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[attr="class","bisc"]The brunette listens to the ranger’s explanation in respectful silence. But his body isn’t as polite—there’s a lot of lower body wiggling. Just saying the w-word seems to have conjured one. He nodded along, doing his best to be respectful and not think about how the seams on his pants lined up. “So, uh, you grow a tail or something?” That’d be pretty cool, actually. It’d be sweet for Halloween! “I’m not even sure what I’d do with something like that.” It didn’t help that most of his Pokemon were girls—it’d probably make the whole sync thing difficult.

Again, he didn’t move immediately to interrupt. Dual-colored eyes just stayed focused on Shalin’s face as she cried. Images of his own war zone flashed through his mind. Pools of corrosive poison with half-eaten faces staring up from them. “I do understand.” Even if it was fuzzy and felt more like a comic book than real life at this point. “They can conscript you, but they can’t make you pull the trigger.” And, in the heat of battle, sometimes cowardice was the right choice. “I mean they could, but then it’s not—well, it wouldn’t be your fault.”

The man shifted to face the Type: Null as Shalin continued. “I mean—” Biscotti wasn’t the best at avoiding peer pressure. It’d driven him to drive everything from nails to pushpins into his arms. His lack of reaction made them laugh and grin. It helped the baker feel like something bigger. “If they wanted her so bad, why didn’t they make her?” His voice is uncharacteristically bitter. He knows the answer: blackmail.

“But what would they have done if you said no? If you hate fighting, it’d hit me as the right thing to do.”

As history shows, peaceful protests were often the real needle movers.

Seeing the dark spots on the napkin, he fished out another. The ending of Shalin’s worries echoed back to them endlessly in the car. “I don’t trust either of them—” A fact that he’d never voiced aloud, he realized. “My dad was a ranger for years.” The kind of guy who broke his back for his family (all eight of them). His jaw presses more tightly together. “And then, he comes here and vanishes.”

Now, his sister was chasing the trail like a dog its tail. When she finally caught its end, he hoped she could handle what was on the other end. Some part of him preferred this strange, in-between zone. His yellow eye fills with tears, the blue one uncharacteristically sharp.

He scoffs. Scarred hands tighten in his lap. “They act like they’ve never heard of him.” A grown-ass group of people playing peekaboo with someone’s life.

Notes

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[attr="class","bisc"]Biscotti nodded. It sounded pretty cool. He always admired people who had the courage to do stuff like that. The scariest thing he did with his Pokemon was walking through the woods (or dark alleyways). "It sounds pretty cool." He pondered the few Sygna suits he'd seen in the dream world. "I feel like those things would cause super wedgies though." And, if he had some fabric stuck up there, he'd have a hard time thinking about anything else.

"Yeah." Biscotti answered simply. For a moment, every second of his twenty years in the alternate realm shows. The number of times he'd been forced to wipe blood from his spear. The cold stiffness of his wife's hand as it reached sightlessly for a sky she could no longer see. "But if you do something like that, you already lost." A big part of his job had been trying to get people to smile in that hellhole. "I don't remember us needing legendaries to take down Eternatus." Sure, Necrozma had helped, but they'd struck the blows.

Her tears would normally have made him panic, but it didn't happen this time. The thought of sacrificing any of his buddies for some new shiny thing was disgusting. He wasn't some medieval peasant making sacrifices to dark gods. Those were his friends, not pawns on the chessboard. That sounded like something a psychopath would think. That was some cultish ideology. Still, he did offer her a few crumpled napkins from his pocket. He hadn't needed them for the cotton candy.

"You don't have to fight." He shook his head. "There are other ways to make a difference." He'd seen what a cookie or simple game of tag could do for a frightened child.

Honey eyes drifted to the Type:Null. Knowing his words would hurt, he offered up a tight-lipped smile. "Think about what you did to get her." Just tossing Pokemon into a grinder like they were gachapon tokens. "What it tells her about how you treat Pokemon." Gods, he felt bad for her. When he was in that war, there were times he felt like lashing out. Going full-on feral. "I wouldn't trust you either."

