The Desert Cat
Good Boy
Book 2 Chapter 2: Team Magnezone
When they arrived in the manor courtyard the next morning, Arcanine saw that it was nearly clear of the Orrery parts he had helped lay out the week before. The sun sphere rose over them on the west side of the manor, supported by a complex silver lattice which looked much too fragile for the weight it held.
Several of the other gantries looked complete, though devoid of their planets, and the others lay on the ground around them in large sections. Beneath the gantries, he could see the fresh stumps of two of the large Apple trees. For a moment he mourned the waste; those had been beautiful, productive old trees, and Tyranitar loved them like his children. It was a necessary sacrifice; there wasn’t a safer or more accessible place in Pokémon Square where they could work on the machine. The feeling of pressure they had felt from the sphere before was absent, now.
#It stopped as soon as we mounted the sphere,# Mewtwo said, #you can’t see from here, but it’s rotating slowly; approximately one twenty-fifth of a revolution per day, just like the sun.#
Alakazam and Xatu glowed with power again, and Team Hydro, and six of the other Pokemon who had helped haul the wagons back from Meadow Town shimmered and disappeared. In a few seconds, Arcanine thought, they would be staring out through the windows of the town hall in Obsidian Village at the field of snow which his team had just left behind.
That a strong team who would be unavailable for a month, along with Team Icicle. A strong team who wouldn’t be here to help them in Temple Ruins or Destiny Tower. It couldn’t be helped; the road was too long, and too treacherous in this weather, and their cargo too valuable, to risk with less experienced Pokémon.
As his power faded, Alakazam’s shoulders slumped forward and he wavered on his feet. To either side, Charizard and Tyranitar reached out to catch him, but he didn’t fall. Alakazam was a strong Pokémon, Arcanine thought, despite being was well past his prime; not compared to himself or the rest of the Family, but by ordinary standards. He had been pushing himself hard recently, handling their communication and teleportation, and it was taking a toll on his old body.
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“Ninety-three years,” Tyranitar said sadly.
When Absol found him at lunchtime he was sitting on one of the Apple stumps, a half-eaten Apple in one hand. The gears of the Orrery whirred quietly above them, moving so slowly as to be nearly imperceptible.
Seeing it mostly assembled now, Mewtwo’s explanation of how the planets moved began to make sense; the arms which held the planets swung around the sun once a year, and each planet also rotated in place on the end of its arm. If she were to climb up and sit on one of the bearings for the planets for a day, the other planets and the sun would move in and out of view as she slowly turned. From any of the planets, their motion would appear complex, but if she sat on the sun, she would see that they were all just circles.
“You planted them?” Absol asked.
Tyranitar nodded slowly. “There was a tree near my home in Northern Desert; a huge, old tree, with the best Apples I’ve tasted. I took a bag with me when I left. When I got here, there was another veteran team living in the manor; they seemed old to me, like we probably do to you. Alakazam and Charizard had a few dozen books, and a lot of ambition; they hired me to help remodel the library to hold the collection they were going to have some day.”
Tyranitar paused. The remaining half of the Apple disappeared in a single bite of his huge jaws.
“The courtyard was mostly dirt and weeds, then. I didn’t care about the library, but I thought the courtyard had potential to be something beautiful. The three of us began exploring together, and became a team, and eventually we inherited the manor.”
Tyranitar spread his arms to encompass the courtyard. “I’ve spent the last ninety-three years creating this. The six big Apple trees were the seeds from the last Apple I brought. None of them tasted quite like the scion, of course; every seed and every bit of pollen is different. But they were all good Apples.”
“You did make it beautiful,” Absol said, leaning against his leg, “everything is so healthy, too, and the fruit is all delicious.”
Tyranitar leaned down to rest a hand between her ears. “Our children played under them, just like I did in Northern Desert. I’m the youngest of Team ACT, but I’m still old. I’ll plant new seeds in the spring, if we make it, but I won’t live to see them mature.”
She pushed back against his hand. “I’m sorry.”
Tyranitar smiled down at her. “It’s not all lost. The Apples will feed us and the wood will keep us warm. Someday, maybe your children will visit and sit under the new trees, and read Charizard’s book about how you saved the world.”
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One more day, Arcanine thought over and over as they worked; tomorrow he would be back in Treasure Town, where his trouble here had begun. Piecing the gantries together was mostly a matter of trial and error. There were a lot of pieces which looked like they could fit, but were slightly different sizes, or the grooves didn’t quite match. Now that it was largely complete, the remaining pieces went quickly.
The manor door opened and closed behind him. Arcanine didn’t look up. There were more than thirty Pokémon living and working in the manor now, and someone was always coming or going. Several sets of claws ticked across the stone.
“It’s the bandit again.” Arcanine heard Growlithe’s loud voice behind him.
He didn’t want to do this. Ignoring her wouldn’t help; she would attack him from behind like last time. She couldn’t be reasoned with, because it was the fight itself that she wanted from him. As Absol said, he couldn’t fight; there had to be some other way to get through to her.
Arcanine turned around. Team Mighty were spread out behind Growlithe, looking uncertain. Before Temple Ruins, they had walked protectively around her. Since their return, all three followed Growlithe. The pack structure had changed; she was team leader, now.
Growlithe took several steps forward, leaving her escort behind, spread her forelegs for stability, and huffed an Ember toward him. Arcanine calmly sat down. He closed his eyes as the flames washed across his chest and face. It was uncomfortable, but between Flash Fire and his natural fire resistance, it did nothing more than singe his fur.
He opened his eyes. Growlithe was staring at him, eyes wide and mouth still hanging open. She looked nearly as surprised that she had hit as she had been last time, when he had blocked her Ember with Protect. She took a reflexive step backward, wobbled, but didn’t fall this time. Growlithe recovered her composure, took a few steps forward, and tried again. Arcanine let it hit again. Growlithe began to hobble toward him again. The Mightyenas didn’t follow; they knew this wasn’t their fight.
“That’s right!” Growlithe shouted, “you’re too scared to fight. You just pick on helpless Pokémon.”
Growlithe stopped, her forepaws almost touching his, and looked up. She was carrying Team Mighty’s egg now; he couldn’t see it, but he could smell it on her. Arcanine met her gaze, and they stared at each other for a few seconds. He didn’t see anger or hatred, at least not directed at him. There wasn’t any fear, either, despite their difference in size and strength, only grief and pain. He’d seen that look on Sandslash once, a long time ago. He had been correct, Arcanine though; she was helpless and trapped as well. She looked away.
Growlithe’s jaws closed around his foreleg, and Arcanine winced as her sharp fangs sunk into his flesh. She tugged, once, then paused, waiting for a reaction. He remained still. She pulled again, harder, then began to shake.
