed to be expending greater effort, the weezings’ eyes closed in grimaces as thick smog poured from their pores, the muk churning their slimy bodies into whirling pools that shone with sick iridescence in the harsh lights.
The whole room was thick with the smell of sweat and chemicals, unsettling Hoshi’s guts even further. Do I… just go in? Or would Hypno still be napping up in the classroom? Maybe I should go check there first…
No, this was just the urge to avoid the situation winding its fingers through his brain. At last a small curl of self-admonishment forced his legs to move, and Hoshi ducked past the industrial crusher to find Hypno’s personal office.
Before he could hesitate again he opened the door, sliding in without knocking to find…
Hypno alone, no Kiribo in sight. The old scientist looked up from the papers scattered across the surface of his desk, a spark of surprise morphing into his usual lecherous grin. “Oh, there you are,” he said as Hoshi closed the door with all the calm he could scrape together. “Kiribo said you would be down shortly. Hoo, and then the boy trotted off to sulk when I told him how long the experiments would take – he really has no patience!”
He stood, levering himself upwards with the help of his cane. “Now then; you think you might have some talent as a psychic, is that right?”
Hoshi swallowed. “I… Kiribo thought so, but I’m skeptical. I’ve never noticed anything strange happening-” Deep breaths, Hoshi. Stop panicking. “I asked him if there was some sort of test, and he said to come to you. So… here I am.”
“Here you are indeed!” Hypno exclaimed, looking Hoshi up and down. “And in fact, my nephew was right. There is a test – or more accurately a range of tests, but I don’t have quite enough time to go down the whole list today.” He waddled forward, and Hoshi could tell that midday nap or not, the man was still exhausted. “Not enough hours in the day – oh, I should say!” He extended his hand, and after a moment of confusion Hoshi’s brain kicked itself into gear, and he shook it. “Thank you very much!”
“Uh, for..?”
“For placing the Super Re-router properly! We’ve been able to penetrate deep into the league’s data storage with it, and it’s- well, it’s quite helpful. I'm sure you don’t need the technical explanation, hoo hoo!”
“Just doing the job, sir,” Hoshi awkwardly replied, the doctor still pumping his arm up and down. “So… the test?”
“Ah, yes,” Hypno said, finally releasing his clammy grip. “Luckily my assistants have been too occupied to make room for the new equipment coming in – another week and we would have had to dig what we'll be using out of storage. You’ve very lucky timing, grunt!” He exited out into the chaos without another word, and Hoshi followed.
I don’t feel very lucky, right now.
They passed through the room, and as they went Hoshi realised it was actually quite a bit larger than he’d thought; the industrial machines and a number of interior walls and support pillars obscured its true size. Hypno led them to an out-of-the-way corner, dust and even a few cobwebs decorating a series of smaller, more person-sized machines that set an ominous tone. Is that a dentist’s chair with spikes welded on..? You know what, maybe I don’t want to know if I’m psychic or not…
Hoshi sent the thought away, though some nervousness clung fast as the scientist dusted off a few of the more medieval-looking pieces.
“Now, there are actually a number of different types of psychic expression, and as I said before I am strapped for time, so I’ll only be testing you on the most common, most useful ones. Let’s see here…”
“Kiribo said that I was… probably empathetic. I have synesthesia, and… he said you do too?”
Hypno waved his hand in dismissal, not looking back. “My dear nephew has no head for theory, so I’m not going to listen to a word he says. We’ll give you the proper follow-through – well, the properly quick follow-through. Here we are; let’s start with the telekinetic measurement test. Put on these gloves, and make sure they’re tight.”
Hoshi did multiple tests, and as the minutes passed he became increasingly downtrodden. I knew it. Fatass was full of shit.
He was unable to shift the pin of the telekinetic measurement device, no matter how hard he strained or how tightly he cinched the bulky, uncomfortable gloves. He was equally unable to light a match or bend a spoon with the aid of a strange light-weight helmet, and his guesses when Hypno strapped him into the torture chair and had him flip a coin were no better than random.
“Don’t be discouraged, young man!” Hypno said, much more chipper – in fact the testing seemed to be revitalising him some. I guess he prefers hands-on work to paperwork, Hoshi thought with a grimace as the man strapped yet another contraption to his forehead, blocking the top and sides of his vision.