Notes

Shalin Nariya

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[attr="class","bisc"]The brunette nodded. "I can see if I can swing it." She seemed like an all right girl, and it wouldn't hurt to watch one of the shows. As long as it wasn't too long, Canolli wouldn't mind. At the talk of Galar, his cheeks flushed. "Even if I did, I probably would be amazed all over again. That stuff's kind of fuzzy." Ghostly memories of something that never happened.

"Mine either." It wasn't that he was bad at it. The brunette never brought home anything less than a B. "I usually just guess." Though he usually tried a scientific approach at first. Typically, this meant counting objects on one side and multiplying by the number of sides with an estimate for the middle. "And, whatever you pick just go higher."

As she explained, he felt his heart twist. That tear made him want to squeeze her hand or something.

The brunette winced. "Dude, that's terrible." He swallowed. "What kind of monster would do something like that?" That was some regular mad scientist stuff.

"Can you imagine knowing that's how you were made?" It was way worse than knowing your parents got it on. He turned to Lathiel. "Sorry."

Notes

Shalin Nariya

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[attr="class","bisc"]The brunette listened to her speak with a nod. "Ah! Cool!" The now purple eye winked. "I'm here for work too." He pointed at his t-shirt. There was still flour staining its front. Something that refused to disipate no matter how much he shook the thing. "My sister said it was way too crowded in there and tossed me out." He shook his head. Cannoli wasn't fooling anyone. She was as soft in the middle as the name implied. "But I think she just wanted me to have some fun."

And, hey, it wasn't like he was going to protest. If she wanted to work herself to the bone, that was totally her right.

At the talk of Sygna Suits he nodded. "That sounds pretty cool! I'll have to watch it some time. I saw a few of them in ye olde Galar." At the question, the teen shook his head. "I haven't really watched many of the shows. It's usually pretty late when we get out of here." He had stopped to watch tug-of-war a few times though. Carnival food, especially sweets, was like the reason half the people came to places like this.

"One sec!" A man at a booth waved at him. 

Behind him was a giant barrel full of shrunken Pokeballs. They were in every color and type imaginable. "I'm pretty good at this stuff!" With a quick scribble, he estimated there were roughly 700 of the things stuffed in there. Though a bit lower than he thought, the contest banned you from going over. 'Scotti, that's an unlucky number." A ghostly, grandmotherly voice echoed in his head. 'Bump it up 33.' Muttering to the ghoul in his head, he scratched out his original guess and did as asked.

The door of the Ferris Wheel's car clanged shut. "Man made?" He blinked. That didn't sound too bad. Pretty of things were manmade. Glasses, cars, rigged Magikarp fishing games. Not sure about what made her uncomfortable, he queried, "Like Porygon?"

Notes

Shalin Nariya

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[attr="class","bisc"]At the talk of species names, Biscotti's nose wrinkled. "The guy who picked it was kind of a dick, huh?" He'd probably just call it TN or something. Biscotti grinned. "Pretty sure it's like the place for spy meetups." That and underground crime dens.

He tried his best evil laugh. It was not very good. "The feeling is mutual, hero!" He grunted as his cart bucked beneath him. The Runerigus in the back seat hissed irritably at the green-haired woman. Its purple eyes narrowed to angry slits.

Just about to repeat their earlier collision, Biscotti's cart petered out as the clock struck time. He bumped and nudged his way into the original spot.

The brunette waited for Shalin at the exit, holding the door open for the two of them. Oddly enough, the ghost had vanished. Had his eyes been that color before?

Hunched a bit, he followed the Pokémon rider to the Ferris wheel. "You guys been at the fair long?"

Notes

Shalin Nariya

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[attr="class","bisc"]Biscotti felt his lips dip at the creature's name. "Isn't that kind of...mean?" That was like calling something a big, fat nothing burger. It wasn't exactly a compliment. At her expanded explanation, the brunette blinked. "You're making me curious. She doesn't seem so bad." Sure, she was cobbled together from Arceus knows-what, but Biscotti was a mess too. There were enough small plates in his body for a buffet. But, then, he saw the woman's chipper face fall.

