Aki Kumori Cathrine Fisher


The laughter just made the flushing worse. Oz is glad his skin had too much pigment to get to the far end of the color spectrum. Instead of turning away, he just made his rin grow wider. Showing off his expensive dental work was his go-to out for an awkward situation. Look at his dimples! How could you be mad at those!?


Ah, there he went again! Throwing out all that cutting-edge business lingo and forgetting that not everyone was as hip as he was. “It means something really rare—like a three-segment Dudunsparce. #PINKSOCIETY.” Even his money had made it hard to find one of those. The idea that being compared to a fat snake was offensive didn’t even cross his mind.


Then, he saw the Furret. “Hey there, my sister!” Oz grinned at the pink weasel, offering a hand for a fist bump. Shaking hands wasn’t his thing. Way too many germs for his tastes. The CEO seemed surprisingly elated by the normal-type’s acceptance. Maybe it was because he and Pokemon rarely got along. Or because he really liked the big furry snake bois. “Our new mascot is pretty much a dead ringer for our new mascot! That’s a helluva omen.”


Then, the other woman (the scary one) spoke. Her question was regarded with an illegible expression for a moment. Though you could see the gears turning behind Oz’s eyes. “Well, I got really tired of the photocopies HR kept floating my way. Most of them wouldn’t know fun if it pulled them into the Ultra Zone.” A lot of them dressed the same and, if his nose was anything to go by, they all shopped at the same Bath and Body Works. “So, I thought I’d try the old ooga-booga myself.” After all, if his dad’s hiring team could find people, so could he.


The talk of details made him nod. “Compensation-wise, the sky's the limit.” Oz let that sink in a moment. “But I’m not easy to work with..” He flipped through his phone, settling on some old text messages. “I’m ‘high maintenance,’ and ‘needy’ as the bird used to say.” This idea he scoffed at, just as a pocket full of business cards spilled out of his pants pocket. “But you get a great schedule.”


And, best of all, they got to experience his genius firsthand.

Adebayo Holdings sponsored plenty of things. Major league teams, elite trainers, and entire wings of art museums. Then, of course, there were all the non-profits they funneled money into. With these came private boxes and a hundred different photo ops. But he rarely got to get down and dirty with the everyday stuff. Especially now that he was THE head honcho. It didn’t look good to have the CEO wrist deep in a pot full of hobo potatoes.


Then, of course, came the reactions. When you were like a gazillionaire, people tended to treat you differently. Especially when you were filling their coffers. It made it really hard to connect on a personal level. And, with their grant waiting on his desk for approval, Oz decided it was a great day to skip the budget meeting and headed down to this Haven place.


Donning a disguise, Oz entered the place. However, it should be noted that his idea of a “disguise” was trying to dress in his best approximation of a regular trainer. That meant trading his designer shorts for a pair of designer shorts without the logo. A pair of sunglasses perched upon his nose—an obviously strange thing in a gloomy forest. These displayed a hundred different things about the wood around him. The names of plants and fauna. Though he’d somehow stopped being distracted by it.


The sounds of tools at work drew him deeper into the compound. It didn’t take long for his curiosity to lead him to Eris Halla. From the bottom of the tree he watched her work. “That’s a nice death trap.” Oz cracked as he scaled the ladder. A Porygon-Z hovered just over his shoulder. Baby blues trailed across the network of ropes. “Betting it cost a pretty penny in insurance.”


It was then his eyes caught on the Zarude. “Whoa! What kind of monkey is that?” The thing looked like a 1950s villain.


At the base of the latter, Chip—his Gholdengo—looked up at the line with a contemplative expression.

PURCHASING/REDEEMING

welcome to the poké mart!

1X custom pokemon ticket (0 PD)
Chip | Gholdengo| Nasty Plot, Make It Rain, Substitute, Recover, Shadow Ball, Power Gem

TOTAL

do come again!

0 PD

If Oz could read minds—a project he was looking into—he wouldn’t have been offended. After all, the best people had a few screws loose. Nikola Tesla talked to pigeons. A lot of pioneers were one step away from the white-padded rooms. So, if he had a screw loose, the man knew he was in the BEST company. Though knowing his Eelektross’s birthday had nothing to do with that. Oz just knew how important dates were to women.


That fact became obvious the first time his dad forgot his mom’s birthday.


“Yeah. I know. My fiance was one of them.” Oz raised his shoulders in an attempt to be nonchalant. But the wince that underlain the gesture was apparent. Months later and it still felt like someone was stabbing him in the back. She acted like he could have just walked away from it. Sure, when his sister was next in line, that was easy. But when somebody offered you a whole buffet with a Dole Whip machine? It’d take a real (stupid) saint to turn it down. “It’s the first time I ever wanted a lawyer to be more corrupt." His laughter was strained.


