Chapter 5: Digging
Raskin stared at Sid. "You lost your job?"
Sid frowned at him. "Yeah. Why do you sound so confused?"
"I mean—um, I'm sorry." The nickit sat down on the other side of the sofa. They didn't have any other furniture to choose from, other than the two rickety chairs at the tiny kitchen table. "How did it happen?"
"It was pretty weird, really," Sid muttered. "I was going about my usual work, when our supervisor came over and said Sceptile wanted to see me. I've only met with the boss like, twice, in all the years I've been there. We sat down in her office, and firstly she thanked me for all the work I'd done on her watch… which already made me a bit suspicious. Then she said that my sector is going to start testing out some new kinda machines soon, and if it goes well, we won't need as many manual workers."
"Then what? She said you were one of the least productive workers, or something like that?"
Sid raised an eyebrow. "Pretty much exactly. How'd you guess?"
Raskin swore under his breath. I knew it.
"I don't understand it though," Sid went on, his voice slowly rising in pitch. "Sure, I don't enjoy the work, but I never slack off while I'm on the clock! There's no way I'm the least productive—I don't have to take as many water breaks as the non-fires, for starters!"
"Sid, I think I know what's going on," Raskin said. "Listen."
He briefly explained his own encounter with Pangoro.
"What?!" Sid yelped the moment Raskin reached the crux of their meeting. "You're being made redundant too? How can that be?"
Raskin sighed, looking at the floor. There suddenly felt like a huge weight on his shoulders. "Let me just… get a beer," he said, getting up. "You want one?"
"Uh… yeah, alright."
Raskin carried a bottle in each paw, walking in his bipedal stance before collapsing back on the sofa. Well, he wished he could collapse on it. The cheap material was barely softer than the wooden floor beneath it.
He took a long gulp from his bottle, and took a moment more to compose himself, welcoming the little bit of warmth in his stomach that the alcohol provided. "I don't think we were careful enough in organising the fight, Sid," he said at last. "Word must have gotten out somehow that we were involved in something illegal, and the people in power decided from that that they couldn't employ us anymore."
Sid took a moment to digest this. "Are you… are you sure?" he said slowly. "I mean, couldn't this timing just be a crazy coincidence?"
"Maybe it could, but it isn't," Raskin said firmly. "Look, neither of us were fired, only made redundant. Why? Because there was no hard evidence to fire us with, only rumours. Neither of the reasonings given for firing us made much sense, either—because they were essentially made up on the fly to cover for the flimsy actual reasoning."
Sid's face screwed up. "I still don't understand why they'd have to let us go. Wouldn't it be more reasonable to pull us to one side and say, 'hey, I've been hearing these rumours about you, don't do anything like it again or you'll be properly punished'?"
Raskin nodded. "I've been thinking about that too. All I can imagine is that none of these bosses want to get on the wrong side of the government." He sighed. "Maybe they're worried that if anything more serious happened to us, they could be implicated just by employing us."
"Maybe they have links to the government themselves," Sid added.
Raskin looked at him, surprised. "That might also be true."
He wasn't sure what else to say about it, though—there was nothing they could change about the situation, after all. The conversation lulled, and for a while, Raskin did nothing but stare down the beer bottle, taking sips. He couldn't afford to drink silly amounts, especially not now. Mew, even beer is depressing me.
He only stirred again when Sid nudged his shoulder. "Everything okay, Rasky?" the quilava asked, leaning towards him, concerned.
Raskin felt his mouth quiver for a moment. "How can you ask that? Aren't you worried about… about what we're gonna do now? Neither of us have jobs, Sid! We got some settlement money, sure, but that won't last. I… I don't know what I'll do. I don't have any career to fall back on, no parents to rely on…"
"You have your work experience with the bank," Sid offered. "That has to count for something."
"If I wanted another shitty bank job, maybe," Raskin muttered. He pulled his ears down over his face, the feeling of despair in his chest rapidly rising again. "Sometimes, I dream of there just being…. somewhere else to go. Somewhere far from Deepden, where there isn't a police officer around every corner, and I don't spend every other waking second checking that I can still pay this month's rent."
He saw Sid frown in his periphery. "You mean like… the Wilderness?"
Raskin sighed. "That doesn't count."
"Well, where else? The land to the south is completely barren."
