Porov was downright flabbergasted as he watched the two trainees get up. “Do ye… ye kids aren’t feelin’ off, are ye?”

“No,” Blitzer answered as he rubbed his head, gritting his teeth. “Well, besides eating a wall sandwich, I’m perfectly fine, thank you very much.” Though his gaze was easing, he still wasn’t letting George off the hook. His tail crackled, causing the shadows all across the room to flicker and waver.

“R-really?” Porov asked again.

“Uh, yeah?” George asked, trying to distract himself from the Charmeleon death stare being shot his way. “You can see that for yourself, right? I mean, we flew into a wall but-”

A droning hum drowned George’s voice out. One flash later, Allora was present and accounted for, panting with her eyes dashing all over the place. “Sw-sweet Xerneas almighty, are you two alright?!”

Blitzer rubbed the top of his snout. “Other than being knocked into a wall, yeah. Why wouldn’t we be?” he asked. Allora snapped her jaws before breathing out in relief. George preemptively crawled his way into a corner to hide in, as if Allora would attack him. As if crawling into a corner would save him if she did.

“Th-this, that was incredibly dangerous right there! No one’s ever dared use the same teleporter at the same time!”

“Yeh, but the lil human did it anyway,” Porov grumbled, pounding the ground between George and himself with a fist. “Yer a fool, ya know that, right? Ye could’ve gotten yerself and ‘im killed! ‘S my student right there!” he said, eyebrows flaring. An ominous shadow was cast over his eyes and the black-gemmed necklace he wore.

George’s breaths intensified through his narrow airway. He had to pull back his scarf to breathe.

“L-look, I didn’t mean for that to happen, okay? I didn’t want him to get hurt-”

“Yeh, and now ye hurt him!” Porov growled back. An even deeper growl suddenly shook the room. Heads turned.

“No he didn’t! This isn’t pain, it’s an itch! George wouldn’t hurt me on purpose, ever!” Blitzer shouted, claws spread and teeth bared. Every part of his body was spoiling for a fight, oblivious to the arena being a wooden storage room. With all the vats, barrels, and miscellaneous brooms and bottles scattered across the back walls, any fight breaking out would get everyone hurt. George pushed himself out the corner, hoping to intervene before all hell broke loose, only for Allora to beat him to it.

“Whoa, whoa! Easy now, boys!” The Carracosta got in between the two. “No need to get upset! Look on the bright side, now we know two people can safely teleport, hahahahah!”

George furrowed his brow with a harumph. ‘Pretty sure flying into walls isn’t safe, but what do I know.’

Porov shook his head. “I didn’t mean t’ get upset, ‘kay? Just want me boy to remain healthy while I’m in charge of ‘im.”

“And I don’t want you to hurt George,” Blitzer said right after.

“I wasn’t gonna,” Porov replied.

“No one here wants to hurt anyone if they don’t have to!” Allora said with a laugh, slowly stepping towards the door next to Porov. “We’re all in this together, yeah? Georgie thought Blizzie was getting hurt, you thought Georgie was hurtin’ Blizzie, and Blizzie thought you were hurtin’ Georgie! Don’t let these dumb little misunderstandings get in your way, ‘aight? I’d hate to have to drag anyone to a healer, you know!”

Porov leaned himself upright, then rubbed his face with both his hands. “Alright…”

On Allora’s insistence, the three apologised to each other. Some bitterness still lingered afterwards: George could practically taste it when giving his own apology. It was tough. Everyone was right, yet wrong, and ready to brawl over it. Were this back home, chances were strong it would’ve ended like a story George had heard. Three thugs crossed each other, and chaos ensued. They were found the next morning in that same alley. Imagining how bad things could’ve gotten with Pokemon’s strength instead of weapons, he shivered.

‘We’d have taken this whole building down with us, all over nothing… Porov alone would have burned it to the ground! Why did he get so mad, anyway?’

From the corner of his eye, George saw Porov clutch onto his necklace as he half-limped his way past the door. He sighed, before following.

* * *

Drama, fights. Things you wouldn’t forget so easily, so George thought. But dear god almighty if the stench on the other side of the door didn’t manage after one whiff. George’s face instantly soured upon entering the bar. Right next to him, Blitzer plugged his nose with two digits. The air reeked of fermented berry juice, and the sensation was as appealing as day old roadkill.

