Teenage Wasteland: A Sinnoh Adventure Fic

I've been kind of neglecting my updates here between university and just actually doing the writing, and so I believe I have a few chapters that need posting here. I will get on that in the coming days, but first! Time to respond to feedback. I'm very grateful for all of your readership!

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As much as I want to blame this on research funding or his refusal to upgrade or something, that is a very valid criticism, and one that is duly noted.


These are some interesting observations! I really like your way of putting him in relation to Roark and Reyes, and I can't wait for you to see what's in store for him in later chapters. (And yes, he's a weird guy, and his means of funding are certainly unclear, for now... :3c)


Also a good point; I'm glad you've taken a liking to Byrne. As for Ronnie, he has that knack of being like his trainer a lot of the time -- just there, kind of having stuff happen to him without much of a reaction -- and I hope to expand on that in future!



Got it in one!

Once again, thanks for such a wonderfully in-depth chapter; it means a lot that you've continued to leave such thoughtful reviews and continued to read, and I cannot wait for you to see what lies ahead for our gang of idiot kids.

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Thanks! These are some solid observations, and I'm very happy that you liked Connor's character so much; it means a lot that you can sympathise with him, and I hope you continue to enjoy his journey.

Yeah, that's a common criticism that people have with these chapters -- you are not the first person to point out that this chapter (or, indeed, a few of the ones after it) is as you've described here! And I really, really hope that you can bring yourself to stick with the fic in spite of these difficulties, because this chapter is almost two years old and I can assure you that the later ones are much better written.

Still, thank you for the feedback! I appreciate the depth in your review, and I will take what you have said to heart here, because this almost two-year-old chapter haunts me to this day -- basically, I just hope you stick with it, hah.

Author's Notes: This chapter owes its name to "A Pillow of Winds," by Pink Floyd.

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---

"Welcome to Spoonie's, chief! I don't think I've seen you 'round; you new here?"


A warmer welcome that Murphy was expecting. "Aye; just passing through the area and I figured I'd stop by — glad to be here, though!" he said as he took a seat at the bar. This wasn't entirely honest, and he hated that, but then this was the only approach he saw fit to take.


Spoonie (or the guy Murphy assumed was Spoonie) smiled as he washed his glass. It was a very genuine smile, because of course it was; all part of the facade. "Well, 's always nice having new faces pop in. What brings ya to this neck of the woods, then?"


How Murphy wanted to give a blunt, honest answer — but then, no amateur detective worth their salt played their hand so soon. Best not to make anyone suspicious too soon. The voice in his head reminded him of that. "Well, I've got a friend in the area, and I figured I'd do a bit of training with him. We're both in the big tourney in a couple of weeks and, as I'm sure you can imagine, neither of us wanna embarrass ourselves. So we figured that just getting our training done with each other works; it's hardly like we're bad competition, it keeps our strategies being given away to a minimum, and if we get drawn against each other then it's basically guaranteed to be a fun match. And that's all you can really ask for as a spectator, isn't it?"


"Oho, well! That's certainly something, isn't it? I mean, truthfully — I ain't a fan of the tourney. Most of the people who come 'round here are, and it drives me nuts — I just can't stand how theatrical the whole thing is, meself. This is serious shit, y'know? But I won't knock you; it's nice that one of you people can give us the time of day, eh?"


Funny. Murphy's reaction could be generously described as a forceful exhale through the nose. When it didn't go any further than that, Spoonie bit the bullet and laughed at his own joke. "Nahhh! Ah, no worries; I'm just messin' with ya. Now, in more important matters: what can I getcha?"


"Just a glass of Razz Berry juice, please."


"Comin' right up! Not a drinker then, eh big man?"


"I'm afraid not; just don't like the taste of alcohol, honestly." This was also only half-true; it was more that he couldn't investigate while drunk. Keeping a focused and clear mind in times like these was paramount.


And if he got pissed, the voice in his head would be doubly so.


"I see, I see." Spoonie grinned, pouring a glass and putting it before him. "S'pose it's not a surprise that this is your first time here, then?"


He smiled back. "I guess it isn't, no."


Murphy swore he was happy with his current situation, and he meant it. But going to bars all the time got in the way of all his very important work, and actually getting drunk doubly so. Triply so, actually; there was always the morning after, and the voice in his head always made her feelings on the matter strongly known.


No time to ponder on that now, though; for now at least, this was his work. "Say, there is one thing that made me kind of curious when I was reading up on this place — you don't mind me asking about it, do you?"


"Nah, nah! Go ahead!"


"I've heard there are… odd things about your bread."


"Oh?" Something caught Spoonie's ear about this. He put his glass down on the bar — all conversation, this was the first time he didn't have one in his hand — and looked at Murphy. "What sort of… 'odd things' are we talkin' here?"


"Well, er — some of the reviews said that some of it's a bit too peppery, for one. But then there was one that said it was better than it had any right being. And I kind of have to wonder what all of this is on about, because honestly, I wasn't really aware bread's a thing that can be too peppery — but if it works, then I'd be quite interested in trying some."


"Oh… oh! Okay — well, er… I suppose we can get you some, then? If you're interested."


Spoonie seemed almost surprised at the question — as though it was unnatural. Which, well — it was unnatural; Murphy knew damn well pepper didn't go on bread — but then why did the reviews bring it up?


"Oh, I am very interested."


"Very well, very well," he said, "and you want pepper on it, right?"


"Aye."


He made a note on a piece of paper — half of it written a lot more emphatically than the other — and passed it on to a nearby waitress. "Should be with ya very soon — but, we don't get many people asking for the peppered bread, honestly. It's something of a delicacy in this place, y'know? Only those in the know really pick it up. I gotta say, er — 'too peppery,' did you say one of the folks said?"


"That I did."


"Yeah, well… this is something you gotta explicitly ask for, okay? It's not something you just get given. You gotta specify it. So… really don't know whatever the hell that guy's on about. Gods, I tell ya — some people are thick, eh? Yer average customer, I tell ya."


"Oh, I can imagine," said Murphy. "You folks in retail don't have it easy, do you?"


"Yeah, well. We can't all be trainers, can we? We can't just drop all of our things and dedicate ourselves to that, as much as I wish we could. It'd be nice, wouldn't it?"


"Oh, this isn't my job; I'm a professor, as a matter of fact. It's… well — certainly not retail work, no, and it certainly helps that Pokémon training is my area of expertise, but it's not impossible to balance the two, y'know?"


"Hmph," said Spoonie, who hadn't picked up his glass back up yet. "Well, some of us just don't have that luxury. We got bills to pay, commitments and whathaveyou — in the long run, it just ain't sustainable for most of us. After all, it's only a tiny, tiny sliver of folks who make it all the way to their final Gym, ain't it?"


"Oh, I certainly won't deny that — but it's definitely not impossible. The point is that if you can make it that far, you've earned this as your living."


"And it's not like the folks in charge are any help, are they? They ain't ever been any good up there, and they never will be; I don't see why anyone even tries, honestly — only thing they care about is themselves. It's not something I lose sleep over anymore; I don't know about you, but I'd much rather be alive than hopeful."