Aww! He wasn’t even going to guess? What a spoilsport! “It’s called a Lechonk.” A big chunky big named after a Paldean dish! “I told you it was awesome.” The question about the apartment building echoed back to him. Well, that’s what search engines were for. “Let’s see what Google Senpai has for me.” As he typed, Oz stepped over a Sylveon snoozing on an old, tattered rug. The Comfey on his head unfurled to give the familiar face a wave. “It says there was a structural issue. Some kind of snake dug out the foundation.” His eyes bugged out. “Oh! That’s cool! Some celebrities grew up here.”


When the fight happened, the man just blinked. He wouldn’t want to be in that Drakloak’s shoes—ectoplasmic booties. Whatever. “So, do you have a goal or are you just trying to hoard them all?” That made two Pokemon caught since they started. “Looks pretty expensive to me.” And exploitative too.


From the corner of his eye, he saw a dirtied Clefable poke its head around a doorjamb. A sense of nostalgia swelled up. His fiance’s Clefable liked running off with his laptop when he worked too much. They were cute, but he didn’t want to be seen as a copycat. Reaching into his pocket, he drew out what was left of a vat-grown meat stick. This he tossed in front of it.

“I’m looking for room 312 if you want to come along.” He grinned. “I just found out mom’s favorite soap star lived there.”



[/bloockquote]

A jester didn’t seem to mind attention. In Oz’s ebook, any PR was good PR. Though he did want to clear something else, just because he hated missed punchlines. That and flights. Those were a b-i-t-c-h. “Me and Princess? Practically twins.” He claimed as he dug his phone out from a pocket. A few swipes took him to a picture of his Eelektross’s last birthday party, complete with stupid hats.


The talk of lawyers made Oz sigh. “I know. Just sucks that a man can’t decide to do with his stuff without getting a blood-sucking law leech involved.” Here, he smiled. Obviously, he was joking. Mostly. His ex was a lawyer and so were a lot of his college friends. Still, there was a reason people associated with the pits of hell. “Could be like grandpa I guess. Make it one of those battle royales.” Then again, he needed some heirs to fight for it.


Oz stared at the little ghost type with a contemplative frown. “I guess there aren’t that many kids missing.” The talk of tree stumps drew his eyes up and down the hallway. The little blonde had a point. “I’d bet you're right. A kid from the 70s? Probably hijack ugly wallpaper or an Easy Bake oven.” Definitely not an actual stump. The talk of the pig shifted his attention. He lifted his phone and tried a reverse image search. “Aww! He’s a 10/10 good boy. Be a great mascot for the new GM bacon we’ve got coming out.” By the time it’d finished, the pig had disappeared in a flare of light.


“Pfffft!” Oz snorted to himself, trying his best to ignore the totally creepy bug stuff. “Dude, you won’t believe what that thing’s called.” He snickered as he headed towards what looked to have once been a locked door. The markings on the door looked kind of funky. “I was thinking Oinker or Rootig. But, hooo daddy. It’s better than that.” The crown above his head shifted, waving bye to the tiny ghost as her trainer moved his way into the stairwell.


“What do you think happened to this place?” His eyes lifted skyward as he emerged into the hallway. “It seems like it was pretty snazzy back in the day.” It wasn’t like it had any warnings or big neon danger signs.

A ghost dragon slipped from oneside of the hallway to the other. Right behind it--a show of contrast--a tiny pink below followed. "Weird bedfellows, huh?"

Ozni may have noted her confusion, but the Adebayo train showed no signs of stopping. People either figured out how to catch up or got left behind. That was Welcome to the Jungle 101. Though it should be noted that he certainly could talk like a normal person. Or, at the very least, like a stuck-up snob with a master’s degree. It just wasn’t very fun.

Maybe he should have told her he was a germaphobe. Though it looked spotless, there was no telling what pollen and pathogens that chunk of fabric had laid in. If he’d done that, she might look less like an irritated Greek muse. “Sure, Big Bird.” His nose wrinkled again. “Those words work too. But alphabets are all about association, amirite? For you ‘A’ may be apple.” For Oz, the letter ‘F’ conjured up old cartoons and comically red pens. More recently, it brought to mind capital letters in company live streams. “But for me it’s Adebayo.” If he’d been wearing a suit, he’d have brought out his own handkerchief for a play date.

But only total squares stuffed fancy napkins in their hoodies.

