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even after the iron bundle broke free of the ball, its damage was clear. the cubone coalition was prevailing. boomer balled a tiny fist and bared the early face of triumph, holding his bone high in the air, a glorious threat to be reckoned with. a look of comradery flashed over his shoulder at trinity beckman ’s pokemon. ’cubone!’[break][break]

”good shit, boomer!” roach hollered, and his gaze shot in a similar direction at trinity. his hair was still frozen straight back, defying gravity. ”and good thinkin’!”[break][break]

it seemed that they were nearly there, now, finally, after all the terror and damage. as the malfunctioning iron bundle took a moment to recover at the center of its devastation on the festivities, a similar thought occurred to roach as the one that occurred to robin coello :[break][break]

”where the hell’s the league when ya actually need ‘em?” they were right around the corner, ready to be up his ass at the first smell of trouble any other time. alas, no sirens filled the air. only the sound of an earthquake, and the eerie, shockwave-summoning roar of one of those strange distortion zoroark. they were not done yet.[break][break]

roach tried to keep his footing on shaky ground as his cubone charged in to retaliate, powered by schuyler tate ’s ditto-bundle’s sacrifice.[break][break]

2g1vFvEn

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all their efforts failed. on second thought, maybe he needed to get himself a paradox pokemon.[break][break]
he winced at the inner workings exposed like the terminator. “shit just keeps goin’.”[break][break]
the z-crystal was broken, then. unlike luka chêne , roach made no move to take cover, such instincts perhaps dulled by the lingering effects of eggnog. he screamed as his hat was blown off his head, and tripped into the snow from the force of the blizzard winds. boomer flew helplessly through the air, panicked voice but a muffled cry against the rage of suddenly disastrous weather.[break][break]
when roach stood back up, his hair had been blown back and frozen at a ninety-degree angle. boomer was stuck feet up in the snow, and roach trudged over stiffly to pull him out.[break][break]
”i've had it with this fuckin’ city...”[break][break]
upon his return, schuyler tate smiled at him and he mean-mugged back–not as an attack. his mood was just shot. something softened in his eyes, however, at the mention of alcohol.[break][break]
“yeah, i could do that, i guess,” he caved gruffly. “gonna need some whiskey after this nonsense.” eggnog could wait for a day less ruined.[break][break]
at robin coello ’s suggestion that they stay and ensure they were not somehow responsible for all the destruction, he informed her, ”ain’t no ‘we’. i ain’t payin’ for shit. i got my own damages to worry about.”[break][break]
”keep goin’, boomer! it’s gotta end eventually.”[break][break]
the cubone charged back into the fray, chilled the bone and ready to perish. however, his song wasn’t yet sung. instead, he mustered all his remaining strength into one last bone rush, swinging with a growing battlecry.[break][break]

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despite all their efforts, the iron bundle refused to submit or stop its reign of terror. ”how is it so evasive?” [break][break]

he watched as it leapt impressively from the train, leaving it to drive itself off towards elsewhere.[break][break]

”that ain’t gonna be good…” roach figured, scratching his chin. luckily, others like robin coello and trinity beckman were quickly on the case, and he could take solace knowing that he’d done his part already.[break][break]

his gaze returned then to the iron bundle perched upon the christmas tree as it wielded a z-crystal threateningly, which meant in no way was anyone done here yet. in fact, they were likely about to witness the grand finale.[break][break]

schuyler tate ’s voice hit his ears once more and he glanced over briefly at the guy who had called him ‘cowboy'. communication. what did it mean? as pokemon began to scale and descend upon the iron bundle from above, he commentated, ”looks like everybody’s goin’ for the top.” he would have gone with the take down the tree method, but they’d clearly already committed as a group.[break][break]

pointing, he commanded his partner, ”you too, boomer. get on up there ‘n kick some ass!”[break][break]

the cubone went, climbed with great effort, and did his best to retaliate.[break][break]

77|KXH_u

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they were saved! the sylveon stuck around after all. boomer the cubone was relieved, and so was roach, as he was finally able to pull the brake lever and slow the train to a safe halt.[break][break]

did this make him some kind of hero?[break][break]

nope. apparently not, because the train was not done moving. catching its second wind, it slipped off the tracks and into christmas town, to wreak even more havoc than before.[break][break]

schuyler tate’s voice reached his ears, just barely.[break][break]

