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[attr="class","samjermain"]As she stared at the other two pictures on the phone, Aubre frowned. “Who took these pictures?” The pair were already dead at that point, or, at least, unconscious. And, she doubted a monster of this size could take one. Unfortunately, only the wind heard the question. The camera ended up around her neck, where it’d stay for the rest of the hunt.

When the water deepened, the redhead would pause at its edge. The unknown—the things beneath the murky depths—inspired a sense of caution. A thousand different horrific scenarios flashed through her mind, each one more horrific than the last. Unbeknownst to her, she’d soon be viewing something beyond her imagination.

As the other trainers took flight, Aubre turned to face her Jumpluff. “Maggie, are you okay taking a break? Taking a minute to dry off?” With a chirp, she recalled the grass type. In its place, a heavily scarred Gyarados emerged. His eyes peered suspiciously at the swamp around them. “Chester? Are you—I know we discussed this earlier, but I don’t want to—” The great beast made a noise. Something Aubre knew to be laughter. He dipped his head low enough to allow the doctor to climb aboard. “Thank you.” With a grunt, she pulled herself onto the water-type’s back.

In moments, the air snake was gliding past the others in the group. His intimidating presence sent what creatures were visible sinking beneath the surface. But he could not scare the dead. A gasp tore from Aubre’s throat as she recognized the bloated bobbing things for what they were. “!?” Her voice was tiny, uncertain. “Oh, Arceus. These poor people. What happened?” The Gyarados roared as he sighted the Ursaluna. Following his gaze, the redhead nudged him to where @rowan dug at the exposed corpse.

As they approached, the doctor fumbled for her phone. Punched in three digits. “I’d like to report a—” Her voice shook as a small corpse caught her eyes. She tried her best to swallow her tears. “--a few—I’m sorry, Arceus—” The female voice on the other end pushed. “Around a dozen murders. We’re at, well, near, trail marker 109.” The hands buried in the Gyarados’s scales shook.


Something about this situation seemed wrong. The bear had chosen to run instead of attacking. And, while bears buried corpses, it woldn’t typically do it somewhere like this. Then, there was the pictures to worry about.


Shouting and barbarism drew the doctor’s eyes. As suspected, people were quick to turn to the pitchfork mentality. “Chester, can you—” With a grunt, she dropped into the muck beside Rowan. “--stop the bear with a Whirlpool? But don’t hurt it! I just—it seems as confused as we are.” Maybe they could talk to it. Maybe they could reason with it.

In other words, she agreed with Oliver Shrakes.

But, for now, there was something to investigate. “Hang on, sir. Let me help.” Though not strong, determination allowed her to tug the body free. The sucking sound was the most disgusting thing she’d ever heard. It’s not going to hurt you. Even if it’s cold. Even if it’s stiff. This isn’t a person anymore. Bile threatened as the person’s tongue lolled out. On Aubre’s shoulder, her Oricorio tried to sing a soothing song.


"GRWAAAAAAAAARWGH!" With a deafening roar—meant to draw attention—her Gyarados moved to fence the Ursaluna with the very waters that comprised his home. It then turned a steely eye on the trainers attempting to hurt it. His little Rattata wanted it to come to no harm, and he'd had enough of war. Hopefully, the swirling waters would provide some armor from the people surrounding it.

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@open

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[attr="class","samjermain"]As Shred struggled to get out the mud, the Jumpluff did the only thing she could: cheered. Her little pom-poms smashed together repeatedly, dripping little bits of pollen into the mucky ground below. When he finally emerged, Maggie let out a single cry. “Pluff!” But those sparkling eyes held a teasing light. What a silly little man! Humans are so fragile!

Now above the thickest part of the fog, the creature’s red eyes spot something gleaming in the mud. It’d been highlighted by the Sableye’s Detect. Its straps curl around one of the bridge posts, where it’d been tossed in a panic. “Jum?” Her original path to Aubre twists away as she rides the chilled, damp winds toward the bridge. With a shake of her poms, little vines unfurl from her hands. Weighed down by it, the flower Pokemon half-carried, half-drug the camera back to basecamp.

The redhead remained near the outskirts of the group beneath the tarp. Occasionally, a scarred finger would reach up to rustle the lavender feathers of the Oricorio on her shoulders. The sight of the ear made her gasp. A hand swung behind her, finding support in the tree behind her. Her stomach roiled as images of carnage flashed through her mind. Why are you even out here!? What happens if Leon finds you like that? Dismembered and spread around like a game of 52 pick-up?

These thoughts ended as a little noise reached a favor pitch. But the sense of unease reached a fever pitch as she saw the Jumpluff drop into a mud puddle with a splish. “Maggie!” With a distressed breath, she raced toward the downed grass type. “Are you all right!?”

