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[attr="class","bisc"]Bubbe could sense that this man was strange. The ghostly energy he exuded was not different from her own. Be careful, Bibi. Her voice cautioned in his own head. This guy’s got ghost written all over him.

If he heard the telepathy, the younger man didn’t show it. He was kind of like a dog—friendly to a fault. Scotti squinted at the water. “I’m not even sure you could.” His shoe nudged a pebble into the water. “It’s what, like six-inches deep?” Not that the shallowness continued for long. That blue was pretty dang dark in the middle. Shaking moisture off the tip of his tennis shoes, he grinned.

Then, the guy asked a question. A super weird, personal question. Biscotti blinked, his cheeks instantly red. “Uhhhhhh…” A heavily scarred hand lifted to his chest. Bubbe’s voice echoed in his mind: I’d be in him any time. Meow. He shook his head, trying to clear the commentary.What did this guy want inside of him? A knife? Other things? “Organs and stuff? Wh—?” Before he could get the question out, capturing maneuvers ensured. His eyes grew even wider.

“Dude! That was awesome!” Sure, he’d caught some stuff in his day, but it wasn’t anything like that. Usually, the Pokemon just jumped in the ball. The next question made his hands drop to the hem of his shorts, seemingly protecting himself from showing this guy anything. “Uh. I’m pretty sure that’s a crime—” Then, he felt his insides shudder. Not your member, Scotti, he refers to me. His eyes finally caught on the Dragcloak.

“O-oh! I—I thought you meant—” Arceus strike him dead. Scotti wanted to sink into the ground. He jerked his head. With a sigh, the Runerigus emerged, blinking irritably in the light. One of its shadowy fingers extended, aiming to stroke the little baby wrapped around the stranger’s shoulders. “This is Bubbe. She’s kind of my—” Babysitter? Weird pervy grandma? “--nurse?”

Skipping
Mage Maddox

☉

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[attr="class","bisc"]Even if it went against the bro code, Scotti was glad he’d stopped to (kind of) ask for directions. “I’m glad somebody does..” He tossed a glance at the winding paths behind him. “Me and Jangle have been wandering in circles.” A fact that’d be clearer if he’d bothered to look down. The blood from his wound had left a coppery trail behind them, way more clear than any crumb trail.

Biscotti wouldn’t come out and say he held his breath, but he wasn’t exactly looking forward to fighting an angry panda bear. Sure, they got by on trees, but those teeth and claws were totally made for something else. As the ball gave its final shake, he’d move to collect it. Gently rolling it in his palm, Scotti murmured an apology. “Sorry bout this, bud. I’ll figure out what to do with you later.” A click settled him into place.

As the Rhyhorn was also captured, he grinned. “Talk about a rush, huh? I thought I was about to get my clock cleaned.” Not sure what to do with a gorgeous woman like this, the college student just offered up an awkward chuckle. "Didn't expect to make a new friend today, huh?” With only one path forward, he moved toward the direction Elise had come from.

Labrador eyes widened as flames rippled off the iron hide of a Duraludon. It didn’t look happy. Its frame blocked almost the whole tunnel. Only through its waving arms could you see the occasional flash of fighting bandage.

A few stones were stuck in its hinges. It looked pretty similar to rhino hide. “So, uh, looks like that Pangoro had friends.” Not even giving her trainer a chance to play peacekeeper, Jangle inserted herself between him and the dragon-type.

Biscotti leaned around her to get a look at what lay beyond.

The Hitmonlee behind looked pretty cool. Those spring legs would make quick work of that gym mile. But the lack of a mouth made the kid shudder. How did that thing eat? Through its eyeballs?

“Do you want to try talking to them, or…?”

Notes

• Skipping

☉

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[attr="class","bisc"]His little foray did not go long without interruption. As he rounded a corner, clutching his windbreaker against the cool breeze, something popped. A gasp forced itself between his lips as Biscotti turned to face the noise. A trademark Kingsley phrase spilled out. “Arceus’s sandals!” A hand lifted to his chest as Biscotti caught his breath. He laughed awkwardly.

The Dachsbun at his side lifted his lips to reveal snow-white teeth. A tiny growl blossomed in the little hotdog’s chest as it moved to stand between its trainer and the obvious riffraff. Look at that hair! Poisonous snakes had hair like that! The smell of freshly baked bread mixed with rotten trash and cement—somehow made the place even worse. Not that Biscotti noticed. His sense of smell was atrocious. It’d take a Skuntank spray to the face to make him notice.

“You scared me!” The young man muttered awkwardly, not quite sure where to put his hands. “I thought you were something—somebody—” Scotti paused, debating his choice of the word. “—you know, dangerous.” Hopefully, she didn’t take any offense at that. Some women liked being dangerous. So did some men. Before his tongue could dig a bigger hole, a nearby trash can fell over. A mangy, skinny Houndour fell from it, his head obscured by a banana peel.