Murphy's fist clenched under the table. How he wished Spoonie'd just confess by now — better that than put up with this kind of talk for a second more.


"Stay calm. If you act out now, this whole thing will be for nothing."


Deep breath. Fist still clenched, but he smiled anyway. "Respectfully, I don't agree in the slightest. Sure, things are bad. Truthfully? If you'll pardon my French — they suck ass. And the League isn't going to fix that themselves. But a better world is always, always possible, and not something that should be lost sight of — ever. All it takes is good people and good Pokémon banding together — lives are on the line, people are hurting, but look at Oreburgh! That's the sort of thing that keeps me going — the folks in charge have much more to lose than I. That's why I'm still a trainer, that's why I'm going to win the conference, and that's why I won't rest until this region heals."


Spoonie just harrumphed under his breath, going back to his glass. "If only the whole world worked like that, pal. But you do you."


"Very well," came the reply through gritted teeth. "I'll do that."


"Two slices of bread. Sprinkled with pepper." The waitress didn't call Murphy a 'sick, sick man', but the way she nearly spat 'pepper' at him, she didn't need to.


Peppery bread tasted exactly how he'd imagined it to taste: bread, but with pepper on it. Completely unremarkable outside of that. And they weren't really flavours that mixed particularly well? In truth, Murphy was not a cultured man; he wasn't sure if "peppery bread" was a thing, but even if it was, it definitely wasn't this — slices of completely normal, possibly storebought bread with pepper sprinkled all over it.


Am I insane? he asked himself. This isn't usual, right?


"Peppery bread is a thing, but it isn't this," the voice inside replied. "And if you think they're acting weird about it, act on it. I've certainly met more normal people than this."


That's fair, he thought as he continued to eat the bread. I think this has to be a front for something, myself.


"So?" asked Spoonie, looking him dead in the eye. "How is it? It's not too… peppery, is it?"


"No, no; it… sure is bread, but with pepper put on it. Just as it says on the tin. I'm a fan!"


"Wonderful, wonderful. Like I said — it's something ya really gotta seek out round here, y'know?"


"Mmm, yeah; I can see why. It really… rewards you, for seeking it out. If you want peppery bread, you get peppery bread." Murphy was clenching his fist under the table again. How he wanted to just dive right in to about Birkenhead and the Oreburgh police and get this whole farce dealt with — but there was no use showing his hand that early. How he wished he was more than an amateur detective, too, because he was starting to feel a bit ill-equipped for this kind of investigation.


…Still, something had to give. He took a big swig from his glass and slammed it down.


"So, uhh — seeing as I'm new 'round here; I have to ask, where can I go for the gossip 'round these parts? I mean, generally — what kind of folks do you generally get 'round here, and are they prone to gossip?"


"I wouldn't do that, James…"


Spoonie figured this was a weird question, an eyebrow furrowed. "Why'd you ask?"


"Well, I just wanna figure out if there's any juicy stuff going on, is all. Anyone who's… in the know, about certain things."


"Seriously, this isn't a good idea. Wrap this up. Get out of here."


Certainly a suggestion, and one he was on the verge of heeding. "Not really, no; not only that, I don't think this line of questioning is particularly valuable for either of us. Let it go, chief."


"But what about Oreb—"


A slug to the stomach from no-one in particular, and all the wind was taken out of him. If nothing else, it was a hint he was definitely taking.


"What about what, now?"


"Ugh — nothing," he replied, necking the rest of his drink and clutching his stomach. "I think I'm ready for my bill, now."


"Oh? Well, in that case — consider your bread on the tab, and your juice will be—"


When Spoonie looked up, Murphy was on his way out, a scrumpled note where he sat at the bar. He sneered and nodded, letting the whole thing sink in.


It hadn't quite sunk in for Murphy. His breathing heavy and his stomach on fire, he was almost doubled over as he made his way to the nearest alleyway, as though he was about to collapse at any moment. When he eventually found a suitable place to get his bearings back, he stood back up and smiled.


"James, I can't believe you! What were you thinking?!"


He laughed to himself. "Well… I figured it was better than nothing, at least. Probably a good time to bail, if you ask… but it wasn't like we didn't get anything out of it."


"You— gods, you people are all insane, you know that? 'Probably' a good time — you're lucky I think you're fun to be around, or else you'd be dead by now, and I hope you know that."


"Well… if you're here for fun, why are you mad?"


"…You are ridiculous, honestly."


There was a smile on his face, and definitely a smile in her voice. Both erupted into laughter in the alley.

---

Sinnoh's winter barreled around the corner, and Eterna City was feeling the cold. It was barely above freezing temperature at this time of day, according to Connor's Pokétch, and his jacket wasn't thick enough for those sorts of temperatures. Freezing air burrowed right under it, leaving his skin pale, cold to the touch; frankly, he was a shivering wreck.


At least he wasn't in the forest though. The trek through the forest had been surprisingly uneventful, truth be told, though he absolutely wasn't complaining — he'd made it out before sundown, Reyes hadn't been (too) bothered by all the bugs, and all of that meant that Florence wasn't kept busy. All of that meant that spirits in the group still ran high despite the cold.


It wasn't snowing in this part of Sinnoh either. Yet.


Frost came with his breath. Eterna was a beautiful city, even when it was dark and cold. Not as green as Floaroma was, but then that was to be expected for a big city — and it was still much more colourful than Jubilife or Oreburgh, especially at this time of year. Plenty of grass still neatly trimmed around some of the buildings and flowers still grew, even if the leaves had long since left the trees. The rows of houses and tall apartment blocks were seasonally decorated in fairy lights of all colours. Tall lampposts lit up the dark as the gang passed through the streets, looking for the city's Pokémon Center.


It looked much like any other, except for the trees around it.


On the outside, it was in a much better state than the one in Oreburgh. Much calmer, for one; nobody was being yelled at and it was a lot less busy. It was also a lot cleaner, the paint much newer; the notice board was a lot livelier as well. A lot of Pokémon-related postings, actually; much more than Oreburgh — Gym Leader talks, meet 'n' greets, and the town's Ice-type appreciation society hosting an open day to celebrate winter.


An aspect of home he kind of missed, actually: Jubilife wasn't perfect, but the Pokémon societies renting out the Center? Something he looked forward to just as much as his birthday… when he could actually attend them; given his lack of Pokémon, his terrible brain, and the threat of bumping into a certain someone, that wasn't terribly often. At least he had Pokémon now, though? And that certain someone seemed to be lagging behind. (He felt mean for even thinking that, mind; even if he was a complete asshole, getting stuck on the journey couldn't have been nice. Actually, he almost felt sorry for him…)


That wasn't his main concern right now. His first order of business was getting a room, and he didn't want to leave his friends to sort that out by themselves — so looking at the noticeboard had to wait.