Arcanine’s jaws clenched and his whole body went taut as her molars sawed into muscles and tendons. It wasn’t the instant pain of a battle injury, over before he could really feel it and lost in the adrenaline until the fight was through. It was slow enough to feel and savor. He kept his head up, not wanting to see how much damage she was doing.
The urge to fight back was nearly overwhelming. He could bend down and crush her skull or back in his powerful jaws, and it would be over. He could feel the phantom sensation of flesh tearing and bones snapping between his teeth, and taste her blood. It was his own blood, though, as his teeth dug into his gums.
Absol and Zorua started forward, but Arcanine shook his head, not trusting himself to open his mouth. Mewtwo caught his gaze, raising his eyebrows in question. He was holding his own wrist, unconsciously, and Arcanine knew that Mewtwo could feel a shadow of his pain through their connection. As he thought it, Mewtwo realized what he was doing and lowered his hands.
“Don’t let them interfere unless I pass out,” Arcanine thought. Mewtwo nodded slightly in acknowledgment. He didn’t have a plan. He didn’t think Growlithe did either, but one way or another, they were going to reach some sort of resolution before separating.
Absol didn’t know how to react as she watched Growlithe gnaw on Arcanine’s leg. The scene was eerily quiet; there were no growls from Growlithe, and Arcanine endured it silently. None of the onlookers spoke. The only sounds were the wind and the heavy breathing of the two contestants in the strangest battle she had ever seen. Beside her, Zorua shifted restlessly from side to side. Absol knew that Zorua wanted to join the battle as much as she did, but what could they do to help? Blood flowed from Growlithe’s muzzle and soaked down her chest and Arcanine’s leg to stain the muddy snow red in a slowly expanding ring.
Was this her fault, Absol wondered; Arcanine had agreed not to hurt Growlithe at her request. Growlithe had been there for their whole conversation and knew he was defenseless; was she taking advantage of that? What did she want? Arcanine was a genius, but he and Growlithe were both incredibly stubborn, and one of them was likely to be seriously injured before either one admitted defeat.
Mewtwo’s hand rested on her head, and Absol looked up. His face was grim.
“He knows what he’s doing, right?” Absol asked.
#I hope so.# Mewtwo’s voice sounded uncertain in her mind.
It was less than a minute before Growlithe began to visibly tire. Between her medicine, and her lack of activity, and the pain of supporting her own shifting weight, she was in no condition for an extended struggle. Her shaking slowed, then became an occasional tug. Eventually she collapsed, panting and sobbing, and her grip relaxed. Arcanine lifted his leg and felt her jaws slip free. He looked down.
Growlithe’s front and the lower half of his leg were soaked with blood, and more pulsed from the wound, pooling around his foot. She’d been more determined than he expected, Arcanine thought as he examined his leg; her teeth had cut to the bone on both sides. He felt strangely detached, like it was someone else’s leg he was staring at. The paw hung limply, and he couldn’t feel anything below the wound. A tendril of pink energy wrapped itself around his foreleg, just above the wound, and the bleeding slowed to a gradual ooze.
Arcanine bent his muzzle to Growlithe’s ear. “You don’t have to keep doing this,” he said softly enough that no one else could hear, “everyone here wants to help you.” He wasn’t feeling very well, Arcanine thought; maybe he should lay down too.
As soon as Growlithe slumped to the ground, Absol was moving. Moonlight came easily to her now, without the need for darkness or concentration. It was nearly invisible in the sunlight, but she could feel it spreading coolly around her. Zorua was beside her and they pressed against Arcanine on either side. Arcanine’s foreleg itched intensely as the muscles and tendons expanded and rejoined across the wound. The pain settled to a sharp ache as new skin grew to cover it, and Mewtwo released his Psychic tourniquet.
The Mightyenas gathered around, cautious and keeping just out of reach; they were anxious to check on Growlithe, but didn’t want a confrontation with him. He took several steps back to give them space. The center Mightyena lifted Growlithe gently, and the three of them trotted back toward the manor.
“Shall we go in, too?” Absol asked.
Arcanine nodded slowly. Even with Absol’s healing, he didn’t think he was going to stay upright much longer.
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With so many Pokémon involved now, the library felt crowded as they gathered for the evening briefing, Absol thought. Two months ago, it had been only herself and Team Easy and Charizard, and sometimes Alakazam and Tyranitar. It was wonderful to see so many people all working together; even more than for the Time Gears or the meteor. It was frightening too; they still knew so little. How long would they need to find the rest of the planets?
Growlithe directed a token growl at Arcanine as she limped past, and Arcanine nodded politely, as if acknowledging a friendly greeting. She had been sober all day, since their fight in the courtyard, helping Tyranitar and Charizard with the watch schedule and inventorying their food supply. Maybe the responsibility of leading Team Mighty and helping Team ACT gave her the reason she needed. Maybe it was the prospect of being a mother. Maybe Arcanine had known what he was doing, and she just didn’t understand.
Tyranitar scooped Growlithe up and set her on the table in front of him. She read off an inventory of their food and firewood in a monotone, never lifting her eyes from the page. Growlithe’s normal chubbiness made it harder to see, but from this angle, Absol could see her belly beginning to swell with the Mightyenas’ egg. It would be another week before she laid the egg, and then six months or so until it hatched.
Six months, by Tyranitar and Charizard’s estimate, was also about how long their food would last. Assuming they were frugal. Assuming there weren’t too many more refugees. That would put them right at the beginning of winter. She didn’t know what they were going to do after that.
“Metagross has set us enough magnetite for another set of runes,” Alakazam continued after the discussion about their supplied finished. “Kingler would like to borrow the originals for a few days before we head back to Temple Ruins...”
Arcanine was listening to the briefing, but he was watching all the Pokémon in the room. It was finally sinking in for them that there was going to be no easy, quick solution. Even if they did everything right, even if Instruments of Creation had all the answers, it was going to take them months to get all the fragments back to Pokémon Square and figure out how to work the Orrery.
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“Growlithe, we need to talk.” Zorua intercepted her on the way out of the library
“Don’t want to.” There was a note of pouting in Growlithe’s voice. She kept walking.
“Well, I’m going to talk anyway.” Zorua matched Growlithe’s hobbling pace. “Why did you do that to Arcanine?”
“He’s a bad Pokémon.” Growlithe’s voice lacked any conviction. She just sounded tired, Zorua thought, like Arcanine did after a dungeon, or pulling the wagon from Meadow Town or down Mount Mistral.
Zorua sighed. “We both know that’s not true. Growlithe, Arcanine’s a nice Pokémon and he’s not mad, but if you do something like that again, I’ll knock you out.”
