Dusted [Yuletide 2019]
Dec 29, 2019 22:12:06 GMT
Post by Cavespider_17 on Dec 29, 2019 22:12:06 GMT
This is a Yuletide piece for starfiregaming – The Year is 1893, nearing the end of the Wild West period. Orre is starting to develop and move on from this period. With many Pokémon from Hoenn and Unova, and the Crime Syndicate of Cipher running The Under, Butch Shawndy must face an old friend as an enemy.
The door of the shack swung open violently. The wooden boards cracked in places, and the metal handle now was bent out of shape. Footsteps crunched against the floorboards as the red monster walked into the building. Its right foot sunk through one of the planks, showing its sharp white claws. As it stepped in further, it swung its long tail into the doorframe, leaving a large dent in it. Its jaws gaped wide open showing its razor-sharp teeth. The bandit-mask black around its eyes compared to its dark red scaly skin made the occupants of the shack shudder. Black and red stripes became a blur as the creature let loose its sharp, twisted claws onto them.
“Enough,” the figure behind the Krookodile said. He tilted his brown hat. “Give us the actual, or your cousins will feel your pain too.” His frame blocking the only means of escape for the victims. The Litwicks’ body wax melted onto the table as their purple candles flickered faster, excited at the prospect of an incident going down, and one of them being able to claim a soul from the recently deceased. They eyed the citizens with a coarse giggle before turning back to the Krookodile, who let out an almighty roar. The rolling roar shit across the room, filling the little candle Pokémon with dread, making them scurry away under the old oak wooden tables.
“I said be getting the actual,” the figure said once more, allowing the Krookodile to sink its claws into the table, running them back towards its body, leaving vicious claw marks embedded in the wood.
A man with a white hat leaned forward, reaching into his pocket. His dirty brown jacket had holes scattered through the left side, making the figure twinge.
The figure looked over to him. “Now don’t be pullin’ no gull here.” He flickered a look at the man, then his jacket, then his hands again. His foot tapped impatiently at every slow move the man-made, a veteran of the robbery game, judging by his outfit. Holes from fire moves, or steel ones… something that meant business, and not business as usual. “You best be hurryin’,” the figure said, nudging his Krookodile forward.
“Oh, I am pullin’ no honey-fuggle, partner.” He pulled a little bag out of his pocket and reached in to take something out.
The Krookodile growled as a second figure pushed past the first, scarred and wary. “You be takin’ too long. Give it to him, Machamp.”
The large Pokémon pushed past the Krookodile, its purple glow filled the room with even more dread, as it waved its four arms about, grabbing the man with the white hat, tensely gripping him.
“Clay! Don’t…”
Bang.
The man was thrown across the room into several stacked tables and stalls.
The first figure, stunned, looked around the room, his hearing felt fuzzy, his sight started to darken. The second figure shoved past him again, leaving him wobbling, dizzy. He hit the floor in shock. Struggling to stay conscious as the fear took over his body, he heard a loud noise from behind.
“Freeze; the jig is up!”
The basic slate roof allowed the sand from the recent dust storm to rush down, like uncooked rice in a pot being poured into a sack. On the wooden railing, a hat rested becoming dusty. The sound of joy rattling from inside the house. The wooden planks making up the walls rotting away in places. The sound of laughter grew to meet the outdoors as the wooden door was pushed open. In his tattered shirt, Butch Shawndy walked out into the sun. He took his hat off the railing, dusting it down with his fingers.
“Hey mister Bundy!” a boy shouts to him as he ran by. “You hear the news?” He tugged on the straps, running down his chest. His brown shirt started to become untucked, and his blond hair blew a little in the wind. His pale face and his brown eyes gazed at Butch, keenly waiting for an answer.
“No pal, I ain’t heard nothing.” Butch leaned against the wooden rails. The rails creaked and wobbled as he did. He looked down at them, pushing on then now with his left and, making them wobble once more. “Damn,” he muttered. “Darling, this here rails is agee again!”
“Clayton Kinch escaped Phenac City prison.” The boy scratched his head, looking back at Butch again.
Butch stepped back, putting his hat on his head. ‘Shit,’ he thought. “Well that ain’t good now, is it?” He pressed his fingers against his chin, tapping his foot a little impatiently as he did. His boots looked tired and worn, more so with every tap.
