“Oh, load ‘er up. House sauce. Some mayo. Just hold the pickles.” No Navidson man worth the last name likes pickles. If his options were boxing an Urshifu with one hand tied behind his back or eating a pickle, he’d pick the Urshifu every time.[break][break]
“Too right though, boss. Sad to say it’s a job pulling me away. You’ll never believe this. They’re ‘bout to make me the gym leader down in Dewford.” Navy’s walked both sides of the law in his time. He doesn’t know the full extent of what goes on here, or who owns the joint. Best not to ask those kinds of questions or mix business with pleasure. It’s kept him from getting jumped here, at the very least. All the same, he knows enough to know that might mean something more to someone who works here.[break][break]
Dewford was a triumph for the criminal elements of the region. A rallying point. A flag they can hold high over the League and say we won with smug satisfaction. The silver lining there seems to be the fire it lit under the ass of the League.[break][break]
“Think I remember something ‘bout you saying you do the gym challenge. You oughtta hop on down when you’re not too busy listening to drunks talk about the one who got away.” He pulls the poured draft close and drinks deep. One last night here. One last chance to drink it up, live good. Enjoy civilian life. Battle lines are being drawn. A man can’t stay neutral in times like these forever.[break][break]
“Between you n’ me, it’s gonna be a bit mean, but someone’s gotta scare these kids straight if they think they’re gonna go off and play heroes.”

[break][break]

+ Isaac Merlo

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

He hates his voice. There’s nothing wrong with its pitch, tone, or cadence necessarily. Navy’s never pinned down exactly why, but his voice carries. Even when there’s loud music playing, or other conversations. In another lifetime, were he some leader rallying troops, it would help make him a great leader. In this tasty little gastropub, it just might get him shanked.[break][break]

Even a second-rate detective can pick up on the mood swing in the room. Men are whispering to each other. Rockets? Maybe just people with connections. No, not necessarily. There’s plenty of people who hate the League who aren’t Rockets. Plenty of desperate folk who’d probably want to collect the prize money someone would surely pay for his head, if he’s truly going to be a gym leader.[break][break]

When the iced tea is slid his way, Navy’s expression sours. He tries to hide it, turning away from the man who bought him the drink. If he wasn’t on the wrong side of the tracks, he’d think it was a congratulatory drink. Here, it’s bait.[break][break]

“I don’t go in for the hard stuff anymore.” That’s the line he decides to go with after momentary consideration. “Just this one beer’s all I’m having tonight.” He sips on it to make the point.[break][break]

“Get your meaning though, boss.” And he chows down into the burger, savoring the flavor. While he eats, savoring every last bite despite the predicament he’s found himself in, he thanks Arceus he brings his team with him everywhere. Nothing serves as a deterrent for trouble quite like having a full team of six on your hip.[break][break]

He makes an active attempt to be quiet this time. Lowering his voice as he swallows the last bite, so that only the bartender can hear.[break][break]

“…man, didn’t think the reaction would be that poor.”


[break][break]

+ Isaac Merlo

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

Maybe he is just bugging out. Maybe he just wants a fight. There’s truth that lives and truth that dies. The truth that maybe, maybe he said the wrong thing at the wrong place is a truth he’s happy to let die. If there’s consequences, they won’t be so overt. He’ll quietly slip out after his meal, walk quick, have Vortigern ready to come out and then Shuwen ready to subdue him.[break][break]

If someone wants to step up to him, they’ll get to meet the black dragon. Having learned the rules of this concrete jungle long ago, he knows he can’t play around. Don’t let them think you’re weak. Don’t make yourself out to be a mark. Never, ever humor a dumb request.[break][break]

Never poke your head up when you’re at war. That’s the lesson he learned in April, spelled out plain as day: they’re at war. It’s harder to pretend that they’re not every day. People go missing. Certain criminal elements grow bolder. Dissent is spreading. Even government leaders aren’t safe. Someone kidnapped Anderson and Henderson. They can make a fledgling gym leader disappear easy…[break][break]

So, when the bartender, a man Navy realizes only now he knows as ‘boss’ rather than any concrete name even after eating here for so long, offers to walk with him after his shift ends, he readily agrees. Navy doesn’t try and hide his gratitude when he nods. Maybe it’s his imagination, but his gut tells him this is man is kind. Two heads are better than one.[break][break]

“Hell yeah, sounds good. Nothin’ like a cool Slateport night to help cool off after work, huh?” By the time he’s done with his burger, there’s only five minutes left on the clock. Slipping his money down, Navy smiles up at his bartender. “I’ll be hangin’ out on the corner.”[break][break]

As he stands, he finally thinks to ask a question that would earn him a stern look from any seasoned detective. This is a question that should have been asked months ago.[break][break]

“Don’t think I’ve ever asked your name. Mine’s Navy.” The card says Michael Navidson.[break][break]

Either way, he’s true to his word. Hanging out under a streetlamp. The one trace of his paranoia left had Hattori slip out of his ball when no one was looking. The Greninja isn’t to do anything sneaky or underhanded. Navy just prefers having a guardian angel looking out for him from the rooftops. That’s what Greninjas are good for, after all – among a thousand other things.