Growlithe looked shocked for a moment, then turned away. “You hate me now. You all hate me.” Again her voice lacked conviction.
Oops, Zorua thought, she had meant to save that for the end of their conversation. Well, it was still true. “We don’t hate you. Arcanine doesn’t either. He wants to help you, too.”
Growlithe turned without answering and continued walking. Zorua matched her slow pace, and Absol followed close behind.
Team Mighty wasn’t in their room, and Growlithe said nothing to stop them, so they followed her in. The three of them lay down facing each other on the pile of blankets. Despite her denial, Zorua thought, Growlithe looked like she had something to say. Something had changed after her strange battle with Arcanine. They just needed to be patient until she was ready. That was okay; they had all the time in the world. All the time in the world might only be six months, but she didn’t want to think about that.
They lay silently for a few minutes, then Growlithe stood, turned slowly in a circle several times, and lay down again facing away from them. “There’s stuff I need to tell you,” Growlithe began quietly. “I’m not a good Pokémon, but since you all hate me already, it doesn’t matter now.”
Zorua didn’t argue this time. She didn’t think Growlithe believed herself, but maybe it made it easier for her to tell her story, pretending she had nothing to lose.
Absol felt a gentle presence in her mind, like a Pokémon coughing to announce himself before entering a friend’s den. She’d already forgotten that she was wearing Mewtwo’s ring again. She almost answered aloud; Mewtwo was right outside, though, so if he wanted to speak with all three of them, he would have. So, he wanted to speak privately, but she wasn’t sure how to answer.
#Just like that,# Mewtwo said, #just think it, and if I’m listening, I’ll hear.#
“It feels strange,” Absol thought back.
#I’m sorry. If you prefer, I won’t contact you.#
“No, it’s okay,” Absol thought. She imagined herself laughing aloud. “Actually, I like it.”
#Good.# In her mind, Mewtwo smiled back. #May I listen through you?#
Mewtwo really ought to be asking Growlithe’s permission, Absol thought; it was Growlithe’s story. Growlithe wasn’t completely rational, though, and Mewtwo could help her better than herself or Zorua. That was what he wanted, wasn’t it?
#It is.#
“I think it’s okay, then,” Absol thought back.
“I didn’t really get hurt fighting bandits,” Growlithe began, “because I was a bandit. It was just for fun, at first. There were like twenty apprentices at Wigglytuff Guild that year, because everyone wanted to join after they beat Darkrai and stuff, and they all thought they were special and important.
“So me and Skiddo and Chespin and Spinarak were Team Valiant and we would ambush them on the road outside Treasure Town on the way to dungeons and take their badges. We didn’t really want to hurt anyone; we weren’t any stronger than they were, but there were four of us, and it made us feel tough.”
Zorua and Absol looked at each other. This wasn’t what either of them had been expecting, Zorua thought; they had both been thinking of Growlithe as the victim, not the aggressor.
“That didn’t last very long because the guild put a bounty on us. Me and Skiddo thought we should split up, and go to other towns and hide for a while till everyone forgot about us, but Spinarak and Chespin didn’t want to stop. We started going north, just attacking travelers on the road. Spinarak and Chespin evolved then too, and then they started to get really mean. Me and Skiddo wanted to run away, but Ariados said she’d kill us if we did.”
Growlithe paused. She was staring at the bag of medicine bottles in the far corner of the room, but she didn’t move.
“There was this wagon with Tauros pulling and Leafeon and Liepard and Purrloin were guarding. We followed for a few hours, but they were all alert and Ariados and Quilladin were scared to attack. So they made me roll in the mud and lay by the road and pretend to be hurt. Quilladin put Spikes all around, and Ariados put Sticky Webs in the bushes.
“I was going to do it ‘cause I was too scared, but Purrloin and Liepard reminded me of...of me and mom, before I ran away. I didn’t want them to get hurt so I yelled it was a trap. Ariados and Quilladin k-killed them all. Th-they made me w-watch. Sh-she held me d-down and Quillad-din bit my legs and they s-sat on me t-till they healed like th-this...” Growlithe buried her face in the blanket and her voice trailed off into sobs.
Absol’s stomach turned just to think about it. Looking across at Zorua’s shocked face, Absol knew she felt the same way. How could any Pokémon do something like that? She didn’t know what to say, so she scooted over to lay against Growlithe’s side.
“A-after that they just used me as b-bait,” Growlithe continued after several minutes, “they’d l-leave me by the road with Sp-pikes and Sticky W-webs then when Pokémon came to help me they att-tacked. I wanted to shout and warn everyone. I could have, but I was always too scared. Team Mighty found us a few months later. They killed everyone else but somehow I wasn’t on the bounty, so they thought they were rescuing me. I let them. I didn’t know what else to do.”
Growlithe squirmed forward, lifting the edge of the blanket with her nose and wriggling her head and forelegs underneath.
“So, do you want us to keep this secret?” Zorua asked.
“No,” Growlithe said, her voice muffled under the blanket, “go tell everyone, so they can hate me too. I don’t care any more.”
Growlithe wriggled deeper until only her back paws were exposed.
“Growlithe,” Absol said.
She was sure Growlithe could still hear her, but there was no answer.
“Growlithe.” Absol tried again, more firmly. Still no response.
Growlithe was hurt, physically and emotionally; whatever she had done in the past, she needed compassion and patience now. Still, Absol thought, this was an important conversation, and she wasn’t going to have it with a blanket. She stood, pulled Growlithe’s blanket off with a paw, and lifted her gently by the nape. Growlithe squeaked once, but didn’t struggle. She set Growlithe carefully down again on top of the blanket pile, facing herself and Zorua, lay down, and placed her forepaws on top of Growlithe’s so that she couldn’t burrow away again. The scent of her fear was overwhelmingly strong in the tiny room, and her whole body was shaking.
“Growlithe,” Absol said again, gently this time, “you can’t blame yourself for all of those things. You shouldn’t have been attacking people at the start, but that doesn’t make the rest of it your fault, as well.”
“It is my fault,” Growlithe insisted, “I could have been brave and run away, or warned people, but I didn’t, because I’m a coward.”
“Maybe you were,” Absol accepted, “we weren’t there, and we can’t know. Now you have a second chance, and you don’t have to make the same mistakes.”
“That’s right,” Zorua agreed, “Growlithe, you can’t fix what happened then, but it’s never too late to decide to be a good Pokémon. You’re helping Tyranitar with the watch, and the supplies, and you’re helping Team Mighty like they helped you.”
Growlithe pressed forward, pushing her face into Absol’s throat. Absol leaned over her to groom the back of her neck. Mother had done the same for her, she thought, sometimes when she had been upset. Before Team Mighty rescued her, Growlithe had probably never had anyone to care for her like that.