Looks like you hit a sore spot. As the area around them filled with laughter, Scotti's expression sombered. "If you want to talk about it, we can take a ride on the Ferris wheel? Place's pretty safe." And, there was plenty of room for both them and the Pokemon. The weird critter didn't have any wings either, so it'd probably be too busy staring to eat him. "I'm--" He debated on introducing himself as his nickname. "--Biscotti. The, uh, baker boy." He grinned cheekily. Awkwardness lined every syllable.

Pretty girls always tied him up in knots. Unless they were his sisters. Then, they just clocked him over the head.

"You got it!" With a grin, Biscotti shot off toward the other side of the arena. Then, at some point, he got the same idea as Shalin. He whipped the wheel around and aimed for her cart's broadside. Behind him, his Runerigus rose. "Guuuussss...."She grabbed the wheel and tried to shove his foot off the pedal. The meaning of the overprotective nurse's message was clear: 'Slow down.'

The timer dropped from minutes to seconds.

Notes

Shalin Nariya

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[attr="class","bisc"]The brunette was jerked around by the pile-up. The ghost in the back of his cart stared eerily at those who neared. A crying child's cart was lifted out of the fray to be dropped safely out of the way. It then took off to drive in silly circles.

Biscotti didn't notice the backseat charity. He was too busy trying to decipher the amalgamation of limbs in Shalin's backseat. "A...what? That sounds like a video game villain or something." The younger man shook his head. "I've never seen one. Looks cool as heck, though." His eyes drifted down to her claws with a shudder. Those things could turn him to mincemeat.

A foot shifted to the reverse pedal on the cart. But all he ended up doing was whirring the little engine. The child behind him pounced like a cat, pressing him right back to where he started.. "Yeah, I guess so. Kind of feels like a real pile-up."

Just with a bunch of toddlers in the driver's seat.

Notes

Shalin Nariya

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[attr="class","bisc"]He’d never learned how to drive. By the time his mother got to him, she didn’t have the nerves to go through it again. So, there was something even more thrilling about the feel of a steering wheel beneath his hands. Sitting in the seat behind him, shadowy arms extending around the sides of the bumper car, his Runerigus watched with glowing eyes.

As he stomped on the accelerator, he made a beeline for the target. But, suddenly, things were flipped upside down (figuratively). A young woman crashed into his side. Biscotti was jerked to the opposite side of the car. A concerned gurgle from the Runerigus was ignored as the brunette turned to face Shalin with a grin.

His next burst forward as his eyes locked with the thing in the back of the car. “Whoa!” Two other bumper cars ran into him. The sound of the upper track faded. “What is that?” The next collision sandwiched him between Shaylin and a screaming toddler behind him.

Notes

Shalin Nariya

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[attr="class","bisc"]As the guy dropped like a sack of potatoes, Biscotti’s eyebrows went up. Honey eyes glanced up the street—half expecting a prank show. “Uhh, you still with us, bud?” Sure, the guy was breathing, but so did coma patients. “I really have no idea what I’d do with a dead body.” He’d never seen anyone die before. What did you do after you called the cops? Would he have to pay for burying the guy?

When the Pokeball escaped, Biscotti unconsciously reached for it. He had to snap his hand away to avoid getting impaled by the thing’s horns. Though he’d deny it until his dying day, Scotti screamed at the pterodactyl’s sudden appearance. The baker stumbled over Howard’s prone form to crash butt-first onto the bakery’s little porch. Scarred hands lifted in a show of peace. “Easy there, uh, girl.”

With silent steps, the Hawlucha dropped onto the ground behind the unsightly bird. Its muscles bunched as he prepared a Brick Break. As he jumped, the Aerodactyl lunged for his trainer’s face. Noticing the tongue, the bird used his wings to clumsily redirect himself. He collided with the awning with a solid CLANG.

The link received a shudder in response. All of those teeth had been an inch or two from turning him into a comic book villain. Awkwardly, he petted the reptile’s neck. “I’ve uh—does that count as first base?” Not wanting to be rude, he waited for the bird to turn before wiping spittle from his face. As Howard sprang to his feet, Biscotti couldn’t help but feel he’d been duped. Guy’s a drama queen.

