Pokemon Fan Fiction ❯ Rain Dance ❯ Family Affairs ( Chapter 8 )

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Sleep never came to Batoy during the night, and as the first rays of the morning sun began to peak over the mountain top, he gave a groan of displeasure. His eyes burned in protest, having grown used to the darkness that had filled the Pokemon Center. His journey to find a sleeping spot had ended prematurely, as he crashed on an empty sofa on the east side of the lobby. But even as he laid there over the night, he failed to find the solace that sleep offered. Instead, his eyes fell on Jet, whose sleep was turbulent and uneasy. The Quilava had squirmed and whined almost from the start, and just hours before dawn, had woken up, giving up on resting for the rest of the night. The morning light was met with red, burning eyes and exhausted, grumpy yawns.

“I guess neither of us really got any rest, huh?” Batoy muttered as he rubbed his eyes, and Jet gave a low grunt in agreement. For a few moments, the two laid there motionless as the room grew brighter and brighter, changing from a low grey to a more vibrant pink, and finally to the original colors of the room as the florescent lights on the ceiling sparked to life, reluctantly casting their glow on those below. Batoy forced himself to sit up, holding his head from the sudden headache that assaulted him. “Nugh…” he moaned as he staggered to his feet. His body craved sleep.

“Um… excuse me, trainers,” said a voice, and Batoy, and the other trainers who’d just awoken, turned to see pink-cheeked woman with dirty-blond hair. “Is there a Guilderos here? There’s a message waiting for him on Video Phone 3.” The woman directed towards the row of phones that took up half of the back wall of the Center.

“Yeah… me…” Batoy muttered, raising his hand half-heartedly as he stood, Jet following suit as he walked towards the third phone and took a seat. A red light flashed insistently, and Batoy picked up the receiver and pressed the nearby button. The video screen did not come on, but the voice that suddenly screamed at him was more than enough to reveal to him his early morning caller. {Batoy! You’d better be there!} the recording of Lizbeth’s blared obnoxiously. {I got a call at four in the freakin’ morning telling me you hadn’t shown up! Now, I don’t know what you’re up to, but you better deliver that item to Brand immediately, or it’s both our heads.} Batoy winced and glanced around. No one else had overheard her screams.

There was a brief pause before Lizbeth continued, her voice softer and apologetic. {Look, you’re like a second son to me, but I’m not going to let your actions take me down with you. You need to do what you need to do. I know you’re probably feeling a little scared, but he is your father. Nothing bad is going to happen, but you can’t put it off. Brand should be in the southern-most part of town, in a small building that’s maybe two, three stories tall. It kinda looks like a warehouse from the outside. It should be by the local Gym. But stay away from that place.}

Another pause followed and the recording became even softer, almost tentative. {After you deliver the TCSM chip, I’ll make sure that you can get some time off. I know things have been tough, with you losing Meta and all. You should take some time to recuperate before getting back to work. Maybe enjoy the festivities that are going on in town. I think there’s a show or something, too. I bet Jet would love to fight in it. Is he still a Quilava? I’m sure it won’t be much longer before he evolves, so be sure to train him well. Give my regards to Ollie and Manual as well. I hope I get to speak with you shortly, Batoy. Goodbye, and be safe.}

The phone clicked, signaling the end of the message, but Batoy didn’t hang it up. His hand stood frozen, the tone of the receiver singing into his ear. He was reeling; his emotions couldn’t find a spot to settle down. Meta, Brand, the microchip; it was just too much. He dropped the phone and laid his head against the desk that the phone sat on, idly placing it back on the hook as he sighed. “I’m in freakin’ deep…” he muttered as his fingers drummed on the desk. “There’s just no way… he’ll murder me when he finds out I lost that thing…”

Batoy gave a defeated whimper. The day had only started, and already he was at the bottom. There just wasn’t any way for him to drop anymore. An optimist would have said that things could only get better, but luck would probably serve for it to stay in the same dismal state. “I guess… I can’t really put it off… I’ll have to see him, Jet…”

But the Quilava didn’t pay the boy any notice. The fires on his head had ignited, and had been burning ever since Liz’s statement towards him. Oh, he was ready for the show, alright. He’d take the whole thing by himself. Ollie’d be so impressed. Jet grinned to himself, his paws slapping against the floor in a show of excitement. His churring sounding almost like a chuckle. ~Quil… Lava quil~ he chirped to himself, his grin growing all the wider. He hadn’t really considered evolution, but with the increased power of a Typhlosion, there was no way he could ever lose. Especially not to any snot-nosed cats. ~Lav…~ he groaned, his thoughts focusing on Eifi.