"Good evening, and welcome to Eterna City Pokémon Center! I don't think I've seen you around before," said the nurse. It took her a moment to register what everyone was wearing, but even Connor could tell when it clicked. "Oh! Aren't you guys cold? It's freezing out there; are you sure you don't have bigger coats?"


"Well, it's warm in here at least." Reyes laughed, doing that thing where he gave a thumbs-up Connor couldn't quite tell was appropriate, but was sincere. "There's no need to worry about me; I'm fine like this, though I can't speak for my friends here…?"


"I'm fine," said Florence. "I'll pick one up in the morning."


"Uhh… yeah, no, no complaints from me, either. At least it's not the forest, I suppose?"


The nurse didn't laugh. "I mean, yeah, but that's not a very high bar that, is it?"


"Uh… no, not really. Sorry."


"I mean, it's fine; just as long as you don't freeze to death out there, alright?"


Connor was definitely regretting this, which is why Reyes swooping in was such a relief. "I can assure you there'll be no freezing done, but to that end, we're gonna need some rooms while we're in town. Would you like my trainer's license?"


"Oh, certainly! I can get all that sussed out for you now…"


Connor tuned out of all that for now, his attention rested solely on Reyes. Once again, he'd come to the rescue while Connor was floundering, and it was such a relief to have someone who'd do that so often. It saved him from so much embarrassment and bother, which was… a bit selfish when he thought about it like that, actually. But Reyes didn't seem to mind. He did it all with a great big smile. That meant more than anything.


"Alright, so that's one room for the three of you, then. Here's a room key for you all; your room's on the second floor, straight through that door over there. Make sure you're back in every night before eleven, and when you're done here just hand your keys back into the office, alright?"


"Sounds good," said Reyes at the other two took their keys. "We shouldn't be too long; we're just in town for the Gym."


"Oh, wonderful! Best of luck with that, then, and enjoy your stay!"


"You too! Err — wait, no—"

---

The first thing that Connor noticed about the room was that there weren't enough beds. To be more precise, there were only two. Which gave him a dilemma: sharing a bed.


It wasn't like he minded — for one, it was cold, and as December came it'd only get colder. Hence, sharing a bed with Reyes was a great way to preserve heat, especially given how warm he was — and then there were the nightmares, too; having someone next to him definitely would've helped with them. But then there was the matter of space, too, because he didn't want to hog all the sheets to himself — and what if Reyes wasn't keen on it? What if it was weird for Florence? What if it was just generally weird?


"Connor? Everything okay?"


"Hm?"


Turning away from the beds, he saw Florence lay out a sleeping bag on the floor.


Typical.


After plenty of hair-drying, tooth-brushing, and general fussing, Reyes walked out of the bathroom and took a look around. "Oh — uh, Florence, are you sure you're okay with sleeping on the floor?"


"Uh — well, I mean, I don't really mind? It's up to you guys, really, but worse things have happened — I'm fine either way."


After a moment to think about it, Reyes shrugged. "I don't really have much of a preference, myself. Connor, any thoughts?"


It took him a hot minute to decide which thoughts he was comfortable expressing — the answer? None of them. "I, uh — I also don't mind either way, really."


"So… no voting either way, then?"


"Nah," said Reyes.


She nodded. Very slowly, and very deliberately, before she just cracked up and laughed. Quite hard, actually; it kind of worried Connor. She threw her head back and clutched her chest, barely able to believe her eyes. It wasn't a cackle, really; definitely good-natured — it wasn't like she'd just stopped to point at them, at least. She sighed under her breath when she'd eventually returned to normal, and just started beaming. "Sorry, sorry; I just couldn't help myself… but crikey, you two really are something, eh? Suit yourself, I suppose."


Connor was absolutely lost — and not convinced he'd avoided making it weird, truthfully, but it wasn't like he could change his mind now without making it worse.


Reyes was also clearly thrown off by it, but he wasn't one to let that stop him from ploughing through with important business. "Okay then! So — how do we wanna approach the Gym, then? Actually — Connor! What do you know about the Gym, because I'm not exactly in the know about all of this."


"Well, Gardenia's a Grass-type Gym Leader, and if my memory serves me correctly she uses a… Turtwig, Cherrim, and Roserade. Very reliant on status moves, much more focus on special attacks than physical ones, and I suppose you could say that whittling the opponent's health down over time is a strategy? At least, I know Roserade's a Poison-type, and — please don't quote me on this, I could be wrong — but that Cherrim of hers knows Leech Seed. Definitely be wary of that Roserade of hers, because I'm pretty sure that thing is an absolute killer if you're not careful — Roserade usually are — and I'd suggest trying tomake the weather as inhospitable to her as possible, if at all possible. Moreover, I'd suggest doing our training in the woods? There'll be plenty of Grass-types out there, so it can't hurt to get to grips with the sorts of Pokémon we'll be up against."


Connor's explanation was met with silence for a moment, and he would've clarified that he'd finished if Reyes didn't immediately interject. "O… kay, that's very insightful! Thanks a bunch, Connor; that's really helpful, and I'm glad you know your stuff so well. I'll… try and invest in insect repellent for the forest, because bugs? Not a fan, but you do have a point there. Florence! Any advice?"


"Don't die?"


"Very cool! Your input is much appreciated. Now, I'm thinking of getting all of this wrapped up before the big tournament starts. Anyone with me?"


Another deadline, eh? It was fun working with one in Oreburgh, even if this one was much less necessary. The conference: December 6th through December 20th. Fourteen days starting tomorrow. About the same amount of time he had in Oreburgh, but this time without a miner's strike to deal with.


Alright.


"You know what? Sure, I'd down for that. I wanna get something to eat first, but after that… let the countdown begin, I guess!"

---

Fifteen days, starting today.


The thing Connor hated about deadlines was that from the moment they were set, the clock started ticking. This was officially A Thing now; there was no turning back, he was bound by the immutable law of his word.


But it was fine. Fifteen days was more than enough.


He hadn't even met Gardenia yet, for one, and this was his first time in town. Most of his familiarity with her was simply through reading, and everything else was guesswork.


But he already had the one badge. What stopped him from getting another? His team was more than good enough, too.


"Byrne, please; uh — keep your beak out of Ronnie's face holes, if you could."


Byrne being a Staravia came with a host of pros and cons. For example, he was a much more forceful preener and his interest in keeping Ronnie clean had doubled. His beak was twice as long now, which all meant that Ronnie was going to get fussed around with, even more, whether he liked it or not. Of course, he didn't; it made sitting still a lot more uncomfortable for him.


"Byrne, please."


A second con was that Byrne wasn't as keen on following instructions anymore. Which meant that Connor had to get firm sometimes.


"Byrne."


Making a flapping and squawking fuss about it, Byrne pulled out. He scowled like an angry teenager about the whole thing, but Connor figured that it was progress — and it needed rewarding.


"Wonderful; thank you," he said as he got on one knee, running the backs of his knuckles through Byrne's feathery chest — disregarding the Staravia's fussing and cooing about it. "Now, err — if you guys don't mind, who's down to practice against Grass-types? Byrne, I'm gonna focus on you for today; this good to you all?"