“No sir, it ain’t. He a no good lickitun’-lickin’ wallower.” The boy stomped his foot, like a Mudsdale. His face was painted by a scowl that made his forehead seem to almost double in size. His eyes became squinted as he had screwed up his nose.
“Now you be watchin’ your tongue, Shane. It ain’t worth making your mama madder than an old wet Torchic.” Butch smiled, hiding the sickness that was boiling inside him.
Shane stepped back and looked at Butch. “Mister Bundy, ain’t you scared?”
“Nah boy, I ain’t afraid of nothin’,” Butch lied. He tilted his hat down, looking back into his house. “Why don’t you be getting on home now Shane before your mama be worryin’ about you.” Butch waved to Shane as he turned to head back into his home. ‘Arceus damn it,’ Butch thought. His footsteps on the wooden planks felt empty. He picked up the metal prod and poked the fire with its twin needled blades.
“Daddy, daddy!” a little girl said, running towards him.
“Com’ ‘ere you!” Butch bent down and picked her up, swinging her around gently in his arms. With his hand, he straightened her little pink frilled dress out. “Ah, you lookin’ pretty still. Where is mama?”
“Hmm…” the little girl paused, looking at Butch. With her left hand, she twirled her brown curly hair, before reaching up with her right and touching Butch’s much darker brown hair. “Mama said she be goin’ to the shop.”
“Ah, to the shop, you say?” Butch answered, smiling at her. “Well, why don’t you be goin’ to nap?” He gently bopped her on the nose before giving her one more cuddle. He slowly put her down and sat back down in his creaky rocking chair. ‘So… he escaped, huh? Damn Orre can’t keep its old’ Rowlet Hoots locked away or by the leafless tree.’ Butch clenched his fists. ‘Damn this town is full of them.’
“Hey Butch,” a lady in a scruffy brown dress said, coming in through the old wooden door. “What is it? What’s wrong? Is it him?” She sharply pursed her lips.
“Yeah… Clayton is going to be coming here on the shoot.” Butch straightened himself, he could feel his heart pounding with fear, but he was a sucker for excitement, even if it was his life on the line.
“I don’t know Butch, maybe he won’t.” His wife looked at him, a hopeful gleam in her eyes.
“Don’t lie to me, woman. Let’s face the facts. Kinch hates my guts and would happily have’m hanging around his neck.” Butch rocked the chair, leaning back as he did, pressing his fingers into his stubbly chin. “I’m nothin’ more than a city slinger to him now. Even if he has to cross the barren desert to get here. You remember what he went ‘n’ said as the sheriff shot his Krookodile, right?”
“I weren’t there,” she answered curtly. “It ain’t your fault that that Swamp-wallowing desert-husk tried to attack.”
“Watch your tone, no wonder the kids of the streets got the snark you do. Go do somethin’ useful.” Butch jumped out of his chair, and with a limp, he walked back out the door, leaning on the porch fence again. “I’m a damnedest traitor if there was such a thing’.”
“Mister Bundy, you ain’t on the Rowlet Hoot trail no more,” she said, laughing as mimicked the kids of the town.
“It ain’t funny…” Butch twiddled his fingers as he did. “There is somethin’ you dunno about that heist.”
The lake’s ripples froze as the heat beamed down on it, attempting to suckle its life from its grip. The Krookodile lay beside one another, growling and snapping playfully. Although, playtime would be over soon. The dusty grass swayed a little, and a warm wind blew past Butch.
“Hey, Bundy.”
“Yeah, Clay?” Butch replied.
“Come and help us move them bodies.”
“Bodies?” Butch asked Clayton.
“Yeah, you know the ones of the desert dwellers from Mt. Battle,” Clayton grumbled, he sat down as he did, taking his white hat off and resting it on a log. “Them Machamp can’t keep doin’ all the work, Bundy.”
“You mean them ‘Shadow’ Machamp?” Butch scoffed. “They ain’t no real Pokémon.”
Clayton picked up and tossed his hat threw the air, bashing it against the side of Butch’s scruffy hair. “You wanna go back to The Under without no money? Them big boys will have you all thrown into their rings.”
“Yadda, yadda, I know Clay. What you want me to do?” Butch leapt up off the floor, tired, he rubbed his eyes and wiped the sweat off his forehead.
“Help me take on them, bosses.”
“Clay, you know we got nothin’ on them Cipher gang folks. Besides, didn’t Bennett give you them Shadow Pokémon?”