Pushing himself to his feet, Biscotti tugged the door open. He listened to the vagabond’s introduction. It sounded like he’d met someone fancy. “I’m, uh, Biscotti—” He spared a glance for the chattering Zubat outside. To his surprise, they’d flown off at the Aerodactyl’s appearance. Maybe it’d be worth the free food after all. “--baker.”

He walked toward the deli case. A little sign on the counter showed ‘Be Back in 15 Minutes’. “Anything catch your eye?” With all the bat trouble, a lot of the stuff would either be donated or tossed out at the day’s end. He doubted Cannoli would mind him feeding a stray. As long as he didn’t make a habit out of it or anything.

howard slayte

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[attr="class","bisc"]The brunette grinned. He put on his best salesman voice. “Vegan, huh?” He tried his best to sound judgmental. Forced his honey eyes to narrow even as a grin threatened to break out. His hands dropped to his hips as he gestured at the deli case. “Well, that’s no problem at Kingsley’s Confections.”

With a wave—another useless gesture—he vanished behind the counter. He tapped at the glass as he moved. “We’ve got vegan strawberry cheesecake bites, chocolate zucchini bread, and apple oatmeal cookies. The carrot cake’s Pokemon-free too.”


Just saying this stuff made him hungry.

How he didn’t weigh four-hundred pounds he had no idea. When it came to inclusive desserts, Cannoli was a total whiz kid. How she made zucchini sweets taste good Biscotti had no idea. But the family had always wanted everybody to be able to smile at this place. They might not be perfect, but they knew it made sense to be inclusive.


Biscotti sighed. “That sucks.” He’d have been a dead Ducklett if he hadn’t found Bubbe. With her, he began to understand the actual cost of putting his hands on hot stoves and driving sharp objects through his arms. His scarred shoulders lifted in a subtle shrug. “But she still has a lot of growing to do.” He turned to the red-eyed psychic type. Tried to imagine her as a Gardevoir. Bad idea. “No offense, Eos.”


He pondered the situation for a minute. How it felt to go without sight, he didn’t know. But he doubted it was a picnic. A bunch of scumbags probably took advantage of her too. “You know—” Again, a bit of hesitation. “Maybe we can have Bubbe try and help you out.” A shiver would run down both their backs as the old ghost appeared.


If she had brows to raise, they’d have been in the stratosphere. “So you can see the paintings.” He gave the Runerigus his best baby-doll eyes.

Notes

• Kingsley's got vegan stuff on tap
• Offers to let a ghost possess a small child; a totally non-sus thing to do

opal garcia

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[attr="class","bisc"]So, this girl was cracked. He would have blamed it on the pulsing if it wasn’t for the fact that she’d started being a weirdo before she touched the thing. Some part of him wondered if he should be more scared of her or the thing whose stomach they were in. But these thoughts were interrupted by Tsubaki’s encouragement. Chill, Scotti. It’s just the bony bastard getting to you.


“Yeah. Totally standard.” He tries his best to sound flippant. He fails. “I make deliveries here three or four times a week.” As he adjusts his suddenly tight collar, the baker forces a deep breath. What happened to all that courage he’d built up over twenty years? Sure, he lost the muscles, but his spine too? It sucked. And, of course, the girl saying weird stuff isn’t helping.

"Of course, I'm scared." He shook his head. "You would be too if you'd seen what this thing can do." A beloved face, now a blur, burnt away by acid. Your own fallen Pokemon turned against you by venomous tendrils.


“You uh—you just keep doing that.” Whatever it was. Why let this freakshow of a Pokemon know they were here? Was it actually speaking back? “I’m just going to—yanno—mine.” With a grunt, he lifts his noddle arms above his head. He brings it down upon an amethyst deposit. The materials scatter as he scoops something into his bag. A few smaller shards follow. Then, he repeats the process.


Something about the cycle is comforting. This time, his Tyranitar is there to lend a hand. Its giant feet churn the thing’s crystalline stomach to glitter with each stomp. Into the bag, it goes—another weapon in this eternal war.

Notes
Focus on mining

Hyakkaryōran Tsubaki

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