“Now this one’s a bit complicated, so listen closely: I’m going to show you a series of images, and the moment the third appears I want you to blurt out what the fourth will be. Don’t think about it consciously, just let your mouth move. Alright, here we go…”
That doesn’t sound complicated at all. The doctor inserted a white screen into the front of the helmet, blocking the last of Hoshi’s vision, and a moment later a stark 1 was projected directly into his eyes. Fuck, that’s bright.
The image changed to a 2, then a 3, and Hoshi said “Four” without having to think.
Then the screen shifted to show 5, and he grit his teeth. Oh, so it does trick fucking questions. Great.
A pichu, a pikachu, a raichu, “Voltorb.” Raticate.
Smiley face, frowny face, crying face, “Angry face.” Angry face.
House, car, boat, “Motorcycle.” Street Lamp.
Circle, square, octagon, “Triangle.” Triangle.
Hoshi’s mood was buoyed up when he guessed the next two to get three in a row, but then a long streak of losses brought him back down. This is dumb. I’m obviously just guessing. But he continued; he’d gotten far enough in that there was no point in backing out now.
Book, television, radio, “Computer.” Computer.
C, R, B, “Dee.” B.
Eye, nose, ear. “Mouth.” Hand.
The screen was blank for a moment before shutting off, and Hoshi sighed quietly. A second later a long hum came from his left.
Hypno continued to make thoughtful sounds as the moment dragged on. “Interesting…”
“What?” That didn’t seem any better than the others. Also, can you take this shit off? Not being able to see is fucking with my head.
The doctor hummed again, and then rummaging sounds came from somewhere behind. Hoshi lost his patience, fumbling the helmet off on his own. “What?" He repeated, staring at Hypno’s back as he dug around in a cardboard box.
“Just a moment,” came the muffled reply. “I’m sure there’s a bit of it around here – aha!” He emerged with a comically large syringe, and Hoshi blanched. “Here’s the ticket! Hold still, a little injection, and..!”
Hoshi rose and stumbled backwards, bumping into some machine. “Fuck off! The tip of that thing’s as wide as my finger, I’ll fucking die!”
Hypno looked from the Senior Grunt to the syringe and back again, and then waved him off. “Oh, don’t be silly. This one is for refueling the Aetheric Measurement Device; this is yours.” He waggled his hand, and Hoshi noticed the second, much more reasonable syringe.
“…S-still. What even is in there? And how long has it been in that box?”
Another gesture of dismissal. “No need to be concerned, grunt. There’s nothing even remotely organic; it could sit for a hundred years and still be fresh. Now if you’ll roll up your sleeve…”
He took a step forward, and Hoshi took one back. The doctor frowned, but Hoshi’s mind was made up. Nope. Not letting you inject me with your mad science bullshit. Especially not after you dodged the question. “I think I’d prefer to do the tests without anything invasive, alright?”
“Ah, afraid of needles, are you? Well, I have just the thing – Kimmy, give me a hand here.”
Hoshi plucked Guts’s ball from his belt as the red light coalesced into a hypno. “Fuck off! I’m not having it!” He took a few steps towards the edge of the abandoned machinery, and Hypno – the man, not the Pokémon – sighed.
“Don’t be difficult, grunt, it’s just an injection. Perfectly safe. Kimmy?”
She bleated, and the pendulum she was holding began to swing. Hoshi took another step, keeping his eyes firmly on the tool – which was important; he had to watch for the moment the hostile Pokémon attacked.
“I’m not an idiot. I’m not going to get hypnotised, not when it’s so obvious.” Silence, the silver ring continuing to gently swing from side to side. “Doc?”
“There we are. Kimmy honey, you can stop now.”
The hypno jerked her wrist, and as the silver ring jumped up she enclosed it with her near-perfectly-human fist. The moment it was out of sight Hoshi spasmed, a flash of hot pain radiating from the crook of his elbow as his vision widened back to normal. “Fuck! You- never do that again!” Holy shit, I didn’t even realise – he could have slit my fucking throat and I’d have just stood there watching the pretty swinging thing.