They seemed content. Whether this was just because they weren't going at each other anymore, Connor didn't know, but it was something. Giving speeches to his Pokémon in the middle of the woods probably wasn't the bestlook. At least nobody was watching — and if it got Byrne to listen, then he was doing something right.


One thing that wasn't right: considering that Eterna Forest was… well, a forest, there was a perplexing lack of Grass-types. The list seemed to start and end at Budew, which was not a great ratio compared to (by Connor's count) Wurmple, Cascoon, Dustox, Silcoon, Beautifly, Bidoof, Hoothoot, Kricketot, Buneary… none of which had anything to do with Gardenia. While all of those Pokémon were wonderful and Connor swore they all had their very well-deserved place in the forest, it didn't help him much.


Moreover, every Budew encounter seemed to follow a rough pattern: Byrne would stumble upon one and square up to it. It would square back at him, only to then get pecked at or slashed with wings. If it was still standing after that, it'd retaliate by leech seeding him or trying to root him to the ground and drain his stamina. Byrne would then finish the job and move on, with nothing learnt from it.


For most of the session, that was how it went. And that was fine — it was okay, at least nobody was dying — but it wasn't ideal.


So by the time the session was drawing to a close, he was guilty of starting to tune out.


It was just as Byrne faced another Budew. In battle mode with his wings outstretched, Connor figured that Byrne had it under control. So, regrettably, he began to think about lunch. They'd been out for a bit now; surely, a well-earned meal was due to reward everyone for such hard work. Followed by a break to look around Eterna, because he wasn't familiar with the place, and then another session later. Hopefully, it'd be a bit more lively next time round.


Then Ronnie nudged him forward.


When he looked, Byrne was locked in place. Spores went through his feathers and latched into his skin. The Budew's vines latched onto his talons, stealing his life force and healing its wounds. It was, on the whole, not really fine anymore.


"Crap — uhh — Ronnie, go take out that Budew!"


Just like that, Ronnie was in action mode. He charged forward and swatted the Budew to one side with a metallic claw, freeing Byrne from the roots.


All was good, until he got spored too. Now he was starting to lock up, jittering and paralysed — because Budew could learn Stun Spore, and Connor'd only now remembered this like the very clever boy he was. Just as Ronnie was completely open to attacks, too.


Like the petal storm from the bushes that tore up his hide.


Squeaking and shaking, he was completely helpless as a Roselia emerged. This was quite possibly the worst moment for this to happen, and suddenly fleeing looked like a real option. Especially when it launched a barrage of seeds that encircled Ronnie and Byrne. Roots that snaked out of the ground and lunged, piercing their skins.


This was really not ideal. It was terrible, actually. The forest was starting to turn cold around Connor, and he didn't want to be here — he didn't want any of this. But there was no use in giving up now. Running scared was defeat, and that defeat was far more on him than either member of his team. He had to stand his ground. "Okay! Um — you can do it! Metal Claw; Wing Attack! Get 'em!"


Ronnie's movement was a strained crawl, blood running from his veins to the Roselia. His muscles just didn't move him fast enough as he strained forward, pushing on at a snail's pace. Much, much slower than the Roselia, who lashed at him with thick vines that drained yet more life out of him.


Until Byrne launched his wings at it as fast as he could. One wing was much more forceful than the other, and it was far from his sharpest attack, but it still cut deep through the Roselia's leafy epidermis. Rose petals danced into the wind as it tottered about, still reeling.


Rose petals that soon grew back, roots leaching from the other Pokémon. Byrne was having trouble keeping his head up, one wing and one talon limping behind as he blinked. One eye before the other — not ideal, terrible, but neither trainer nor Pokémon prepared to surrender.


"Okay, fellas — er — keep 'em trapped between you!"


The Roselia wasn't about to back down either. It smelt blood. Byrne was starting to run out of steam now, and Ronnie was just about hanging on — and the Roselia focused on Byrne. Sharp leaves danced through the air, swirling around it until one arm stuck out at Byrne. A storm of leaves rushed at him, most of them cutting through his chest — leaving fragments of feathers and droplets of blood in the wind. His retaliation was even weaker this time, wings slicing against the Roselia and only managing to remove a few petals here and there — but, importantly, it left the Roselia reeling just for a moment.


Just enough time for Ronnie to strike; slamming his forelegs on the ground, mud turned to sharp stones that sliced up the Roselia, almost flooring it.


There was still no use giving in. This was still on.


Until Byrne locked up this time. He was having trouble keeping his eyes open, his head was starting to drop, and his movements were uneven — and the Roselia was still at the ready, petals beginning to dance in the wind again… and a choice fell on Connor.


Unfortunately, there wasn't much him getting in the way of an attack would've done this time, and he only saw one way out of this without Byrne getting knocked out — which was to leave the Roselia still standing and flee.


Cursing under his breath, he opened his Pokéballs and returned the two. By the Roselia's leaves had gone off into the distance, hitting nothing in particular, he'd already left.


"Good job out there, guys," he mumbled to no-one. "I'm so sorry."

---

"Hey, Connor; don't worry about it. It happens."


At the very least, Reyes was there in the same ways he always was: with a smile and a helping hand. "…Thanks."


Waiting for the Pokémon Center nurse, a lot of things crossed Connor's mind. Like asking himself how he let this happen or reminding himself that he had the type and numerical advantage, or reminding himself that this was a wild Pokémon he'd been bested by. It wasn't like this was worth fussing anyone over, least of all Florence, because this was entirely his fault.


Of course, it didn't stop Reyes. Actually, Connor wouldn't really say he was 'fussing' about it; he was just there to listen and give advice. "All of us make mistakes — take it from someone as cool and wonderful as I! It's really just a natural part of this whole 'training' business, and all you can do is learn from it. Please don't get all worried about it, okay?"


He bit his lip, all the tension in him deflating with a sigh. "I… guess you're right; it's a really dumb thing to make a big deal of. I just shouldn't have done it — I guess I just made a mistake, is all."


"Hey, hey, that's nonsense; if it's something that worries you, then I'll assure you it's not dumb! And I promise you're still one of the coolest dudes I know — we can figure out a plan for it, if you want?"


"Uhh—"


"Got a Staravia and an Aron ready for pickup!" said the nurse, her voice ringing through the Center.


Well, there was no harm in planning, he figured. "You know what? I'm down for that."


"Wonderful — we can get this sussed out, I promise. But first, go and get your Pokémon, alright?"


The nurse smiled as she handed over his Pokéballs. As a matter of fact, Connor swore he heard her laugh under her breath. "You know, it's kind of remarkable how different your two little pals are."


"Uh — i-it is?"


"Yeah! Your Aron here's a sweet little fellow, isn't he? He was perfectly fine with me fussing about at him — but on the other hand, I hope you don't mind me saying so; your Staravia's a bit of a bastard. I'm guessing he was the one that got 'em both in trouble?"


Now it was Connor's turn to laugh. "Nah, uh — it was, er — j-just a bit of a mishap on my end. I, er — just got a bit too complacent, that's all."


