Forbidden Waters – 13
“Something ain’t right,” Val mumbled, leaning forward into her scope with the impromptu backrest slumped at her butt, sad and unused. Her Krow’s nest was lit by the innumerable strings of lights powered by the boat’s battery banks. The night sky was clear enough when the smog from the stacks didn’t interrupt the view. Tthe crackle of a stove fire relaxed the soul. Hell, if you squinted real hard, it all made her ship-steel hovel seem like a rustic cottage balcony.
Spinel sat atop a few empty fruit crates draped with a comfy hand-stitched quilt. He stretched his work-worn muscles as one of his tendrils gingerly dipped a plain leftover doughnut from the morning service into a piping hot pewter cup of pep-up tea poured from a nearby campfire kettle. “{I don’t see the issue, it's the quietest night I’ve seen aboard the ol’ Dawn.}” He let a front leg hang over the edge of the wall, batting playfully at a glistening string of bulbs as another of his ribbons wrapped itself around a small poker, and stirred the coals of a portable cast-iron stove heating their supper.
“River-ways ain’t quiet n’less somethin’ bad’s goin’ down.” Valorie grabbed her mug and rolled her head at the flavor. Wowee! The last time she had a drink that fine was… eight months ago when her own stock of hooch ran dry back in the village. Yet again she’d forgotten what it was like to have modern treats like this one; a fruity, spiced punch of a tea spiked with a heady splash of white rum.
Val smiled back at Spinel as she caught him grinning at her reaction. “{Hot damn!} Wastin’ the good stuff on me?” She looked around, and then shifted her eyes back to her friend. “{They lettin’ mon have booze these days?}”
Spinel giggled and sipped away at his own cup. “{Nah, still illegal. But nobody enforces that dumb law out here. So if I must spend all this time in the sticks, I might as well treat myself.”} His tendrils stirred the tiny cooking pot hanging over the stove. “{Do keep it a secret, darling. This gig you got me is the best thing I’ve stumbled into in a long while.}”
As she fought the tipsiness that inevitably crept into her faculties she squinted at the water’s edge. So few fish followed the ship for scraps. Riverboats threw waste food overboard daily and they were notorious for needing to pry the twisted remains of water Pokemon that got too brave out from the rotors, paddles, and jet tubes. The tree-swinging mon peered at them from the darkness, seemingly no intention to start the usual song and dance of leaping aboard and commencing ad-lib dance shows with each other for morsels of food and shiny trinkets. The sky runners that normally perched themselves harmlessly along the railing were nowhere to be seen. “Fuck,” Val lamented quietly.
Spinel noticed that, despite the rich chili he was cooking up and the spirits in her belly, she still had a spine as stiff as a Solrock. He tossed a small bundle of branches into the stove and pawed his way over to her. He began kneading at her back with his front paws and massaging her shoulders with two of his ribbons. “{Val, baby, relax. Nothing bad’s gonna happen here, not while you’re watching things like a hungry Wingull!}”
She protested for a minute, even brushed away his advances, but eventually relented once she felt the knots she’d formed in her muscles over the last few days begin to melt in his clutches. “Haaa, you still got it, Cher-- erm, sorry old habits.”
He giggled at the slip-up and then laidlayed his front legs over her shoulders, putting his nose in the crook of her neck as his back paws began unwinding the balls of stress in her lower-back. “{Speakin’ of old habits. If you really wanna unwind, there’s a few little crannies around here nobody cares to inspect anymore.}” His front legs were wrapped lovingly around her neck now as he nuzzled her lovingly...
Val rubbed behind his ears and snuck him a little kiss on the cheek. “{Mnnnngggg. Gah. Normally I’d take you up on the offer, pal. But I got someone I’m savin’ myself for when I get back.}”
Spinel sighed, slightly disappointed, then he tilted his head in confusion with a raised brow. “{Since when did wild mon do the marriage thi-- Oh, ooooh. Wait, you’re not gonna---?}”
Valorie nodded and moaned happily as Spinel found a painful chain of worked up muscles in her sides. “{Yeah, never done it before.}”
Her Sylveon friend coughed a little at the news and laughed quietly. “{A month is a long time for a mon to take that kinda punishment. Tell Fenni to be gentle or I’ll choke the bitch.}” He finished his massage and they nuzzled each other’s faces for a good long time.
Valorie chuckled and set him down as she wiped a smear from her scope. “{Only one who gets to choke that idiot is me, buddy.}”
Spinel hopped back onto his perch and licked his paw. “{So greedy, keeping a beautiful boy like that all to yourself.”}
She shrugged and knocked back a swig of her drink. “{If he wanted to I’d let’cha play. He’s straight as a stiletto, though.}”
“{Damn, hehe.}” Spinel blew onto his drink and started enjoying it faster as well.
