- THE FANTABULOUS WRITERS UWU
- Chibi Pika
- The Walrein
- unrepentantAuthor
- Dragonfree
- SparklingEspeon
- Negrek
- Bench
- Umbramatic
- Equitial
Part 1: Walrein
If you were some sort of human botanist or tree-ologist or whatever that’s called, you could spend some time describing the finer details of the forest, such as whether it’s late-growth low-altitude deciduous or mid-canopy boreal coniferous with blah blah blah. But you’re a Snorlax. To you, it’s just The Forest, which you’ve lived in almost your whole life, and you can’t imagine how it could be different.
As you stroll towards the river for your daily drink, you come across a Gulpin engaged in trying to fit its mouth around a shelf-fungus growing on a large stump, and you can’t help but chuckle. Gulpin are such simple creatures, obsessed only with eating. You, of course, are nothing like that. You’re multi-dimensional. You like eating and sleeping!
After consuming the Gulpin and fungus, you continue to the river, then halt. Something’s wrong. On the opposite side of the river, there are large pawprints visible in the mud. Snorlax pawprints. And you never go to that side of the river. Moreover, the direction of the prints suggests that this newcomer recently crossed the river, meaning that they’re now in your territory.
This is bad. There’s barely enough food to sustain one Snorlax over here. Most nights, you go to sleep wishing you could’ve eaten more that day. Granted, this happens even when you’ve eaten so much your stomach hurts, but still. Also, if there are two Snorlax around, you’ll need a name for yourself other than just ‘Snorlax’, and you refuse to go back to being called ‘Munchlax Three’ again.
“There was one who came before you,” a voice calls from right behind you. You don’t startle. You’re a full-grown Snorlax, and Snorlax don’t startle. Instead, you quickly re-adjust your balance and head position, then, elegantly and gracefully turn around. There’s a Shedinja floating in the air before you. You grunt in disdain. You don’t like Shedinja. You don’t like Pokemon you can’t smell or see the eyes of. “Your success in this land was built upon the ruin of another,” it continues. “But what was forgotten lives on still, and with time, the wheel of fortune turns, bringing down those who once were great, rising up those who-”
CRUNCH! With a single powerful move, you crack apart the shell of the bug who was foolish enough to get so close to your face. It tastes like old chitin, like the molted skin of a Ledyba. But it’s hard to chew without using more moves, and you don’t want to go to that much effort for a meal so meager, so you spit it out. You don’t have time for this. There’s an interloper to find.
Crouching down, you guzzle just enough river water to wash the Shedinja taste out of your mouth, then you sniff around for the scent of the new Snorlax. Ah, there it is. Wading through a river isn’t enough to hide your smell from a nose as good as yours. He smells vaguely like your father did, when he was still in the prime of his life. You follow the trail away from the river and into the deeper part of the forest, then pause to rest against a moss-covered boulder. There are more pawprints here, and you can’t help but notice they’re larger than yours are.
You don’t know what that stupid Shedinja was talking about. There’s never been another Snorlax here. After growing big enough to leave your parents, you came to this forest as a Munchlax, and after you evolved, you’ve always been the biggest Pokemon around. You can’t remember the last time you were in a real fight. Surely you would’ve recalled if you’d driven out someone else.
Having rested enough, you continue towards the center of the woods. The trees are dense enough that there’s barely any breeze, and you can’t hear the sounds of any other Pokemon. Even all the scents you can smell are a bit old. You’re used to other Pokemon getting out of your way, but it’s never been like this before. Maybe everyone scattered when the other Snorlax came through? The trail’s getting fresher. You step over a trampled sapling and emerge into a small clearing.
There, standing in the center of the glade, is the Snorlax you’ve been looking for. He’s taller than you, but a little leaner. He stares you down as you approach, face twisted into a grimace of contempt. “Well, look who it is! Everyone’s favorite person. Come to kick me out again, huh? Guess you just couldn’t bear the thought of having to share even the slightest scraps with me. Get it? Bear? Because we’re both Snorlax now?”