Without a second thought, she dropped into the muck. Through the filth, the little thing smiled up at her, shaking like a dog. At about that time, the redhead found the camera in the mud. "Where'd you find this?" A wet pom-pom lifted to point to the area ahead of them.

With wide eyes, she turned to face the remaining parties beneath the tarp. “Excuse me—” She tried again, her voice coming out louder. “--does anyone have an electric type on them?”

Cradling it like a baby, the doctor rose from her crouch. “We—Maggie found a camera in the mud. I think someone must have thrown it at whatever attacked them.” Again her belly rolled.

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[attr="class","samjermain"]For months, the couple had been like penpals. Most communication came by way of quick little notes scattered around the home. Left folded on countertops and on cold, empty pillows. Even if all she wanted to do was kiss his brow or grab his scarred hands.

But, if she did that, she knew she'd break.

At least, that was true on one side of the equation—hers. Again and again, he’d tried to build bridges between them. But their foundations rested on shaky ground.

Like a frightened deer, she tiptoed on their edges. She waved at the person on the other side, but she made no move to close the distance. There was no proof that these plans—the trusses—were built of anything but lies. But following that gym battle, the doctor had taken a shaky step to close the distance. And, this morning, she took another one.

Today’s note was a little different. It hadn’t been left to avoid communication. This one she ended with a little smiley face. A very uncharacteristic thing—meant to convey a change in tone.

Buongiorno, Leon.

Meet me at the beach off Route 101 at 6:00 p.m. I could use your help, and you’ll knock something off your list in the process.

Bring boots. Don’t forget sunscreen. You’ll probably want a thick shirt too. Have a good daddy-daughter day. : )

Sincerely,

Aubre

If he followed the note’s instructions, he (like his Skarmory, Victoria) would find himself at an isolated beach. In place of sand, there was gravel and weeds. But it’d take him a moment to find his wife. She was obscured by a blizzard of hungry birds. Half of them diving at the bait she cast on the sand and the rest snapping at her arms in the hope of getting whatever was cupped in her hands. “Haven't you already eaten enough ?”

A few dozen empty shells covered the beach. A few never even made it out of the eggs. She now stood over an indent in the ground. With a raucous caw, her husband's steel bird landed beside her.

Her stance was a protective one. Keen eyes would notice the shifting of sand behind Alastor. Why did they have to hatch today? All these checks and it happens now? With a look of determination, the redhead wipes blood off her cheek.

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[attr="class","samjermain"]Maggie’s attack was her swan song. The Jumpluff fainted from the Ice Fang. But by the time the stubborn thing closed her eyes, the match had already been called. With shaking fingers, Aubre returned the little grass-type to its Pokeball. As her victory was announced, the noise came back muffled—like audio from a blocked radio. It was disbelief. I won? Really? A glance at her husband showed an uncharacteristic smile. He nodded.

Alastor, meanwhile, pumped his fists. It’d been ages since he’d actually battled and it was nice to get the practice in. Taking down a cat twice his size struck him as a pretty cool accomplishment. When the clapping started, he allowed himself to soak in the spotlight like a satellite dish the son.

Aubre, meanwhile, wasn’t comfortable with it. The applause made her flush, Her hands—still clutching Maggie’s Pokeball—vanished into her hoody’s sleeves. Fortunately, Josh’s approach kept her distracted. With a calming breath, she crossed the stage toward him. Just a few steps. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. All the adrenaline coursing through her veins had vanished like water at low tide leaving her legs feeling like jelly. “Thank you. It was not intentional though—” The last part was a whisper. The U-Turn had been a defensive maneuver, not a strategic one.

“Thank you.” The response to his speech is simple but full of weight. For a moment, there are tears in her eyes. Grieving for a past that’d gone up in smoke. “I think the Pokemon are the ones who deserve it, though.” As if on cue, Alastor appeared beside her, taking the quick badge with a surprising degree of deference.

When Aslan reached her, the woman hesitated for a moment. She imagined flames erupting from his mouth—teeth of heated ivory snapping on her hand like a bear trap. It’s not like that. It’s okay. With a deep breath, she laid her hand atop the dragon’s muscular side. “It was my pleasure. Everyone deserves a chance.” In her husband’s case, they were on the third or fourth one.

“Oh! That reminds me!” Digging into her pockets, she pulled out a small bag of healing supplies and treats. “I didn’t want to leave your Pokemon in trouble—please take these, with my blessing.” Though the idea of treating them herself came to mind, it seemed rather inappropriate—to offer to heal someone you’d just run into the dirt. “And, Josh, thank you.”

She grunted as little arms wrapped around her leg. A gentle hand descended on her shoulder as her husband placed a kiss against her head. “I will see you again, I’m sure.”