“shit. don’t gotta tell me twice. come on, boomer!”[break][break]

he grabbed his cubone by the paw and swung him off the train, into the snow, before jumping off himself. blood from his nose spattered across the belly of a snorlax that appeared under him, just in time. he spat and cussed and rolled off into the snow.[break][break]

he did not stop to investigate what had just happened. instead, as counterintuitive as it might seem to run after a train immediately after jumping off it, that’s just what they did, hoping to at least help with the aftermath.[break][break]

noting that his friend had finally jumped from the train as well, roach commanded his cubone to help in the assault on the runaway cars.[break][break]

”help ‘em out!”[break][break]

another bonemerang was attempted, bone cutting through the air towards the hulking vehicles. a humble weapon, maybe,
but the effort was there.[break][break]

hFvxrolo

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some might have said he deserved to be smacked in the nose by his cubone. he said, ”awgh!” and regretted most of the decisions he had made in the last few minutes.[break][break]

his mouth hung slightly agape, nose clogged with blood that stickied his whiskers. his cubone had rolled off onto the floor, not daring to get up just yet, but taking note of luka chêne ’s togepi and calling after it hopelessly as it was carried away by her sylveon.[break][break]

’cubooone!’ a claw was outstretched from where he lied on his back, reaching at the air where the togepi had disappeared from. his concern was remedied, however–briefly–by the aid provided from beside the train. but then came the iron bundle’s rage.[break][break]

roach watched in horror as the controls were destroyed there in front of him, briefly considering just jumping back off the train–but he’d taken it upon himself to do something. he couldn’t just back down now.[break][break]

unable to hear schuyler tate ’s more thought-out plan, he instead listened to the brandy in his system, and threw himself at the iron bundle full force, attempting to tackle it to the floor of the train car. unfortunately, instead, he was caught in the first moments of schuyler tate ’s ditto-bundle’s close combat, catching stray flippers in cramped quarters.[break][break]

yelling out in pain, teary-eyed from both his busted nose and a second-hand pummeling, roach attempted to dodge the further onslaught of attacks, both from within and outside the car, while he searched for a brake. wasn’t there something to pull? he was pretty sure there was something to pull, like a lever.[break][break]

”after all the shit, i’m gonna be killed by a stupid bird.” he spat a bit of blood. ”just a normal day off. i ain’t askin’ for much.”[break][break]

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the bear ahead suddenly glowed bright as a christmas tree. ”holy moly, what a backfire.”[break][break]

roach kept running until he could catch hold of railing, and grunted as he pulled himself up with a hop, cigar pinched lightly between his teeth.[break][break]

turning, he saw his cubone still scrambling behind, and lowered down the steps, holding his arms out for several seconds and wiggling his fingers before removing his cigar and shouting, ”jump, damnit!”[break][break]

right at that moment, the cubone jumped finally, and roach caught him with one hand, losing his cigar behind the train as he fumbled with the other. precariously curling the cubone up to his chest, he cursed bitterly about the cost of imports as he then entered the passenger car.[break][break]

people aboard were watching the chaos, most too distracted to glance up as they made their way towards the front. roach clicked his tongue and shook his head as he also watched the massacre. ”absolute madness.”[break][break]

he went out of that car and to the next, and then the next, cubone still in tow. soon, they’d hurried all the way to the front, and spied the iron bundle just ahead.[break][break]

”this is it, boom-boom.” roach whispered, gravelly. ”your moment to be everyone’s little christmas miracle.”[break][break]

’cubone?’[break][break]

clutching boomer more like a basketball than a son, he got louder, ”get 'em, baby! yeehaw!”[break][break]

the cubone found himself flying through the air, yet again physically chucked at the enemy. a desperate bone rush swung wildly as he fought to escape his terrible predicament alive.[break][break]

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he found himself near a group of people, some addressing the situation, others merely gawking at the chaos. at luka chêne ’s suggestion, he puffed his cigar and coughed, more grit to his voice than usual from the cold, ”mating dance my ass. bird’s gone postal, attackin’ its own.”[break][break]

he also argued with trinity beckman , ”shit, thems’re dangerous as is. they're playin’ with fire out here. this is what happens when you automate the world.” he shook his head and snowflakes fell off his hair beneath his hat. ”dumbasses.” whoever was putting the iron bundle in charge of anything.[break][break]