"I don't know, Sid. It was only a stupid dream."
They said nothing for a moment.
"Y'know, I was doing some thinking before you arrived," Sid said, sitting up. His tone of voice seemed far too upbeat for the situation. "And I guess that idea makes even more sense now."
"And what idea would that be?" Raskin snapped.
"Simple: we organise more fights!"
Raskin stared at him, stunned and horrified, but Sid only grinned back.
"Think about it, 'mon. We made 200 poké first time around, but it could have been at least double that. Double, split between us, would have been a week's worth of pay for us both! And think: what would happen if we organised two fights a week? Or even three? We'd be raking it in!"
"Sid, doing that stupid fight is why we're in this mess at all! Hell, it was my idea! I'm responsible for all of this."
"Don't say that," Sid said. He looked seriously at Raskin. "It was a brilliant idea, Rasky. Still is. You saw how well it went down."
"Because it was illegal!"
"Fine, then we'll just have to cover our tracks better than last time." A wry smile spread across Sid's mouth. "In theory, it should be safer now, since we don't have jobs to be taken away from us…"
"Don't be stupid—we still have tons of things to lose! We have the apartment. Our families. And besides, how would we organise all these fights? We don't possibly have the resources for that!"
That made Sid pause. The quilava stroked his head fur. Then his eyes suddenly lit up – his flame sacs even gave a brief spark. "Our redundancy pay! That's more than we'd ever be able to save up normally—there's our resources! It'll pay itself back faster than a pidgeot in flight if we can get this thing up and running."
Raskin fiddled with his paws. If he could ignore all the perilous implications of running more fights, Sid made good points. The first fight had been a sensational success on most levels. If, somehow, they were able to upscale the whole operation, get it running smoothly and regularly, keep the money flowing to him and Sid, and keep the cops well away…
Then he thought of his last meeting with Haikos, and his heart sank. His father would be mortified if he were listening to them now.
But there was also the matter of Haikos' impending freedom. Maybe, if he and Sid could pull off fights consistently, they would make enough to afford Haikos the time off he deserved. It didn't sound likely, sure, but neither did earning any greater money through regular jobs.
Raskin glanced up. Sid was still looking eagerly at him.
Right—think of how happy doing this would make Sid. He loved the first event so much. His friend's wellbeing mattered as much as anyone in his life. Particularly given how it had been lately.
"I'll… sleep on it," Raskin said finally.
"Great!" Sid beamed, then the smile faltered. "Uh—do you still have work tomorrow?"
"Until the end of the week."
"Oh, same as me."
They exchanged a look, and Raskin could tell that if Sid hadn't believed what he had said about their redundancies before, there was no doubt now.
"Well…" Sid scratched his head. "Goodnight, then."
----
What did it really mean, Raskin wondered, to 'sleep on' a thought? Did it imply that for any dilemma, a good night's sleep would make the answer magically jump out at you? Or did it mean, as was the case for him, that instead of sleeping you would merely spend all night mulling over the thought, to the point where you just wanted to give in to the difficult, but seemingly best decision?
Sid was already gone when he finally rose. That was fine—he could send the quilava a note should he need to. In fact, it was perhaps beneficial not to immediately fill Sid in on the idea he'd had. He could already hear the quilava's complaints in his head.
Once he had gotten ready for work, he quickly scrawled a different note and headed to the post office. After getting to the front of another absurdly long queue, he found himself face-to-face with the same sandshrew as the last time.
"Hello," Raskin began. "I've got a note here that—"
"Doesn't have an address," the sandshrew finished, eyeing the paper disdainfully.
"Well yes, that's what I need help with. I have a recipient in mind, but I don't know where she lives."
"Uh-huh," the sandshrew said. "You know her name?"
"Yes. Lyco."
"Species?"
"Lycanroc. The red-furred kind."
"So, N." The sandshrew wheeled her chair to the opposite side of her desk, where a shiny new computer sat. She typed something in, then waited a moment. Raskin watched her eyes narrow.
"You said 'Lyco'?" she asked.
"Yeah."
She shook her head. "There's no one of that name in our records."
Raskin blinked at her. "There must be!"
The sandshrew shrugged, taking a sip from a coffee cup. "Take a look yourself if you want."