Val decided that perhaps a good way to relieve the tension in her mind was to take stock of everyone. Maybe she’d notice something, put something together, connect some dots to make sense of the unsettling feeling of distress she couldn’t shake ever since the guests came aboard.
“What’cha make of that gal, Spinel?” she asked as she focused her eyes away from the scope down on deck at a pink haired woman in a white gi, a massive grin, and a raised mug each time a toast was called. Her body was broad and muscular, built like a brick shit house, easily mistaken for a man if you didn’t see her from the front.
Spinel lifted his head and peered below. “{Maylene Lindbeck, from Sinnoh I guess. She’s got a lot of spunk for her age, I’ll give her that.}” He stretched and yawned. “{I hear she's entering the tournament with only three Pokemon.}”
Val glanced at the lady on deck who was beginning to wobble from intoxication after daring one of the attache-nobles to yet-another drinking match. “Confident.”
Spinel laughed aloud. “{Stupid, more like. She probably knows she’s not gonna make it so she wants to make a show of it to get brownie points with the TEE VEE folks.}” Maylene’s Machamp was still out and about, wildly overconfident in his swaggering gait, slapping the backs of his trainer and his Lucario partner who seemed to be mortified at the behavior of his friends. Her Medicham sat cross-legged nearby them, watching a few people hanging out at the side of the ship. Spinel grinned and lifted a small flask shaped bottle. “{Can thank her for this here, just tossed it at me at random in a stupor earlier.}”
An elderly stick-figure of a woman wearing a white and green Sylph Co. nurse uniform and matching bunned-up silver hair chuckled shyly at everyone’s antics. Somehow, though, she seemed full of energy even at that late an hour. On her shoulder was a strange Pokemon she hadn’t seen before, pink, pudgy, and burping out little plumes of pink smoke from time to time. By her side was an venerable old Stoutland, curled up at the table sleeping as she missed the party entirely. Wherever the trainer went, her noble Serperior followed, coiled around her like a guardian animal at all times, wary of danger. He even peered up at Valorie suspiciously a couple times. Good boy.
“Who’s that?”
Spinel could see this was unwinding the coils in her brain, so he turned his body around, slumped back down, and then pointed his paw to the old gal. “{Bianca de Bel, from Unova. Really, really nice lady. Says thanks all the time, compliments everyone, even started trying to help down in the kitchen before I had to kick her out. Felt bad about it too, might just let her down there after she said something about her world famous muffins.}”
“Not what I’d expect from a battling trainer.”
Spinel nodded. “{Yeah, me too. I guess she used to battle as a kid and never let the dream go. I won’t go judging what a lady that nice does in her old age, especially when she’s on my boat.}” He chuckled at Richard Stone, who had decided now was the best time to start a somersaulting competition down one of the hallway decks. Everyone failed miserably but they still tried. All except Bianca who threw her liver-spotted arms up in triumph at having done the longest, and only, somersault. “{That’s Rich--”}
Val rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Stone. Won’t let anyone aboard go a half hour without reminding everyone he exists. Arrogant, loud, ugh.”
“{Well IIIIII think his confidence is endearing,}” Spinel whistled out like a contrarian. “{Hehe, he’s nice. He talks to the Pokemon like they matter. He’s fun to be around.}”
Valorie’s Dexnav buzzed in her back pocket and she flipped it open to see who dared to interrupt her anxiety attack.
4-090-454-0001 (Old Man): How have you been, explorer? We saw you came back online, hope you’re alright. :3
1-218-860-5045 (That Mason Guy): Hope you’re well, you must travel a lot, Vickie.
She peered back up at Spinel and smiled. “You just like the way his ass sits, don’cha?”
Spinel guffawed, pretending to clutch at a string of pearls around his little neck. “{Oh yes, very very much.}”
4-999-303-1023 (Sn. De Blanc 7-1023): Ain’t dead yet. Don’t plan on it anytime either. Works just kickn’ my ass.
BEDOOP, BING!
That wallflower Richard Stone kept dragging around with him was completely oblivious to the drop dead gorgeous Vaporeon slipping his Dexnav from his pocket.
Valorie’s eyebrow raised…
Nah, she needed to chill on the paranoia. Like Pangoro said to her back home, sometimes a rustle’s just a rustle. “The Alolan guy, Hau, right?”