“Heh, I guess that’s what you think. Maybe you are right, he adopt us.” Clayton smirked back, showing a poké ball. “Anyway, back to the job… Shadow Blastoise, perfect for dealin’ with whatever them desert dwellers pull.”
“It ain’t no real Pokémon.” Butch yawned as he looked up. “All right, I'll help you move them…”
The wind blew through the town like a soft echo, brushing past anyone who dared obstruct it. A leather hat skimmed past the salon and down the dusted road into a Mudsdale watering hole. Butch reached down into the rusted metal, scooping his hat back up. He grunted a little looking at the water, droplets trickling down onto the ground. He chuckled a little at the thought of the desert heat, draining them up within the hour.
He heard the thunderously callous footsteps behind him, starting to grow louder and louder. “Heh, don’t you Krookodile learn nothing?” He turned in place, looking up at his most loyal Pokémon. The striped beast turned its dark malicious smile into a playful, gleaming one once more. “You thought you could pounce on me?” The Krookodile sniggered a little in response. “Well let’s start our little trip by headin’ to them mines,” Butch said, petting he Krookodile’s nose.
The Krookodile turned and tilted his long nose.
“Why? Well, we gonna be needing then tools, the under ain’t no easy trip. Besides, this place ain’t exactly a crime-free town.” Butch readjusted his jacket and placed his hat back on his head. Beckoning the mon, he started to make his way back down the twisty street towards the shackled mines.
With each step, Butch could feel a strain on his chest. He looked forward to see a dirty white chalk outline embedded in the dusty ground. On the wooden arch, attributed by the townsfolk, were metal plates hanging down. Each with a name and year engraved on them.
“Hey, you wantin’ to battle?” A young teenage girl shouted at him, tossing a poké ball in hand.
Butch walked up to her, “I don’t see me having a choice,” he muttered. “Ten paces?”
“Fifteen,” the girl snapped back.
‘You must be thinking I’m an old fool,’ Butch thought. “Fifteen it is,” he answered. As he expected, she smiled back. ‘Judging by her general attire and attitude, it’s hard to guess what mon she gonna pull.’ They both made their way to the centre of Duel Square. Butch felt his hand touch one of his six Poké balls. ‘Golem, with sturdy we should be okay,’ he thought. “Ready?”
“Ready,” the girl replied.
He nodded, turning his back to her. Cautiously he stepped forward as an onlooker counted to fabled ‘fifteen’ steps they were supposed to take. However, upon ten, he heard her swivel around, throwing her Pokémon out to knock him down. He turned quickly, throwing his Golem out into Duel Square.
“Earthquake!” they both yelled.
A rumbling sound rocked around the open space, followed by the swift tumbling of the two boys. Dust kicked up off the ground as the first, a tall skinny ten year old struggled to his feet. Reaching to his shoulder to dust himself down, he found himself quashed by the second.
“Butch!” he hissed. “What the hell are you doing down here?”
“Sorry Clay, I just wanted to have an adventure just like you,” Butch said, clambering over his squashed friend and standing upright. He touched the blood on his lip from when he had fallen. “Damn it, Clay! Look what happened to my lip!”
“Keep it down, this ain’t no good territory. This is Cipher territory.” Clay adjusted his soft cap, turning around as he did to get a good look of the area.
A bright light shot out from one of the seats in the arena. The stream made both boys cover their eyes and fall back down onto their knees. The floor felt cold, and a chill darted through the air.
“What we got down here now? Two young guttersnipes.” A darkened figure stood up, peering down at the both of them. As the rest of the battlefield turned dark. “What you doing down here? This is Cipher territory. I am afraid I have no choice but to…”
“Wait!” Clayton shouted out, pouncing onto his feet. “You be no good hootin’ Rowlet, and I’m gonna stop you and take you to the sheriff.”
A cackle filled the air, making the stadium feel full of folks from the town. “You, you guttersnipe don’t stand no chance. I tell you something for skint though, you got till the count of five to get lost.”
“I challenge you to a draw!” Clayton shouted.
“Sure thing guttersnipe. Have it your way then.” The man jumped down onto the floor, rolling as he did. “On my count of ten.”
“Heh, no mine,” Clayton argued, a smug grin danced across his face. “At least that way I know you ain’t going to kill me.” He shot a pointed finger at the man.
“Heh, as you wish.” The tall man turned back around, as did Clayton. His sharp build made Clayton look far smaller than he was.
Butch’s eyes fixated on the two as they took their steps forwards. Each stepped took an eternity to pass. His heartbeat started to race.