The man let her finish before he started talking. Which, with a brain like his, was hard. “We’re definitely on the right track.” Oz started as he swallowed a sneeze. “It just can’t be my wealth. She liked me way more when I was just a non-profit coordinator.” His fiance, who hailed from a well-off family, had always romanticized the poor. The woman thought beauty could be found in distended bellies and hungry eyes. A great lawyer but a bit off in that regard. Though he figured that naivety had faded in time. “I just want her to knowr I’m proud of her, but not in a way that’s romantic.”

Memories of naked legs and tangled sheets came to mind. The light scent of the For a moment, blue eyes turned wistful. “We broke up.” But that didn’t mean he couldn’t be her biggest cheerleader—pom poms, mini skirts, and all!

The Porygon at his side drifted towards the shopkeep, moving to peer curiously at her screen. “Zzzzzr! Beeeeeep!” His stubby arms windmilled.

Though he noticed the tension, Oz kept smiling. The blinding light from his grin usually reassured people that he wasn’t some creepy molester weirdo or anything. Though his ex-fiance had called it slimy once. Then again, that same conversation had started with her blaming him for a plantwide disaster in Johto, so she had been in a bit of a bitchy-witchy mood.



That smile faltered the second Aki opened her mouth. “WHAT!?” He huffed, unraveling the matching paper inside his pocket. He scanned it for the hundredth time, double-checking that nobody had scribbled obscenities at the bottom. Indignation colored his voice. “It most definitely is not!” Not that he thought there was anything wrong with sex work. “Since when do Gentlemen’s Clubs give out cars] They aren’t talk shows!” A flush now covered his cheeks. It didn’t help that their branter had him imagining it.



Realizing he looked like a panicked high school freshman, Oz took a deep breath. Long fingers reached up to dust off his branded hoody as he adopted a straighter posture. “I’m actually looking for an EA. A real top-tier purple squirrel.” He waved around him as if dissipating a bad odor. While he’d totes go for a hot secretary, that was not a requirement. “You might have to bend over backward, but there are zero poles involved.”



Oz chuckled. “Minus the North one.” He loved Christmas. “Can’t miss that PR.” He went all out on decoration and came in dressed in Santa. The lights on his house would be considered torture in some countries.

Oz continued to look at the fluffy bug. He wondered if it got hot under all that fluff, and what exactly it felt like. Was it like bunny fur? Maybe more like cotton candy? Could it be spider silk? Ah, he wanted to touch it! “That’s probably why I’ve never seen one.” Then again, he wasn’t exactly well-traveled in the traditional sense. If it was under five stars, his family just didn’t. That meant his globetrotting was mostly limited to all-inclusive resorts and staged encounters. “Definitely stands out.” Baby blues jumped from the young man’s face to his bug-type Pokemon. “Not sure I see the resemblance, though.”

Aw, did he think he was propositioning him? What a confident little blonde! Definitely a good look. Oz chuckled. “No worries there, bud. I like my ladies with Double Xs .” Not that he minded non-cis, non-het stuff (or didn’t joke with male friends). All these flavors of weirdo just made the world a brighter place. “And, I don’t mean a human heir—I’m looking for a few Pokemon to leave stuff too.”The movie Aristocats? That old lady was a total role model. He just hoped he was there to see his family flip. But there was something even more dramatic than leaving his money to a Pokemon, and that was leaving it to someone lower income. “Though I’m not above Daddy Warbucks-ing it.”

With his last break-up still raw, the idea of having his own ragamuffins seemed foreign.

Grinning at the little flower crown’s assent, Oz gently scooped it up. From the ball, it went on his hair. Not minding the dust, the CEO sat down to watch the battle. When the bird fell to the ground, he clapped. “Bravo! Great form!” It was hard to tell if he was joking or not. It always was. “Princess Lei enjoyed it.” The Comfey, now wrapped around his head, made a noise of disapproval. “Oh, come on, it’s cute.”

Not wanting to be here when Tweety Bird woke up, Oz followed Niky deeper into the apartment building. Before long, they stumbled on two more Pokemon. A chunky little pig rooting in a corner and a weird wood-faced ghost hanging from a chandelier. What looked to be old tinsel was tangled in its horns. Oh! Wait! Isn’t that a Phantump.

Oz leaned in to whisper. “That’s not very merry, huh? Knowing a kid died in here?” He hummed thoughtfully. “Feel like it's good commentary on something."

The Porygon zoomed around the pair, her little phone silently snapping photos. These would be uploaded later with some facial blurs applied.