Spinel was gazing down at Richard like a hungry purloin. The party boy saw Emil beginning to act antisocial and decided to wrangle him back into the fun. Her fuzzy private chef fought back giggles as they watched Richard thrust himself and Emil into a spur-of-the-moment dance-off, made possible by the graceful hands and fingers of Meyer Bourbon working a menacing oaken hurdy gurdy plated in floral sheets of brass. Three of the older gentlemen had brought with them a flute, a tambourine, a lyre and suddenly the rumbling of the engines in the uneasy humid air had suddenly joined in as the bassline to an impressive Archaic symphony.
Val nudged one of Spinel’s wandering tendrils with her boot. “Spinel?”
Vaporeon cheered on her companion as he, with a face like an autumn sunset, forced Richard to dance with him. The crowd erupted into laughter over the strange conglomeration of music from far far east paired with Emil clumsily leading Richard through the motions of some long forgotten ballroom instruction.
Richard spun Emil around like a damsel in a wedding gown and dipped him low. The music increased in tempo and Em saw his chance as the crowd, recognizing the chords of some particular passage, began stomping their feet to the beat of the music. Emil interrupted his friend at the feet, tripped him up, and caught him in a dip of his own that was unmistakable to the oh-so-cultured class of folk that surrounded them. Not to be outdone, Prince Meyer shifted the tone to a foot tapping Paldean guaracha and his band mates followed suit. He guided Richard flawlessly in a lively salsa, throwing the frat-boy around like a ball of porcelain clay on a wheel, turning him again and again until the both of them made something beautiful… and a bit homoerotic.
Richard smooched Emil on the lips like a cartoon Raboot and the two began slapping each other like brothers in the back seat on a trip through a desert highway. Spinel couldn’t help but laugh at the spectacle with the crowd.
Valorie, however, didn’t miss that Vaporeon had snuck Emilio’s Dexnav from his pocket and was typing away. “Earth to CHERRY!”
Spinel’s cheeks puffed up angrily in surprise, trilling loud enough to shake the ears. “{Rude!}”
She pointed down at the dance party.. “And it’s rude to stare at a seafarer’s jacksy. Thought you swore off human men, kid.”
He huffed and started licking between his digits on his foot. “{It’s hard, Val}” Then he turned a paw over like a lazy professor moving past a difficult student’s questions. “{Do I know anything about the Alolan? Yes and no. He’s really wound up, won’t even let his Pokemon out for some air. He’s keeping his lips as tight as his ass about the tournament thing.. Doesn’t seem to mind partying it up, but he’s definitely got his eyes on the prize… whatever that is.}”
Vaporeon nodded cheerily as she finished typing and then hid the Dexnav in a rope crate.
1-218-860-5045 (That Mason Guy): Yeah, I got work too. Talk later!
“I heard it's a hundred million Pokedollars,” Val uttered matter-of-factly.
Spinel pushed his cheeks together cutely. “{Will you choose me, Trainer? We can win this, right?}”
Valorie nodded her head slowly. “{Sure. Wanna get into the ring with that?}”
Down below, the crowd had formed a semicircle around several Pokemon like a highway freak show. The evening staff had been instructed, at the orders of the Captain, to go and retrieve random supplies for them to bend and break for demonstrations. Richard’s Machamp snapped five 2x4’s over his head, Incineroar blew fire on a piece of rebar and started forming it into intricate white-hot shapes. Machamp then held up a steel girder and told Vaporeon to hop up.
The blue skinned beauty wrapped her body and tail around the beam and twisted it like a churro.
Spinel chuckled nervously as he checked the pot of food. “{Haaaa, well. What’s a hundred million, right?}”
Val breathed in and her stomach instantly started to rebel. “Oooh, buddy. That smells like a hundred million!”
Spinel practically glowed with pride as he peeled a towel off a basket of rolls. “{Let’s dig in!}”
Val knocked back the rest of her drink so he could ladle her some of the delicious concoction into her mug. She devoured it shamelessly, in the end licking the cup like she was fishing the last scraps of marrow out of a bone. “Who was that fat girl from earlier?”
Spinel recoiled a bit from the comment and fed her some more. “{Elena. Apparently she’s local-famous in Galar. Little bit of a celebrity, it seems. Also, you can’t just call people fat, darling. Ain’t right.}”
Valorie groaned. “Yeah, whatever. Wouldn’t hurt a girl to hit the bricks.” The second cup was demolished as quickly as the last. “Haaaaa. Oh man, oh man I needed that soooo bad,” she gasped and started wiping the inside of her cup with a hunk of freshly baked bread to get every last scrap of Spinel’s masterpiece. “Harrison, I know about him. From Johto. Heard he crushes folks that come lookin’ for his badges. I suspect he’s gonna suck to fight,” she mused, seeing Harrison’s Houndoom snuggle up to Stoutland. “Bet he’d do it with a smile too.”
