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[attr="class","bisc"]He first noticed it when he stopped by his favorite sandwich place and found it closed. At first, he thought the old guy had died. But the lady next door said that he’d gone missing. This made Scotti frown. Then, his sister came home to say someone at work had vanished while taking out the trash. A quick call to Nilla confirmed that she was okay.

But Elise didn’t answer when he called. Which wasn’t too weird. She was a super powerful princess with like 47 jobs. It wasn’t like he expected her to drop everything to pick up the phone. Still, it was kind of off. Usually, she at least shot him a text back. Then, the TV aired that Josh Devlin’s gym was shuttered for the next two days. A few interviews went unfinished when subjects didn’t show up.

“Be careful, sis.” This is how he bid Cannoli farewell that morning. With all the missing person rumors going around, Biscotti wished there was some way he could help. About an hour later, someone dropped off a flier. They wanted to organize a search party for the missing locals. A quick call and the brunette was on the list with his Incineroar.

When the shop closed a few hours early, he put up a sign that said: ‘CLOSED: No one’s missing though. Chill out.’ Satisfied this would stop people from panicking when they couldn’t get late-night carrot cake, he rushed out the front door. After waiting awkwardly for his turn (and giving it up more than once), he found himself with a partner. A pretty lady.

Great. It wasn’t like he needed to introduce himself or anything.

“I’m Biscotti.” He grinned awkwardly as he pointed to his Incineroar. “This is Jungle—Jangle..” His Incineroar snorted. He glared up at her with an embarrassed expression. Couldn’t she just let it go for once? He took a deep breath as he straightened his t-shirt. The high-vis vest made him look like a high schooler playing crossing guard.

“You looking for someone in particular?”

nabi park

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[attr="class","bisc"]Score! The teenager grinned. “Awesome! Thanks a mill!” The bats knew his Pokemon were wimps at this point. They’d watched Jangle carry donuts to old people’s cars and knew the Hawlucha liked napping in the front window. Or, uh, they could probably guess that. He didn’t really know how echolocation worked.

Labrador eyes blinked in surprise as the rock guy stuffed a sandwich in his pocket. Then, as suddenly as he came in, he was racing outside. “Uh, Howard, I didn’t mean you had to go—” But, by the time he finished his sentence, it was drowned out by the jingling of the bell. This noise was punctuated by a second door opening as his Hawlucha came in by way of a garden path.

With a smirk, the lazy bird ran to watch the fight. Realizing he was still behind the counter, Biscotti turned to do the same. Luckily, no one saw him hit the deck as he stumbled over a bar stool. By the time he got there, it was almost over. Turns out it was kind of one-sided.

Even inside, the roar was deafening. Some part of him almost felt bad as the first Zubat fluttered frantically past the window. Soon enough, its other brethren took off in a flurry of violet wing flaps. A few Supersonics were half-heartedly thrown the Aerodactyl's way as the pests sought out alternate roosts.

howard slayte

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[attr="class","bisc"]At the talk of sitting in rooms with nothing to say, Biscotti flushes. “That’s better than saying the wrong thing.” As it has for a while now, his mind travels back to a cave out by Lavaridge. Sure he’d suffered a pretty bad gouge in the leg, but it was what he’d said that haunted him. Staring down the Crown Princess, he asked if riding a Rhyhorn would hurt her hoohah. “Trust me.”

The talk of strained relationships made him wince. Honestly, he had no idea what to say to that. Sure, his dad had gone missing, but there wasn’t really any awkwardness there. His mom still called to check in on him all the time. And, if something went wrong, she was the first person he called. Shit. What do I say? I’m sorry. Luckily, the conversation rebounded to parental protectiveness, Biscotti laughed. “Mine wanted to put me in a bubble.” Which sounded ridiculous until you knew why.

The brunette shrugged. “I’m not a bitter guy.” He grinned. “I blame the sugar.” Sure, he’d been annoyed, but he was a parable. Witha bit of hesitation, he admitted as much. “It doesn’t help that they were usually right.” They’d tell him not to go hiking alone, and he’d come back dragging a broken leg. And, now, he was free of their influence. Or, at least, an ocean-and-a-half away from it.