At the fluffer’s protests, Oz held up his hands in defense. “Well, excuse me, madam.” A grin threatened in the form of shaking lips. The idea of this poodle moth trying to hurt him just screamed hilarity. A steadying breath returned the CEO to his typical expression—a small smile paired with a teasing, mischievous glint. “I’m not so great with Pokemon names. My parents were total squares.” Between his private school and finishing school, Oz hadn’t exactly explored much. And, these days, the idea of camping broke him out in hives.


At the question of battling, Oz shook his head. “Thanks for the offer, but dog fights aren’t my thing.“ A big smile tried to reassure the kid that he was kidding. Though that wasn’t quite true. “Glitch isn’t much of a battler.” The Porygon-Z made a beeping noise, seemingly in agreement. “I’m just trying to connect with my roots.” Which meant he was pretending to be completing a Pokedex. Long pianist fingers rubbed at an empty pokeball. “Maybe bring a new heir to the Adebayo name.” Which wasn’t actually a joke. Right now, everything went to Princess.


Before he could regale the boy with his made-up backstory, a movement caught his attention. A large bird had stretched its wings in the rafters. A regal, feathery head shifted to glare down at them. Well, that was out of the question. He wasn’t really up for starting with the big leagues. Nor did he want to invite more tycoon comparisons by capturing Unova the bird. As he turned away, a smaller dustier figure caught his eyes. One that seemed to cowering from the bird above.


“Awwwww! How cute are you?” The man squealed as he walked towards the Comfey. “I’m hoping you don’t make me sneeze.” It didn’t tickle his nose either. “You’re like sunshine incarnate!” Oz reached into his pocket and pulled out his bag of gourmet sunflower seeds. These he tossed at the ground in front of it. “Want to be my new wingman?” A cutie pie like that would totally endeavor him to the ladies. “There’s a giant window in it for you.”


And absolutely zero dust. Those HEPA filters were clutch.


“And a BITCHING name.”

Running a multi-million dollar business wasn’t all yachts and massage parlor scandals. It could be exhausting. You not only needed to please your customers but also the board and a bunch of squawking number crunchers with their reports on reporting. The fact that he no longer had an assistant just made things worse.

Sure, the last guy was crooked, but he knew how to manage a calendar. Some part of Oz almost regretted firing him, but then he remembered the guy’s lizard eyes and reevaluated. Still, he needed a cavalry, and he needed it like yesterday. HR took forever to process applications and focused way too much on the black-and-white stuff. They scoffed at his requests like he wanted a fuel-efficient pick-up truck and kept sending him the same-old, high-end snakes in the grass his father liked. The ones with the too-long red nails and the men with lips stained brown from years of arse kissing.

He needed someone honest. Less an employee and more a jester cum confidant. The kind of person who’d dunk him in the toilet for an off-color joke or unplug his computer when he’d emptied the energy drinks in the mini-fridge. Maybe someone with an eye for nice-looking women and an obsession with Oz’s social media accounts.

So, Oz decided to take matters into his own hands. He drafted up a much cooler job listing and made his way to his favorite cafe. The hole-in-the-wall place felt like something out of a sitcom. Everything was dark wood and darker green. But the boba tea and all-natural, vegan desserts were absolutely adorable.

After sending out a cattle call on social media, Oz settled in to wait. With his hood pulled over his head and dark sunglasses in place, he looked more like a 90s hacker than a CEO. Through this ‘disguise,’ he watched people swarm the posters and wander off with their applications. A sigh erupted when the pens came out. Apparently, few could read directions.

The first line told people to go to the counter and order the super-special drink to be put in the running. The barista would then hand them his throwaway phone number. They’d then schedule an interview with him. He’d ask a few weird questions. They’d give boilerplate answers. He’d go ‘mhm’ and tell them he’d totally call them later. He wouldn’t.

But one couple intrigued him. Especially the red cheeks on the smaller one! Oh! She even had one of those furry long boys he loved so much. Grabbing one of his own posters, Oz walked across the room and put it on the table. His voice deepened. “Some guy told me to give you this.” He glanced around the room, his voice dropping to a whisper. “He says it’s top secret.”

On the paper was a job listing in fun, flowery language. Gone were the harsh experience and education requirements. Listed in bullets was a laundry list of benefits:

• Exciting travel opportunities available
• Fun and variable work environment
• A free lifetime supply of toilet paper
• A company car of your preferred brand and model
• Highly competitive benefit and compensation plan

Ozni flashed his trademark grin.