Spinel lost all sense of decorum for a moment and also started frantically shoveling food into his mouth. “Mrrrmveemrmm,” he mumbled, then swallowed hard. “{Only one left is that Horace fellow.}”
In the fun of the moment she’d almost completely forgotten about him. Looked like someone dragged through the drops. Sorta. His clothes were alright, but his hair was a thickened porridge of fur resembling a Pyroar’s mane more than a human head of hair. He wore an Alolan print tee beneath a green navy jacket, a pair of blue jeans, and sandals of all things. Every part of him was like an old motorcycle that refused to die despite the abuse, smoking like a volcano, never caught in the wild without cheap beer handy. His aviator shades seemed to hide an empty gaze, like a lock on an empty treasure box.
By his side was a shapely, muscular Lopunny in a shiny black silk Cheongsam embroidered in gold accents. Her fur was a rich chocolate brown and her tufts of fluff a curious bubblegum pink. Her piercing red eyes and black sclera made it hard not to feel hunted in her gaze.
“Not often ya see a versicolor ‘mon. Learn anything about ‘em?”
Spinel tilted his head back and forth as he bit into a roll. “{Not very much. He’s a gym leader, I think, based on some of the stuff I overheard from him talking on the phone. He’s on the phone a lot. Oh, and apparently he’s not going to be using that Lopunny of his in this match, said so himself. Which is really really weird since she’s glued to his shadow. It’s almost like she’s a bodyguard or something. He drinks. A lot. And it ain’t the good kind of drinking. I think he might have some problems upstairs. He’s polite, though, and he really likes Pokemon. The Lopunny is really nice too. They give me the heebie jeebies, though.}”
Valorie’s head tilted. “Why?”
Spinel started cleaning up their mess. “{Dunno, just feel uncomfortable around them.}”
Valorie finally placed her leaning rope behind her shoulders, sighed in relief, and took a swig from her canteen.
“{Feeling alright with the world now?}” Spinel rubbed his haunches up against her leg as he packed things into his basket to take back down to the mess.
Valorie nodded in thought as she peered at the river woods slowly drifting by in her scope. “Not everything’s in its proper place yet, but if I die suddenly at least it’ll be with a full belly and a good friend with me.”
He tied the basket cover up with a neat little bow and then leapt up into Valorie’s arms. He smooched her on both cheeks and patted her shoulder. “{Ditto.}” Spinel pitter-pattered down the steps to the lower decks, stopping only for a moment with a paw up for an enthusiastic, “{Goodnight!}”
“Sleep good, pal-o-mine!” Valorie’s mouth curled into a wry little smile as she watched Vaporeon prance about the deck like a hapless baby lingering around a snare.
4-999-303-1023 (Sn. De Blanc 7-1023): You be careful, now.
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Emilio could handle it no longer.
The pampering, powdering, and pomp of the last week had left his tender flesh as soft as freshly-laundered quilts, but his insides were shaken and cluttered like a solution of vinegar and cream. Not a solitary second of the journey from Hoenn to Kalos was private. Each and every conceivable activity came with this-servant-or-that bending over backwards and folding themselves into impossible shapes to make sure their guests had no need to do a single thing themselves. And they refused to take no for an answer.
They were all made to wear top–of-the-world class clothing day in and day out as they were photographed for the benefit of the Kalosian press, curated for them by the ship’s wardrobe stylists. Their days started at oh-seven-hundred where they were hand-fed by servant men and ‘mon from gold table-set platters and entertained by a menagerie of performers stolen away from any region their itinerary managers could reach their greedy little hands into. As far as he was concerned, they would've bent over and taken a shit for him if he hadn’t freaked out and ran from the couple of cheery young servants standing outside the main bathrooms with a row of warm towels, offering some unmentionable ‘premium lavatory service.’
Between the opulent feasts came unrivaled spa treatments, mind-boggling art exhibitions of all methods and mediums, and sales pitch offerings from Sylph’s most exclusive catalogue of Pokemon Partner Enhancements™; limited selection of complementary Enhancements available, of course.
Vaporeon was absolutely revolted by the Sylph Co. stuff. And, of course, she managed to bite one of the representatives for their trouble, but everything else was pure elysium for her. He supposed it only made sense; being worshiped and spoiled from dawn to dusk was probably one of her most deeply held desires. She refused to let a single female near her Emmi, hissing and snarling and generally making herself a nuisance if they were nearby; which was a little disappointing because that one Cinderace at the first ballroom breakfast had an incredibly smokin’ behind, a natural aroma of fine cheese with apple tarts, and eyes that would have encouraged him to write bad checks. He hissed at his love to relax and not get them thrown overboard, but the staff quickly adapted, almost telepathically aware of her needs. So, by day two, not a single gestation-capable creature came within ten feet of him or his mate.