Raskin slipped through the gap in the counter, feeling increasingly conscious of the impatient queue's grumblings behind him. The computer screen showed a list of a handful of names: Percy Lycanroc-N, Luna Lycanroc-N, Pita Lycanroc-N…
But the 'shrew was right: Lyco was not amongst them. There didn't even seem to be a name that Lyco could be derived from.
"Could you search for rockruff?" Raskin asked. "Maybe she just Shifted recently."
The sandshrew eyed him suspiciously. "The search automatically factors in possible form changes. The only other thing I could do is search for her name specifically."
She typed 'Lyco' into a search bar. Again, it took an awkward few seconds for the machine to process the request. A Lyco did eventually appear, but it belonged to a litten. Then another to a zigzagoon. No other results came up.
Raskin felt exasperated. She built a house in the roughest part of civilisation, she knows way too much about fighting, her name isn't on any Deepden records… goddammit, who are you, Lyco?
"How much would it cost to send a letter to every lycanroc-N in your records?" he asked hopefully.
The sandshrew scoffed. "There's no way I can licence that."
"What? Why not?"
The sandshrew turned to him, her face suddenly serious. "Look, I don't know what your business with this lady is. But the fact that you don't know her name or address, yet would be willing to bother every other lycan in the city just in the hopes of passing on a message to her… it's more than a little fishy."
"Hey, it's not like I'm harassing her—" Raskin began, then stopped himself. A few 'mon near the front of the queue were looking at him suspiciously. The sandshrew's words were loud enough to be overheard.
Raskin took a deep breath. I've got enough to worry about already. "Okay," he said, with forced calmness. "Sorry for wasting your time." He strode away and out of the post office, not making any eye contact.
Great. What do I do now? Lyco was the best idea I had. I hope Sid's been thinking too, otherwise—
He suddenly became aware of a scent nearby. It came at him so strongly, and was so familiar, that it cut through every other part of his consciousness like a knife.
Heart racing, he spun his head around the busy street until he found the source. It wasn't what he expected. Sitting on the ground against the side of a building, a blanket full of holes and odd stitched colours half covering him, as well as a cardboard tray with a few coins strewn inside. The nidoran from Oldden.
Their eyes met at the same time. The nidoran instinctively jerked backwards in surprise, but then relaxed, even breaking out a wide grin.
"Hey, nickit!" he said. "Still achin' from when I bashed you up the other day?"
Raskin blinked. Hadn't this 'mon attacked him and Sid with barely a moment's thought? He had feared something similar again, as insane that would be on a high street in broad daylight. At least the 'mon had some sense about him, if only a little.
He still shuddered to think about what might have been had Lyco not burst to their rescue. The nidoran's horn had been one swipe away from piercing Sid with what looked like…
Lyco.
He regarded the nidoran, who still grinned, then stepped closer so he could keep his voice down.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
The nidoran looked deliberately at his coin tray, then back to the nickit with narrowed eyes. "What's it look like?"
Raskin gritted his teeth. "I mean, you shouldn't be here! What if an officer finds you?"
The nidoran shrugged. "They don't patrol this part 'till later. What d'you care, anyway?"
Enough beating around the bush, then, Raskin thought.
"Nidoran, I know this is sudden, but I need your help with something."
The nidoran stared at him for a moment, then erupted into laughter—a scratchy, shrill noise that almost made Raskin's head throb. This did draw the glances of passers-by, much to his irritation.
"What could I possibly do for ya, little nickit?" the nidoran said.
Raskin ignored the taunt in his tone. "I need to find Lyco," he said. The nidoran's smile dropped immediately at her name, which made Raskin stumble for a moment. "But... I don't know how. And I don't want to spend days waiting hopefully in Oldden for her. You know her, right? Do you have any idea where she lives?"
"I doubt I'll ever find that out," the nidoran said, suddenly serious, "but I do know where she works."
"That could do."
"But you got another thing comin' if you expect that information for free," the nidoran added, smiling wryly. "'Specially if she's as important to you as it seems."
Raskin sighed. Money, that great leveller. "How much do you want?"
The nidoran thought for a second. "Twenty."
"Twenty?" Raskin barely managed to contain his fury and disbelief. I could get a ride anywhere in the city for two, you bastard! "No way."
The nidoran shrugged. "Take it or leave it."
Raskin stared at him. He was supposed to negotiate with that? "Ten," he said reluctantly.
"Fifteen," the nidoran replied.