Biscotti winced. Sure, he only understood pain by proxy, but he could understand that some stuff sucked. “That sounds like a pain in the ass, bud.” Which, hah, he didn’t know much about either. “They’re gone now, right The headaches?” Personally, he doubted he’d take blindness too well. He tripped over stuff now, and he could totally see it. His feet just lagged behind.

The brunette nodded. “Could always go the Pokemon route.” With the help of Bubbe, he could understand what pain was like. But the whole being possessed by a murderous grandma thing wasn’t for everyone. Then, came the question of relearning. “That does sound like a lot of trouble.” He grinned. “This way, you can pretend everyone’s hot or, uh—” What should he say here to not sound like a perv? “--purple.”

Taking Shinobu’s hand, Biscotti ran after the grass type. His own Pokemon joined in as the sea of freed farm animals began to flow in their direction. His cheeks flared red as he felt the hand in his. Which, kind of made him glad the guy was blind. Two straggling Mareep trotted in front of them, signaling the end of the parade.

With a grunt, his Incineroar hoisted two Mudbray under her arms. These she dropped on the other side of the fence with a fiery snort. “Not too much left!” Biscotti’s voice filled with gratitude. “You’re a lifesaver, man!”

Meanwhile, the real culprit watched from the shadow of the barn. If two boneheaded kids wanted to clean up his mess, that was on them.

shinobu fujimori

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[attr="class","bisc"]Vanilla Kingsley
The awkward boy took a minute to connect his sister to this blue-haired girl. She stood straighter and seemed more comfortable in her own skin. She’d even gone so far as to dye her hair. Unfortunately, the telltale glasses were absent. But the Rotom hovering around served as confirmation. As she threw her arms around him, he couldn’t help but notice she was taller too.

It kind of sucked that he’d stayed the same.

He feigned discomfort as she squeezed tighter. But his eyes sparkled with mirth. After a second, his arms folded more securely around him. When they separated, he rewarded her with one of his awkward grins. Some part of him wanted to say she looked good, but he felt it might come off as weird. Siblings saying stuff like that could come off as creepy. “You too!” As the questions spilled out, he couldn’t help but hold his hands up in teasing offense. To go from no talking to a waterfall kind of threw him for a loop (olde Galar notwithstanding). “Same-old, same-old.” His life hadn’t changed too much. At the question, his cheeks flushed. “Yeah.” There’s a hint of hesitation. “Uh, found out it really is a challenge.”

His Incineroar snorted. In her eyes, it was his fault they’d lost. Sure, she’d taken some recoil damage, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. She wasn’t a shrinking violet. At the Rotom’s question, the cat’s blue eyes rolled backward.

Proxii earned a good-natured slap to his whipped cream dollop. “Not yet, P. I’m more of a donut guy.” And, if his gut was anything to go by, an anything fattening guy. Familiarity gave the puppy an urge to nibble. “How’s unemployment treating you?” The hair on the back of his neck stood up as his sister stepped back. He could feel her scrutinizing him.

Biscotti laughed at the question. He did that when he was nervous. Or, uh, a lot of the time really. “Yeah—I just—” He shook his head. “How’d you do it?” His Incineroar snorted. “We tried like crazy and got absolutely creamed.”

NOTES: Learning to fight from a 12 year old.

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Man, he needed to stop binging peanut butter cookies. This is what Biscotti thinks to himself and he draws closer to the beach. Just a few weeks ago, he’d have made this ride with no problem. Now, he can tell his legs aren’t as adept as before.

As he locks up his bike, labrador eyes lift to the white sand. He sees her standing there. His cheeks color red. A hand lifts to rearrange his hair into some semblance of order. But it doesn’t take long for it to poof back to a good old Venonat. A sigh pushes past his lips as he heads to the boardwalk.. Arceus, this is embarrassing.

The loss to Josh stung. Or, at least, that’s what he imagined it’d feel like. He could get stung by a whole nest of Beedrill and not feel a lick of pain. It’d hurt his heart though. Any idea of proving Shalin wrong—that strength didn’t require mass murder--faded when he stepped away. He’d been lectured that his Pokemon didn’t trust him. That they didn’t respect him.