Sighing, Batoy forced a half-smile. At times, he wished he could be like the fiery fire-type, single-minded, without any cares in the world. To live just for the battle, that would be incredible. “You’re really something, Jet,” Batoy said softly, finally catching the Quilava’s attention. “C’mon… I guess we gotta do what we gotta do….” Jet nodded, and trotted towards the sliding doors at the entrance, with Batoy trudging along after him.

But by the time the warehouse came into view, Batoy’s resolution had completely dissolved, and he suddenly found himself unable to take another step. His hands curled into fists in a vain attempt to keep his fingers from quivering. He swallowed, and found himself unable to. Jet trotted to the heavy double doors and pawed lightly at it before turning around. ~Quila!~ he called, waving the boy closer, and Batoy could only nod and follow the Pokemon’s lead. He banged on the door lightly, shouting out, “Hello? Is anyone there?” in a somewhat less-than-forceful voice, and had almost turned away in premature defeat before he felt Jet brush against his leg. Batoy looked down to see the Quilava pointing towards a doorbell, and he felt his face go red. “Oh…” he muttered. “You’re such a big help….”

He pressed the doorbell, and then waited. And then waited some more. But as the sun climbed higher into the sky, the door showed no signs of budging, and Batoy couldn’t hear any movement on the other side. “Think it’s just abandoned?” Batoy asked, an oddly hopeful look on his face. Jet shook his head and growled, sinking into a combative stance, the fires on his head sparking. His snarl continued for a good thirty seconds before Batoy could hear the sliding of heavy bolts, and the doors suddenly began to part. Standing there was a man that appeared to be ten to twelve years Batoy’s senior, and beside him, on a choker, was an equally prime Mightyena. The dog’s fierce stare and bared fangs even made Jet’s fire die slightly, though the little weasel continued to stay in the fighting stance.

“What’s your business here?” the man asked in a deep, forceful voice, his hand resting on the open door in a display of nonchalance, though his hazel eyes reflected differently. The Mightyena started forward, but the man pulled on the choker, halting its advance. “This piddling little chain won’t hold this Mightyena for very long. I suggest you speak softly, slowly, and succinctly.”

“I… I’m here to see Brand…” Batoy stammered out. The man towered over him, like most adults did, but there was something intrinsically intimidating about this particular fellow. “I… I just gotta talk to him about something.”

“So, you’re Brand’s kid?”

Batoy looked down. “Y-Yeah… I’m Batoy….”

The man’s demeanor lightened considerably, and he stood up straight. “Oh, well, that’s good then. I won’t have to let this old dog feast on your innards.” He gave a laugh as the Mightyena stopped growling, no longer sensing any reason to from its master. The man turned and ushered Batoy and the still snarling Jet inside. “Hey Josh!” he called out to a man working a pallet of freight with a forklift. “Here’s the kid Brand was raging all about!” Josh waved back and the man turned to Batoy. “The last few days have been pure hell around here. Brand’s usually a pretty cool boss, but he’s just been really pissy lately. Hopefully he’ll calm down now that you’re here.”

“Yeah, right…” Batoy muttered under his breath, swallowing his heart back into his chest. He looked around. Being a warehouse wasn’t a just a cover; there were pallets of freight everywhere. Everything from pots, to pictures, to various drilling equipment and electronics, to massive crates with small holes in them; it was so varied that Batoy could barely figure out what was what. A more than fine layer of dust and grit littered the floor, something made more than apparent by Jet’s complaints, and Batoy relented and scooped the fire-type into his arms just to silence him. “You big baby… I really can’t deal with this right now…” he whispered, but Jet just gave a content purr.

The man lead Batoy throughout the warehouse, but the tour lasted so long that he began to believe that the man was merely stalling for time… something that was absolutely fine with him. “Here, we’re in charge of distributing various pieces of equipment to operatives around the region. Whatever someone needs, we probably have it. We generally ship by truck, but for lighter loads, we may use flying Pokemon, and for heavier pieces, we go by water. The fact that we’re so close to the mountains makes our position prime for quickest distribution times,” Batoy idly heard the man say. “Now, the setup in the Sinnoh region is still pretty new, and we have a lot of competition, but you know how goals are. We can’t give up just because one region was a bit unsuccessful.”