“Aw. He looks so scared—” Before Biscotti could say anything, his Dachsbun abandoned his post to rush the little guy. His tail wagged a million miles an hour as he knocked away the banana. A conversation happened as the brunette smiled awkwardly at the two. He felt bad leaving the goth chick standing there. “You—uh—working?” Then, he realized they were on a corner. Even if there was totally a bar entrance. “Not as a lady of the—I meant at the—uh, bar.” The fairy-type returned, its teeth almost jerking his pants down as he removed an empty Pokeball.

“Hey!” Biscotti jerked his pants back up, flashing the band of his Tyranitar undies. A minute later, the little Houndour disappeared in a burst of crimson light.

Notes

• Catching Houndour

☉

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[attr="class","bisc"]Another curve rounded and—wow--guess what? It was more rock. No breeze. No vegetation. No glowing Exit sign in a corner. The young man’s honeyed eyes fell for a moment. In his mind, they’d just get stuck wandering in circles for days. Then, there’d be a whole search party, and his hermana would cry on TV. And, once they found him, the reward would probably be a giant bill to the face. Though his leg felt off, the wound gave no pain.

Just when his hope reached its lowest, Biscotti saw it. That was light! Sure, it was purple and kind of creepy, but it meant they weren’t alone! An excited arm grabbed at the Incineroar in the dark. But, instead of her shoulder, he caught an already bristle-brush tail. A growl bubbled deep in the dark type’s throat as she glared at her pipsqueak BFF. “Sorry! Sorry!” Biscotti whispered harshly, jerking his hand back with an awkward smile. “Just look!”

When he ran ahead to meet the glow, the cat grabbed him by the scruff like an unruly kitten. “Incineroar.” She shook her head. Then, she settled him on the ground behind her as she pushed ahead to the other two travelers. It was soon revealed that it was not an illusion but a young lady and her ghost type. Biscotti, huffing a bit, caught up. He leaned heavily on his cat’s shoulder as he fought to catch his breath. “See…told you it wasn’t…a…monster.’ He hadn’t, but that whole bodyguard act had been big-time overboard.

“You guys wouldn’t know a way out of here, would you?” In the flickering of the Chandelure’s light, the trail of blood glittered in the darkness. All of the sudden, the tunnels around them echoed with the pound of hoofbeats. “Uhhh…” He looks at Elise as if expecting her to be wearing super claws. “Did you—”

A Rhyhorn rounds the corner with panicked eyes. Dust is kicked from its steps as it barrels mindlessly toward them. The bulky shape of a Pangoro is right on its heels and it is obviously very unhappy.

After dancing out of the little rhino’s way, Biscotti moves to step between it and the Pangoro. “Hey, uh, bud.” He swallows. “Can we chill out?” The bear growled deep in his chest, its arms bunching into fists. It roared. “I’m going to take that as a no.” As a fist rocketed toward Biscotti’s head, Jangle grabbed him and yanked him out of the way, dropping him unceremoniously to the floor.

A striped fist caught black as she yanked something from her trainer’s belt. This she pressed against the angry bear’s waist. He vanished in a burst of red light.

Notes

• Catching the Pangora

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[attr="class","bisc"]Mage wasn’t the only one with an ethereal companion. Though his ghost pal was a little closer to him. To be more accurate, she was inside. The signs of this possession could be seen in the occasional flash of purple in his eyes. She said her feet were tired, so he’d decided to let his ghoulish guardian hitch a ride. The pack of grave covers she made was currently thrown over his shoulder. The old bird liked keeping her ghoulish buds warm.

'You should pick up some yarn on the way home. Multicolored. Four spools—no, six. Enough for a baby blanket.’ Obviously,, that thought wasn’t his own. He couldn’t knit. 'Crochet, Scotti. I crochet.' He murmured an apology. “Sorry, Bubbe. You know I’m not very artsy-fartsy.” Seemingly insulted by that, the grandmotherly voice vanished into an irritable silence.

Sure, ghosts could be kind of creepy. But Bubbe never bothered him. Or, well, she only did it because it was her job. Through her ability to split their pain, the Runerigus gave him back pain. Which wasn’t a good gift for most people. But for him it was a literal lifesaver. He now knew why sticking his hand in a fire was a great idea. It fricking hurt. Duh

A brow went up as he—they--rounded the corner. This guy seemed to be talking to himself. “Uhh…” He glanced up to where his Runerigus would normally float, forgetting she wasn’t there. It’d be rude to sneak by and not say anything. He craned around the dark-haired man to look in the water. It looked crystal clear. “You sure that’s sanitary?”

His reflection showed two different colored eyes.