Zorua slid over next to her. She didn’t know what else to say; she had done a lot of things that she regretted now, but nothing like what Growlithe had described. In the comfort of their shared warmth, it dind’t take long for all three of them to fall asleep. Zorua wasn’t sure how late it was when Team Mighty returned, muddy and smelling like they’d been in a fight, but there was no light through the window above. The three Mightyenas curled up wordlessly around them.
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#I think that’s enough, don’t you?#
Growlithe’s scent in Arcanine’s nostrils and the feel of her fur across his tongue faded as Mewtwo released their connection with Absol. He didn’t think that Absol had any idea how much Mewtwo could sense through their connection; it was barely distinguishable from being there himself. He didn’t think she would have objected, if she knew.
#I thought there must be something like that,# Mewtwo said sadly.
They sat side by side in their usual place on the wall. The sun sphere loomed over the manor and courtyard like an enormous mutant moon, washing out the light from the moon and stars. The light reflected from the snow where it was untrampled in a diffuse glow, and sparkled from thousands of silver girders.
Arcanine flexed his foreleg slowly, the one Growlithe had chewed, watching the tendons ripple beneath the bare skin of the scar. It still hurt, despite Absol’s Moonlight and half a day to heal. It might not ever heal perfectly; she’d done a lot of damage. It didn’t matter, he thought; he hurt in enough places that what was one more?
Growlithe’s damaged legs weren’t just an injury; they were the physical manifestation of all of her mistakes, just like his own scarred back. They were her penance, and her medication was the friend who shared it with her. The friend who comforted her and never left her alone. She wasn’t just afraid of the pain of resetting her legs; she was afraid of losing the opportunity to atone for what she had done. She was afraid of losing a friend.
Mewtwo understood too, Arcanine thought. Mewtwo’s body was still nearly perfect, but he had scars as well. Arcanine could see them when he jerked and whimpered in his sleep, or when he stared at nothing in a room full of friends.
#How’s your leg?# Mewtwo asked.
“Fine,” Arcanine answered. Mewtwo already knew how it felt. Compared to Growlithe, he couldn’t complain. “Growlithe’s legs...is there anything you can do?”
#Probably,# Mewtwo said, #but there’s a better option. Some of our world’s best veterinarians work for us. Anesthesia, modern surgical reconstruction, they could have her running again in weeks. Farr could supervise it himself.#
“No.” Arcanine hesitated, then shook his head. “I want that for her, but you can’t take anyone here to our world. Not unless you’re going to lead the crusade.”
Mewtwo’s head tilted, inviting him to continue.
“Mewtwo, you’ve seen how proud everyone here is, how much they care. Knowing there was another world where their species were slaves, would have to find a way there. Knowing they couldn’t help would hurt worse than her legs.”
#Arcanine, Humans aren’t all bad; they just need guidance. I think we really can coexist with them.#
“Could you explain that to Growlithe?”
Mewtwo hesitated, then shook his head slowly. #No, I suppose not. I’ve discussed it with Aromatisse, and I think we could reset her legs well enough to walk without much pain. It’s not ideal, but she could live a normal life. We just need her to be willing to try.#
That was all there was to say on the subject, and they were both silent for a few minutes.
#Six months.# Mewtwo continued eventually.
Arcanine knew immediately what he meant; Tyranitar’s deadline for when their food ran out.
“Think he’s optimistic.” Arcanine answered.
#So do I,# Mewtwo said slowly, #that night before you all left for Mount Mistral, we talked about the Legendaries; where they are when they’re not here.#
Arcanine remembered; he nodded.
#What if there were other options for us? For the Family?#
That night on the wall, when he and Mewtwo had first met again, Mewtwo had asked a similar question, implying that he and the rest of the Family could be safe in another world. Why? Mewtwo was immensely powerful, no matter how much he wanted to be a normal Pokémon. It was possible that he really did have his own pocket dimension where they could shelter.
“Not without my team,” Arcanine said.
#Would they come?#
Arcanine wanted to say that of course they would, but he knew it wasn’t true. Absol would stay to face the end with her parents, and her friends back on Mount Freeze. She and Zorua would stay for Team Mighty, and Team ACT, and all the others working at the manor. Luxray’s family was Lucario’s family now, and Lucario wouldn’t abandon them.
Even he had connections here, now, Arcanine thought. Could he abandon Electrike, or Growlithe, or Luxray? What about all the Pokémon who had helped haul the sphere back from Creepy Tunnel? Charizard, whose love for books and knowledge he respected, or Tyranitar, who had almost felt like Family while they pulled the wagon side by side?
#And the rest of the Family have friends they wouldn’t leave, as well.# Mewtwo sighed and looked away. #Absol would stay for her parents, you’d stay for Absol, and I’d stay for you and the rest of the Family, even knowing that it was hopeless, because somehow, being together for a few more days means more to us than our own lives.#
Mewtwo leaned over and wrapped his arms around Arcanine’s neck. For a few seconds, he pressed his face into Arcanine’s mane, and Arcanine could feel his hot breath. That was what he had always wanted, back home, Arcanine thought; Mewtwo’s touch, Mewtwo’s approval. There was a time when he would have risked destroying the world for it. There was a time when the Family would have left the world to die with no regrets, if they could have had their own. Not now. Not like this.
“Not hopeless yet, is it?” Arcanine asked.
#No,# Mewtwo said, #but we’re further from a solution than everyone else thinks. We don’t know how many pieces the Ice-types have, or how many we’ll need to stabilize the system. I expect we’ll need all of them for a permanent solution. I still have no idea how it’s supposed to work; there are answers in the book, but do we have time? It’s the beginning of winter in the southern hemisphere; Pokémon, and Humans, in the far south who had enough food and shelter for an ordinary winter are going to freeze or starve. In six months, when we go into winter here, it’s going to be even colder.#
“Even if we fix it now, won’t be another Berry and Apple crop for eight or nine months,” Arcanine said, “too late in the season. If the trees survive.”
Mewtwo nodded. #A lot of people are going to die. Without Legendary intervention, we can’t stop that now. But it’s not an extinction event yet.#
The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes, each lost in his own thoughts. No Pokémon should die like that, Arcanine thought, freezing, starving, and helpless. Even if they weren’t his friends and family, even if they hadn’t helped him before, every Pokémon deserved a chance to fight. Maybe he had been wrong, before; maybe he did care about them all, at least a little bit.
If they failed, if it came down to a choice between abandoning the world they cared about or dying with it, would Mewtwo take him and the rest of the Family away against their will? Would that be the right thing for him to do? Would salvaging whatever few lives they could be better than extinction?