In fact, psychic was right, it was unnerving just how well they knew the things people were hankering to eat and drink, when they had unspoken needs that could be met, and what their preferences were for every stupid conceivable detail of their stay. Not long after picking up on this he did his level best to not think about his single greatest desire, which was to jam Vaporeon into the railing ropes of the forward deck and fuck her brains out in the open like a savage. Even with the best his mental efforts could afford him, the Pokemon aboard the S. S. Anne seemed to look at him and behave around him differently by the end of the voyage. Not bad, so to say, just different. The females would giggle when they saw him and bolt out of sight. The ‘mon that were allowed to serve him were noticeably less tense in his presence and even managed to behave their natural selves around him a few times before their handlers snapped their fingers and roped them back in line.
He could have possibly tried covering up all the windows of his suite, barring the door, and making love in the hottub with Vaporeon but the knowledge that his every thought was being read like a post-it notes on the fridge made him and his Mate unwilling to do more than kiss lovingly at the end of the day. She wasn’t particularly rowdy, being totally preoccupied with being treated like the goddess she was, but Emil was practically humping his own leg as she snuggled into his chest and playfully stroked him all over with her silky smooth tail.
Richard and the Kalosian Royal Families made sure that so long as his eyes were open there was someone fabulous and important to schmooze with that he would never remember. Not that he couldn’t, he just couldn’t convince himself to care about some rich hearty-wheat magnate’s cousin’s third son’s skyrocket to fame in the commodities market. That’s too much to ask of a poor Paldean boy, man!
You’d think that a luxury cruise aboard the S.S. Anne would have been one of the most rejuvenating experiences of his life, but instead when he walked off that boat he felt like he’d escaped a political internment camp.
Since then he reveled in the unpleasant smells of real, honest-to-Arceus life. Kalos was strange and beautiful in its ruralness. Blacksmiths forged replacement car parts and milled them to precision by hand, oil lamps hung from flickering rows all along the dockroads, family owned cookeries kneaded dough by hand and periodically slammed everyone’s senses with the savory smells of freshly baked loaves and bubbling pots of gumbo. On the far coast there seemed to be almost nobody that had electricity in their homes, instead opting to use jury-rigged electrical charging aparati, electrical pokemon wandering around town offering charging services for a ‘Dixie’.
The sheer novelty of the situation made him hand his dexnav over to a Heliopile covered in inky black cabling. The young electric type wore a shawl woven from strands of cabling with charger heads of all makes and models dangling from his shoulders like a dreadlox. Emil was impressed with the ingenuity of the whole system as the little guy stuck one end of the maze of wires in its mouth and charged his handheld up like they were blowing up a balloon with a straw. Emil handed him the smallest unbroken denomination he had in his wallet, a Hoenni one-thousand Pokedollar bill, and patted the little guy on the head.
The tears of joy streaming down his muddy little face made the stress from his time aboard the S. S. Anne slough away like a sand castle in the rain as he scurried off to celebrate with a threadbare child selling bits of disassembled electronic scrap from a blanket on the docks.
Now he could hide in the kuiper belt of the Richard system, noticeable if Rich shone his light on planet Em, but not burning to cinders beneath the constant light of glamor. She could tease him again, he could kiss her from behind the odd closed door or unobserved cranny, they could stare longingly at each other without having their attention snatched away.
The second boat, an insane custom retrofitted river yacht with a truly unhinged engine overhaul, seemed a lot more like something he would enjoy on his own dime. Pokemon everywhere, slack-backed captain slumped against the wall joking with the staff and the guests, mechanical engineering so whackadoo it fascinated him from every angle. Indeed, under other circumstances, he’d lounge about on the deck and allow his mind to float down the riverways.
They came face to face with the other contestants for the first time on the docks of Kalos as well. Not only did he get to see and meet Pokemon he never could otherwise, he got to analyze the competition first hand. He wasn’t entirely sure what Richard had going on upstairs most days, but he was sure that his bestie’s brain dedicated a minimum 65% neural memory to pokemon battling, so it was safe to assume that between all the social swaggering and the gleeful galavanting he was plotting the exact methods by which he was going to pound their teams into paste. After weeks of drunken revelry, naturally.
All he wanted now was his tiny cramped-ass cabin bunk, his mate curled up in his chest, and a couple gobs of Beautifly silk jammed in his ears.