Neither Allora and Porov seemed to mind it, though. Porov especially was all too happy to breathe like usual. All the while, Blitzer had turned into a mouth breather, and George was gagging.

‘Uugh, does anyone have a bucket?’ The Oshawott looked around. Various Pokemon with crooked faces and slouched figures were sitting at the bar cackling away, leaving the other half of the room empty. Male, female, rock, steel, dark or grass, it didn’t matter: Everyone was their own unique shade of unpleasant, the dim lighting at the bar not making them look any friendlier.

Allora spun back around. ‘’Hm. Give us just a moment, alright? We need to see if the coast is clear before we leave this place.”

“Huh? You’re not telling us we have to stay here, right?” Blitzer pleaded with his eyes.

Porov shrugged. “Well, this right ‘ere is the safest place in town, so yeh. Me boys, ‘tis to make sure there ain’t any soldiers runnin around, ya hear? Mountainshade might be ours, but that ain’t stoppin’ the Crest from comin’ here.”

“You can’t be serious, right?” George said with his hands held out, whipping his tail all the while. “Look at this place, if there’s any place you’d get stabbed, it’s here!”

Allora chuckled. “Don’t be so silly. They may be rowdy, but they’ve got good heads and hearts. And look, plenty of empty space! Don’t worry, this won’t take long, alright?”

“But-”

Whatever protests Blitzer and George had landed on deaf ears. Allora and Porov walked off and out of the bar, and neither Blitzer nor George was willing to try their luck with the Muk at the entrance, despite the black badge sticking around his sludge. They sighed, before resigning themselves to an seat at the empty half.

* * *

“Ugh.”

George and Blitzer sat around for hour long minutes, occasionally ribbing at the bar or the smell. A waiter came by to drop off some orange juice. Allora and Porov were regular customers, it turned out, and the staff were willing to do favours for them. Especially something as small as a free drink or two. Given that neither George or Blitzer were carrying anything to pay with it was appreciated.

Still, the tension in the air wasn’t helped. The bar was smelly, loud, and an inexplicable chill crept up George’s spine just sitting down. A kind of chill that made one uncomfortable in their own skin.

“You feel that?” George asked with chattering teeth.

Blitzer grimaced. “If you mean how cold it is, then yeah, I do.”

George shook his head. “I don’t know, this dump of a bar’s warm enough, yet I still feel like I walked into a freezer. Even with your tail doing it’s thing.”

“What’s a-,” Blitzer closed his mouth as fast as he opened it, shivering all the while. “Nevermind. Uugh. I’m not supposed to be cold.“

“Well yeah, you’re a fire type,” George said.

“Not even that, usually I burn a stick when it is really cold,” Blitzer said, before lifting his glass of orange juice up for a sipt. George did the same with one hand, and straightened the folds of his scarf out with the other. The feeling of being watched lingered, its icy touch unimpeded by any scarf, fire or drink.

“Can’t do that here though. I don’t want to burn any buildings to the ground.”

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The Charmeleon spoke in a sombre tone, one that seized George’s attention. “You sound really sad when you say it like that. You… you’re not telling me you did that by accident once, did you? I know Ihow strong your fire is, but you used it in that shop, didn’t you? And it didn’t burn to the ground, so I-”

“Why, that is exactly what he is telling you, George.”

The echoes of a voice made all the hairs in George’s neck stand up straight. It wasn’t Blitzer’s. Nor was it of anyone at the bar. It couldn’t be, when it came from the wall.

‘That voice…’

Just as the hairs across George’s fur stood up, so did the fire on Blitzer’s tail crackle unnervingly. A soft hiss came out the Charmeleon’s throat when a black shape emerged from the wall, a mere arms length removed from George. The Oshawott felt his heart beat against his ribcage. Blitzer on one side, the shape on the other, and fatigue creeping up his feet left him unable to shift aside. It had become harder to breathe, like the air itself was pressuring him down.

All the while, the shape had finally revealed himself. Between the lone eye, the antenna above said eye, the unnerving mouth on his ghastly body and the grey hands leaning on the table, there was no mistaking who this was.

“Hein,” George uttered, sounding as if he were choking on his tongue. ‘So he managed to get out of Greenfield. That’s… not much of a surprise, but… why? Is he here?’