He had saved Sandslash’s life, a long time ago, and Sandslash had eventually been grateful, but did that mean he had chosen correctly? Arcanine didn’t know. He didn’t think Mewtwo knew yet, either. He desperately hoped that they wouldn’t have to find out.
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As they approached Treasure Town, Arcanine couldn’t stop worrying about the fight which awaited them. It was a new feeling for him; he didn’t think that he’d ever been nervous before a fight, before.
Battling with the rest of the Family back home had felt so natural. They had trained together nearly every day for twenty years, from when Mewtwo had taken himself, Charizard, Venosaur, and Blastoise from the tanks until the fight with Team Rocket. As competitive as they had all been, it was still a game. The only time they had fought for real stakes was when he had challenged the other elders before Sandslash’s attempted seppuku, and he hadn’t expected to survive anyway.
In the fight with Team Rocket, there hadn’t been time. Mystery dungeons could be frightening, but the Pokémon in them just didn’t seem real. While he knew he could be knocked out, or trapped, or killed, battling them felt more like hitting the training targets they had used back home.
It wasn’t a game now, though, and it wasn’t just himself he was risking. If they failed, two of the people he cared about most in the world would be captured or killed, and Team Razor Wind too.
They stopped atop one of the bluffs south of town. The entrance to Beach Cave ought to be somewhere nearby below them, Arcanine thought.
Xatu sat down. “I’ll be waiting here,” he said, “Alakazam made me promise not to get involved.”
#As will I,# Mewtwo said, sitting beside him.
They could see most of Treasure Town from here, though not in detail. The garish pink tent of Wigglytuff’s guild hall was recognizible on the northeast side of town. On the southwest side, set into the hill on the south side of Sharpedo Bluff, was a building which could only be Team Magnezone’s base. A squat, grey bunker extended from the hillside, like something in a Human war movie. He had been unconcious when he was brought in and out before. He couldn’t see the doors or tell what it was made of from here, but he assumed that the construction was the same as the cells; steel doors in reinforced concrete. On each side of the entrance were a pair of grey column a half-meter wide and three or four tall, painted red and blue at the tops like a Magnemite’s magnets.
“So what’s the plan, big guy?” Zorua asked.
“Need to catch Magnezone outside,” Arcanine said, “don’t know how quickly we can breach his base, and we need to be done fighting before the guild responds.”
“We can ambush him on the trail from town,” Zangoose said, “there are at least twelve Magnemites; it’s hard to get a count because they’re never all outside at once. Expect at least six with Magnezone.”
“They’ll all know Thunder Wave,” Sandslash added.
“We don’t know where Magnezone is now, though,” Zorua said, “we could be waiting all day if they’re already in town.”
Xato whistled and they all looked around to him. His back was to them, as he stared up at the rising sun.
“I think he’s still at home,” Xatu said without turning around, “but I didn’t tell you that.”
“Thank you,” Absol said.
“Don’t thank me, I’m not helping,” Xatu answered, and she could hear amusement in his voice. Then he continued more seriously, “be careful today. I still need you all to save the sun for me.”
“We will,” Absol promised.
That was Mewtwo’s contribution, Arcanine thought, not Xatu’s. The old seer was wise, but Arcanine didn’t think he was a strong enough Psychic to know Magnezone’s location from here.
Arcanine led Team Warmth and Team Razor Wind carefully down the slope toward town, keeping to cover as much as he could. The sun was behind them and, unlike Pokémon Square, he didn’t expect anyone to be particularly alert. Still, it didn’t pay to be careless; if Magnezone had time to retreat inside or summon help, they would have to abort, and Magnezone would be prepared for them next time.
They waited half an hour or so in the rocks beside the path, and Arcanine began to worry that they had missed him on the way down. He looked around at his team and Team Razor Wind, and forced his impatience back. They hadn’t been out of sight of the path long enough for Magnezone to have slipped past, and their scent along the trais was half a day old.
They heard Magnezone’s team before they saw them, loud, metallic voices carrying around the bend in the trail below. Arcanine looked around; the others were waiting, tense and ready. They all knew how serious this was, he thought.
“I’ll engage with Heat Wave when they pass,” Arcanine said quietly, “the rest of you follow me in.”
“Wait,” Zorua said, “I have an idea.” Just running in was exactly the sort of plan Arcanine would have, she thought. It would probably work just fine, but she could do better. “I’ll distract them; you guys be ready.”
Arcanine nodded once, accepting her plan. No one disagreed. Zorua didn’t know yet what her plan was, as she crept out of the rocks, but she was sure she could improvise something. She had years and years of practice at being things she wasn’t.
The trail was narrow here, with boulders and brush on both sides. Magnezone sounded like the sort of Pokémon who would insist she move rather than leaving the trail to go around, so all she had to do was block the path. She could be an injured Pokémon, she thought, remembering Growlithe’s story, but that might be too obvious a trap. She could be something too scary to attack offhand, and distract them with conversation. She could even be a Magnemite, but she wouldn’t know what greetings or responses they expected.
Team Magnezone was almost close enough to see, and there wasn’t any more time to plan. An old Torterra had lived in Meadow Town for a few years, when she was younger. He was wise and friendly, and had a lifetime worth of stories, but his species was big and slow and dumb looking. They wouldn’t be able to hurry her out of the way, and they wouldn’t bother to attack her with electricity.
Their quarry came into view. They floated in a cluster, with Magnezone in the lead and six Magnemites close behind. Magnezone’s lights flashed rapidly as they approached. “Identify yourself!” it demanded.
Zorua turned ponderously to face them. Her heart was pounding and it was difficult to move slowly enough. She blinked several times as she tried to remember how Torterra had spoken.
“Oh,” Zorua said slowly, “good evening.”
“Move aside,” Magnezone blared, “we are on official business.”
“Hrrrmmmmm.” Zorua drew the sound out longer than necessary, enjoying the deep, rumbling sound of her voice. A giggle tried to force it’s way out, but she held it back. She sounded even more masculine than Arcanine, she thought.
“Stand aside!” Magnezone repeated.
“I seem to have lost my scarf,” Zorua said slowly. She lowered her head and peered intently at the ground in front of her feet, as if she expected a scarf to appear there. “You haven’t seen one, have you? It’s about this big.”
Zorua raised a forepaw to demonstrate, and discovered that her limb was too short and thick to reach in front of her face. She waved it around a bit anyway. Something rustled the bushes behind Team Magnezone. Zorua coughed loudly and tried not to look at it.
Magnezone’s lights flashed again as it hovered closer. Maybe, she thought as the Magnemites began to spread out to surround her, they should have gone with Arcanine’s plan. Where was everyone?