“Five, six, seven, eight, nine…”
Before Clayton could let the word ‘ten’ escape through his lips, he felt a sharp needle rush through his shoulder. A Beedrill glared back at him as he turned around to face the Cipher man. The darkened look of sadness on the Beedrill’s face locked onto him. He fell to his knees in pain.
“Unique, isn’t it?” The man walked back over to the boys, withdrawing the Beedrill as he did. “A shadow Pokémon.”
“S-shadow Pokémon?” Butch gulped.
“That’s right. A Pokémon without a heart. We make them this way, more raw power. Afterall, Cipher should be runnin’ Orre, not them City men.”
Clayton sat up, drawn in. “Power?” He held his shoulder a little tighter.
“As for you little guttersnipe,” he bent down on a knee before Clayton. “You got guts, but nothin’ to back it up. We always need new grunts. Tell you both something, you work for us now, we feed you, and don’t throw you to the mons.”
“Sir!” Clayton spluttered out.
“Yes, sir,” Butch whispered.
Clayton slowly started to stand up, “What’s your name, sir?”
The earth slowly stopped shaking as Butch looked up. The Golem’s foot sunk into the ground from the cracks. She wobbled a little; however, the Vibrava was wedged in between two rocks, which had shot up out of the ground from the colliding earthquakes. It was shaking, desperate to escape.
“Heh, do you yield?” Butch said to the girl with a smile on his face.
“Damn you, mister!” she scowled and twitched a little, withdrawing the squirming Pokémon from its wedge.
He put his hands in his pocket and continued to walk through the square. Uneasily, he watched on as the other trainers readied to battle him if he came too close. Tossing their Poké balls up in the air. He lowered his eyes to ensure he didn’t make accidental eye contact.
His Golem trudged along behind him with a limp. Upon noticing her suffering, Butch turned to her, raising his own Poké ball up, returning her. “I guess you are tired, girl.” Keeping his eyes locked onto the floor once more, he continued to walk down the street. News of Clayton’s escaped had spread, as the streets had more or less empty except for Duel Square. The Krookodile yawned behind him, tired from the walk already. The mine was in sight now, but the cold feeling of the air made him feel sick to his stomach, as with each step closer, he came closer to facing Clayton.
His eyes looked on at the sun, as he walked out of the town, westbound until he reached the stone edge of the mine. Placing his fingers tightly around the wooden exterior, he could feel his body shiver once more. The mons inside had long since gone, it was just him, his Krookodile and his thoughts from there on out.
Closing his eyes, taking a deep breath in he stepped over the threshold. The old minecart rail tracks were still in place, although, only manual carts could be seen in the tunnels. The darkness soon surrounded him. The wooden rails on the floor were his only savage to which direction he was going. The occasional flicker from a Litwick could be seen up ahead only to reveal them to be old and worn. Stones of all shapes and sizes littered the ground where he dared to tread. The ceiling started to creep lower and lower as he ventured further in. The rails suddenly came to a halt as he was met by a feeble bridge made from rotting slabs of wooden rail, bound together by an old rope, which looked as if it was starting to become unthreaded. Little hairs from it sprung up and looked twisted. He gazed forward once more to avoid the fear the rope put into him.
The rails of the bridge wobbled as he stepped forward. The creak alerted some nearby Zubat, who fluttered around in a panic at the sound of a dreaded predator coming through the mines to get them, only to be met by the further creaking sound of the rails. Butch could hear one of the rails beneath his feet crack in half, although he was relieved there were more to support his weight, so he pressed on. What scared him most of all wasn’t the creakiness of the mine, but being caught inside by one of the miners, who dared operate it.
A wheel with a Dhelmise hanging onto it floated on his right, with a rusted smile it looked at him, or as much as the faceless Pokémon could. A small platform rested beside it, stuck in place. However, a rusted metal ladder leaned down and stared into the deep abyss below. The Under.
Butch, tiredly let go of the ladder, as he had reached the bottom. He looked back up to barely see the light from a Litwick at the top. A little sigh of relief came from Butch’s mouth. He looked forward to see the uneasy stairs lead towards the rest of the city. The Under was completely under the influence of the Cipher syndicate. Wary of being collared and thrown in the makeshift gaol with the true convicts. He tilted his hat down and started to walk forwards towards the main minecart tracks. A woman in a dirty cloak looked at him.