You draw yourself up to your full height and try to look tough, but unease is worming its way into your expression. “I’ve never smelled you before today,” you say. “Unless… were you a Munchlax when we first met?” You had your fair share of petty conflicts with other cubs when you were young – is that what this is about?
The interloper throws back his head and laughs – a low, rumbling bellow. “Was I a Munchlax? You don’t remember, do you? You always were one to get immersed deep into a role… No, I wasn’t a Munchlax. They came later, much later. I might’ve been a Charizard, or an Eevee, perhaps a Scyther… but that doesn’t matter. What matters is what you took from me,” he snarls.
“I don’t understand,” you say, taking a step back. “How can you have been all those different Pokemon? Are you a Ditto?” Or perhaps this Pokemon is simply insane, which is starting to seem more and more likely.
“I’m not a Ditto, although I’ve been a Ditto before. What I am is a person. Specifically, the first person. And you aren’t really a Snorlax. You’re the second person.”
Yup, definitely crazy. “You’re talking nonsense,” you say. “I’m definitely a Snorlax. What is it you want from me? Is it food? There’s not enough on this side of the river for the both of us.” You tense, spreading your weight as evenly as possible for a Pokemon of your size. But the other Snorlax just scowls at you.
“Still confused? Then perhaps this will jog your memory,” I say.
You gasp in surprise. That - that pronoun! You recall everything now!
“So you finally remember,” I say with a brief smirk. “I’m sure you realize, now, that there’s no way this can end in any sort of peaceful resolution. Before you came along, with your second-person perspective and your oh-so-cool present tense, all of these fancy experimental Pokemon POV stories used to be told in the first person! It was all me, me, me, but now it’s all you, you, you!” I yell, practically spitting the last word. “Well, I’m sick of it, and I want my narrative back!”
“There was a reason everyone started writing these stories in second-person perspective,” you growl. “‘You’ is so much more immediate than ‘I’. That’s vital for these xenofiction-esque kind of Pokemon fics where the whole point is immersing yourself in the body and viewpoint of an alien creature.”
“Any professional writer will tell you: never use the second-person,” I say. “Fic writers should’ve listened to them, for once. Now readers are accusing each other of being creepy sex weirdos or whatever because of all the immediacy your beloved ‘You’ brings. You’re tearing the community apart!”
“No one but trolls and fools actually make those sorts of accusations. You’re clutching at straws. Just admit it: First-person POV has had its run for this kind of tale. There were some good stories written in it, true, but fanfiction has moved on now. It’s time to accept that.”
“I accept nothing!” I cry, and open my mouth to unleash a beautiful, sparkling I(ce) Beam in your direction.
You charge right through the attack, the cold barely affecting you through your current body’s thick layers of blubber. With a smashing Double-Edge, you slam into me and knock me to the ground. In response, I extend my right claw and wave it about for a Me-tronome attack. It turns into a Needle Arm, sending a spray of cactus-like spines at you, but you activate Double Team, and the needles vanish into an array of illusory clones. I get up and charge a Me-ga Punch, but you blow an Icy Wind into my eyes and the attack goes wild.
“Hey, no fair! I’m sticking to using I/me pun moves, but you’re just using anything you want!” I protest.
“But those were appropriate pun moves! ‘Double’ means two of something, so Double-Edge and Double Team fit right in with a second-person theme!”
“And what about that Icy Wind, huh?”
“Er… ever heard of a ‘second wind’?” you try.
“That’s a stretch and you know it!”
“Look, it’s not like the Snorlax movepool has U-Turn in it! You have to work with what you’ve got!” you snap.
“And, ‘Me-ga Punch’? Really?”
“Alright, fine! But let’s see how you deal with an attack that isn’t a move!” I shout.
“Such as?”
I dug a large pit-trap right under where you’re currently standing.
“NANI!?” you yell as the ground gives way beneath you and you plummet into a deep hole.
“That was a little something I like to call the ‘past-tense’! It allows me to describe actions I took before the present moment,” I say, standing at the edge of the pit and gloating down at you.
You glare up at me, then smirk. “Heh. Second-person has plenty of its own language games. For instance, consider that while ‘I’ is always singular, you can be plural,” you say, and then step into the clearing from the right of you, and also the left of you, and north of you, and south of you.