"Don't be so hard on yourself! We're all guilty of it from time to time — but if that balance is something you're having trouble with, I'd definitely keep a close eye on your Staravia."


"I see. Uh… well, I'll, er — keep that in mind, I guess; thanks!"


Connor wasn't 100% sure about it, but at least it was a place to start. It was also kind of interesting that nobody really had anything to say about Ronnie other than how good he was, too; with Byrne, everyone (explicitly or not) basically called him a bastard, which drew a range of reactions. But with Ronnie? Everyone just seemed to be fine with him. Which gave him food for thought…


"So, did she say anything?"


"Yeah! She did, actually — she, uh…" he began, trailing off a bit — because while he was sometimes a bastard, that was far from the most objective term. "I won't repeat the word used, but basically, she said there's a big difference between Ronnie and Byrne. Like — i-in terms of temperament, of course. Though they are obviously pretty different physically, too."


"Well, yeah — they're basically opposites. That Aron of yours? Sweetest one I've ever seen. Byrne?" His face screwed up. "Foul. Just a ball of feathers and spite. I've no doubt he'd kill all of us if he had the chance."


Connor had some objections to this, actually. "Come on, now; he's not that bad…"


Reyes sneered. "He is pretty bad, though, you've got to admit. Definitely worse than Ronnie."


"Well, they're just different," he shrugged. "I wouldn't say either of them are worse—"


He took Connor's pause as a sign of victory. "See, I'm right, aren't I?"


But that wasn't what stopped him. There was that idea once again of how different they were, and he didn't have a way to put it succinctly right now, but he definitely had an idea. "Kiiiiinda — it's… they're certainly more different than I give 'em credit for, isn't it? So, uh — I've got to wonder actually… what if it's how I'm training them?"


"What do you mean by that?" asked Reyes, tilting his head.


"I mean… maybe what works for Ronnie won't really work for Byrne, especially now that Byrne's evolved and matured a bit — I mean, Staravia, they're basically just the freckly, angry teens of the family, right? Whereas Ronnie, he's just… well — I mean, you said it yourself; nobody has a bad word to say about him, really. Well — aside from, y'know, Hawley — but that's… not the point; so I'm thinking that just having a blanket method for the both of them doesn't really keep them both engaged."


He leaned in to this, ready to bounce ideas. "Interesting idea; what makes you think it's an engagement thing?"


"Well, I'll be the first to admit this — I know that I got complacent, at the very least; I can't imagine that both of them stayed switched on either. So it's definitely on me, BUT — maybe I just gotta take a step back next time, evaluate how I view the whole thing, see what works for the both of them, and tweak the method a bit so that it's a bit more… uh — well, basically, I don't wanna trail off and think about dinner in future, if you catch my drift?"


He was a bit concerned that what he'd just said was total word salad in all honesty, but it basically got all of his points across. It took Reyes a moment to think about it, but he had no objections. "That certainly sounds like a good place to start! If you think that'd work for you, then you should definitely try it! In truth, you know much more about your Pokémon than I do — I mean, you probably know more about my Pokémon than I do — so I can't really comment, but whatever works for you works for you."


Connor looked at his wonderful friend and his great big smile. "Thanks, err — you sell yourself too short; you know lots about your Pokémon too, you know — but, uhhh, that does mean a lot, really—"


"BUT! If you want to take your mind off lunch, then I've got an idea?"


"Wh— what's that?"


Reyes paused, and then started laughing to himself. "We should go find Florence, for one, and then we should eat!"

---

Florence was already eating. At a nearby café, as a matter of fact; blissfully unaware of what the boys were up to.


"Isn't this nice?" she asked Dorothea. "You know… a break."


Dorothea either didn't notice how hot her cup of tea was, or she simply didn't care; the handle was of no use to her as she picked it up and slurped it. "Hap hap!" she chirped, half of her just poking over the tabletop.


Her trainer just smiled, relaxing in her chair. "You're damn right; nothing like a bit of time for the girls, eh?"


She liked hanging out with the other two well enough — if she didn't, she'd have gone home by now. But she was used to being solitary at heart, and being around people all the time was exhausting. Especially when those people relied on her to not break their bones or something. Also, a big part of her doing this in the first place was to scout out the scenery all over Sinnoh. There was no fun being cooped up all the time without any say on what she could do, like how it felt behind the Pokémon Center desk; she relished the opportunity to meet new people and do new things. Like schmoozing around at cafés, for example.


Except her schmoozing was interrupted by a nearby kerfuffle.


"I'll have you know I've waited bloody well long enough, actually," a man growled, his fist pounding the counter. "How much longer do I have to wait?"


Florence looked over at the developing scene, ready to help any retail worker in need. Indeed, the cashier was putting on her bravest face, smiling with her best customer service smile. Florence was more than familiar with those drawn-out breaths through the nose, though, and those "please stop, I don't get paid enough" hand gestures. None of which was enough to put a stop to his tirade, of course, but what caught her eye was the very tall girl behind him. Taller than most people she could remember seeing, and she was getting pissed; her arms crossed and glare sharpening.


"Look, I'm sorry, sir, if I could get it done for you sooner, I honestly would—"


"'Could' doesn't cut it," he retorted with venom in his voice. "Where's my damn coffee?!"


Yeah, there was no chance he'd calm down, and Florence kind of felt obliged to check it out. "Dorothea," she whispered, "wanna go check it out?"


Dorothea felt she didn't have much of a choice, even if she'd have much rather finished drinking. She nodded without a sound, and the two got out of their seats ready to give a helping hand.


All the while, he was getting madder and madder, his voice beginning to tremble with rage. "Am I some kind of joke to you? I'll have you know I make more in a week than you do all year; you're stopping me from doing very important work!"


"Please, sir, calm down—"


"No, I won't calm down! Where's my damn coffee?!"


Florence couldn't tell if his voice was raising on purpose or if he just had that little control over it, but whatever it was, it was starting to get everyone's attention. People turned around to look, the café falling silent aside from the odd chatter. Not that he could see them through his coffee-induced red mist though. As Florence tried to decide on her next action, however, the tall girl gripped his shoulder. "Hey."


"And what do you want—"


It immediately dawned on him how outsized he was as he turned around. He began to sweat when he clocked how angry she was, too. "Stop fuckin' around."


"O-or what?"


Glowering, she reached for her Pokéball as her vice grip tightened. She didn't say a word, but she didn't need to; he took the words right out of her mouth. "Are you— you're not threatening me, I hope!"


Florence took this to be an opening; she and Dorothea slid over to the cashier, ready to give a helping hand and a warm smile. "Hey, uhh — sorry to disturb, but are you alright?"


"Yeah," she said with all the pomp of an exhausted retail worker. "It's fine, it just happens sometimes. But thanks for checking, I really do appreciate it."