“Don’t be overdramatic now,” Hypno dismissed as he returned his Pokémon. “We still have plenty of tests to conduct – here, fill up the device while I look for a few items to help.” He held out the larger, arm-sized syringe, and after indulging a brief dream of clocking him upside the head with it Hoshi returned Guts’s ball to his belt and took the surprisingly heavy thing.
“The port’s on the top. Now, where would it be… I recall…”
Still shaken, Hoshi watched the doctor rummage in another box for a moment before warily stepping back to the front-heavy helmet. Fuck, do I keep going? If I try to stop, is he just going to force me? The elderly scientist seemed a lot more dangerous now. I knew that a hypno could do that, but – I never imagined I’d be on the end of it. I didn’t feel fucking shit. He swallowed thickly. The short, ugly little man didn’t even attempt to put up any sort of guard, leaving his back wide open; for him, this was just a distraction from his paperwork.
I did it again. Put myself under the power of someone I thought was harmless… There’s no way I’ve got some special empathy, otherwise this shit wouldn’t happen.
The churning distaste paradoxically calmed him, and Hoshi’s beating heart slowed to a more sustainable rhythm. “Fuck it,” he muttered whisper-quiet. I’ve already gotten a dose of mystery gunk; might as well ride it out to the end. He raised the syringe, grimacing at the milky substance within. Arcus, it looks like two parts glitter to one part apple jam. What the fuck is this?
He found the port Hypno had mentioned, stuck the syringe in, and paused. “All of it?” he called to the still-searching doctor.
“All of it! If there are a few drops left in the tube that’s fine, but be sure not to spill any! That stuff’s rarer than gold, hoo hoo!” A sharp clink sounded out as he rooted around, and Hoshi turned back to the helmet.
The fluid was unpleasantly thick, and he needed to use the weight of his body to depress the plunger. “This… isn’t the same stuff that you put in me, is it?” Just thinking about it made his stomach churn; it seemed that the butterfree from earlier had transformed into grimer.
“It is!” the doctor replied, and Hoshi’s teeth clenched. “The main ingredient is- ah! Here we are!” Don’t fucking cut off in the middle you fucking cocksucker! Arcus’s fucking halo! His stomach did another flip.
“Here we are!” Hypno exclaimed, suddenly much closer, and Hoshi tossed the now-empty syringe to the side. “Ooh, careful! Some of this equipment can be delicate.”
“What was the main ingredient? You cut yourself off.” Hoshi attempted to keep his voice even, but his rising gorge added a note of panic without his input. And why are you carrying a bucket?
“Hold these,” Hypno said as he shoved the bucket and another item into Hoshi’s hands. “I’ll secure the device – but to answer your question, the Astral Enhancement Fluid is composed mainly of a very rare substance. I believe the colloquial term is stardust.” The strap once again tightened against Hoshi’s forehead – but this time he had to strain his neck to keep himself from rocking forward; with the fluid inside, the helmet was heavy. “Now sit down, and we’ll do the futuresight test again.”
Stardust..? Hoshi questioned internally as he obeyed. Like, that whacko medicine they make from staryu gems..? “And having that junk in my blood will help, somehow?”
“Just so,” the doctor answered as he turned the screen back on. “As you focus, concentrate on the foci in your good hand.”
“My good hand’s in a cast, Doc.”
A noise of dismissal. “Your other one, then. And if you need to vomit, well, that’s what the bucket’s for. Same test as before; don’t think, just speak."
Oh, magnificent, so the nausea’s normal, then… A cartoon pig flashed, followed by a rooster, a cow, “Chicken.” Barn. Go fuck yourself.
Then, a strange sensation. He completely missed the next sequence of images as the second object the doctor had passed him – a ball of what felt like stone – seemed to grow warm in his hand. “Huh?”
“Concentrate! The solution will enhance your abilities, but its effect is short-lived! Focus!”
Hoshi did his best to ignore the feeling of bile creeping up his throat, gripping the stone firmly and bringing his attention back to the screen pressed up against his eyes.
1, 11, 12, “Twenty-one.” 21.
Sun, moon, half-moon, “Star.” Star.