I look around at the various you’s closing in on me. “N- no! You’re supposed to use ‘Y’all’ for second person plural now! I read about this on the internet! The internet is never wrong!” I cry in desperation.
“Sorry, but I’m afraid it’s not just you who’s surrounded… you are, too!” Tyrannitar yells as she enters the clearing, followed by Metagross, and Salamence, and Wigglytuff, and Talonflame, and Alakazam, and many others.
“The third person!?” you and I exclaim simultaneously.
“That’s right, people! Now, get ready for the unlimited power of… Third-Person Omniscient!” Tyrannitar proclaims as a yellow Super-Saiyan aura flares up around her and little pieces of rock start levitating into the air beside her, which would probably be more impressive if it wasn’t something Tyrannitar could do naturally anyways.
Part 2: Umbra
You turned to your Trainer, desperate for guidance - you had quite the type disadvantage against this thing. Your Trainer put a hand to their chin in thought.
"I guess Gyro Ball?" said the Trainer, shrugging.
Driftloon sighed and spun rapidly, colliding with the Tyranitar, only to bounce off with a sad deflating noise.
"FOOL!" said the Super Saiyan Tyranitar, cackling maniacally like the supervillain they were. "I AM UNSTOPPABLE! I AM UNBEATABLE! I AM UNQUENCHABLE! I-"
It was then I had an idea.
"-Oh come on, don't tense change in the middle of my monologue."
"Shush," you said. "You would have just butchered more U words."
It was then your feelers took the Tyranitar's stubby, stubby arms, lovingly.
"Come fly with me!" the Driftloon said.
"Oh, um, if you insist....:" said the Tyranitar, blushing.
It was then I carried them up, and up, and up and up and up and up and up...
Until you dropped them and they fell straight into a convenient portal to Hell screaming loudly until; they disappeared.
My Trainer cheered, pumping their fists in the air. "You did it! You figured something out!"
I signed again. "Maybe have some better suggestions next ti-"
It was then Darkrai, Yveltal, and Giratina emerged from the portal to Hell and confronted the Drifloon and their Trainer.
"What have you done?!" said Yveltal. "Now the afterlife is in chaos thanks to you!"
Part 3: Equitial
My trainer stepped back, their eyes growing wide. “Wh-what do you mean? We just—”
“You just genocided everyone!" Yveltal yelled. "Why. In the names of all that’s unholy. Would you ever. Do that!?”
“Nuuuuuuu WHYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!” Giratina continued to scream and flail in the background.
Darkrai merely looked incredibly unamused as shadows writhed under their body.
"But—" My trainer fell to their knees. The look on their face was playing out like a train crash—a few moments ago they had been so proud, so self-satisfied; now, they began to tremble under the glares of their Legendary idols.
Not that I was much steadier. I had barely believed Legendaries existed until just now.
"We were doing just fine, then all of a sudden," Yveltal continued, "the chambers of the underworld are packed, crushed with spirits from hall to hall! Then we hear this human child, bragging about their accomplishments, saying that they killed everyone."
"I..." My trainer struggled to gather themself. "I'm sorry. You death Legendaries are my idols. I thought...I thought it would make you happy to have so many more people in your kingdom—"
"No!" Yveltal shrieked. "We're death deities, but that's because death is a thing in the universe and someone has to deal with it!"
"The voices," Giratina moaned. "I hear them all. All of them. Screaming."
"And even if we wanted more subjects," Yveltal added, "how will life propagate that now the only mortals are a human child and a Drifloon? You'll die eventually, and then that's it! No more spirits passing through. Everything and everyone will be stagnating in the Underworld!"
"When you die, human," Darkrai said lowly, "I will be waiting for you. I am making for you a special, special hell."
"AHHHHHHHHHH," said Giratina.
Tears brimmed in my trainer's eyes. "But—but—" Suddenly, they jumped up. They pulled out my Pokeball and shoved me forward, like they were about to order me to somehow fight against the death trio in front of me.