Team Magnezone had no idea what was about to happen, Arcanine though as he stepped silently out onto the trail behind the Magnemites. All seven of them were focused on Zorua instead of watching their surroundings. They were blinded by their own lights and deafened by their own conversation. After years of ruling Treasure Town unchallenged, none of them were prepared to be the prey instead of the predators.
He ought to remember something else in place of Heat Wave, Arcanine thought; there were so few opportunities to use it, now that his whole team wasn’t fire resistant. He would only be able to hit a few of them without injuring Zorua as well. Arcanine raised his head, drew in a deep breath, and began to exhale.
The closest four Magnemites screeched in pain and surprise as Arcanine’s flames enveloped them from behind. Three of them crashed to the ground, unconscious, while the fourth, further away, levitated quickly away to slam into one of the boulders beside the trail. Magnezone and the remaining Magnemites spun to face him, Zorua forgotten.
Absol dashed past, her horn sheathed in darkness. Her Night Slash tore a deep rent in the underside of Magnemite who had survived his Heat Wave, and it crashed to the ground behind her. Team Razor Wind leapt and rolled from the rocks and tore into the remaining two Magnemites on the left.
Magnezone and Arcanine faced each other, both briefly still. Arcanine’s Heat Wave had left him winded for a moment, and Magnezone’s magnets crackled with Charging power as he prepared to attack.
Arcanine didn’t wait for his breath or his fire to return. He slammed into Magnezone just as Magnezone’s Thunder Wave discharged, and the two of them went tumbling back together. For a moment, Arcanine lost consciousness in the in the searing pain of the electricity flowing through his body. By the time he recovered, Absol and Sandslash were tearing into Magnezone on either side.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
“I have Magnezone!” Arcanine roared at the door, “Open or I kill him.”
A peephole in the door slid open, and Arcanine could see red and blue lights inside. Five more Magnemites lay scattered around the cobblestone patio in front of the base, unconscious or dead.
“Tell them,” Arcanine growled, pressing his fangs against the dome of Magnezone’s central saucer.
Magnezone remained silent. Arcanine bit down until he could feel Magnezone’s carapace deforming between his teeth, and allowed some of his fire to flicker across the polished metal.
“O-open it!” Magnezone shouted.
The peephole slammed closed. The door didn’t open. Arcanine hadn’t really expected it to. His jaws squeezed harder.
“Open the door!” Magnezone shouted again, sounding desperate now. “This is an order!”
He was a coward in the end, Arcanine thought, willing to sacrifice the rest of his team for an imagined chance at survival. There was no response from inside; the Magnemites weren’t any more loyal or brave than their leader. Already he could hear distant shouts from Treasure Town, and they didn’t have time for this. Silently he counted to ten, then his jaws crushed down.
Magnezone screamed, rising in pitch to an electronic whine. Sparks arced in Arcanine’s mouth, and sharp metal edges tore at his gums.
“Arcanine, stop!” Zorua cried.
Arcanine stopped, but it was already over. He released the dead Pokémon stepped back. His mouth tasted like blood, and he spat a crimson glob on the ground. The cuts in his mouth were already healing. Even if he wasn’t here for revenge, Arcanine expected some sort of satisfaction from defeating Magnezone and his team. Instead, as the six of them gathered in front of the doors, he just felt tired.
#Stand back,# they all heard Mewtwo’s voice, though he was nowhere to be seen, #I’ll get the door.#
Team Warmth and Team Razor Wind backed quickly away from the entrance, expecting a violent entry. Instead, the doors creaked and wobbled, then swung smoothly open. Arcanine stepped forward to peer into the darkness inside.
Two more Magnemites hovered in the doorway, looking surprised and terrified. He hit the closest with a Flamethrower and didn’t wait to see if it fainted because Sandslash was already Rolling Out into the doorway, with Scyther and Zangoose close behind. Beside him, Zorua and Absol both looked shaken. Other than the fight in the Meadow Town lodge, neither of them had probably ever been in a real, life or death fight with non-feral Pokémon.
“Help Team Razor Wind with the prisoners,” Arcanine directed them, “I’ll deal with the town.”
Absol and Zorua both hesitated.
“Arcanine, you can’t fight all of them,” Zorua objected.
“Won’t need to,” Arcanine said, “bring them out, everyone will understand.”
The doors opened into a large hallway, a square tunnel three meters tall and wide. Neither Absol nor Zorua had ever seen a building like it before; the walls, floor, and ceiling were concrete, cast in massive slabs several meters long. Absol didn’t know what she’d expected when Aromatisse said it had been made by Conkeldurr and Gurdurr, but this wasn’t it.
Ten meters in, the tunnel opened into a large rectangular room, about the size of the library in Team ACT’S manor. Several blue crystals set into the ceiling provided illumination. It was adequate to their Dark-type eyes, though the color was unpleasant, but would have been uncomfortably dim for most Pokémon.
Two corridors led deeper into the hill; the right smelled of food and Team Magnezone, and the left...Absol had never smelled anything like it before. It was the scent of pain and misery and despair, not just of one Pokémon, but dozens. Absol and Zorua looked at each other. Up to now, they had both still had doubts; not about Arcanine’s honesty, but whether what he remembered was what had really happened. Not any more.
The corridor turned immediately, cutting them off from the dim light in the main room. The two of them kept going, trusting to their ears and whiskers, and the generally wide, rectangular layout they had observed above. After a few meters, the glow of Zangoose’s Luminous Orb illuminated them from behind.
The walls here weren’t solid, but lined with metal doors of various sizes, ranging from just large enough to accommodate Zorua to tall and wide enough to fit two Tyranitars side by side. From under each one came the scents of various Pokémon; some were fresh and some were old, but they all smelled of suffering.
“I smell Electrike,” Zorua said, stopping in front of one of the smaller cells, “she’s in here.”
The door was held closed by a bar across the outside. Absol pushed it up and pulled open the heavy metal door. Inside was dark. The dim light from the hallway illuminated a rectangle in the doorway, but didn’t reach to the back of the cell. A pair of half-open eyes shown out at them from the darkness, and the grinding and clanging of metal echoed behind them as Team Razor Wind opened the rest of the doors.
“Electrike, are you okay?” Absol asked, “we’re here with Arcanine.”
The eyes opened a little wider. “The Arcanine?” Electrike’s voice was soft and weak.
“Um, yeah,” Zorua said.
The eyes closed for several seconds, then opened again. “We all thought they’d killed him, when he stopped answering,” Electrike said slowly.