Vaporeon, however, was bursting with curious energy. This strange wet place called to her nature like a dinner bell at the end of a long training day; she wanted to eat all of it up if she was never coming back. She licked his cheek as he was nestled into the bunk in the middle of the night, slowly wriggling herself free from his grasp and wedging a pillow in her place.
So many new friends! And enemies! Frenemies! Nothing like friends who didn’t mind a good tussle. All of them were really strong too, nobody on the boat was slacking; she could feel it in her bones. Well, the Alolan boy that smelled of the ocean and dried coral didn’t let her make friends, but he was still nice she supposed. She really really liked Serperior and the rest of Miss Bianca’s team. Oh, Miss Bianca too! She baked some muffins when that flamboyant Sylveon butler ‘mon wasn’t looking and they were so good she just had to sneak one back to the cabin for later.
Of all the contestant mon, though, the one that captured her attention more than any other was that Horace guy’s Lopunny. Horace himself didn’t talk much, and Vaporeon didn’t like being around him since he smelled like tobacco and cheap ale at the best of times, but his Lopunny was always around him regardless and doted on him like a loving granddaughter. Normally she wouldn’t have cared; just another powerful ‘mon for her to put in their place, after all. But that long eared mystery reeked of Father; as if she’d only just left the labs freshly coated in sterile mist, and despite that her eyes were so full of kindness and love for her master.
So when she found out Horace wasn’t going to use her, she had to know why.
Horace never went to his bunk, never heard his stumbling across the hall, never caught a whiff of his stench. He was still up there somewhere and if he was so too was the Lopunny. She hopped up the stairs and scrambled up some railings, wanting to start her search on the top decks. Not for efficiency's sake or anything, she just wanted to see the forests rolling by, catch the smells and the sights of someplace that could have been in a different life.
She slinked by Richard, who was leaning on that Prince guy’s shoulders, staying out of sight by flattening her body like a pancake and slipping between a couple of steel crates. Last thing she needed was the stone village idiot ruining her hunt.
She finally found them on the service platform at the aft end of the ship, barely a foot above the glistening green water. There wasn’t more than a welded steel chair made of junk for him to rest on, but Horace was slumped over with his head cradled in the luscious pink pillow that was the plumage of a Lopunny’s ear. Not to be caught unawares, as Vaporeon clawed her way down the side of the boat and peeked her nose around the overhang she was met with her soul-piercing vermilion gaze.
“{Oh, good evening, Vaporeon. Can’t sleep?}” Lopunny asked like someone's nanna trying to usher them to their room. “{You should get your rest, it's going to be a tough tournament, I hear.}”
Vaporeon growled softly. How dare she speak to her like a hatchling. “{I want to know why you aren’t fighting.}” She leapt down at Lopunny’s feet and locked eyes with her prey, daring the strange servant to attack her first if she dared. “{You are strong, and you are here, why?”}
Lopunny gazed up and down at Vaporeon, took in her serious gait and the tension in her muscles, and giggled, one paw up like a toddler being told a funny bathroom joke. “{Because nobody told me to.}”
Vaporeon’s growling didn’t cease, but she plopped her butt down on the steel platform and tilted her head. “{And why is that? Didn’t Father make you for fighting too?}”
It was Lopunny’s turn to twist her neck around a little, paw up on her cute little nose in thought. “{Father? Father…}” She smiled as it came to her. “{Ooh, you must mean Dr. Cress. No, he did not make me. I was born in Sinnoh. You were purchased by Mr. Stone, I assume? Nobody escapes the labs, so that only makes sense.}”
Vaporen stomped her paw down. “{I’m asking the questions, Lopunny!}”
Horace Slate rumbled deep in his chest and rustled in his partner’s fluff.
Lopunny put a dainty paw up to her lips. “{Shhh, he needs his sleep, dear. It comes so rarely.}”
Vaporeon’s eyes rolled. “{Fine, just answer my questions or I’ll hyper-voice something fierce.}”
Lopunny giggled again. “{So serious. Ok, but I won’t answer anything I’m not allowed to.}”
“{Why isn’t this guy using you to fight?}” Vaporeon asked, calmly now.
Lopunny shrugged. “{Not my job.}”
Vaporeon’s brow raised. “{What is your job?”}
“{That’s classified.}”
Vaporeon chuckled. “{Taking care of an alcoholic is top secret business?}”
Lopunny brushed her paw through Horace’s mane. “{Not usually.}”
Vaporeon started to relax and licked her paws. “{Why do you smell like Father?}”
Lopunny nodded her head in thought as she patted her master’s head. “{That’s classified.}”
Vaporeon began grooming herself more intensely now. A coping mechanism she’d developed when she needed to keep her emotions in check. “{Why do you care so much about this dope?}” She balked, pointing to the slumbering lump.