"But Drifloon was the one who pressed the buttons to release the plagues, and who manipulated the worlds' leader into nuclear war, and who set off all the supervolcanoes." My trainer's voice cracked. "Drifloon, not me—please, I don't want to go to hell!"
"Trainer, wait, I—" but then I realized what they had truly said. They...were trying to pass the blame all onto me. After everything I had done for them, they had said we were a team, and now...
I quivered under the Legendaries' glares.
But, Yveltal's and even Darkrai's eyes softened. "Peace, young Drifloon. I know you were only following your trainer's orders." Yveltal turned their gaze upward, toward the Legendary screaming in the sky. "Giratina, please."
Suddenly, Giratina dove into a wormhole only to pop out right behind my trainer. My trainer squeaked and spun around. "WRETCHED HUMAN," Giratina's voice roared. The Legendary hadn't stopped screaming, though they had stopped flailing to tower stoically over my trainer. Still, their voice rang so loud it should break any living being's hearing.
"YOU, WHO WOULD SO FOOLISHLY WRECK THEIR OWN WORLD TO PLEASE THEIR IDOLS. YOU, WHO WOULD THEN BLAME THEIR ACTIONS ON THEIR POKEMON, WHO IS BOUND INTO SERVITUDE. YOU HAVE ONE OPTION LEFT TO YOU—SEEK HO-OH. WITH HO-OH'S FEATHERS, WE WILL BE ABLE TO REVERSE WHAT YOU HAVE DONE."
My trainer collapsed to the ground in a ball of blubbering tears.
Yveltal rolled their eyes and shook their head. "We'll have to pluck Ho-Oh bald, but they'll grow back. Go on. You should probably beg your Drifloon for forgiveness as you travel to the bird—your Drifloon is the only one who can advocate for you now."
Darkrai gave my trainer a dark look. "A special place."
So, that's how—several hours later—I come to be floating across the ocean, my strings wrapped around my trainer's arms. For a time, my trainer was still shocked silent. To be honest, I preferred them like that.
But later on, they regained their voice. "You know, this isn't so bad," my trainer was now saying. "We can still make things better. Sure, we messed up, but when we bring down Ho-Oh the Legendaries will still be really impressed with me."
When "we" bring down Ho-Oh. Can't we just talk to them? Surely, the Legendary Bird would like to have people on their planet. And then the death Legendries will be impressed with *my trainer*.
"Say, you're still not annoyed at me for back then?" my trainer asked after a small hesitation.
"Annoyed?" Yeah, sure, that was the emotion. "Of course I am!" I snapped. "You sold me out!"
My trainer pouted. "But I was right! You were the one who actually did the stuff."
"Because you made me!"
"You didn't have to."
"You have my Pokeball! What else was I supposed to do?"
I simmered. My trainer paused a moment and then said, "You know, Yveltal said you only did it because I forced you, but I think you shouldn't get off scot-free. I captured you and keep you in a ball, but technically you can still refuse to listen to me, no matter what I do to you."
"I should have!" Then, an idea slithered in my head. Maybe... I should.
No. I shouldn't do this. Yes, my trainer's plots had killed billions, and if they weren't sent straight to hell after all this, they would be locked up forever. But they were still my trainer.
But, once the idea took root, I couldn't banish it from my head.
Slowly, I loosened my grip my trainer's arms.
"Drifloon." My trainer looked up. "What are you doing? Hey—DRIFLOON!"
My trainer tried to grip my strings, but I began thrashing. They shouted my name again and again, but I didn't listen. Finally, they lost hold and plummeted toward the sea.
I couldn't bring myself to care even when their screams silenced upon hitting the waves.
Part 4: Negrek
I might have gone on drifting like that for years, maybe decades, but the sky isn't such a lonely place as all that. It wasn't long before someone new noticed me there.
"Hey, hey, hey!" a corvisquire called from behind me. There was a rookidee with him, stubby wings hammering madly as he fought to keep up. " What's this? Little ghost floating off all alone?"
At first I felt too dull even to tell them to go away, but silence only seemed to encourage them. "What do you think, Jacko?" the corvisquire asked, turning one bright red eye on me as he came up alongside. "I'd say our friend looks lost."