"Twelve."
"Fifteen, and I'll even walk ya there myself," the nidoran said, looking more smug than ever.
Is that even a good thing? Raskin frowned. No, that's short-sighted of me. Knowing Lyco, she'll still be somewhere unexpected. At least if this guy's with us, I can hold him to finding her.
Fifteen poké… it went against every frugal fibre of his being. But there seemed little choice if he wanted Lyco's help.
"Fine."
"Great!" the nidoran beamed. "How 'bout I take you there now?"
"I need to head to work. I was planning on finding her afterwards."
"I see. Well, I can meet ya there. Where 'bouts you work?"
Raskin hesitated. That would make life easier, he supposed. "The bank on Amity Street."
"Ooooh, posh," the nidoran said. "I'll see ya when you're out, then. Have fun!"
Raskin nodded. He noticed then that the nidoran's paw was still extended towards him, expectant, and he scowled. "I'll pay you when we find her, and nothing before."
----
Eight and a half hours later, Raskin stepped out of the bank. At times like these, he cursed his smallness. The street was as crowded as ever on a weekday evening, and standing on the bank's steps for visibility wasn't an option, given it wouldn't close for another hour.
He eventually decided on a nook in-between the bank and an office block next door that loomed just as tall. He was surprised to see Sid already waiting there.
"Evening," Sid said with a smile. "How was work? What's this plan you've got lined up for us?"
"Well…" Raskin began, then changed his mind. "Sorry, shouldn't you still be at work?"
Sid grinned. "Yeeeah, I should… but I snuck off when the supervisors weren't around. I'm leaving in four days—I don't need to play by their rules anymore, y'know?"
Raskin shut his eyes in frustration. "Yes, you do. We're relying on this redundancy money. Don't give your bosses any excuse to take that away."
Sid huffed. "It's only an hour of work, dude, relax. Anyway, you wanna let me in on this plan? I knew you would come round to my idea," he added, giving the nickit a friendly nudge.
Before Raskin could find the best way to explain, the nidoran's scent found his nostrils again, piercing through the more innocuous odours of passers-by. Judging by the rapid movements around Sid's muzzle, he had noticed it too.
The nidoran came into view a moment later, weaving through the street towards them.
"Rasky," Sid muttered, a low growl brewing in his throat as he faced the nidoran. "What is he doing here?"
"He's going to take us to Lyco," Raskin said.
"Lyco?!" Sid's voice could hardly reach a higher pitch. "Rasky, what… what the hell have you been planning today?"
"Just… trust me," Raskin said, hoping his calmness would diffuse over to the quilava. "I've thought a lot about how to make these fights a reality, and it seemed Lyco was the best place to start."
Sid still looked sceptical, but didn't pester any further for now.
The nidoran finally stood in front of them. He now wore a reedy shoulder bag, though the strap was ill-fitting, making it swing like a pendulum against his side. His smile was as wide as Raskin's ears.
"Evenin'," he nodded. "Good to see ya again, mister smokey-cough."
Sid, to his credit, didn't fall for the bait. "At least I can afford a bath more than once a year," he snapped.
That wiped some of the smugness of the nidoran's face. "Whatever," he shrugged. "Let's get on with it, eh? This walk'll take a while."
For a while, Raskin and Sid followed the 'mon in silence. The nidoran seemed to lead them exclusively through the darkest, narrowest paths available, regardless of their efficiency. Raskin struggled to locate where they were going, but from the receding noise it had to be somewhere on the city's outskirts.
"Say, I never introduced myself," the nidoran said after a while. "Name's Tyler."
"Sid," the quilava said, adding venomously, "Now we're acquainted, maybe you could explain why you attacked Raskin in Oldden."
Tyler chuckled. "You're still upset about that?"
"Still? When should I stop?"
Tyler stopped, the first time all journey, and turned to them. His smile was replaced with a grim snarl—he looked much more like the 'mon Raskin knew from that day.
"Look, mate, I don't know what pampered, fancy fucking district of this city you grew up in," he spat. "But Oldden don't play by those rules. If two 'mon have a disagreement, they don't go to the authority. Fighting is the authority."
"We didn't have a disagreement, though," Raskin pointed out. "I just opened the door."
That made Tyler falter, and Raskin added, "It wasn't even your property we walked into. What were you doing in Lyco's house, anyway?"