Lopunny smiled. “{We’ve been through a lot together.”} Then her eyes shifted over to her interrogator. “{May I ask a question or two?}”
A shiny blue paw gestured towards her. “{Only fair, I guess.}”
Lopunny sat on the ground, crossed her powerful legs, and grinned. “{Why do you care so much about your human? Emilio, was it?}”
Vaporeon was taken aback. In fact, for a moment, she felt the urge to flee and forget she ever tried this encounter. But she was no coward, so she riveted herself in place and soldiered on. “{I… Lo… It’s complicated.}”
Lopunny’s paws wound together with her free ear happily. It had been so long since somemon had the courage to approach her. “{I understand that, for sure. I’m happy you have a partner who trusts you like my Acey trusts me.}”
Vaporeon’s face bunched up like she’d licked a lemon. “Acey?” she said in human tongue.
Lopunny’s face opened with surprise, and then she giggled like a child who’d gotten away with cheating at monopoly. “{Shhh, don’t tell him I told you that. Goodness. Tee hee. You must be really smart, able to use human words. Gosh.}”
Vaporeon beamed with pride. “{My Emmi helped, but yes, it is pretty extraordinary.}”
Lopunny gushed. “{Ooohh, so cute. Hehehe. You must like a lot of the same things. Acey loves training and so do we… Oh, the others on his belt, I mean. Hehe, it's all he ever wants to do when we’re not out on a job.}”
Vaporeon poised in thought. “{Mmm, well. Not really. Actually we’re total opposites. But Emmi is good at everything I’m not, and we like each other, so yeah.}”
Lopunny smiled. “{You’re made for each other. That’s a blessing, Vaporeon. Um…}” She was making a friend and she very rarely got to make friends anymore, she wondered… “{What’s your name, Vaporeon?}”
Vaporeon’s face went blank. “{Name?}”
The Lopunny leaned in, bouncing with excitement. “{Yeah, Emil or Richard must have given you a call sign or something other than your kin-name.}”
Vaporeon gave that serious thought. “{Well, my Emmi sometimes calls me Vapee when he talks too fast to keep up with his own brain. But I don’t think that counts.}”
Lopunny’s head tilted. “{No name, huh? That’s interesting.}”
She shrugged. “{No need. I am Vaporeon, after all. The one and only!}” Vaporeon sat up like a golden cat on a throne, eyes up to the sky like she was looking for some distant mountain to climb. “{I’m proud of what I am, why would I wanna be called anything else?}”
Lopunny smiled and scooched closer to her new friend. “{That makes sense. What’s a name if they know who you really are inside anyway?”}
Vaporeon nodded sharply. “{Mhmm. What about you? What’s your name, Ms. Top Secret Ears?}”
Her eyes closed happily and she giggled again. “{My name’s Opal!”}
Ace grumbled and sifted his posture. Vaporeon shushed Opal and they both chuckled at the sudden turnabout.
Vaporeon hopped up onto the railing and wiggled her butt in preparation to leap back up to the top decks. “{Pretty name, nice to meet you, Opal. Let’s spar sometime, ok?}”
Opal stood up and brushed some rust staining from her dress. “{Um, we really shouldn’t, if that’s ok.}”
“{Suit yourself. Don’t complain when I take all the glory for myself, then.”} Vaporeon leapt up, tail slinking behind her impishly.
Opal grinned from ear to ear. “{Wouldn’t think of it.}”
Vaporeon wrapped her arms around an unused flagpole, then springboarded herself up onto the railing of the middle deck and gasped as she spotted Valorie in a lounge chair, gun strapped to her back, facing Vaporeon straight on.
“Sup, girl. Emmi, huh?”
Vaporeon’s spine straightened and, though she didn’t look it, her body wanted to sweat at suddenly being caught unawares. She chuckled and made a cute, catty back stretching motion, showing off her flank. “Vapeee oneee Vap Vaporeeon.”
Valorie chuckled and stretched her arms up above her head. “Cut the cutie crap. Kinnnneeeee. Fen uh-fenni kin. Kinny fen ken.”
Vaporeon’s face and body froze in a state of abject horror.
“Cool. Good. Now, do me a–”
Vaporeon’s bum began wiggling in preparation of a mighty pounce and her growling began to emanate from deep within her. Her barely noticeable pupils grew wide with hunger and her claws dug into the railing. She was angry, cold, and full of murder.
Valorie lifted her hands up in surrender. “Hey, chill, pretty lady. I’m on your side. Just wanna talk to Emmi and you. Tell him to–”
She bounded off the railing, claws threatening to tear a gaping cavity in her chest.