By now, other people were starting to get out of their seats and form a circle around the scene; Florence didn't bother to look, but she could tell that at least one person was filming; someone always was. "Wait for your coffee like the rest of us or get outta here," said the tall girl, "because all of us have better things to do here. Surely you do too, right?" She leaned in closer as she spoke, and he didn't have room to do anything but shrink. It didn't seem like he was entirely prepared to surrender, but even just looking at him, Florence could tell he did not have the upper hand.


That reality eventually dawned on him, too. Either that or the fact that the entire café seemed to have turned to look. "Alright, alright, fine!" His ego was bruised as he backed off, shaking with fury as he looked at all the onlookers. "But you'll regret this, I swear — you all will!"


Florence watched as he stormed out of the café in a rut, It was objectively kind of a funny sight and, honestly, she considered cheering him off. But she wasn't really in the mood to make even more of a scene; she'd come here for a break, not to start shit.


As everyone began to disperse, Florence's helper came over to the cashier to check on her. "Hey, you alright?"


"Yeah, I'm fine, thanks," she replied. "Honestly, don't tell anyone I said this, but I don't get paid enough for this job sometimes, you know?"


"Oh, I bet. I'm glad to hear that, anyway; if he comes back while we're still here, we'll kick his ass, won't we?"


Looking at her, Florence couldn't help but reflect on tall she was, and oh gosh, she was looking at her. She had to respond, so out of instinct she just laughed and finger-gunned back. "You betcha."


It had never failed her.


"Wonderful." Florence nearly smouldered at her smile as she dug notes out of her pocket and handed them to the cashier. "Then I'll just have a black coffee, please. Oh, and keep the change."


"Alright... thank you so much! Here's your receipt; feel free to take a seat, and I'll call your order when it's ready."


"Thanks; and, uh — sorry about that asshole, once again." Florence really couldn't get over how big she was, and she could definitely feel Dorothea judging her from knee-height — so much so that she hadn't noticed the tall girl was looking at her. "You already ordered?"


"Wh— oh, uhh; yeah, I just wanted to make sure everything was okay, don't mind me."


She just laughed it off. "Nah, no worries. Any objections if we sit together? I, uh... beats sitting alone, I guess."


"Absolutely, no — I mean — yeah!" She'd absolutely made a mess of this, Florence thought, and she paused to get her words right. "I mean... nah, I don't mind, and yeah, that's more than fine by me!"


"Cool!" she laughed, again, and Florence couldn't get over how tall she was (or how funny she seemed to find her).


She was definitely blushing as she made her way back to her table, and she didn't know if it was because of the mess she'd made trying to talk to her. Frankly, she didn't care. More of a concern was Dorothea scowling at her for giving that seat away — fingers crossed, the Happiny would forgive her; surely she'd understand.


The tall girl grinned as she took the seat opposite Florence's, trying to ignore Dorothea's very upset glare. "Your Happiny is adorable," she said. "I love her."


"Thanks!" Florence replied, not looking at how angry her little partner was. "Just... try and ignore her, I promise she's not that upset. She's a bit of a drama queen."


"Oh, I can only imagine. So I take it you're a trainer yourself, then?"


"Oh, no, no; I'm a nurse in training. Though, uh — I am looking after two trainers, y'know," she said with a wink.


The girl opposite made a very interested sound, which wasn't really a response Florence got often. "You have my sympathies, then, because I know most trainers are dumber than rocks."


"Yeah, mine... kind of are, to be honest," she said, and she meant that in the nicest possible way. If they were there, it wasn't like they'd have objected — well, Reyes might've, but in that typical Reyes way. "I'm guessing you are, then, because squaring up to random people like that is a very trainer thing to do, y'know?"


"I mean, that's fair, aye." She gestured to her belt, with two Pokéballs on it. "This one's my Chimchar; he's supposed to be called Halstead — but he's gotten a bit more used to 'bastard' than I'd like sometimes, y'know?"


Very much on-brand for Chimchar, from her own experience. "That's an interesting name, though — well, 'bastard' certainly is, but I mean Halstead, uhh... where did you get it from?"


Apparently, this question made her conversational partner blush a little, too; she started giggling to herself as she steeled herself up to answer, and Florence got the impression it might have been a dumb answer... but then, Pokémon names were always a bit silly, weren't they? "It's, er... how can I put this... um... okay, long story short: uhh, I kind of sort of named him after one of the guys in Slowdive." She started laughing about it, and Florence couldn't help but chuckle a bit, too. "Do you... er, know who they are?"


"It rings a bell," she replied.


"They're, uh, they're a band. They do shoegaze music, and I like 'em quite a lot. As you can probably guess!"


That was a nerdier answer than she'd been expecting, in truth; actually, it sounded like something Connor would have said. Dorothea was definitely not impressed at how much fun she was having with this seat thief, mind, but she didn't care. "So what about your other one?"


"This one is a Murkrow, called Bilinda. You know," she said, trying not to laugh again, "like the My Bloody Valentine singer."


"Wow, you are committed to the shoegaze theme, aren't you?" Florence replied, not trying to not laugh — she was not hiding how dorky she found all of this. "I've gotta say, you remind me of one of the trainers I'm travelling with. He's kind of got that music naming scheme going on with his Pokémon, too, though I have to say it's not really that specific to one genre — and I have to say, that's one hell of an effort."


"What can I say? I just like the music. But I'm intrigued now, actually; what're your friend's Pokémon called?"


"Well, he's got this little Aron called Ronnie, which... is kind of funny, actually; it's this sweet little thing—"


"Hang on a minute." Her eyes widened in realisation as she leaned in, desperate to know more. "This friend of yours... I don't suppose he's called Connor, is he?"


"Yeah," she said. This definitely came as a surprise. "Do you know him?"


She nodded. "Him and his friend gave me a bit of help with a thing back at home; they're... strange boys, but I wouldn't mind stopping by. Are you in town with them now?"


What a lucky coincidence this was, she couldn't help but think. "Yeah, I think they're training now, but we can go pop by later on, if you're down?"


"Hell yeah!"


"Cool! Oh, I don't think I got your name, by the way." She reached out a hand and smiled. "I'm Florence."


The handshake she got was one of the firmest she'd got in a long time, and she didn't care if Dorothea was leering at her, she was certainly having fun with her new friend. "Nice to meet you! You can call me Lucia."

Did we know Hawley’s dad was the Champion before? I can’t remember, but either way, it’s been a while and it’s news to me! Explains why he’s so big on success (vide ‘flay them alive’, et cetera) – but like, there’s something quietly depressing about the way he says ‘oh no, he doesn’t have time to hear about my first badge’. I was all set to speculate, but then you went and confirmed it later on. Aw, Hawley. You’re a little shit, but your tragic backstory is conning me into feeling some measure of sympathy to you. Despite the fact that you’ve literally not done anything nice for anyone in the whole course of the fic to date.

All this does explain why Hawley attaches himself so readily to older male figures, huh. Julius, Kurt (is Kurt older? I feel like he is, or at least he’s a bit more mature, though like, given I’m comparing him to Hawley, that isn’t saying much) … Hawley approaches these men looking for approval, over-analysing what they say and do in the vain hope of finding something approximating validation.