It really chaffed him to hear, but the guy was right. And it wasn’t like it was just them either. Even his younger siblings treated him like a joke.

Biscotti spent so long as a doormat, that the idea of respect seemed almost totalitarian. Shaking off depressing thoughts, he approached a familiar face from behind. She looked taller than when he’d seen her last. Stronger too. Somehow she kept going forward. And he just stayed the same.

“Hey, Nilla!” His smile is reserved. Seeing her brings back the lost times—the decades spent in a hallucination. “How’s life?” A hand worried at a Pokeball at his side.

NOTES: Learning to fight from a 12 year old.

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It’s Elise! A royal from his homeland he’d met a hundred times. For most people, that’d be a reassurance. This was his pal—a buddy he’d lived with for 20 years in an alternate world. But, well, it just made him more nervous. His cheeks turned a brilliant red. “Hey, Elsie!” Oops. That wasn’t the right name. But he’d be better off just going with it. “Don’t worry about it! I’m just jumpy.” This place wasn’t exactly friendly.

As he turned, his eyes caught on the rabbit thing floating next to her. He remembers it from the other world. Its head slowly rotted away as its eyes dimmed. Then, he recalls seeing it in the storytime line. Something where he’d never gotten to the front of the line. Partially because he was polite and partly because somebody else always told his story but better. “Yo! It’s Calyrex—what’s up, bud?” Oh god. Was he supposed to bow? “You look way better than last time we talked.”

At the question, Biscotti grinned. “I was delivering a birthday cake.” A hand slid behind his head to pick fitfully at his head. “Didn’t expect a Hell’s Angel! I almost had a heart attack!” But the guy wasn’t too bad. Just liked oil and grease or something. “What brings you here?” She really didn’t fit. She looked like a princess stuck in a gritty DC comic book.

Movement behind her catches his eyes. A little Nidoran is rooting through the garbage. Which is no place for a Pokemon to be. Especially not at the backdoor of a strip club. “Hey, uh, one sec.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out the remnants of a candy bar. He offers it to the little poison type. As it pulls back, he notices that there’s a thong wrapped around its ears.

Eeew.

NOTES: Catching Nidoran

Elise Calcifet

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[attr="class","bisc"]When he looked up, the sun wasn’t where he expected it to be. But it was kind of hard to see it through all the branches. “So, uh, Jangle?” The cat turned to look at him with a raised brow. Her claws tapped against her crossed elbow: go on. With a sheepish grin, Biscotti finally made an admission. “I think we’re lost.” Rolling her eyes—black smoke snorting out her nostrils—the circus cat turned and walked in a different direction.

He blinked. Twice. Thrice. “Wait up!” The baker shouted after her as he followed, for all the world like a puppy tailing mum. After all this, there were angry scratches on his lower arms. Little beads of blood were already pooling on his skin. But he didn’t feel it. He couldn’t. Before long, his trainers touched down on a worn-out path. All the thoughts of him wandering the woods forever ended. A sharp noise of relief escaped as he took a moment to catch his breath. “Thanks, JJ! You’re a—”

Biscotti’s head jerked up as the bushes in him began to shake. Shoot! A little bit of white burst through. Then, a puff of purple fur. Big red eyes turned toward them.”Awwww! Lookit him!” Its faceted eyes widened as Jangle took a threatening step forward. “VENO!” With a terrified squeak, it dove back into the bushes. Grumpy, the Incineroar stomped off down the northward path. “What!? You know you’re adorable!”

He didn’t get time to admire his surroundings as he rushed to keep up with the Incineroar.

SKIPPING

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[attr="class","bisc"]Biscotti’s dad was a great storyteller. Growing up, he spun all kinds of stories for them—-finding a way to make them special for all of them. The brunette’s favorite? A tale of Celebi and a lost boy in the woods. Sure, it wasn’t action-packed like the comic books, but it was still near to his heart. Not that he’d admit it. And the kid in it made him jealous. It’d be nice if he could go back in time.