Tyler scowled at him for a moment, then turned away. "It can get real cold in Oldden," he muttered. "Lyco's house is the nicest place to sleep. And she don't normally show up until the evening."
He started walking again. The path they were on now had no cover, but was also almost deserted, with only the occasional ride pokémon or purposeful-looking civilian. It was dustier here, too. Everything had gained a slight yellow hue.
Raskin was not surprised by Tyler's answer. He still had some curiosities, though, and doubted he would ever get a better chance than this to find answers. He just hoped Sid didn't get too annoyed with him for conversing with the enemy.
"Tyler, why do you live in Oldden? Why does anyone?"
Tyler snorted. "You mean, instead of getting thrown in one of them housing blocks in exchange for community service?"
"Right. I mean, at least there you get food, a roof over your head—"
"Access to a shower," Sid added.
"…and that."
"Yeah, but for what?" Tyler said. "There's nothing enjoyable about that life. Yer nothing more than a slave to the government."
"And starving out in Oldden is better?"
"Yes!" Tyler snapped. He stopped, a growl rising in his throat. Then he shook his head. "I dunno… I like the culture of Oldden. The fights for good ground. The scavenging for food…"
He trailed off, his voice uncertain.
Raskin felt like he understood, though. "Perhaps you should stick around when we meet Lyco, Tyler. You might be interested in what I want to talk about."
Raskin felt Sid's eyes burn into him, as if they could set on fire like his flame sacs. But Tyler just glanced back at him, unable to hide his surprise. "Why would I be interested?"
"It involves lots of fighting."
Tyler chuckled. "It does? Maybe yer right. Oh—we're here, by the way."
Raskin suddenly jerked his head up to look around. He'd almost forgotten what they were walking for.
About 20 metres ahead of them, the ground seemed to simply fall off a cliff. The road ended on this corner, and the only building in sight was a concrete booth at the cliff's edge, which a geodude sat inside. As they walked closer, Raskin could make out little moving dots far below. Faint sounds of banging and clanging drifted up to them.
He felt like slapping himself. A mine. Of course a lycanroc works at a mine!
"So, mate," Tyler said casually, "how 'bout that money you owe?"
"Not yet," Raskin replied. "I can't see Lyco from here. Can you?"
Tyler hmphed, then made his way towards the geodude.
They were told the day shift would finish shortly, but as it 'wasn't recommended' for people to wait outside the mine like they were, Raskin paid two poké for them to get the lift underground. The nickit wondered if this day could possibly get any more needlessly expensive.
The lift opened to reveal a huge room carved in the rock. Several rows of benches—their heights varied to account for different sized species—stretched almost endlessly in front of them. One wall was crammed with lockers, while the opposite side had stacks of trays and bowls that suggested a cafeteria, though the area was vacated now.
Tyler whistled in admiration. "Damn. This ain't half bad."
"Let's just find Lyco before we admire the mining industry," Raskin said, nudging the nidoran onwards.
The room ended with a glass wall, a huge window into the mines, which were much closer at this level. Raskin leant against the glass with his front paws and peered over the edge. The various groups of pokémon there must have numbered in the hundreds. Some were surveying the ground, muzzles pressed up against the rock surface. Others—it looked like mostly steel pokémon—were sorting through vast piles of rubble, taking and discarding rocks in no clear pattern.
"There!" Sid said, pointing. "She's getting out of that machine!"
Raskin followed his directions, then his heart jumped a little as he found the lycanroc. Lyco was indeed stepping down from one of the enormous, motorised vehicles that picked up chunks of rock in its scooped mouth. He couldn't help wondering, who even thought up a monster like that?
As she got out, a screeching whistle sounded through the glass. Every other worker stopped, some wincing, and started to leave their stations. Lyco had apparently foreseen this, being one of the first to get on the lifts taking them back to the glass doors. That meant she had a clear view of the 'mon at the window.
Her eyes shot open, then narrowed, then burned with fury.
She lurched towards the doors, shoving them open before anyone else. "What are you doing here?" she demanded. She turned on Tyler. "How did you know where I worked?"
Tyler laughed, a little more nervous than he seemed to intend. "Knowledge is power, y'know."
"Oh, shut up." Lyco eyed Raskin next. He noticed the coating of dust on her fur that she seemed to have no interest in clearing. "Was this your idea?"