His heart jumped into his throat, followed by a mouthful of vomit. He swallowed both back down.
Rattata, pidgey, weedle, “Zubat.” Pikachu.
Red circle, green circle, yellow circle, “Red circle.” Blue circle. Fuck fuck fuck!
The test continued. There were spots where he felt like he must be getting it, but then a string of bad guesses would crush him back down. As the screen flicked off Hoshi was certain that he hadn’t been any better at predicting the next image than he had been the first time.
“Fascinating results,” the professor muttered from behind Hoshi’s back, and once again he was forced to remove the helmet – now substantially lighter, unless his brain was playing a trick on him – from his head himself.
“Fascinating how? I don’t think my guesses were any better than the first round.”
“Oh, whether you got any of them right means nothing. I’m only recording your brain waves, not your words.”
Hoshi spat into the bucket, feeling terrible. Now that there wasn’t a bright light shining directly into his eyes he could see that his vision was swimming. Arc, I feel like I’ve swallowed an actual grimer. “Brain waves?”
“Oh yes, brain waves. You’re definitely psychic, young man. Readings are actually quite splendid – you might have the gift of prophecy, though we shouldn’t get our hopes up quite yet.”
Hoshi spat again, then raised the thing in his hand up to his eyes, curious. “Prophecy? I barely got any right.” The thing Hypno had called a foci was, as he’s assumed, a ball of stone. Jet black, and smooth but for a pattern of three crudely carved eyes. Huh. Looks kind of like a Rocket Ball…
“Again, the answers, and how correct you were, are irrelevant. You haven’t trained a day in your life after all.” Then the doctor suddenly erupted into manic laughter, the long, loud string of “Hoo hoo hoo!”s making Hoshi jolt. “Oh yes, some good readings indeed! I didn’t dare imagine it, but you likely outstrip myself a few dozen times over!”
“Dozen..?!” Hoshi choked out.
“Oh, no, that isn’t particularly impressive – I’m quite dull, where psychic abilities are concerned. Had to make a few deals with the Dexus to even begin. But enough about me, we have more tests to run! There’s probably another hit of fluid floating around somewhere, and-”
The rest of the sentence failed to reach Hoshi’s ears as he noisily lost the battle against his nausea, vomiting into the bucket. Oh Arcus, fucking kill me now..!
No merciful god responded to his prayer, and another round of thin bile forced itself up his esophagus.
“…Ah, perhaps another day, then. Don’t worry, as I said the effect is short-lived.”
----------------------------------------
The Rocket Professor hadn't been lying, but Hoshi still felt he was an utter dick as he made his way back to the battle court.
Motherfucker, ‘short-lived’ my ass. The nausea had mostly cleared within a few minutes, but it had been replaced by an ungodly headache. Arcus, whatever bullshit superpower I’ve got had better be worth this.
The doors opened, and Hoshi saw that his grunts were gone. In their place was a duo of… Are those martial artists? Beat up gis, headbands, a poliwhirl and hitmontop mimicking their movements… Yes, they were most likely martial artists.
One of them spotted him and, to Hoshi’s quiet bafflement, snapped off a salute. “Sir!” he exclaimed, voice crisp. “What can we do for you?”
“Uh… Have you seen anyone else around? Like, was anyone in here when you arrived?”
The other karate-guy answered, his voice deeper to match his broader chest. “Yes sir! There was a well-built woman meditating with her slowpoke! We would have challenged her, but it was obvious she was undergoing intense mental training!”
Hoshi stared at the two saluting men for a moment. “...Alright. As you were.”
“Sir!” “Sir!”
Well, Hoshi thought as he closed the door behind him. I guess that clinches it: Rocket hires only the most insane whackjobs possible. Ugh, it’s probably way later than I think it is… The building didn’t have a single window he could use to check the sun, and his vision was still swimming hard enough that he couldn’t quite make out the hands of his watch. Whatever. Today…
He took a step, then another, the headache pulsing in time with his heart.
…Was probably not nearly as shitty as I think it was, right now. Yeah, I’ll feel a lot better once I get home, sleep this off, get some food in me…
The bile on his tongue felt gritty, like sand. Bleh. Psychic powers… woo-hoo…