It’d give him a chance to take the foot out of his mouth

After seeing the reports on its plight, the baker felt his heart twist. This wasn’t fair! Those other Pokemon were a bunch of bullies! The Forest Guardian deserved to bring joy. It was a beast of luck and good fortune. Though not much of a battler, Biscotti still felt an urge to help. So, taking inspiration from that story, he got to work. The result? Frosted pecha-infused cookies bursting with flavor.

After a few near misses—one that turned half the cookies to dust—the baker made it to the impromptu altar. The grass types had left their mark on his body: red marks from Vine Whips, and thorn-shaped holes in his legs. Luckily, he didn’t really feel it. Just the wetness of blood dripping down his extremities. He waited his turn to make an offering to the grass type. Then, after ushering some other people in front of him, he waited some more.

Finally, he got to the front of the line. Not one for praying, Biscotti was surprised as he found his hands clasped together. After listening to a dozen heartfelt leas, he didn’t have much to say. Eloquence? Not his thing. Scarred hands crumbled a bit of cookie over the rough stone carving—a strange anointment. “You got this, little buddy.”

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[attr="class","bisc"]There wasn’t a lot of grazing spots near the bakery. And, while he could totally just import hay or specialty food, he felt like a cow needed grass. So, when the grass got down to dirt, he’d take a short trip out of town. Sometimes he’d offer to cut the neighboring lawns for a few bucks. Either way, it was usually a pretty quiet trek. Biscotti would pull out a camping chair. The Camerupt would eat his fill while his trainer watched stupid YouTube videos.

But today was weird.

Moo didn’t want to step hoof in the typical clearing.

As he moved to take a seat, Biscotti felt his foot stick to something. “Huh?” Figuring it was gum—or droppings—the brunette could not fight back a groan. Lifting his flat tops, however, revealed purple goo. A bit of strange liquid was dabbled in there as well, orange like a, uh, well orange. For a second, he was almost stupid enough to sniff or taste it. But then he remembered when he’d seen it before. “Mochi. Where’d this—?” He heard a noise like wind chimes and turned to face its source.

It looked like a solar panel was trying to attack him. Probably knew he thought reusable bags were stupid. Paper totally existed. “Whoa. I’m guessing that’s why you—” The thing dove at the Camerupt. Its jets sprayed noxious, poisonous goop over them. “Hey! Moo! Don’t just stand there!” He rushed toward the bull. “Do something!”

Well, it did try. But he wasn’t sure staring blankly at the moth as its head emptied did the trick. Amnesia might be a coping thing, but it really didn’t make this any better. With a grumble, he tossed out another Pokemon.

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[attr="class","bisc"]Biscotti peered up at the Sneasler above them. They made climbing up stolid stone look easy. News flash: it wasn’t. A hand lifted to block the sun from his eyes.

A pair of sunglasses would be nice right about now. And he totally had one. He’d just forgotten about them after shoving them into his hairs. “Dang! Those things are tall! Look at those legs!” His Incineroar nodded. Her arms crossed grumpily across her chest. An elbow jabbed into the fiery cat’s hips. He grinned up at her. His smile was innocent. “Makes you jealous, huh?” Blue eyes stared daggers into her trainer’s eyes. “Roa.”

Those eyes flashed with disgust. That smile faltered as the penny dropped. “Whoa! Ew!”

His cheeks flared scarlet. “I—I didn’t mean it like—it’s a Pokemon.” Up went a bushy black brow. He scratched awkwardly at his nose. “I just meant that they can, you know, reach tall shelves and stuff.” Judging by the huff, the Alolan Pokemon wasn’t impressed. Still, Biscotti knew JJ enough to see the little tilt to her smile. The big softie was teasing.

The cat’s amusement ends as a disc of purple goo falls from the sky. It slides down her face like a cartoon pancake before flopping onto the ground. “Uhhhh. Doesn’t this look—?” His scarred hands reach toward it. Bright, freshly painted nails lock around his wrists and jerk him back to his feet. It seems the girls had a mani-pedi day.

“Hey!” Shoving him behind her, Jangle sets the purple thing on fire. The smell that follows is acrid—like Hammerlocke smokestacks.

KH7Ak7Yr

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