“Surprised to see me here?” The Dusknoir echoed, tapping his fingers on the table. Peering over his shoulder, George saw several patrons pointing out the ghost’s sudden appearance. Half of them were shaking; the bartender tried to calm them down.

“Y-you, you’re supposed to be dead…” Blitzer muttered. Hein turned his eye towards the Charmeleon, folding his arms in an overexaggerated manner.

“Why now, that is no way to talk to an old man, you know. Even though you’re speaking the truth. But not in the way you think.”

Blitzer swallowed, then clutched onto his own tail for comfort. George furrowed his brow. “Why are you here?” he asked with a scowl, his nerves and frustration at war with each other. Part of him was frightened to the core. The other hadn’t forgotten the previous encounters with the ghost, and it sure wasn’t letting them go now.

Hein replied with a scoff, tucking his hands into his ectoplasm. George’s brow furrowed a little deeper.

“Unfinished business, shall we say. In case it wasn’t clear to you yet, I have a certain goal of mine to keep track of. One I will not let anyone interfere with… no matter what.”

The Dusknoir’s eye took on a blood red glow. “And while working on said goal, I couldn’t help but notice a few things since we last met. You’ve made some new friends.”

George did his best to not look impressed by the eye staring him down. “s-So? Why don’t you tell me about your business first, o-okay?”

Hein waved two fingers in front of George’s face. “Oh, it’s just some errands I promised myself to run long ago, that’s all. Only reason it hasn’t been done already is because I’m too old for this nonsense.” He leaned over the table until his eye loomed right over George’s head, like a sword hanging on a thread. “Now then. Your friends.”

“W-will you stop staring at me like that?!” George asked. He put a lot of force into his words, yet what came out wasn’t much louder than a whisper. Nevertheless, Hein listened.

“As you wish.”

George glanced beside him for a split second. Blitzer shook like his skeleton wanted to crawl out of his skin.

“But yes, your friends. You’ve been getting cosy with the Grand Alliance, haven’t you?” Hein echoed. George pulled on his scarf for comfort.

“Yeah. They saved our lives when Greenfield was attacked.”

“Hm. And you are now with them, correct?” Hein asked.

“Y-yeah. What of it?” George replied.

The Dusknoir turned and floated away, tracing a hand along his collar. He passed straight through an empty table without any struggle, ectoplasm and all. George gulped.

‘The way his body just tapers off into nothing is just… god. No wonder kids are so scared of ghosts even though they’re not real. Maybe ghosts do exist back home after all…’

“Let me make one thing crystal clear, yes?”

Upon his return, Hein raised George’s glass of orange juice up to his eye, stirring the contents inside around before setting it back down. “People aren’t always who they seem to be. A wise man told me that a long time ago. For the longest time, I didn’t pay much heed to it. But after many decades have gone by, I see his point.”

“What are you talking about?” George asked, to which Hein shugged.

“What I mean is that many people only show you the face they want you to see, George. You’ve seen it for yourself, haven’t you? The Soldiers. In the-”

“That’s not the Alliance!” Blitzer blurted out, then reeled back against the wall. Hein had but a a shake of his antenna to give.

“When I say most, do you honestly think there’d be any exceptions, just because of a particular category? No one is an exception. No one. Even your father.”

“W-why are you bringing my father into this?” Blitzer chirped out, his throat vibrating.

Hein’s eye dawled off to the bar for a moment. Most of the patrons reeled back on their stools as his gaze passed over them, like prey hiding from a predator.

“Come on now. We’ve lived in the same town for years. Of course there are a few things I’d know about him that you wouldn’t. People tend to be their best for those they’re trying to mould. Your father wanted you to be an upstanding member of society,” he echoed, then scoffed afterwards.

George hit the table with a flat hand. “Enough with the stories. People show the face they want us to? Like you, right? That’s what you’re doing.” ‘And what an ugly face you have.’

“But of course,” Hein echoed back. “Why would I be an exception? I did say there were none.”

The ghost placed the back of his hand on the side of George’s head. Cold shot through him like electricity. He clammed up, tried to nudge the hand away with his own, but it didn’t budge. It passed straight through, and one glance up at the Dusknoir made clear he wasn’t struggling even a little. In fact, he didn’t seem to notice the nudge. All his attention was focused upon George’s head like a laser from an ever brightening source. George shivered as far away as he could sitting on the chair.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Hein put his free hand on the table, leaning forwards until the lone eye loomed overhead, like a deity watching over their subjects, capable of smiting any of them with a mere thought.