Aww! Look at him sleeping! Probably dreaming about sugar plums, unguided drones, and pinless hand grenades! Then again, the guy looked pretty young. So, maybe, he was still in the honeymoon phase. The one that came before you realized it wasn’t just your time you signed away.



“Hey, sleeping beauty.” He gestured vaguely to the dark-haired man’s head “Find a purple Ponyta yet?”



The biting comment was met with laughter” Oz grinned. At least someone in the ranks kept their sense of humor, even if he hadn’t been joking. Capitalism might be screwed up, but usually, it didn’t get people shot. And their advertised benefits were 401Ks and Dole Whip machines, not ‘courage,’ ‘patriotism,’ and ‘purpose.’



The Tweet was off on the internet along with the recruiting picture. “Kind of a side effect of treating people like cogs.” Sure, he guessed he had something to thank the fatigues for. This town wasn’t an apocalyptic wasteland right now. The question drew out another sharp smile. “Not today, amigo.” Gosh, this guy was a kid. Really was hard imagining him putting his life on the line. “I’ll just set my own money on fire.”



One gloved hand plucked a pamphlet from a nearby rack.



His head tilted at one particular photo. A soldier crawling through a mud pit with a Stoutland on the the bank and a toothpaste commercial grin. The whites of the soldier’s teeth were blinding. “You guys must have really good dental, huh?”

Well, this wasn’t exactly his best attempt to impress a lady. His baby blues were watering. The noble Adebayo nose, meanwhile, was warped by sneezes to come.



Twitch went the nose. “I’m just—’ At the question, Oz held up his hand for pause as he unleashed another sneeze. ACHOO! “--psyducky.” Taking a few steadying breaths, he opened his mouth to speak, only to pause again. Sitcom rules said the second he opened his mouth the allergies would make a wicked comeback. “Just never been in a—” Another swallow. “--Hallmark movie before.”



He allowed his cornflower eyes to roam the shop at large. The displays really were like something out of a magazine (or cheap chick flick). Though that did beg the question. Who would he be in one of those Christmas flicks? The city boy looking for small-town comfort? The jilted ex desperate to take his girl back from the flannel Adonis? Or would he be the villain coal miner looking to destroy Christmas?



The offered handkerchief was met with a slight incline of his head and a small nod. “Thank you, but—” This time he turned his head away, just in time to watch the Roselia disappear around the corner. His hand tugged a similar fabric swatch from his own pocket, the ‘A’ full of Victorian charm and sensibility. “--Fs are for flunkies."


He grinned at his own joke, finally circling back to his original question. “I need someone fluent in flower.” His normally jovial face darkened somewhat. “I need something that says slay, girl, slay and I love you.” The CEO sighed. “BUt not I love you.” The last thing he wanted was to give her any awkward feelings.



He had enough of those for both of them.



Near the cash register, Glitch-626 appeared in a shower of pixels and sparks. It flicked in and out of focus as he approached

Ozni rarely made it out to the sticks, but this city-in-a-box concept had always intrigued him. In large part, because it was exatly the kind of place his mother and father would keep him away from. Doing charitable work in the dankest, poorest parts of the world? That was Arceus’s power at work. Exploring the wealthiest corners of Kalos? Just a typical family outing. But rubbing shoulders with the middle class? His mother would have a heart attack.


But he really needed to craft a new image for himself. People saw Adebayo Holdings as the toilet paper company that’d bought its own shit. The pharmaceutical and infant technology wings did better, but they were still a long way from perfect. Social media was full of people mocking the smiling suits in every ad campaign. Customers saw them as the ‘a nanab costs $10’ business. Old. Out-of-touch. Left behind. That impression was what Oz hoped to change.

Which is why he’d embraced his inner trainer. Or, at least, his stereotype of what a Pokemon trainer was. A baseball cap—for a sports team he didn’t know but whose mascot he liked—was turned backward. His windbreaker was color blocked and still smelled like brand new vinyl. Shorts revealed bottom legs much paler than their tops. The tennis shoes—part of his favorite line—was the only part of him that fit.


Above him, a Porygon-Z shifted in and out of focus. Around its neck was a little 8-bit bowtie with an oddly lens-like centerpiece. As Oz approached the blonde man, he lifted his hand in greeting. “Alola!” A nice young person to start things off on the right foot. “That’s a nice—” Uh, furry bug thing? Blue eyes? Larvastar? Larvitar? “--fluffer you got there.” When in doubt, wing it.


He stepped around a damp spot in the path. “Got any bites?” Hopefully this wasn’t one of those super ornery trainers. The whole lock eyes and battle to the death thing was old.

Glitch-626 points a camera at Niky!