Valorie’s reflexes saved her yet another scar honoring her flesh. She rolled off to the side and leapt up in a fraction of a second, instinctually reaching for her knives and quickly pulling her hands away from them as she realized she needed to keep this as friendly as she could.
The plastic lounge chair crumpled like a paper bag under vaporeon’s swipes, she bit down on it and threw it with her neck at Valorie, who decided to catch the thing and faked a roll to the right, narrowly baiting out a water gun that stripped a section of wall of its freshly laid paint. Even a light thing like that chair tossed at the kind of speeds a turbo augmented tournament-mon could manage was a threat, and it knocked the wind out of her before she threw it over the edge in pain. “{C-Calm the fuck down! I’m a friend, dammit!}”
“Whoaaaa! Vaporeon, you’re traaaining late! Niiiiiiiice.”
Both Valorie and Vaporeon glanced at Richard wobbling around. He leaned against the wall with an unlabeled bottle of liquor, his eyes glazed over like Krispy Alkremie maple bars, white hundred-thousand Pokedollar dress shirt untucked and stained from a spilled bowl of something dark brown, and one shoe curiously missing in action.
“Dammit,” both of them groaned in their heads.
Valorie loosened her posture and wiped her nose confidently. “Yeah, just wanted to see what your little Vee here could do. She’s a mighty fine specimen, sir.” Valorie was laying it on as thick as she possibly could. The affluent types always liked their lives coated in surgery sweetness, after all.
Vaporeon growled at Richard and threw her butt down in protest on the deck. “Vap. Eee!” she barked and turned her head away indignantly.
Richard see-sawed haphazardly towards them both, squinting at the wall where the words, ‘Olivene Dawn,’ had been scoured away by a stream of pressurized water. “Oh man, shhhhshhhhshshshhhh I won’t tell if you don’t, hehe.” Then he got a good look at Valorie poised under the deck lights. Her skin glistened with sweat and beaded up mist from Vaporeon’s gout, causing her to sparkle a little as she stood before him with her hands on her knives with an air predatory readiness to strike. The sun freckles on her face, the fiery orange hair, the tanning in her skin, the absolutely incredible physique, those beautiful eyes; they captured him the moment he focused on her and they just wouldn’t let him go.
Valorie’s head tilted. “Hey, uh. Sir? Ya ok there?”
Richard took another swig from the bottle, clumsy and confident as a Darmanitan knitting doilies. “H, ha. Sorrrrry. Vapeeeee… uh, Vappporeon is a little g-gungho shumtimes. If ye don’t mind, ah might ask a pretty gal like yerself te help me find my way down. Got a lil’ lost, y’shee.” He gave her his trademarked lady-killing smile. “I’d be reaaal graaateful, miss.”
Val rolled her eyes. “Nah, I’ve got work to do. I’ll call someone to come getch’a, Stone. Have a seat, ‘kay?”
Richard stumbled forward, leaning off the railing, wobbling around in a mirror image of the feelings rolling around his head. “Ah, well. Ha. I. I’d like ta know yer name. Haven’t seen ya at all onboard, be a shame ta ignor–”
She threw her hands up in frustration as she started wandering off, pointing to a not-destroyed plastic lounge-chair. “Nope. Seriously, sir. Sit.”
Vaporeon followed right behind Richard, concerned for her trainer. As much as he made her wince in embarrassment from time to time, she’d never caught him like this and it was alarming her.
Richard looked towards the chair, locked his eyes onto Valorie’s face again as she looked back to ensure he did as she instructed, and then he laughed loud enough to wake Emilio through his earplugs in the cabin just below them. He couldn’t understand it, she was so different from any lady he’d ever seen, and yet he wanted to know her so badly. “H-Hey! Y’know…Yer… yer the mmm…mmmost…”
Richard leapt over the railing, stopped from flailing overboard by Vaporeon catching his pants in her jaws, and began a mighty eight-course purge. He heaved and heaved, like a pregnant woman with morning sickness at high sea, lashing putrescent strings of pink half-digested seafood down the side of the boat and across Emil’s bunk window.
“Wha?” Emil heaved out as he roused from a sleep second only to death itself, gazing brainlessly as trails of pink ooze ran down the window and a rum bottle dropped into the river.
Valorie grabbed him by the shoulders and heaved him back, slumping him over onto the chair she’d instructed him to lay in. “I said SIT!”
Richard’s eyes rolled in his head, rapidly losing consciousness. “Y-yeah..”
Val nodded with finality and turned her back to them. “{Let ‘Stone Mason’ know his bag of bricks is waiting for him. When you and ‘Emmi’ wanna chat, I’ll be in the Krow’s nest.}”
“Salut.”