“Howdy, this is the Under. What you doing down here?” she asked. “He is already here, waitin’ for you.”
“Of course he is,” Butch said, and he sighed. “Surprised I’m that easily recognised.”
“Well, Cipher Admin Bennett’s little grunts aren’t easily forgotten. You and he were his favourites after all,” she chuckled a little.
The cavern filled with a shattering boom. The wooden letters for the sign ‘The Under’ shook. The N started to crack and fall onto the cavern floor.
“Wh- what was that?” the woman asked, pulling down her hood and twiddling with her golden plat.
“It can’t be good,” Butch said, running past her towards the metal stairs heading towards the saloon. His steps echoed as the crowds of people who often occupy the streets of the under appeared to be missing.
The street in which the saloon sat was dirty, cracks rested on the ground from former Pokémon shoot outs had occurred. A few Cipher grunts stood outside the saloon, waiting, covering their faces and ears from the loud coming to blows inside. A gasp came out of one of their covered mouths, and the group rushed forwards into the saloon.
Butch lowered his head, covering his face with his hat, taking his first Poké Ball out of his belt with his right hand. With caution, he slid through the doors and immediately sought shelter behind one of the overturned tables, which were spewed throughout the room.
“I glad you finally came, partner. I was looking forward to this moment. Do you know how it feels to lose your companion? It damn well hurts, Butch. Now… one of them big shot Cipher Admins is down… heh.” He looked to Admin Bennett, who had been knocked unconscious by the fighting. The mons he had used in the battle scattered around the room just like the tables.
‘Ten mons,’ Butch noted.
“I was like your son, you said, but you would let them hang me. You wouldn’t come out of this little hidey-hole to help me. No, you chose to use your influence for control and save him. Come out, Butch… I saw you. Let’s duel right and proper this time. One on one. All other codes from code duello apply.”
“Like the gentleman you always were, Clay,” Butch said, slowly rising from his hiding spot. However, before he could fully stand a Charizard fired rapid-fire blast shots at him, making him duck for cover behind the wooden table once more. ‘Damn, this is gonna burn fast,’ he thought, feeling the blazing wood burn his skin a little. He held his breath and scurried to the outside as the smoke filled the room. “I guess we ain’t playin’ by the code then…” he gasped. He wobbled to his feet and backed up along the street.
Smoke and fire burst out from the crumbling saloon. The darkness of the under became lit by the raging bright fire for a brief moment before the smoke started to spread downwards. It covered the upper levels of the under rapidly with nowhere to escape.
“Damn it, this is bad.”
The Charizard fired another set of fire blast towards Butch, making him dive down onto the ground and slide behind a building. As the crackling from the blast quietened down, Butch rolled to the left, back into the centre of the street, hurting his shoulder as he did. He tossed his first Pokémon out onto the uneven fiery ground.
The Arbok slithered forwards, putting up a protect as the fire shot forward once more. It smiled a poisonous grin as it readied to attack the Charizard.
“Earthquake!” Clayton called out, pointing forwards, waltzing towards Butch. The ground shook as the Charizard punched the ground with its fists. The cracks appeared around the punching, travelling towards the Arbok. The Arbok squirmed to the left, trying to avoid the onslaught of the ground being torn up, catching its tail in the ground and screaming out in pain.
Butch rushed forwards, tugging the tail out of the ground, shouting as he did, “Use rockslide!” To his command the Arbok slithered to the side, headbutting the ground, throwing rocks up in the air, slamming them with its broken tail and crying out in pain. The rocks flew towards the Charizard. The large orange beast tried to fly away, however, as it began to take off the rocks caught it, dragging it down to the ground. The roar filled The Under, just like the smoke had done prior.
The Arbok hissed, victoriously, turning to face Butch. As it went to smile again at him the Charizard struggled to its feet, its left-wing broken, it drew its claws out, slashing the air towards the Arbok, striking it firmly in the back of the head, cutting it down and leaving a scar. The Arbok collapsed to the floor from the powerful impact. The Charizard wobbled, looking at Butch and puffing smoke.
“Don’t you see, Butch? When it came to us… it was always me who was better.” Clayton stopped in his tracks. His face was worn from his time in gaol. His eyes narrowed, and his dirty and now sooty hair flopped down over his eyes. “Finish him!”
The Charizard thrust its non-broken wing forward, making the air slice towards Butch.
Butch tossed a Poké ball forwards, the smoke filling the area more so, making it hard to breathe.