“Unsuccessful… right…” Batoy murmured. “I suppose you can call it that…” He recalled Gidan’s words and shook his head. “Um… when am I gonna get to actually talk with him?” he asked, biting his lip as soon as the words left his mouth.

“Well…” The man paused. “I was actually waiting until the time fell on the hour. He’s… been rather particular about being punctual. Even if he doesn’t have anything to do, he prefers that any unscheduled events occur on the hour. I figured you’d want to speak to him when he’s in the best of possible moods.”

“Yeah, that’s true… thanks.”

“But it nears that time, anyways. I suppose I’ll have to take you to him.” The man gave Batoy an odd look. “I hope, for all of our sake, that you give him good news.”

Batoy said nothing as the man lead him through rooms, finally reaching a plain door somewhere on the east side of the building. Rapping on the door with the back of his knuckles, the man leaned close to the door. “Sir, it’s Sebastian. You have an unexpected visitor who I believe needs to discuss something important with you.” Batoy gulped and squeezed Jet close to him. Whatever signal the inside gave, he didn’t hear it, and he was surprised when Sebastian opened door, ushering him in, and closing the door behind him almost immediately.

He found himself in a cramped office, overflowing with files, papers and electronics, as well as various knickknacks and whatnots that he couldn’t even describe. The walls were stark, barren of anything except the occasional gnash where something had scrapped against it. There were two leather chairs, cheap in design and fabric, and Batoy took a seat in one of them, doing everything in his power to look at everything except the one he’d come to see.

“Batoy, haven’t you outgrown that thing yet? You’re hugging it like a damned Teddiursa plush.”

The boy quickly muffled Jet’s growl, glancing down apologetically. “S-Sorry…” he stammered, his body shivering slightly. “Jet’s my best friend… we’ve been through a lot together….”

He winced as the man in front of him humphed, and he looked up. The resemblance he bore towards this man was obscure at best. Where his curly carrot-colored hair stuck out against the crowd, the man he glanced up towards was a model of conformity. A boring brown was accented by the uninspiring hair style that spoke of just how plain the man was. His dress was equally bland, a white button-up and solid black tie. “Your best friend, huh? Rather than speak to a sentient human being, you’d rather play with a stupid animal.”

“Jet’s not stupid!” Batoy yelled, finally meeting the eyes of the eyes of his boss and his father. “He’s not a stupid Pokemon! He… he…” he held his tongue, unable to complete the ‘he’s smarter than you!’ he’d almost said. Instead, he shrank back against the seat. Jet’s growl became more audible.

“Well, it’s a shame your travels haven’t changed you for the better. I’d hoped this would have at least toughened you up some. But I guess not even the experiences of what this world will offer you will make you change. Did you at least bring me the TCSM microchip?” Batoy kept silent. “Well?”

“The… chip…” Batoy stammered. “It… I… I managed to steal it from that place….”

“And? Where is it?”

Batoy gulped. “Well… it… it was… someone took it from me…”

An awkward silenced lasted for a good thirty seconds before Brand could utter a single ‘What?’

“It wasn’t my fault!” Batoy said suddenly, holding on tightly to Jet. “The man was just too powerful! I couldn’t stop him from taking it!”

“I can’t believe… that you could be so absolutely worthless. When we adopted you, I figured I could at least mold a man out of you. I suppose I let you spend too much time around that woman.”

“Don’t say anything bad about my mom!”

“Hold your tongue,” Brand said, but his bland complexion had turned a livid red. “Who took it from you?”

“What?”

“It’s not hard, boy. Who took it from you?!”

Batoy frowned, his eyes tearing up slightly. “He… his name….” He couldn’t bring himself to say Gidan’s name. “H-Hawk. His name was Hawk. He was a military-”

“Then you’re going to find this ‘Hawk’ and bring me back my microchip.”

“But… but I can’t! He… he killed Meta! There’s no way—”

“I don’t care if he kills your damned weasel, I want that TCSM chip now! I don’t want to see your face until you bring it back! Get out!”