The eyes rose. They heard a slow, shuffling step, then another. Electrike’s paw emerged into the light, and then her face. Zorua gasped, horrified. Electrike’s eyes were sunken and her skin pulled tight across her bones. Her fur had fallen out in patches, and what remained was dull and matted. She stared for several seconds in shock.
“Zorua, give her a berry,” Absol prompted.
Zorua nosed into her bag, and pushed an Oran to Electrike. Electrike sniffed it briefly, and quickly gulped it down.
“I was wrong,” Zorua growled, “I’m glad he killed Magnezone.”
“You’re his team?” Electrike asked.
Zorua and Absol nodded simultaneously.
“Will you take me to him?”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Vigoroth and Electivire arrived first from Treasure Town, at a run. They slowed as they approached, looking around at the dead and unconscious Magnezone and Magnemites, and Arcanine sitting camly in the doorway, and stopped. He gave them a wide, fanged grin and said nothing.
Several more people arrived, and made the wise choice to wait for the Guild. Zorua was correct; he couldn’t beat all of them. He couldn’t even hold them off for long, but he didn’t expect he would need to. If Zangoose was correct, there were enough doubts and old grudges that most of them wouldn’t be eager to risk their lives for a dead Magnezone. Once Razor Wind began bringing out Magnezone’s prisoners, the remainder would lose their will to fight. He just hoped they weren’t too late.
“MAKE WAY!” Exploud shouted as the Guild pushed through the crowd, which had grown to twenty or thirty Pokémon by the time they arrived. Chatot led the way, followed by Wigglytuff and Exploud, and a dozen other Guildmembers, all wearing matching pink scarves. Team Poképals was not among them.
“Murderer!” Chatot squawked, pointing a wing accusingly at Arcanine.
“Friendly friend!” Wigglytuff contiuned to waddle forward, a stupid, happy grin on his face, and arms spread wide as if he were expecting a hug.
“No!” Chatot spread his wings to stop Wigglytuff’s advance. “This criminal killed friend Magnezone!”
The guildmaster stopped, his face falling from joy to sorrow in an instant. “Killed?”
“Killed!” Chatot repeated.
“Killed.” Wigglytuff agreed solemnly
“Guildmaster, you must protect us from the criminal!” Chatot pointed at Arcanine again.
Wigglytuff’s eyes closed. His face scrunched up and he took a deep breath. “Yoom.”
The guildmembers began to back away. Zangoose had warned him that Wigglytuff’s Hyper Voice was incredibly strong, Arcanine thought. He was going to have to Protect the entrance to Magnezone’s base as well as himself, in case his allies or the prisoners emerged at the wrong moment.
“That’s right!” Chatot squawked in encouragement, “he’s a bad Pokémon!”
“Yoom!
“A BAD POKÉMON!” Chatot shrieked.
“YOOM!
One of the unconscious Magnemites lay almost between them. If he moved a little to the left...
“YOOM-TAH!”
His mane blew back for a moment as if facing into a stiff wind. The Magnemite skittered past on the pavement and slammed into the wall beside the entrance; if it had been alive before, it probably wasn’t now. Dirt, sticks, pebbles, and a few cobblestones whipped against his Protect; it wavered under the force of the blast, but held.
Wigglytuff opened his eyes. He stared at Arcanine, still sitting uninjured and unperturbed in front of the door, blinked a few times, then rolled forward onto his face and began to bawl.
“G-guildmaster?” Chatot looked frightened; he knew he’d made a mistake. The rest of the guild looked stunned. He could run in right now, Arcanine thought, and crush the cowardly bird’s skull before anyone could stop him. He didn’t need to, because he could hear three sets of footsteps approaching in the hall behind him; Zorua’s and Absol’s, moving slowly, and another small quadruped.
“Electrike.” Arcanine knew without looking.
“Arcanine.”
Her voice was weak and tired, even worse than it had been a few weeks ago. Arcanine didn’t want to look. He did want to look, but he wasn’t going to turn his back to the crowd. The footsteps moved a little faster.
All of the onlookers were silent as Electrike approached and half-lay, half-collapsed with her shoulder leaning on his forepaw. She was withered and emaciated, like the pictures of abused Pokémon in Human newscasts. Arcanine dug into his bag, found an Apple, and set it down carefully in front of Electrike.
“Eat slow,” Arcanine warned, “you’ll make yourself sick.”
Electrike was shivering already, and, now that the adrenaline of the fight had worn off, so was Absol. Absol lay down beside the smaller Pokémon and began to groom her as she ate.
There were going to be more, Arcanine thought, at least a dozen, and they were all going to look like Electrike. He lifted the bag by the bottom and let its contents spill out on the ground, not worrying about the few other items mixed in. Electrike’s eyes went wide at the sight of so much food.
The others trickled out; Stoutland, Zebstrike, and thirteen more. Some of them he had spoken with before; some of them he hadn’t. There wasn’t going to be a fight now. Even the rest of the guild looked sickened; they knew they were just as responsible as Team Magnezone.
The half of Arcanine that wasn’t exhausted still wanted to charge into the crowd and bite and tear and burn because someone ought to pay for all of this, but he didn’t move. There was nothing more that he could win, here, and a lot that he could lose.
Krokorock emerged last, supported by Sandslash. He picked up an Apple, sniffed it, stared longingly for a few seconds, then set it back down. He straightened, looked at Arcanine, and grinned.
“Scyther and Zangoose are still searching,” Sandslash said, “we found quite a cache of food, as well.”
That took an incredible amount of willpower, Arcanine thought; Krokorock looked just as starved as the others. He was sure he wouldn’t have been able to resist eating in the same circumstances. He tilted his head to the side, silently inviting an explanation.
“Thank you for releasing us,” Krokorock said, “but I’m not a victim, and I don’t need charity.”
Arcanine nodded. That was a position he could understand, he thought, and a Pokémon worthy of respect. Most of Magnezone’s other victims weren’t any any condition to help, but Krokorock could be useful.
Electrike finished her Apple, and licked the juice from the pavement. She was still staring at the food on the ground, but she didn’t move to get any more. A whole Apple and Oran was a huge meal for a Pokémon her size, Absol thought, and her belly was bulging.
“Arcanine, why is there snow?” Electrike asked, “I thought you said it was summer?”
“It is summer,” Zorua said, “has been for a week and a half. But, ah, there’s some weird stuff happening. Absol?”
“I’ll exp-plain,” Absol said, “but can w-we go ins-side?”
Arcanine looked around at the assembled Pokémon. On their side, most of the former prisoners were still eating. On the town’s side, a few had broken off from the crowd, and were hesitantly approaching. Some of them would have friends in town. Some of them would have places to go, and some wouldn’t. Some of them probably were bad Pokémon, and would go back to whatever they had been doing before, but at the moment, that couldn’t be helped; he didn’t think Krokorock would be one of those.