A rock shot forwards into the air slash, consuming the energy it carried. The Golem fired another rock towards the Charizard.
“Keep going! Keep using Rock Blast!” Butch called out.
The Golem nodded at him, continuing to apply the pressure, hitting the right-wing of the Charizard, knocking it backwards.
“Don’t fool yourself! This isn’t over!” Clayton tossed his hat forwards.
‘It may not be over yet, but… you don’t have all your Pokémon conscious. The fight with Bennett destroyed more than half your team, you are down to one left, I have five.’ Butch smiled, remembering his count of the unconscious mons in the saloon. Ten.
“Let’s go, Mr Mime!” Clayton shouted, tossing the Poké ball forwards onto the ground. “Psychic!”
The air surrounding Butch seemed to tighten. The Golem grasped its head, roaring out as the pressure waves emanating from the Mime’s hands increased in intensity.
“Gah!” Butch cried, holding his head. ‘This has to stop.’ Butch reached into his pocket and loosely threw a Poké ball out of his hand. The Krookodile poured out of the ball, roaring and rushing between Butch and the Mr Mine.
The Krookodile rushed towards the Mr Mine, drawing its claws.
“Use Dazzling Gleam and shoot it down it its tracks!” The bright lights shot out from Mr Mime’s hands towards the Krookodile, slamming it in the chest, scorching it. However, the large Pokémon, angry, kept charging forward. The gleaming beam burning it more as each second ticked.
The Krookodile slashed at the Mr Mime with is claws, knocking it back, redirecting the bright beam into the sky. The mon drew its teeth and chomped down on Mr Mime’s arms. The dark energy surged through its teeth, weakening the psychic into a dizzied state.
Clayton drew his pistol, quickly, aiming at the Krookodile.
Bang.
The pistol fell from Clayton’s hands.
A few flashes rushed around from all around the two. Team Cipher was there. Butch watched as they grabbed Clayton, dragging him away. Butch slumped down on the ground, exhausted and breathless.
“It is over now,” Butch whispered, lying down on the floor.
Source (https://www.legendsofamerica.com/we-slang/)
Desert Outpost
The door of the shack swung open violently. The wooden boards cracked in places, and the metal handle now was bent out of shape. Footsteps crunched against the floorboards as the red monster walked into the building. Its right foot sunk through one of the planks, showing its sharp white claws. As it stepped in further, it swung its long tail into the doorframe, leaving a large dent in it. Its jaws gaped wide open showing its razor-sharp teeth. The bandit-mask black around its eyes compared to its dark red scaly skin made the occupants of the shack shudder. Black and red stripes became a blur as the creature let loose its sharp, twisted claws onto them.
“Enough,” the figure behind the Krookodile said. He tilted his brown hat. “Give us the actual, or your cousins will feel your pain too.” His frame blocking the only means of escape for the victims. The Litwicks’ body wax melted onto the table as their purple candles flickered faster, excited at the prospect of an incident going down, and one of them being able to claim a soul from the recently deceased. They eyed the citizens with a coarse giggle before turning back to the Krookodile, who let out an almighty roar. The rolling roar shit across the room, filling the little candle Pokémon with dread, making them scurry away under the old oak wooden tables.
“I said be getting the actual,” the figure said once more, allowing the Krookodile to sink its claws into the table, running them back towards its body, leaving vicious claw marks embedded in the wood.
A man with a white hat leaned forward, reaching into his pocket. His dirty brown jacket had holes scattered through the left side, making the figure twinge.
The figure looked over to him. “Now don’t be pullin’ no gull here.” He flickered a look at the man, then his jacket, then his hands again. His foot tapped impatiently at every slow move the man-made, a veteran of the robbery game, judging by his outfit. Holes from fire moves, or steel ones… something that meant business, and not business as usual. “You best be hurryin’,” the figure said, nudging his Krookodile forward.
“Oh, I am pullin’ no honey-fuggle, partner.” He pulled a little bag out of his pocket and reached in to take something out.
The Krookodile growled as a second figure pushed past the first, scarred and wary. “You be takin’ too long. Give it to him, Machamp.”
The large Pokémon pushed past the Krookodile, its purple glow filled the room with even more dread, as it waved its four arms about, grabbing the man with the white hat, tensely gripping him.
“Clay! Don’t…”
Bang.
The man was thrown across the room into several stacked tables and stalls.