“But, Dad…”

“Now! If I don’t get that chip from you in the next week, I’m hunting your ass down!”

~~~

Batoy took off running, and when he finally came to a stop, he found himself completely lost somewhere in the city, just as he would have preferred. He sank down, out of sight, against the side of a building and immediately curled his knees to his head. His jeans immediately became with his tears. Sitting on his haunches besides him, Jet glanced, making light chirps, but otherwise, just offering his presence. What else could he do? He wasn’t human. “I don’t want to do this anymore…” Batoy whimpered under a staggered breath. “I don’t want to be here anymore…” Jet laid a paw on Batoy’s side, and the boy slowly turned his head, his eyes dripping water. “I’m sorry, Jet… I know you hate to see me like this, but… I just don’t know what to do anymore. I tried and tried, and I just can’t seem to do anything right. Maybe I just shouldn’t have been born in the first place.” His hand clenched tightly around a nearby stone and he hurled it as far as he could. “Maybe I should just roll over and freakin’ die!” It smacked against the brick wall of the alley.

~Quila…quil Quilava quilav la…~ Jet whimpered, laying his head against Batoy’s arm. The boy looked away. “It’s true, and you know it!” he said bitterly. “I haven’t done a single thing right in my life. I’ve gotten you hurt… I got Ollie and Manual hurt…. I… I got Meta killed…. And for what?! We don’t even have the stupid chip anymore!” Jet lowered his head. “You’d probably be a Typhlosion by now if you weren’t with me. You’d be so powerful if it weren’t for me…”

Batoy had to grit hit teeth to keep himself for crying in pain, and he managed to tilt his head to see Jet’s fangs sinking into his arm. “J-Jet…” he whimpered out, and the Quilava released, spitting and pawing the taste of blood out of his muzzle before nosing the small wound apologetically. “I don’t understand… why would you still be my friend if I‘m just gonna hold you back?” Jet shook his head and pushed up to lick Batoy’s nose. Batoy smiled despite himself and scooped the Quilava into his arms. “Thanks… I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you… if I ever do anything stupid, please… be careful for the both of us.”

Jet snorted and let the fires on his back burn, and Batoy couldn’t help but smile, despite the lingering pain in his arm. “I guess you’re right, buddy. That’s just not your style. Maybe one of these days I’ll figure it out, too.”

The two sat there for a moment before Batoy looked up at the sky. “But still… what’re we gonna do? If we don’t get that chip back, we’re toast… there’s no way we’d ever be able to get home again. But… if we’re gonna get it, we’d have to do what Gidan wants… I don’t even see how we could even do that….” Jet growled, and Batoy sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I know, but still. We’ve never been in a show before. It’s kinda a big step.” The little weasel humphed indignantly. “But still… I guess… we gotta do as he tells us, don’t we?” The Quilava went silent.

The two sat in the alley for some time until Batoy glanced up at the sky. The morning’s feathery clouds had been replaced by bright rolling ones. Batoy found himself wishing he were up there, flying around the clouds, completely free from the binds the ground put on him. He imagined himself circling the clouds, catching the thermals and rising high above them. He grinned as the image of the sun bursting from the clouds at high altitude drifted through his mind.

A chill wind past through the streets, but Batoy didn’t notice. Jet’s warmth in his arms blocked the cold. He glanced down at the fire-type to find him looking at the sky as well. “Heh, you, too, huh?” he asked. “Wishing you could fly? Just be free of everything? No worries or cares?” There was a light sound, like a trash can being tumbled, not loud enough to startle the two, but enough to catch their attention. Batoy saw a strange blue cat with long spiraled tail stuffing its white muzzle into a knocked over bin. A Glameow, he’d learned in Jubilife, was what it was called. It lapped at whatever food it’d discovered daintily. Batoy was reminded of his own hunger by a sudden rumbling in his stomach.

He stood up, Jet in his arms, walked out of the alley, heading back towards the center of the city. He didn’t know what exactly he had a taste for, and even if he did, he didn’t know where to find it. So Batoy contented himself to walking slowly along the streets. He was hungry, but not so much that he needed to search frantically for food. He walked slowly, looking around. The city seemed so very different than when he’d first arrived in escort. It wasn’t organized at all, but rather, seemed close to what his home was like. Close to the warehouse were rows of small shops stretching along the streets. There were a good number of shops displaying merchandise, including small mineral deposits and even small replicates of rocky Pokemon. It brought a particularly sharp stab of nostalgia and homesickness.

“I really miss home, Jet…” Batoy found himself mumbling. Jet grunted.