☉

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Uh? When somebody placed an order for a My Little Ponyta birthday cake, Biscotti didn’t expect to end up in this place. While it looked clean enough outside, the interior looked a lot like a biker bar. Honey eyes jumped from face to face, seeking out whoever bought the cake. But he didn’t want to assume one of them had placed the order. He doubted they’d take it well.


Bright birthday decorations hung from every corner. A ballerina in mache was settled against an old keg in the corner.


Most of the people were bearded and half were scarred. Minus the kids at the room’s center. They seemed pretty well adjusted. Before he could get his bearings, one of the men at the bar approached. When he spoke, it reminded the college freshman of an angry bear. The words, however, weren’t a death threat. Just a question. “That my daughter’s cake?” Biscotti dropped his gaze to the pastry as if to confirm it was a cake he was holding and not handlebars or something. “Uhhh…." What were words? “Yes. Sir.” He offered the box to the man, who took it with a grunt.“Thanks for ordering from Kingsley’s.”


As the customer curled it against his chest, the man’s grey eyes met those of the delivery boy. “You want a piece? We got plenty.” His mustache wavered like a broom when he talked. A tip was pressed into Biscotti’s still-open palm. “Uh, no. I’m trying to watch my figure.” More comfortable now, Biscotti grinned. “I hope Elsie has a great birthday. Me and Sis put a lot of love into that design.”


A wave rippled through the room. It appeared the birthday girl was on her way! “Go out the back door, kid. I can’t ruin the surprise.” With a nod and an awkward salute, Biscotti tumbled into the cool Slateport night. At his side, confused by what had happened, Bow-Wow trotted. A noise to his right made him jump.
Probably a good idea to pay attention out here. This wasn’t exactly a nice place to be at night.

☉

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Go and see the Granite Caves they said. It’ll be fun, they said. Right now, Biscotti was having the opposite of fun.


Sure, the ancient cave art was neat to look at, but it didn’t exactly come equipped with a map or GPS. Admittedly, the student was not an experienced adventurer. Mom and pops barely let him go outside, much less gave him leave to trek through the wilderness. So, he hadn’t exactly come super prepared. His flashlight died out ages ago. His cell phone—and its robot oracle—couldn’t get signal down here.


So, he’d been forced to make his way back toward the interest by the gleaming belt around his Incineroar’s waist. They’d tried a torch earlier but had been gifted with a hundred angry Zubat for their trouble. About half an hour ago, he’d slipped down a ramp into an even deeper part of the cave. Unbeknownst to him, he’d opened a large gash on his leg in the process. A trail of blood followed them, lost in the noise of dripping stalactites. And, now, Biscotti was pretty sure his ‘great navigator’ was leading him in circles.


“Jangle. Look.” Biscotti panted, laying a hand against the rock wall beside him. “I know we’ve been this way already.” A gloved hand lifted to point at a nearby pillar. “There’s only so many ways to draw a dick wrong.” The cat grumbled, folding her arms across her chest. “I’m not saying it to slight you or anything. I'm lost too!!” He stretched up to stroke her head.


“Maybe we need to pause and—” A light ahead caught his eyes. Thank Arceus! With zero thought to danger, he and Jangle rushed toward whatever lay at the other end of that bright pinprick.

☉

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[attr="class","bisc"]No wonder business died down. Biscotti thought to himself as he peered into the eaves of the shop. Half a dozen creatures peered back. Or they would have if they had eyes. That lack of sight was kind of the defining feature of a Zubat. Looking at the broom in his hand, Scotti sat it against the building. While they were annoying—echolocating customers and swooping at their heads—they were kind of cute. It wasn’t like they read the property documents.

Besides, hurting stuff wasn’t something he’d gotten into. Pain or no pain, he could empathize.

Leaning on the broom, he debated his options. Some part of him was tempted to duck back inside and let someone else handle it. He could eat one of the leftover breakfast bagels and chip away at his homework. Maybe tell Sis she should have checked this place a bit closer. But her temper was as bad as mom’s. All he’d get for smart mouthing would be a flip-flop to the forehead.

While he could get a ladder, Scotti wasn’t confident he’d be able to stand on it. One confusion to the face and he’d be hobbling around on a broken leg. By afternoon, half the neighborhood would think he was a zombie. Something that sucked bad enough when kids at school did it. “All right.” He sighed, running fingers through his caramel and chocolate fluff. “You guys have to come down one way or another.” He waved his arms at the blue balls of fuzz and membrane. “Shoo! Go!” They didn’t even move. A drifting shadow at his side drew his attention.

“Hey! Bubbe!” The Runerigus tilted its ‘head’ to one side. “Can you help—” She shook her head, waving him off like an annoying grandkid after their hundredth cookie. “It won’t even take you—!” Pretending not to hear him, the ghost type phased through the brick and into the building beyond. With a deep breath, Biscotti tossed out a Pokeball. A Hawlucha blinked up at him.