[break][break]

+ Isaac Merlo

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

Isaac speaks no lies. This city never sleeps. Its soul comes alive with the dying of the light. It bathes itself in neon. All the cares and responsibilities of the day are forgotten in favor of the dance. It’s a dance whose moves trace back to the founding of the human race. Man at its roots knows that play is a far nobler pursuit than work, a fact made self-evident when you see men at play.[break]
This place is a feast for the senses. Were it not for the good burger now digesting in the gym leader’s gut, the many street vendors hawking hot dogs would make his mouth water. They carry the most exquisite smell, bacon grease mingling with butter and soft grilling onions. Women dressed in just enough to send fireworks off in the mind’s eye line the streets, waiting to get into clubs guarded by men that make Snorlax look small.[break][break]
Music of every make and mean is played. Music accentuates the dance. Old music that recalls better days stands in direct opposition to new hits that insist upon their right to be there. People move their bodies in these moments soon lost to time, glistening with sweat in the neon.
This is what he gives up to go far away, committing himself to a thankless task. He will dive day in and day out into a midnight sea where horrors these people would never consider dwell. It will be a thankless task, with credit doled out to the council who sponsored the task force rather than the man spearheading their offensive.[break][break]
“Hey, always treat the people who serve your food right.” The wayward son returns the fistbump with an easy smile and a confident timbre. “We were at the part where I was sayin’ I’m gonna be a gym leader.” No one can hear them now, not unless they’re upon the two like a Pyroar about to strike its prey.[break][break]
“Guess there’ll still be college kids. Whole town’s overrun with something viler than Giratina.” He’s solemn, deadly serious. “Hipsters.”[break][break]
They’re of an age, Isaac and Navy. The latter wonders how much this near stranger has explored the restless city. There’s little places the tourists would never think to look. Walking down a stairway beside an unassuming pharmacy, they enter one such spot.[break][break]
Velvet blue walls lend an air of old dignity to the place. On the stage is a lone singer with hair the color of a calico cat, wearing a troubadour’s hat. He picks the blues. Each pluck of the strings is a magic spell that pulls them back to another age, a story just for the lucky few that know to walk the steps down or are lucky enough to stumble in out of the cold.[break][break]
“Crazy how this city hasn’t changed much in fifteen years.” He reflects as he listens to the music. If any predator within this jungle has decided to slink into the oasis, Hattori has given Navy no signal regarding them.[break][break]
“Not since I was old enough to figure out how to sneak out my window.”

[break][break]

+ Isaac Merlo

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

“Plan?” He chews the word like it’s a steak. Turning it over, examining the individual words and syllables. The music fades as he remembers being bloodied beneath Dewford. Afraid, pulled through the rift. Only his fists and the hard lessons he learned kept him safe. He remembers the futures and pasts he saw there with Kouji Matsubara – worlds whose only virtue is strength.[break][break]
Nights like these, under a sky polluted by manmade light, are luxuries born of an illusion. Navy knows well the hearts of man and what many will do when they don’t have to pretend to be things they aren’t. That’s the world Rocket would make, even if they don’t think so. It’s the sort of world Kanto has become, to hear Hyakkaryōran Tsubaki tell what stories she will.[break][break]
“I just want kids to know what they’re getting into.” The old push children out to fight. Their heads get filled with fantasies. They want to be the very best. All their journey leads them to is an early grave at the hands of monsters who fight dirty.[break][break]
“Mum’s the word, obviously. Hoenn’s not like everywhere else, man. It’s hell to work for the League here. The League wants these kids to jump into the meat grinder. They ask for volunteers and then people end up way, way over their heads. They don’t know what they’re dealing with.” His eyes, darker in this velvet light, scan the smiling faces of the other patrons. There’s a pause. Consideration.[break][break]
“I don’t want nights like tonight to stop, Isaac. I want the people who want to defend their home to know what they’re getting into. That way, it’s an informed decision. They’ll be ready.” He doesn’t know this man, but he prays he understands.

[break][break]

+ Isaac Merlo

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

Was he?[break][break]
He looks sad at that question. Not wounded by the words. Words are but a spade that digs into the flesh to uncover the truth of the soul. The truth of his soul is that he is ready. That he was always ready. That he has been running, bounding, loping from that truth since he was sixteen years old. Putting his life on hold so a boy could keep smiling in a world determined to take that smile from him.[break][break]
And in spite of that sacrifice, the world snuffed that smile forever. Gabriel Navidson’s troubles are over, and Navy is left questioning all the decisions made along the way like only a man with the privilege of hindsight can.[break][break]
“I thought I wasn’t.” His admission is quick, these thoughts like lightning across the electric neurons of his brain. “Not ‘til Rocket grabbed the Seal Stone. I was just some dumb guy, caught in the middle of it all. Transported from place to place by the rift. Scared for my life. But somewhere along the way I just forgot to be scared.”[break][break]
Kouji Matsubara and all the pain they inflicted upon one another helped. In pain there is clarity. Strife brings one’s mind into focus. A man can see his real character, who he is, what he is and is not capable of. Navy learned the terrible truth that he can stomach those battles.[break][break]
If he had just realized that sooner, if he had been at Sootopolis instead of Gabe…[break][break]
There is no use dwelling on what might have been. He tells himself that every time his mind strays from the path. Velvet light dances across his vision. On stage, a man talks about the crying wind and the real folk blues and how men Carry That Weight. They carry that weight for a long time.[break][break]
“Can’t stand the League. Can’t stand Rocket. Just two more gangs that wanna be on top. But…best kid I ever met saw something worth fighting for in the League. Got him killed. The next kid’s not gonna die while I’ve got something to say about it.”[break][break]
If he was worried in the bar about being jumped, that fear faded as the trace amount of alcohol was filtered out of his bloodstream. What is left behind is focus. Intent. Anger at the world honed into a drive for action.[break][break]
“Lost too many people sitting on the sidelines. Nights like this’ll keep comin’ ‘round if I have anything to say about it.”

[break][break]

+ Isaac Merlo

[attr="class","pokeclass"]