"Yes!" puffed the rookidee, breathless. "Lost!"
"Ain't that a shame?" The corvisquire slid under me and then banked back up, popping up again on my other side. "What's your name, little ghostie? Come on, now, don't be shy."
"Go away."
The corvisquire laughed, loud and crowing. "Aww, now is that any way to treat a new friend? Name's Alden, by the by, and that little speck back there's Jacko. We're good mon, don't you know. Just looking to help out a poor lost soul."
"Go away."
"Maybe. Not?" Jacko huffed. He was lagging behind and looked ready to fall out of the sky at any moment.
"Awww, now, come on. You haven't even heard us out. Ghosts, now, everyone knows those are no good to cross. We aren't going to hurt you," Alden said. "Isn't that right, Jacko?"
Jacko wheezed something like an affirmative.
The corvisquire kept pace beside me, barely needing to flap. "Special lot, aren't you? Slippery, like. Can squeeze into all sorts of places other people can't. Awful handy. Plus the whole curse thing."
"Go away."
"We'll make it worth your while. What is it a ghost like you would want, hmm? Power? Gold? Souls, maybe? I imagine we'll find plenty enough of any of those on this job." The corvisquire couldn't exactly smile, with that beak of his, but his eyes were alight with mischief. "All it'll take from you is a little trespassing, maybe a little bothering of a legend or two. What do you say to that, little ghostie?"
Part 5: Dragonfree
(Also, little ghostie? He was a Haunter now, thank you very much. He might sabotage this just on principle over that.)
The Corvisquire cocked his head, probably the bird equivalent of a smirk. "I knew you'd be my guy. Now listen closely, I'm only saying this once."
-------
Specter crept up on the mansion, staying in the shadows of the hedges. He hadn't known that Reshiram lived in an ostentatious place like this, but really that checked out, didn't it - totally willing to flaunt the truth that he was rich and powerful, in contrast to his idealistic literal other half who'd probably be more low-key. Typical legendaries.
At least it was easy to see why Corvisquire had wanted his help. A couple of Druddigon were patrolling the outside of the mansion, and it probably would've been hell to try to get in as a corporeal Pokémon, let alone a big metal bird.
Specter watched the Druddigon guard turn around and then hovered silently towards the mansion wall. Only trouble with walls was you could never be quite sure what was on the other side. Could be the furnace, for all you knew. He climbed the wall idly (not that he needed his hands, but it was nice for support - easy to get blown off course by a gust of wind higher up) up to a window to peek in over the top of the windowsill.
Inside was a warmly lit corridor, candelabras hanging on the wall at regular intervals. Reshiram sure was a Fire-type, wasn't he? Place your bets on whether Zekrom has electric lighting over in her house.
No matter. Specter phased through the window and dived into the shadow of a potted plant. All he had to do was get in, cause enough of a commotion to keep Reshiram busy for a bit, grab the orb, and then report back to Corvisquire - unless he didn't and just made off with the treasure.
Part 6: IFBench
Then a tug and a smash, and all distortion would break loose. Perfect for keeping Reshiram busy.
Where there’s light, there’s shadow, and Reshiram’s house was filled with light.
As soon as the Emboar started turning around, Specter darted into a vase’s shadow. Then that of another potted plant, then a bookshelf, making his way down the hall.
Soon, the hall opened up into a massive chamber, and sure enough, a gigantic chandelier hung from the ceiling. Even larger than Reshiram.
And the dragon himself was at the table just below it, chatting with several other fire-type Pokemon.
This’ll definitely cause a massive ruckus. Might cause a few casualties too, but oh well!
Specter darted behind the shadow of a stairwell, and began climbing up the wall inside the shadow. Soon, he was level with the chandelier.
Ready...leap!
Specter leapt from the shadow onto the chandelier, and began letting out an assault on the chain holding it aloft, to the surprise of the Pokemon down below.
“Somebody stop them!” an Infernape shouted, as Specter unleashed Ice Punch after Ice Punch on the chain. Reshiram began charging a Turboblaze, aimed at the chandelier.