NOTES

• Aubre has acquired the QUICK BADGE

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[attr="class","samjermain"]Aubre couldn’t understand war. What could be so important that killing others was worth it? Ideology? What stopped people from just talking to each other? Why did people struggle so much to just set aside differences?

This confusion was never on clearer display than tonight. A few days after Post-Dormitum, the small clinic struggled to come up for air. A parade of injured Pokemon—some wild and many veterans—threatened to drown the staff. Each injury was worse than the last. And, somehow, her heart never managed to reach the blissful numbness other people talked about.

Each failure stabbed her heart as deeply as the first. Being forced to decide which Pokemon deserved to be front of the line, hurt her soul in a way that was hard to describe. Because every patient taken back was just one more left out in the cold. Hoping to get ahead of the influx, Aubre decided to stay late. Her exhausted hands, raw from repeated washings, quickly made their way through new patient paperwork.

She paused only to call and tell her daughter tonight. “Good night, Mikky. I’m sorry I can’t be there tonight. Mommy loves you, okay? “ Her daughter made a noise somewhere between a huff and a sniffle. “I’ll be back soon.” The apology is somehow hollow in her throat. No matter how much she missed Mikky, she couldn’t leave patients here to die. Especially not for a conflict many of them wanted no part in. The doctors who saved her were probably exhausted. But they made it. Aubre needed to do the same.

Sweat flooded her. A familiar nightmare approached on fiery paws. But the Houndoom shifted between a dozen different Pokemon. All of them whispering words of blame. The patients she lost over the last couple of days. This chimeric, terrifying mass of powerlessness opened its mouth to expose teeth of fiery fangs. Heat tore into her flesh as she snapped into wakefulness. “NO!?” She awoke with a start. She couldn’t see the clock, but she knew it was after midnight.

She sat groggily up in her seat, the scars on her back screamed. A reminder of the power of good posture. Into the darkness, she spoke. “Hey, Al?” In the corner chair, Alastor blinked awake. “Heli?” His frill was wrinkled, much like the blanket on his lap. “Are you—?”That’s when she heard it. The noise that woke her up. A roar from the Gyarados in the Pokemon sanctuary out back.

Something’s wrong. Not bothering to pull on her lab coat or shoes, the doctor raced into the backyard. Her eyes widened as she saw chaos. Pokemon were free of their enclosures. And Chester, poor sweet, neglected Chester, was seconds away from smiting an intruder with a Hyper Beam.

A Phione flitted fearfully around his head.

“Excuse me, Sir.” The doctor frowned. She managed to keep the tremble out of her voice. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Alastor, no longer sleepy, drew even with his trainer. Unlike Aubre, he didn’t believe in asking questions. This guy was definitely bad news. It wasn’t like tourists broke into clinics at 2 AM. And, he knew the redhead was aware of that too.

“The office is closed.”

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[attr="class","samjermain"]The redhead checked her pack about a dozen times before leaving. Did she have enough antidotes? Was there enough emergency food for a few days in case they ended up trapped? The outfit was also a display of this paranoid preparation. On top of her raincoat, she wore a poncho to help wick off the rain. Tall wading boots stopped just short of her knees—the oversized things making her petiteness more obvious.

An Oricorio—in Seiyu form—was perched upon her shoulder. The pressure of his talons helped to ground her in this place of Seedot cries and Kricetune strings. Above her, a Jumpluff cascaded through the fog. Its spinning left a trail behind it—resembling a fighter jet. “Maggie? Are we any closer to the rendezvous point?” A chipper call assured the doctor that she was on the right path.

Seeing the tarp in the distance, the redhead sped up to join the group under the canopy. As they neared, she whispered to the newly grounded Jumpluff. “Can you keep a lookout? Please?” She crushed herself into an unoccupied corner, listening to the conversations around her. A half-hearted wave was tossed Thomas’s way, but her eyes locked worriedly onto the child accompanying them. But it never felt like the right time to interrupt.

She pulled her collar tight against an imagined chill as if the fabric was enough to ward off whatever watched them.

At Hyakkaryōran Tsubaki’s words, Aubre would adjust her bag’s straps. The woman who stands before her strikes differently than the one The simple fiddling helped take her mind away from the missing people. At Alba Evovae’s words, the doctor shook her head. “I think the term monster sets us in the wrong mindset.” Her voice is quiet but firm. “It’s probably sick or hurt. And, for injured creatures, humans are—” She swallowed. “--easy prey.”

Meanwhile, Maggie followed the glowing orbs to @shred and his companions. With a happy gurgle, she pedaled over the nearest will-o-wisp. She spun a few times before trying to lead them to the group.