“Because I want you to understand something. You know who you are. The powers that be know so too. You should be critical of anyone you encounter. Even those offering help. For if you don’t…” the entirety of the eye glew blood red. “...you are destined for a tragic end. It is only a matter of time before a certain Garchomp’s claws will be at your throat. Or worse.”

George’s breaths intensified much like Blitzer’s. Their silence painted a thousand words.

“You… you’re not going to kill us, are you?” came out of the Oshawott’s mouth. ‘Why did I ask him that.’

“Of course not,” Hein deadpanned.“There is no reason for me to want you dead. But there are plenty in this world who do. You may not know who they are yet… but they know who you are. Be very careful who you trust. That is all this old man has to say,” Hein echoed as he drifted backwards, his hands grabbing onto the corners on his end of the table.

George squeezed his eyes shut for a while, hoping the Dusknoir would just leave them alone already. His presence was beating down on them like a bad headache from a deep dive. Porov and Allora still hadn’t returned. What was taking them so long?

“If you say so,” the Oshawott muttered after a while. ‘It’s not like I trust everyone automatically. I don’t.’

“Good,” Hein echoed. “Do you have any remaining questions?”

George’s first instinct was to say no. But that wasn’t true. “Actually, tell me something. What am I supposed to look out for, exactly? Something more specific than untrustworthiness. I’ve seen plenty of that already.”

Hein let go off the table. “Your answer tells me you already know what. Or so I hope.”

George furrowed his brow, then sucked on his gum. “Yeah. I guess I do.” ‘Ghosts with mouths on their chests, for one. Lecturing narcissists as well.’

“Perfect. Now then, if you excuse me, I will be getting myself a drink. Until we meet again.”

And so, to little fanfare, the Dusknoir floated off to the bar, passing through another table until he had reached an empty stool. The bartender was looking rather agitated over his performance. George chuckled, then turned back to a still shivering Blitzer.

“Glad that’s over.”

“Y-yeah,” Blitzer said. “L-like, I don’t know about you, but,” he paused to swallow, “he’s honestly more terrifying than that monster of a Garchomp. Even after she almost turned us into minced meat.”

George shook his head. “What’s his problem? Comes up to me to tell me to be careful, gave us orders and strange letters for some reason, did… I don’t even know what that was back in the cafe. You remember that? That attack where he knocked the daylights out of that Luxray? Ridiculous,” he said, before taking a sip from his juice.

“He’s still here,” Blitzer whispered.

“Not for long, by the looks of it,” George whispered back. “Can’t imagine it gets much worse.”

Just as George finished, a snap reverberated throughout the bar. A dozen more followed, each loud enough to make everyone’s glass rinkle. George covered his ears as they went flat against his head, Blitzer hissed while covering his ear holes, and both ducked until it had stopped. When they looked back to the bar, they saw the Tsareena tending to the bar and their customers clutching their heads, dizzy as can be. All the while, Hein had laid his black arms over the bar, his ectoplasm stirring lightly.

“Hello. What a cute little establishment you’ve got here. Do you happen to sell any coffee?”

“Yes, sir,” the Tsareena said with visible difficulty. “Ah, my apologies, my head is aching all of a sudden.”

“Happens to the best of us, does it not?” Hein deadpanned.

George and Blitzer slowly turned to face each other, both with eyes so wide they appeared to be on the verge of rolling out of their sockets.

“I really hope we’ll never see him again…” Blitzer shakily whispered, clutching his heart in search of comfort.

“Me too,” George replied, his ears and tail dropped down. ‘Nothing can stop him, can it? I can tell he’s probably killed people before, you just know by looking! God, please don’t let us be next.’

* * *

“Eh, whaddye mean, he was goin’ round givin’ people headaches?”

“Yeah, everyone at the bar suddenly put their claws on their heads! They were all groaning and no one could remember anything anymore, they all thought he’d just walked in!”

Holding onto Allora’s flipper, George stared sourly at the wooden shacks and holes in the hillside as Blitzer rambled about their encounter with the ghost. Reliving that experience was bad enough in and of itself, that Porov was downplaying it made it sting just that little bit deeper.