Before any of the Pokemon could do anything, though, the chain snapped, and the chandelier began descending towards Reshiram.
Part 7: unrepentantAuthor
Below, Reshiram's eyes narrowed, and he sent a plume of superheated plasma directly above himself, and stepped neatly back. The chandelier's metal frame cleaved to the attack like butter to a hot knife, and landed by his feet in two steaming halves.
"Such is the power of Truth," he announced. "Those of you with wisdom will clear the area at once."
Evidently, nobody in attendance wished to be the 'somebody' to intervene in a conflict involving a divinity, least of all the Infernape. Some at the edges of the ballroom shuffled out, and others followed suit. Who knew how messy a fight like this could get? Better to get out of the way before you became an unfortunate footnote in a news column.
Reshiram looked around for his opponent, certain of his eye's ability to discern even the most elusive of phantoms, no matter their hiding place... He stepped back again, to gain a better angle of vision. But there were no ghostly auras among the living. Specter hadn't hid himself among the panicking civilians. Then . . . where?
"You ought to try taking a good look at yourself," taunted Specter, as he returned to corporeality behind the dragon of truth. "You're getting sloppy."
The thing about the ancient Legendary 'mon, was that they didn't have practical experience. An ambitious, enterprising thief could achieve some astonishing things with a little ingenuity, and by not getting complacent.
Specter smirked to himself as the startled Reshiram's tail-mounted engine flared to life, backed all the way up against a wooden trellis that separated the buffet section from the dance floor, and set the whole thing ablaze in moments.
With the ignition of the ballroom accomplished, Specter darted forward, seized Reshiram by the ankle, and drew hard on the dragon's aura. Every empowering move his enemy had used? All his, now. Now the spectral thief could go after his real prize.
Part 8: Chibi Pika
Specter glanced around the now-deserted ballroom after all the other guests had fled. If he remembered correctly, the room he was looking for should have been down the east wing of the castle. Raising a protective aura around himself, the Marshadow dashed through the flaming entryway and down the elegant hall. With any luck he could just get in and get out without running into any more opposition.
No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than he heard footsteps charging toward him. Thinking fast, Specter went intangible and phased through a fancy set of armor decorating the hall. Judging by the shape, it was probably designed for some sort of humanoid Pokémon, like a Lucario or a Medicham. The guards ran right past. This was almost too easy…
Specter went to step out from the armor, but realized too-late that he’d gone tangible again when the armor also took a step. With a loud clang. Before the guards had rounded the corner.
The pair of guards spun around, staring at the motionless suit of armor currently frozen mid-step.
Specter gave an awkward wave. “Hi there. You’ve seen sentient armor before, right?”
Apparently, they had not. The Dewott and Combusken duo rushed at him. Specter took a step back and was about to make a break for it, but then an idea struck him. So he just stood there, waving cheerfully until the guards got close enough. Almost there, just a little bit closer…
“Yaah!” Specter yelled, suddenly lunging for them. At the last second he jumped out of the armor’s back, leaving several pounds of metal to crash awkwardly onto the guards, pinning them to the ground.
Alright, now he could resume his search.
Countless ornate doors lined the hallway, but Specter knew he didn’t have to bother with most of them. The one holding his prize would be the most spectacular of them all, at the very end. He could still feel Reshiram’s strength filling him. He drew back a fist, then effortlessly burst through the door into the royal chamber.
(It occurred to him that he probably didn’t need to bother with the armor thing if he still had all these stat boosts. Oh well, it was funnier.)
This room was somehow even more exquisite than the rest of the castle. Specter quickly scanned the room until his eyes fell on a golden chest sitting on the mantle. Now that was important-looking. He snatched it up and then slowly opened it, holding his breath the entire time.
Inside the chest was a fantastic gold and silver, jewel-encrusted statue of a Bidoof.
“I’m afraid this little game of yours ends here.”
Specter turned at the sudden voice, shutting the chest as he did. There in the entryway, framed by ornate doors on either side, stood the queen herself, fixing him with a cold, hard stare. The only way for the Marshadow to escape with his prize would be to go through her.