“Wasn’t planning to stay the night,” Arcanine said, “maybe we should. Explain what’s happening and let everyone eat again before they have to make choices.
Arcanine looked back to Krokorock, still waiting silently. Krokorock probably knew Treasure town better than any of them. “Pay you an Apple to find them some blankets and keep an eye on things for the night.”
“You sure you want to trust me?” Krokorock gave him a wide, toothy grin. “Told you some of the things I did. I’m not a good Pokémon.”
“Want to be?”
Krokorock thought a moment, then shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”
“Easier on a full belly.”
“Alright,” Krokorock said, “but it’s going to cost you two Apples.”
“Done,” Arcanine agreed.
Krokorock wanted to help anyway, Arcanine thought, wanted to be part of the group, but didn’t quite know how. It was a feeling he was very familiar with. If phrasing it as a business relationship made him more comfortable, that didn’t do any harm.
“Arcanine.” Zangoose and Scyther intercepted them on the way down. “You need to see this.”
“Go ahead,” Zorua said, “we’ll take care of everyone.”
Zangoose led them toward the right corridor, the one which smelled like food and Magnezone’s team, but he kept glancing toward the left; the cells.
“Someone you were hoping to find?” Arcanine asked quietly.
Zangoose hesitated, then sighed and looked away. “No. We’re years too late.”
They passed several small rooms packed with crates and barrels of food before the hall ended in a single large room comprising Team Magnezone’s quarters, office, and treasure room. Along one wall were several rows of Magnemite-sized cubbies, which he supposed were beds, and on the other were shelves holding scores of Orbs, scarves, bows, bags, and boxes.
A large desk occupied the center of the room, and in front of it, a large metal chest with a crude padlock smashed off. Arcanine nosed it open, and stared in amazement for several seconds. It had to be his bounty; a million Poké. He’d never really though it existed, or what that much gold and silver would look like all in one place. For a moment, he wanted to dump it on the floor and roll in it, like a dragon with his hoard - but then he’d have to pick it all up afterward.
He let the lid fall shut. It wasn’t his, and he had no use for it anyway. He nosed into several of the smaller boxes and bags, and found that they contained money as well. If there was a million Poké in the chest, Arcanine thought, there was probably another hundred thousand or so between the smaller boxes and bags.
“Lot of money,” Arcanine said.
Zangoose nodded
“Lot of food, too.”
“Yeah,” Zangoose agreed, “what do we do with it?”
The obvious answer, Arcanine thought, was to haul it back to Pokémon Square where they could use it. Was that the right thing to do? The money wasn’t important, but the food could make the difference between life and death for dozens of Pokémon, in either town.
If the Pokémon of Treasure Town had traded it all to Team Magnezone for his services as enforcer, they had no more claim on it than he did. If it was stolen from them, he had to return it. What if the truth were somewhere between? Even Team Magnezone and the Guild together couldn’t have ruled the whole town without the consent of a considerable number of Pokémon.
There was the practical question in addition to the moral one; how would they it get home, and what would the thousand other Pokémon in Treasure Town do if they tried? Whoever was right, it wasn’t worth further violence between their towns. Zangoose and Scyther were still waiting for his answer.
“Can’t take it all,” Arcanine said, “if Grey’s right, Treasure Town needs it more than we do. Replace what we gave the prisoners. Any of them who want to stay, leave them a six months supply. Distribute the rest in town?”
Zangoose nodded. “And the money?”
“Think Mewtwo will want the chest back.” Arcanine said. “The rest...take a finder’s fee, if you want, and give it to the prisoners?”
By the time they returned to the main chamber, most of the seventeen prisoners and a similar number of Pokémon from Treasure Town sat around a small campfire in the center of the room. It wasn’t cold inside, but they were so malnourished that they would have felt cold anywhere. Arcanine was surprised to see Xatu and Mewtwo among them; he met Mewtwo’s eyes and recieved a cryptic smile in return.
The smoke wafted to the ceiling and disappeared; there must be vents to the surface up there, Arcanine thought, because it wasn’t accumulating. Pokémon were still eating, talking with friends, crying, or just waiting silently.
Zorua and Absol sat near the center of the group, waiting for conversations to die down before Absol began her story. Electrike lay between them, with the edge of Absol’s blanket draped across her back and Zorua’s fluffy tail covering half her face. Arcanine smiled as he approached, glad to see that they had already adopted each other.
“Stoutland and Mismagus left, Krokorock isn’t back yet, and Scyther and Zebstrike are watching the door; everyone else is here,” Zorua said. She lowered her voice and continued, “Arcanine, you were right, but what are we going to do with them?”
“There’s food back there,” Arcanine said quietly, “enough to last fifty Pokémon several months. This is probably the safest building in town. Think we take anyone to Pokémon Square who wants to come, and leave the rest here.”
“We’ll stay a few days, and make sure there’s no trouble with the guild,” Zangoose said. “We can hire Krokorock to help distribute supplies.”
“Trust him?” Arcanine asked.
Zangoose shrugged. “Mostly. He won’t cheat us while he’s working for us; that’s not sporting.”
Arcanine hesitated a moment, then flicked his ears dismissively. He wasn’t certain what Zangoose meant by that, but it wasn’t his problem. Team Razor Wind was more than competent for the job; particularly if, as he suspected, Mewtwo had made some arrangements with them behind his back.
Xatu fluttered over to join them. He gave Absol, Zorua, and Electrike a bow, and winked at Arcanine. “I shall stay as well; I believe Chimecho may be too preoccupied with her Guild duties to provide proper communication.”
“Found your chest,” Arcanine told Mewtwo. He was sure Mewtwo already knew, but it seemed proper for him to say so. He didn’t ask what other plans Mewtwo had in motion; he trusted Mewtwo, and that was enough.
#Ah, thank you,# Mewtwo said, #It cost me a few favors to obtain than much on such short notice, and I probably ought to send it back where it came from.#
Should they guard the entrance the rest of the afternoon and through the night, Arcanine wondered, and should they guard the hall to Magnezone’s treasure room?
No to the latter, he decided; at least a few of their large group would be awake off and on all night, catching up with friends or grooming or just restless. No one was going to make off with enough money or food to matter without being seen. Yes to the former. He didn’t expect further trouble, but he wasn’t taking chances with his team, or Mewtwo. They could bar the front door from the inside like Magnezone’s team had done, and his team, Razor Wind, Krokorock, and whoever else was capable could watch in threes through the night.
Krokorock returned with his arms full of blankets and a smug smile. No one asked where he had gotten them. Everyone shifted around and got comfortable by the fire as Absol stood and introduced herself, and she began her story.
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