"Well, I wanted to talk with you," Raskin said, trying to keep his voice steady. "But I didn't know how to find you, given you said you didn't… live in Oldden."
"Well, you've found me now. What do you want?"
There was now a steady stream of people leaving the mines, many of whom watched the group of them as they went by with considerable interest. Raskin felt uneasy. "Is there anywhere more private we can go than here?"
Lyco thought for a second. "Yes, but you'd better not have a whole presentation for me. We shouldn't stick around past closing time."
"We'll be quick about it," Raskin agreed.
Lyco led them to the cafeteria side of the room, pressed some buttons on a keypad, opening the door beside it, and Raskin found himself in a deserted kitchen.
Lyco leant against the nearest work surface, arms folded. "Here we are."
Raskin felt awfully small standing next to her and Sid, with the quilava on two legs to meet her at almost head height. He located a low wooden stool in the corner of the room and dragged it over until he could sit opposite them. That was better.
"In short," he began. "Sid and I want to run more fights. I think there was more than enough interest from our first one to make it sustainable, from a business sense."
Lyco raised an eyelid. "And…you want my help?"
"Right! I…" Raskin faltered, feeling his face heat up. Stop that! he told himself angrily—like that would do much good. "Well, I know I don't really know you, Lyco, and I'm sorry for what happened to your house—well, not your house, but—"
"Holy shit, spit it out already."
"You know stuff!" Raskin spluttered. "I mean, we were clueless about setting up a fighting space, but you knew what to do. And you actually… can fight, or at least know more about it. We need someone with that kind of knowledge to make sure fights run correctly." He paused. "Plus, given how much time you spend in Oldden, I hoped that you might know some… other spaces that we could host from."
Lyco nodded slowly.
This seems promising, Raskin thought. She hasn't told me to shut up for about a minute.
"What's changed from last week?" she said. "You never said anything about holding another fight then."
Raskin and Sid exchanged a glance. "We lost our jobs," Raskin said. "Or, we will be. We're getting made redundant, and thought that the money from that could go towards… a more permanent location, say. Maybe some extra measures that would make it a better experience for everyone."
"You both lost your jobs?" Lyco said. "At the same time?"
"I think word of what we organised leaked to our bosses."
Lyco's eyes widened. "Gods. That was all it took..." She paused, shaking her head. "You must realise then, that this sort of thing isn't taken lightly by the police. If you're caught, caught properly, then—"
"Yes, we know that," Raskin said. "We knew that the first time around."
"Then why exactly are you willing to put everything you've got on the line again? Don't say it's just money, because I don't believe that."
Raskin hesitated, and Sid spoke up before he could. "Because it made a difference to people," the quilava said. "I was only watching, but coming out of Oldden that night, I felt happier than I had in weeks."
"Chaka too," Raskin said. "The raticate," he added at Lyco's look of confusion. "Before that fight, I felt like he had a genuine animosity for Aster. But afterwards, they looked like old friends. It was like he'd just needed to let off some steam."
"And hell, I bet there's lots of pokémon that felt—or feel—the same!" Sid chimed in, eyes glowing. "Rasky and I have gotten so many requests since that night from 'mon who want to fight. We probably have enough in the pipeline already to supply this fighting space for weeks."
Lyco didn't respond immediately. She looked at the floor, one paw across her mouth in thought. When she took it away, Raskin thought he could see a flicker of a smile.
"I'm glad that I don't have to argue this point with you," she said. "It is a travesty that we aren't free to fight in this city. They teach you in school that our ancestors that fought day and night, whether in the wild or for trainers, were some kind of lesser beings to us now. It's all bullshit. Fighting is what we are as pokémon. Taking it away is like taking away our ability to speak, or mate. It's just pokémon nowadays don't realise that."
Raskin stared at her, his heart lifting with hope. He wasn't sure he could feel quite as strongly as she did, but the intensity of her words was encouraging. "You want to help us, then?"
"Yes. However." Lyco shook her mane back, creating a faint cloud of rock dust that forced some coughs out of Raskin. "It's only fair that, if we're together on this, I should make a few demands of you two."
Raskin's smile wavered. "Like what?"