“Hm, y’know, me thinks yer misunderstandin’ a few things. Ye ain’t old ‘nuff to drink, me boy, and if ye already have?” The Darmanitan pounded the gravel path with a fist as he chuckled. “Well then shame on ye, me boy! But ye know, that stuff they drink in the bars? ‘Tis a lil’ somethin’ else! Gives ye a real kick to the head if ye ain’t careful, and lemme tell ya somethin’. Been to Mountainshade many times before, and the people here? They don’t know their limits, not one bit!”

“No, no, no!” Blitzer shouted, claws balled into fists. “It’s true, he did it! He snapped his fingers like fifteen times and everyone keeled over!”

“Leeet’s not get too ahead of ourselves, shall we?” Allora chuckled, her mouth snapping a little at the air. “Dusknoir, well, there’s bound to be more than just the Lone Eye, right? How can you be so sure it’s him?”

And so the rambling went on for a while. The trip to their destination was filled with odd twists and turns throughout the town, which had been built onto the side of a hill. It was some three times larger than Greenfield, yet felt far more constricted. Hills and mountains towered overhead to the north, while a long drop awaited in the south.

George studied his surroundings rather than listen to the bickering. Most buildings here were made from stone, a touch of wood here and there for decoration, while the mouths in the mountain were nothing but grey bricks and dirt, wood be damned. Some of the houses had gardens on top, while the gravel roads were split up by trenches carrying water into lower lands. There was no central point anywhere in the village: Houses and businesses traded spots wherever. No one seemed to mind. Whenever George smiled, most Pokemon passing him smiled back.

‘Nice little town here.’

But any peculiarities in this city, like the copper coins that Pokemon were trading with, or the wood carvings placed before every door, paled in comparison to the lack of Soldiers. Not a green scarf in sight, other than what seemed like a glimpse of one a few streets away. On the contrary, many Pokemon, from the young to the elderly, all wore a black item of clothing. And whenever they passed by, they all saluted. Without fail.

“Aaah… feels great to know we’ve won a town’s heart,” Allora commented at the other end of the town.

“You could say that. Didn’t expect so many people in black like you,” George said while tugging on his red one. Allora chuckled.

“Hohohoho, it’s great, isn’t it? We chased the little stalks out of this town, and turned it black. We’ll chase ‘em out everywhere! It’s long past time for them all to go home. For good .”

Blitzer growled. “Eravate entirely would be great, but I just want them to leave my hometown alone. And give my parents back.”

“We’ll get them back, don’t you worry.” Allora patted the Charmeleon on the head with a flipper. “And afterwards… why don’t we have a high tea together? I’m sure there’d be a lot on everyone’s minds to talk about!”

“...High tea? You have those here too?” George asked as they went over a tall bridge, one which required a considerable amount of effort to climb. ‘I thought only pompous people did those.’

Once they were on the other side, and out of earshot from the few Whismur waiting to cross, Allora suddenly broke out into laughter. “Haha! Yes! Tea, cakes, cookies, perfect for a talk! And like I said, you and them will have much to talk about when that time comes.”

“Well, my parents will be there, so I’ll be there!” Blitzer said with a wink.

Porov then poked Blitzer on the shoulder. “‘Ey. Don’t talk’ ‘bout the future too much, eh? Still got our thing to do here! And we’re almost there anyhow.”

“She started it!” Blitzer pointed at Allora like his hand had been caught in the cookie jar.

The Carracosta patted herself on the belly. “What can I say? I’m a big dreamer! And Blizzie too!”

George had a smug smirk on his face. “Oh trust me, he very much is. He’s told me plenty about it. I can share some of it, if you want.”

Blitzer blushed. “H-hey, George!”

“Hahah! It’s okay!” Allora said, then cleared her throat. “But that’s a discussion for another time! Look alive, we’re here!”

They stood at the mouth of a wide tunnel on the far side of town. No one else was here. The town residents, for whatever reason, would rather not be here. George took a deep breath, and put on a tough smile despite his fears.

‘Fake it ‘till you make it, then it’ll be alright. Hopefully.’

* * *

“You saw them?”

“Yeah. That’s the Othersider.”

“You think we can take ‘em?”

“In that scruffy parkour ground? No big deal.”

“And do you think the Crest wants ‘im dead or alive?”

“Leave it a surprise. I like surprises.”