“Can you try talking to them? I don’t want to hurt them.” He sighed, crossing his arms. “Heck! I don’t mind if they go to the backdoor—-they just can’t stay here!” With a shrug, the Hawlucha jumped up to the roof. They started muttering to each other,

And, then, came the laughter. A bat pointed a wing at him. The snickering grew louder.

☉

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[attr="class","bisc"]A new business needed a reputation boost. People didn’t know their croissants from a Hostess donut. Biscotti preferred fresh air to another day cramped in the kitchen. These things made a pretty good equation. Though it took a bit of schmoozing, he’d convinced sis that a beachside outing was just what a family bakery needed. Not that he was going to waste it tanning—skin cancer was a big nope in his book. Nah, Scotti would actually volunteer.

After a few knocks, he was set up with a bag and a—uh—whatever those track sticks were called. He was sporting a new pair of Sharpedo-themed trunks with a company-branded t-shirt on top. It was purple. But it didn’t bug him. Red and blue were manly colors, man!

The towering Incineroar beside him, clad in a flowery sun hat, was similarly equipped. With a few dozen wrappers in his hoard, Biscotti turned toward his companion. “Hey, Jangle.” The Incineroar knew that tone. When she turned, her face was full of suspicion. “Want to make this fun?” A shrug lifted the dark type’s shoulder as her brow lifted. Biscotti, knowing her competitive streak was almost as bad as his, continued. “First to triple digits picks dinner?” A rumble of assent emerged. The game was on!

With a mocking bow to each other, the beach cleaners shot off in opposite directions. His ever present shadow, the Runerigus grammy, followed closely behind.

Honey eyes scanned the beach like a hungry Talonflame, hankering for any items for the trash heap. A discarded can here. Some shattered plastic there. The remnants of a takeout container. As the numbers climbed, he became more focused on the task at hand. She better not be cheating! Knowing her, she’ll just tear things to tatters.

89….90…91….92…

Ugh! There wasn’t much on this side! Which, on second thought, was a good thing. Scotti didn’t want any dead Caracosta on his watch, after all! Then, he hit the jackpot! Someone was lying on the beach up there and totally had tossed something in the sand. An empty soda can? Sweet!

Walking up, he moved to jab the pointed stick through the aluminum. The fact that someone was right there didn't really register.  He gave the stick a celebratory wiggle. “93.”

☉

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The farm tour was kind of cool. Sure, he knew how the figurative bacon was made but it felt different doing it on his own. Though he didn’t know how dropping off a box of donuts led to him trying to collect Moo-Moo milk. Still, he was a people pleaser and it didn’t seem like a big deal. Then, he got drafted into helping someone muck out a stall. Which—when your nose was practically useless—wasn’t that bad. His buddies chose to go elsewhere though. By the time he finished, a two-hour errand blossomed into a full-on excursion.


Luckily, his time playing Old Macdonald recently came to an end. With his Incineroar a step behind him and Bow-Wow bounding up the path, Scotti wasn’t in a rush to get home.

The sun felt great on his face and the breeze tickled his nose. It reminded him of an Omanyte tendril. A very weird comparison he’d experienced more than once. A younger bro loved stuff with too many arms and that little rock dude loved affection.


Something tugged on his windbreaker. Apparently, it’d been going after the donut wrapped in his pocket. With a smile, Biscotti turned around, gently tapping the Mareep’s nose until it let go. “There’s plenty of grass right here, buddy. Eat some of that.” The electric sheep bleated its displeasure, butting into the back of his legs as he ran. When he turned to scold it, he found the Incineroar frowning at him, her brow jerked skyward. “What? Do you want me to kick it or something?” At his feet, the Dachsbun barked. “I’m not about to—” Honey eyes caught on movement up ahead. Hey, where’d that Mudbray come from? They weren’t native to this area


Then, the Pokedollar dropped. “Oh.” These Pokemon were meant to be inside their pens. Some doofus had left a gate open or stumbled over the barbed wire. And that aforementioned dummy was him. Biscotti remembered himself exiting the gate. But he didn’t remember it shutting behind him. Man, his sister would kill him if he messed up the relationship with their new vendor. It had only been solidified like an hour!


With a noise of frustration, he set off towards a little group of Mareep. He tried to get them back toward their pens, but for each one he got back in, another one appeared. Bow-Wow’s barking earned nothing but disdain as they sampled the grass on the other side. His Incineroar, meanwhile, decided to take a trek back to close the unlatched gate. Her buddy would totally put everyone back and then forget to do it. Super smart kid. Not a lot of common sense.


From the roadway, it’d be hard to miss the boy and his Dachsbun as they tried to convince the farm Pokemon to mosey on along.

☉