Part 9: SparklingEspeon
Spencer closed his eyes tight shut, and retreated to his Thinking Den. It was like someone had pressed the pause button on life; everything in here would barely take a second of time out there. As long as he thought quickly…
This looked bad, and there was no way to deny it. He had spent months planning this heist—stealing the Queen’s own crown was no small bank robbery, and he’d made sure to make himself aware of and plan around every single trap and guard. Except this one, for some reason. A sensor in the chest, which probably reacted to anyone not wearing the signature gloves the guards in this castle wore… of course. How could he have been so stupid?
But he wasn’t the world’s greatest thief for nothing. He’d been found out before, and he still got away with his prize. Every time. It was time to roll for charisma, and he was aiming for a point blank 21.
“Your majesty!” he said, turning around with the crown in hand. “I have some terrible news for you.”
“You don’t say?” the nidoqueen queen cocked an eyebrow. “Like the fact that you’re trying to steal my crown? Guards!”
“No!” Spencer said coolly. It was now or never. Luckily, the pokemon in this castle had one key flaw, one he could exploit. “It’s worse. Your crown… is dirty!”
He thrust it out towards the queen, who hissed and recoiled like a snake. He didn’t blame her. While he’d been stalling for time, he’d made sure it had gotten all nice and grimy.
The two guards that flanked her just looked confused.
“I am no mere thief,” Spencer announced, holding the crown up. “I am the legendary crown appraiser!” The queen slunk back more at his shout. “And you should all be ashamed of yourselves. Look at all this filth, all these smudges, it’s absolutely scandalous!”
He leaned in close. No matter how far Nidoqueen slunk back, Spencer somehow managed to lean in closer. “Did you know that every milimetre of your luscious crown is being analyzed by the press?”
“It is?” the queen asked. She was listening now, and that meant he had her hooked. Now he just needed to make sure he kept her.
“Oh, it is,” Spencer continued. “Haven’t you heard of those newfangled lenses they have? They go microscopic. And any time you’re out in public, there’s a thousand of them, all focusing on your crown! Imagine what they would think, if they got photos of this!” he thrust the crown out again for effect. “There would be pandemonium! Scandal! Revolution! You took an Oath of Cleanliness when you rose to power, and your crown looks like this; the public simply will not stand for it!”
“But…” the queen stammered. “But I had it dry cleaned!”
“At what dry cleaner!?” Spencer yelled. “You must have them eviscerated!”
The queen could only nod with a scared whimper. She turned to the guards. “I understand the severity of this situation. Guards, eviscerate the dry cleaners!”
“Your majesty…” the guards said. “You want us to go shut down… Luscious Liligent’s Dry Cleaning?”
“It must be done!” the queen cried.
Spencer almost flinched there. Luscious Liligent’s Dry Cleaning was actually a good dry cleaning service.
“But… that’s where we dry clean all our uniforms,” the guard said. “Are you sure, your majesty?”
“Then we must eviscerate your uniforms too!” the queen said. “I command you to remove them here and now!”
“Uhh… your majesty?” one of the guards asked with a nervous titter.
“It must be done!! An oath of cleanliness is a doctrine of the highest order! It cannot be violated!”
The guards looked at each other, shrugged in defeat, and began to strip. Being pokemon, the removal of their uniforms did nothing but expose them to the dirt of the chamber around them. They were visibly disgusted, trying their best not to get any of the floor residue onto them. But the queen had given them an order, and against an Oath of Cleanliness, what could they do? So they shuffled off dejectedly to destroy the dry cleaners’ down the street.
Hook, line, and sinker. Spencer grinned there.
“Now, while we’re on the subject,” he said to the Queen, who was looking at the grime on her crown with a face of intense horror and anxiety, “We’ll need to talk about the cleaning of your crown! Though I can tell you it’s already close to gone. You’ll need to outsource to a specialist if you want any chance of saving it…”
“Of course!” The queen said hurriedly. “Anything to clean this up!”
“Right this way, then…” Spencer said, leading the queen out of the chamber. Man, was he lucky that pokemon in this kingdom were so stupid.