Anyway, Julius brings him pretty sharply down to earth, huh. He really does get left alone to think himself into corners too much. It’s no coincidence that Hawley is travelling alone, while Connor’s little band of misfits keeps on growing. Also, it’s a very JRPG kinda thing to ask someone very seriously what it is they believe in. Appropriate enough, I suppose, given your source material, but I have to say, it’s a weird thing to ask a random teenager in real life.

And we’ve got a meteor in the Battle Zone, huh. I remember way back – possibly even as far back as when you first joined the Discord, wow; definitely before I’d read any of this fic – you mentioned writing something about a meteorite, a deoxys, and some mercenaries, so I suppose we’re finally coming up on that point! And I am always here for space mutant shenanigans, let me tell you, so that’s something to look forward to.

Kurt is … well, I can’t quite get a read on him, even now. Sometimes he seems to have moved on from the phase of his life that Hawley was part of so completely as to consider his presence an imposition; other times, he seems to fall right back into his old self, the one who regularly hung out with him. Obviously this does describe a very specific situation, and it’s not untrue to life, but it means I’m struggling to get to grips with him as a character. I guess I don’t know who he is beyond his relation to Hawley, is the thing. A Suspicious Young Man, I suppose.



This is sort of like saying your surname is Brown and having someone go wait, you mean like Gordon Brown? Okay, ‘Wilkins’ is a bit less common than ‘Brown’, but like, it’s still a fairly common name; I don’t know that I’d assume that Hawley’s related to a celebrity right away like that.

That aside! This was an interesting one – it’s nice to have Hawley rounded out a bit from a cartoon bully to a more human character with hangups and motivations and a Bad Dad. All the more so since he’s been disabused of his frankly absurd line of reasoning. I’ll have to check back soon to figure out what happens next!

New chapter on the way shortly! But first, it seems I have some reviews to respond to; as ever, thank you so much for the wonderful feedback!



Yeah, the Sinnoh League are weird with funding, aren't they? It's interesting how their apparently huge funding of Gym facilities contrasts their complete refusal to get involved in, say, Roark's issues with his actual full-time job...



I'm very glad you think so! :> Of the two Ronnie has a lot more in common with his trainer than Byrne does, and I think that that quietness is definitely a part of it (though whether Connor really has that resolve yet is debatable, especially given that...)



This is a totally fair thing to point out, too; it was Connor's first Gym, but I can totally see why that perhaps wasn't the best approach to your first Gym battle because in theory, the Gym challenge is supposed to be a challenge, isn't it?



Thank you for this, also! It is a trope baked into the notion of a Gym battle, and subverting that in favour of the victory being more down to tactics is not something I see enough of personally even though it seems more relatable while still being just as satisfying. It definitely seemed more appropriate for Connor, too, and I'm really glad you enjoyed it! :>



It was mentioned at the end of one of the earlier chapters, aye; I can't help but feel you're giving this terrible bastard boy for only having verbally assaulted Connor twice and physically once though. ;> Hawley definitely doesn't get the best of luck, which almost certainly correlates with him being generally speaking a terrible person, but I figured that his relationship with his dad is probably worth exploring as a result. As you point out in the next paragraph, as well!



It is, but then Hawley's not exactly the most normal kid himself in that regard in all fairness -- he's very anime heel-y, I suppose. Or at least that's what I was going for, anyway. :0c (Also, Kurt is a few years older, yeah; he's in his early-20s.)

(Fairly major spoiler warning for this next point -- caution advised!)



Ah yes, that; I remember posting that scene, but unfortunately I had to put a kibosh on that particular scene for this stretch of the fic. Fear not, though; there will be space mutant shenanigans in the not-so-far future, and I'm beyond excited to write them.



Kurt is... a weird guy who I definitely need an excuse to write more of; watch this space, I suppose.



Yeah, my intention for that was that Hawley and his dad look pretty similar, to the point where that connection of surname and appearance could feasibly? But I understand that confusion because I've not actually done a lot of describing how his dad looks, haha; I may have to touch up this a bit to amend that. Still, I'm glad you enjoyed that chapter also! Hawley's taken the backseat again as of recent chapters, but he should be returning to the fore with his weird bastardy ways in the near(-ish) future...



With Florence's accent, the intention was Australian, but a flaw in this is that no accent I can write is ever particularly accurate, which I should probably work on? Consistency is always good, but! I'm glad you're loving this trifecta of weird idiot kids! That relationship between them is (what I'd like to think) I'm best at, and so I'm really glad that you find them charming. :> Reyes is... well, Reyes; with that being said, I'm curious to see what you make of future developments of those hints...



This is also fair, that was probably a bit too idealistic for something where the whole point is that the world is kind of a crapsack place, huh. Thank you for pointing that out also; who knows what'll become of our dear extremely dumb businessguy?



There is a point that will be made clearer in later chapters, but there will be an even dumber music reference soon that is somehow even less coherent. ;>



hehehe, you're not wrong :>

Thank you so much for your wonderful reviews as ever! Your feedback is always super insightful and I very much appreciate it; it's great to have that pair of eyes that points out little details for me to consider when doing more of that sweet, sweet worldbuilding... as well as those typos you pointed out, which I will go back to at some point because lord knows I'm terrible at doing that, haha. I'm very glad you're having fun with this fic, and there's definitely a lot to consider going forward that'll hopefully make it even better -- thanks for the feedback, once again!

Man, I was hoping to make it a little further than I did, buuuuut Yuletide. *sage nod* In any case, we're covering up to chapter eleven with this one, with special focus on that one because ... oh. Oh man.

I need to talk about Connor for a sec.

See ... I could talk about how socially awkward he is. I could, because it comes across so beautifully with little snippets here and there. (The literal massive paragraphs of caution he shows towards Byrne in the pokémon center, the shortness of his conversation with his father—of all people, how many drafts it took for him to finish that letter to Murphy, and most importantly and vividly for some reason in my mind, that entire "conversation" he has in the museum in this chapter.) Like, this kid has yet to change. In fact, it's very, very clear that eleven chapters in, we're only just seeing the start of his journey, and all the transformative bits are going to hit him like a brick wall pretty soon. (I have no doubt some of it will happen with his battle against Roark, if that ever happens. He should know half of his team has disadvantages to rock-types. He's good enough at type matchups to understand that, judging by the machop battle. The question is whether or not he can gather up enough confidence to rely on the one team member that doesn't.) But as good as that is, as deliciously awkward as that curt nod in lieu of actual speaking that museum scene was...

I need to talk about Hawley and Kurt.

And the reason why is because it's intriguing to me. See, Kurt grew up. You can tell, with his drive to go off and study for a Real Job, putting all those cutesy childhood aspirations (read: trainer's journey) on the backburner for what would basically be an adult life. You can tell with the way he reacts to Hawley showing up at his door (cautious—granted, yes, because Hawley showed up without having been given Kurt's address by Kurt himself, but there's also a mature, "this is someone from my past wtf" air about it). You can even tell with the furniture. (I mean. Black leather sofa. You don't have those unless you're really aiming to have legit furnishings for the sake of class and adulthood and all.) And hey, you can also tell with how firmly and politely he turns down Hawley's "offer" to be a sidekick—without, you know, pointing out that it's an asshat thing to do to ask someone to drop everything just to serve as someone else's backup for a hobby you've given up.