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[attr="class","samjermain"]The redhead shook her head. “It’s really not—I just worry I’m bad luck sometimes.” Even when things seemed to be going well, she was always waiting for someone to pull the rug out from under her. If Emmett had chosen a different pod, would this still have happened? Or would the Butterfree Effect have allowed them to enjoy a complete rotation? At the second question, she forced another smile. I’m always hurting, but that’s not what he means, is it? At least the jolt wasn’t too bad.

“I’m all right. A ride like this—well—I’m glad it wasn’t something faster.” A sudden breakdown on a rollercoaster could have snapped someone’s neck. Something like this was just a bit inconvenient. A few times, she cast a concerned glance at her phone—imagining a ring among all the power tool noises below. How long before Leon worried about her?

“I know carnivals run tight margins.” Or, at least, they did on certain parts. “I am guessing they only have one or two mechanics.” Which, judging by the newly appeared Duraludon and mechanic’s outfit below, had just arrived. “Hopefully, the problem is something simple.” She preferred a tripped sensor to a true mechanical problem. At the talk of preparation, she laughed. “The only way to avoid this would be to not ride at all. And, well, that does not sound like living to—” The carriage gave a little jerk as the lights flashed.

Down below, the mechanic hit something in the electric box with a solid tap. With a haunting, off melody, the Ferris wheel jerked a few inches upward. "--me." The doctorfinishes with a squeak.

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[attr="class","samjermain"]While the boy made introductions, Aubre’s maternal side took center stage. Every tremor and gasp was met with a concerned stare. “The feeling is mutual, Absalom.” Her eyes shifted to the Zoroark. “And the same to you, Mirage.” A bit of respect was needed regardless of someone’s age (or species). “Your throat’s probably not feeling so good, huh?”

A few things were shifted aside—the sound of clinking bottles apparent. “Maybe I—I think I have—” With a noise of success, she pulled out a bottle of unsweetened berry juice. “Drinking this might help. Just take it easy.” At his thanks, she shook her head. “I could not have done anything else. Please don’t worry about it.” Except she could have. That voice could have gotten in the way. The dark drink was extended toward him, giving her a few of saturated milky skin.

Her breath stopped in her chest. The boy’s explanation for how he’d been pulled under was received as a muffled garbled mess. “That’s…unfortunate.” A hand reached up to touch her shoulder, suddenly aware of how bare her back was. “Oh!” The exclamation was a breathless gasp of panic. “My—Absalom—is there—do you see my jacket?” A hand lifted to her shoulder as she almost turned around. But she froze.Some things were too wrong to see the light of day.

The Swampert laid a cooling hand on her trainer’s shoulders. Against the scars, the coolness was equal parts torment and relief. Just highlighting the dull pain that always existed.

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[attr="class","samjermain"]As the pair came to a stop, the doctor’s hand hovered in the air between them—as if trying to hold Shalin up via telekinesis. Surely, those sort of vibrations were harmful to the spinal column. Um…” Should she not be wearing a helmet? Maybe some padding too? Was it really her place to lecture, though? Just leave her alone, you worry wart. This is why no one likes you, Aubre.

When Shalin spoke, the redhead swallowed. “I—I see. I apologize for assuming.” Though Surely, that sort of force could not be safe on the spinal column? “I just wouldn’t want to see you get hurt. Or, anyone, really.” How people enjoyed those nasty, violent videos were beyond her. In her mind, real life was frightening enough without hunting down snuff videos and laughing at other people’s skateboard accidents.

At the words Sygna Suit, that look of maternal concern evaporated. One red brow went up as she looked at the outfit with a more appraising eye. “Is that what you’re wearing?” She had only caught glances of them before during news segments, but that was typically a flash in a much wider, flashier conflict. “Have you had any luck in your investigations?" She vaguely remembered these things being stressful on all parties, so it’d make sense you would want to test your limits.

When Shalin expanded her explanation, Aubre found herself nodding along—ever the attentive student. “That sounds useful.” Though she was not certain of how useful being turned into a bouncy ball would be in a combat situation. “I’m sorry for butting in.” You’re a nosy little pest, you know that? Can’t leave well enough alone, can you? As Shalin neared, the Farigiraf leaned its neck down to sniff at the woman. Notably, he favored the newly grown leg.

At the introduction, the redhead smiled. “Well, it is nice to meet you.” She smiled for a moment, pondering just how wide this side of the region was. Did it change when the gym leader moved? Sure, it was a turn of phrase, but that sort of thing mattered. “I’m Aubre. The least confident doctor here, currently, in these woods.” A gentle hand rubbed her giraffe’s velvety fur.

A fond look was shared between the two. “And this handsome young man is Arthur.”

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