”so we get it down, ‘n yer gonna reboot it? why not just keep it off?”[break][break]

the iron bundle charged, and at first it was difficult to discern which of them was the target of the aggression–but he reasoned that his cubone was a good guess.[break][break]

”oh hell, here we go. run, boomer!” run it did, not looking back. ”i didn’t say leave, you coward!”[break][break]

the cubone turned back reluctantly, and past it roach caught the sight of the conductor being kicked off the train, and the smoke from his unwitting friend’s cigarette still drifting up from the caboose as the cars began to chug away again down the tracks.[break][break]

he turned his head at schuyler tate , brows furrowing. ”cowboy?” but he let it slide, in the midst of their situation. ”after the train, boom-boom!”[break][break]

the cubone took off and roach followed, albeit at a much slower pace than his pokemon scrambling ahead.[break][break]

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he sat at the caboose, chatting with a familiar, eggnog-pinkened face when the scream cut through the atmosphere like a chainsaw against the great fraser fir of their holiday spirit.[break][break]

”what in the–man, always in slate. can’t have anything, can we, boom-boom?” cubone…[break][break]

bidding his hicupping company adieu, roach hopped off the train to attend to chaos he generally would have totally ignored; but he had also had a bit of eggnog, and he’d been very much enjoying himself, and so when bullshit broke out–as bullshit tended to do in the lower district of slateport at any and all times really–he decided enough was enough.[break][break]

”gaw-damn robots are outta control.” he puffed on a spicy sweet cigar. ”boomer, show that tin can son bitch to fuck with christmas.”[break][break]

bone![break][break]

a bonemerang was thrown, arcing at high speed with hopes to thonk the iron bundle in the head.[break][break]

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ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat.[break][break]

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”o' course.”[break][break]

roach gave a smile at all the blessings listed, though the last one was little curious. ”sounds like a decent day in hoenn, my friend,” he joked. however, it was truer than the sky was blue and unpredictable.[break][break]

major crimes were going on just a couple of meters below detective navidson’s feet, all day every day; but roach wasn’t nervous at the mention of the league. ritual had been untouchable for decades, even through its waves of public scrutiny.[break][break]

”yessir it is. bit slow, but that’s just how it goes sometimes, don’t it? gives me time to think.”[break][break]

it was also slow there every day and night—at least upstairs, where he still had some true semblance of control over his business. team rocket had become a colossal thorn in his side, in the wake of that not-having-a-fire-extinguisher situation no less. as a result, no one in their right mind wanted to work there.[break][break]

”it’s roach, by the way. good t’meetchya.”

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he could tell the difference.[break][break]

”ain’t got much beer.” he’d given up on craft brews. he was no Naomi Sato or Zev Harcourt , and he’d always been fine with that really. a short venture had proven that no, he didn’t need that extra order. that wasn’t his crowd.[break][break]

his crowd was bourbon snobs, and then people like this guy who just wanted whatever you could put in front of them.[break][break]

”but what's here is cheap.”[break][break]

he opened the cooler and pulled out a frozen mug, not bothering to ask, because the kind of beer he would pour was only palatable when it was too cold to catch its true flavor.[break][break]

he poured, tossed down a coaster and set it in front of him. ”tall mug o’ the stuff,” he repeated with a smile, amused by how he’d put it. he didn’t ask about a tab or a card.[break][break]

he also didn’t linger, wiping away a few drops from woodgrain before the towel went over his shoulder and he returned to cutting fruit a respectful distance away.[break][break]

after a moment, he asked, ”so how’s yer night goin’?”[break][break]

”great,” his voice rasped from between friendly, crooked teeth. ”then it’s a plan.”

he sipped his drink, attention briefly stolen by passing lights through the massive windows. he was good at keeping casual eye contact, despite an anxiously traveling awareness.

gavin's offer was met with a single shake of his head.

”oh, i’d rather not. i’m no man o’ violence.” his drawl slow. it might sound more lazy than calculated, though he was watching his words nonetheless. his smile never faded. ”you got your dogs. i fancy myself more of a fox than a hound.”

Cillian Quinn

☉