Yet it's the way he talks about Connor that piques my interest. Kurt has a good head on his shoulders, and even though he's friends with Hawley, you can tell there's been enough time and distance for Kurt to outgrow bullyhood and Hawley's general BS and machismo. Yet he talks about Connor as if the kid deserved to be bullied—like giving this kid hell was an actual positive thing to do, rather than just the childish stupidity of yesteryear. Even considering the fact that Kurt is the same age as Hawley (and iirc Connor), all of whom are teenagers, if Kurt was really on his way to being a proper adult, he would have let that kind of thing go and moved on—maybe even expressed remorse, not so much for bullying a specific person but for being stupid enough to engage in that kind of behavior. Yet he doesn't.

Which leads to the question: what the crap did Connor do?

Like. What did he do that was so bad it not only continues to fuel an incredible amount of rage in Hawley, but it drives someone who's otherwise mature enough to live on is own and study law to go, "Yeah. That kid kinda deserved it."

Between this and just how much Connor doesn't seem like the type of person Kurt describes (the kind who tries to show other people up), I'm actually inclined to believe that Connor ... wasn't always like this. He couldn't have been as shy and anxious and in desperate need of Reyes's companionship (as a grounder, of course). At some point in time, this kid was clearly someone completely different, and whatever happened just straight-up scarred the crap out of him, probably while establishing the groundwork for Hawley's assholery. I mean, I know that Kurt and Hawley talk endlessly about Connor needing help—and that's very true—but what got them so fixated on him, you know? And I also know it's heavily implied that there was legendary involvement, but ... well. My point is, I'm really looking forward to seeing the veil lifted on the mysterious incident where Connor was helped that one time, because whatever it was, it was clearly big.

Well, all of that and part of me wonders if Connor really is someone to root for. I mean, sure, Kurt and Hawley seem to be pissed off at Connor because he's weak (although there could very well be something else going on there), but would a person be pissed off for this long at someone else if that someone else hadn't also done something specific themselves? As in ... could what's going on with Hawley (and Kurt) actually be, just a little bit, Connor's fault, and maybe all that anxiety Connor is feeling is touched with extreme caution for a reason?

Idk. I'm deeeefinitely overanalyzing Connor, I think. Maybe he's just anxious. ‾\_(ツ)_/‾

In any case, a few final thoughts:
1. Byrne is a delight and a nice addition to Connor's team. He's very much a balancer to the quieter and somewhat more loyal Ronnie, and in any case, I love it when pokémon keep their trainers on their toes. Especially if they're ridiculously violent pokémon of a species you generally wouldn't expect to be ridiculously violent. (There is something adorable about imagining a small bird trying to shank everything within reach with its beak.)

2. Hoo, Roark and all the social issues entangled with his story. It's clear that Connor and Reyes are going to have to help Roark untangle the mine situation—especially since Connor's personally involved and the both of them need badges anyway—but these are very clearly spunky kids going up against actual adult problems and a very worn-out foreman-first-gym-leader-second, which means the journey to the first badge of the fic is going to be very long and probably very painful. Doubly so, given that Hawley is also involved here, and it will be a very frosty day in Hell before Hawley does anything helpful to anyone.

3. On that note, eyes emoji at whoever tried to recruit Hawley to their cause a few chapters ago. You tried, but.

But mostly, gonna plow through the next chapters because of the second point. 8) Hopefully before we get each other again for the next book club rotation, lmao.

How very internet. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen that on one of the 100 blogs. Boarofthenorth, perhaps? :V

You know, every time it seems like Connor’s making a bit of progress in overcoming his debilitating confidence issues, he tries to ask someone a question and I’m like ah, yes, of course, it’s only been like two weeks. Still the same kid at heart. I actually really like the whole paragraph of speech for once: it’s long and awkward and painful, and so it should be. Connor’s emotions are palpable in the wheezing, run-on majesty of it.

At this point my notes move on to Murphy, but before I finish up with the Three Musketeers, I have to take a moment to inform you that these are the cutest bloody wurmple. I am glad someone else understands how cute the chubby poison caterpillars are. Perfect little things! <3 Semi-relatedly, I was a bit confused about what exactly the styler did to these delightful creatures. It looped around the wurmple, yes, but all you say is “it was over in seconds” – so what happened to those wurmple, exactly? Did they dematerialise, as if drawn into a poké ball? Did they shuffle over to follow Thorven as captured pokémon do in the Ranger games? Maybe I’m making a lot of this, but I feel it’s important – I don’t need to be introduced to how capturing a pokémon in a ball works, given that the visuals of it are really well established by the games, but the capture process in Ranger is very stylised (pun kinda intended?), so it would be good to know how exactly it’s being interpreted here. If only so I know what happens to the cute little wurmple. :V

Anyway, to Murphy, a man who decides to block a Hyper Beam rather than tank or dodge it, even though it’s a steelix versus an empoleon – a cautious man, is I guess the point, trusting his partner’s stamina to hold out, going to great lengths to avoid even hits he knows his partner can take. I don’t know if that’s what we’re meant to take from his battle style. It’s what I take, and it’s interestingly at odds with the way he’s conducted himself previously – I’m guessing he’s fairly cool with getting himself into trouble, but rather cautious and careful with his partners’ safety? I guess I’ll find out whether this is right or not as we go!

Also, I’m sorta burying the lede here, ’cause apparently the Champion is literally the head of state in this world. Horrifying! Absolutely horrifying. Like that is not how one should gain political power, and also one person with that much sway over a whole nation rarely ends well. Even a benevolent monarch – I hesitate to say a ‘good’ one, as I feel like it might be definitionally impossible – will give way to another in the end, y’know? And there’s no guarantee they’ll be in any way a decent successor. Anyway, my lefty griping aside, I’m sure this will in no way become relevant down the line. :V And I wonder, too, what sort of person Murphy is. The sort of man to take power so he can dismantle the system that sustains this terrible form of government, or one whose sights are set lower – on being a benevolent king, so to speak? Not sure yet. Looking forward to finding out!

Ornette: part mobster, part witch, I suppose, much like the conceptually somewhat unclear murkrow line. I got the impression that maybe she shouldn’t live in a wine cellar; I’m pretty sure that sitting in the dark and drinking all day is called a symptom, not a lifestyle. Anyway, she rounds out what we know of the villainous team of the day rather nicely: apparently they’re some sort of self-styled community outreach project and saving-the-world initiative. Wasn’t expecting that, ngl. I guess I’ll hold off on passing judgement till I know if their actions actually bear out their words.

Also, I couldn’t decide whether Ornette’s “I’ve seen things” speech reminded me more of the opening of ‘Howl’ or Ruger Hauer’s bit in Blade Runner. So you know, I’ll go with both. :P