"Firstly, that you're committed. I'm not willing to waste my time with you if you run a couple of fights, then, say, an enticing job opportunity comes up and you decide that oh, this fight thing was fun, but it's time to get a real job again. No passivity. We will have to work our asses off if this is to succeed."
"Will we?" Sid asked. "Aren't we just… y'know, holding fights?"
"And that brings me to my other point," Lyco said. "Your plan is to hold, what, a fight or two every session? And have one session a week?"
"Maybe two," Sid said.
"Whatever. But look, if you truly believe in the value of fighting, I think you'll agree that that's the wrong approach. Holding one or two fights at a time limits everyone else's involvement. Make it so that this fight… club, fight society, whatever you wanna call it, is where anyone can fight. Someone new turns up? They have to fight. Someone had a shit day at work? They have to fight. In fact, I'd say that it's a failure if a single pokémon turns up and goes home without fighting."
Lyco seemed to have transformed before their eyes. She was animated, paws gesturing and slamming together every time she mentioned fighting, her eyes alive with excitement. Raskin was amazed. He had not anticipated such radical-sounding ideas from her—if anything, he'd expected the opposite. Still, he couldn't help feeling a little doubtful.
"That all sounds… great, but won't it get out of control?" he said. "We saw what happened with the last fight—that was just one."
"That got out of control because emotions flared," Lyco stated. "Nothing a few ground rules wouldn't put a stop to."
Raskin frowned. "Really?"
Lyco rolled her eyes. "You said yourself that I know about fighting."
Sid gave Raskin a sideways glance. "She's got you there."
"Sid!" Raskin said. He turned back to Lyco. "Fine. Then what about keeping this thing sustainable? If all the pokémon are fighting every time they go to a meetup, won't they get bored after a while?"
"No!" Lyco snapped, so suddenly that Raskin almost fell off his stool. "Fighting is not like reading the same book, or listening to the same song. Your opponents change. Your abilities improve. You learn things about yourself. You don't get bored."
The room went silent.
"Can y'all just… stop a second?"
Raskin looked down. Tyler had spoken up for the first time. Judging by the look in his eyes, the nidoran was utterly bewildered.
"How is it that you and you," Tyler said, jabbing a paw at Sid and then Raskin, "are organising some… fighting enterprise, when neither of yous know the first thing about it? I beat both your asses in Oldden!"
"Don't get ahead of yourself, nido," Lyco said, flicking her mane disdainfully. "You're the one still leeching off others' property, and who can hardly string a sentence together."
Raskin half-expected Tyler to leap up at Lyco in attack for that, or at least snap something back at her. But he merely gave her a vengeful look, then dropped his head.
"However," Lyco added, glancing back at Raskin, "the hatchling makes a good point. You'd better be prepared to fight too. Are you prepared?"
"Of course!" Sid said, almost dutifully. "I look forward to it!"
Lyco raised an eyelid at Raskin, who nodded quickly. "Yeah."
Her gaze lingered a moment longer, before going back to Tyler. "What's he still doing here, anyway?"
"I thought we might want his help," Raskin said. "Could attract a few more pokémon from around Oldden."
Lyco's eyes narrowed. "I can take care of Oldden, should we need to… advertise. In fact, Tyler—" She gestured to the door. "You can leave now. I'll find you if I want you involved with anything." Her coldness of tone suggested that was highly unlikely.
"I…" Tyler huffed, sounding frustrated. "Fine then."
He shuffled a couple of steps, then suddenly spun back around. "You still haven't paid me!" he barked, eyes fixed on Raskin.
With a sigh, Raskin hopped down from the stool and finally passed over the fifteen poké. As soon as Tyler had stuffed the coins in his shoulder bag, he practically bolted out of the door.
"Good thing it doesn't lock from this side," Lyco remarked, watching him. She turned to Raskin. "Meet me at the Founding Oak tomorrow evening. We can start laying things out then. Now's not the time or place."
"Oh—okay," Raskin said. "You already have some ideas, then?"
Lyco hummed, making her own way to the door. "A few."
They got a few disapproving glances from cleaners in the mining building as they left, but thankfully nothing more. Raskin tried to keep as straight a face as Lyco, both to prevent scowls on her part, and to avoid any 'mon asking them awkward questions.
Inside, though, his heart was racing. And when he exchanged glances with Sid, he knew he was thinking the same thing. Lyco's not messing around. We're not messing around. Mew, this is actually happening...