The first figure, stunned, looked around the room, his hearing felt fuzzy, his sight started to darken. The second figure shoved past him again, leaving him wobbling, dizzy. He hit the floor in shock. Struggling to stay conscious as the fear took over his body, he heard a loud noise from behind.
“Freeze; the jig is up!”
*** 10 Years Later ***
Pyrite Town
Pyrite Town
The basic slate roof allowed the sand from the recent dust storm to rush down, like uncooked rice in a pot being poured into a sack. On the wooden railing, a hat rested becoming dusty. The sound of joy rattling from inside the house. The wooden planks making up the walls rotting away in places. The sound of laughter grew to meet the outdoors as the wooden door was pushed open. In his tattered shirt, Butch Shawndy walked out into the sun. He took his hat off the railing, dusting it down with his fingers.
“Hey mister Bundy!” a boy shouts to him as he ran by. “You hear the news?” He tugged on the straps, running down his chest. His brown shirt started to become untucked, and his blond hair blew a little in the wind. His pale face and his brown eyes gazed at Butch, keenly waiting for an answer.
“No pal, I ain’t heard nothing.” Butch leaned against the wooden rails. The rails creaked and wobbled as he did. He looked down at them, pushing on then now with his left and, making them wobble once more. “Damn,” he muttered. “Darling, this here rails is agee again!”
“Clayton Kinch escaped Phenac City prison.” The boy scratched his head, looking back at Butch again.
Butch stepped back, putting his hat on his head. ‘Shit,’ he thought. “Well that ain’t good now, is it?” He pressed his fingers against his chin, tapping his foot a little impatiently as he did. His boots looked tired and worn, more so with every tap.
“No sir, it ain’t. He a no good lickitun’-lickin’ wallower.” The boy stomped his foot, like a Mudsdale. His face was painted by a scowl that made his forehead seem to almost double in size. His eyes became squinted as he had screwed up his nose.
“Now you be watchin’ your tongue, Shane. It ain’t worth making your mama madder than an old wet Torchic.” Butch smiled, hiding the sickness that was boiling inside him.
Shane stepped back and looked at Butch. “Mister Bundy, ain’t you scared?”
“Nah boy, I ain’t afraid of nothin’,” Butch lied. He tilted his hat down, looking back into his house. “Why don’t you be getting on home now Shane before your mama be worryin’ about you.” Butch waved to Shane as he turned to head back into his home. ‘Arceus damn it,’ Butch thought. His footsteps on the wooden planks felt empty. He picked up the metal prod and poked the fire with its twin needled blades.
“Daddy, daddy!” a little girl said, running towards him.
“Com’ ‘ere you!” Butch bent down and picked her up, swinging her around gently in his arms. With his hand, he straightened her little pink frilled dress out. “Ah, you lookin’ pretty still. Where is mama?”
“Hmm…” the little girl paused, looking at Butch. With her left hand, she twirled her brown curly hair, before reaching up with her right and touching Butch’s much darker brown hair. “Mama said she be goin’ to the shop.”
“Ah, to the shop, you say?” Butch answered, smiling at her. “Well, why don’t you be goin’ to nap?” He gently bopped her on the nose before giving her one more cuddle. He slowly put her down and sat back down in his creaky rocking chair. ‘So… he escaped, huh? Damn Orre can’t keep its old’ Rowlet Hoots locked away or by the leafless tree.’ Butch clenched his fists. ‘Damn this town is full of them.’
“Hey Butch,” a lady in a scruffy brown dress said, coming in through the old wooden door. “What is it? What’s wrong? Is it him?” She sharply pursed her lips.
“Yeah… Clayton is going to be coming here on the shoot.” Butch straightened himself, he could feel his heart pounding with fear, but he was a sucker for excitement, even if it was his life on the line.
“I don’t know Butch, maybe he won’t.” His wife looked at him, a hopeful gleam in her eyes.
“Don’t lie to me, woman. Let’s face the facts. Kinch hates my guts and would happily have’m hanging around his neck.” Butch rocked the chair, leaning back as he did, pressing his fingers into his stubbly chin. “I’m nothin’ more than a city slinger to him now. Even if he has to cross the barren desert to get here. You remember what he went ‘n’ said as the sheriff shot his Krookodile, right?”
“I weren’t there,” she answered curtly. “It ain’t your fault that that Swamp-wallowing desert-husk tried to attack.”
“Watch your tone, no wonder the kids of the streets got the snark you do. Go do somethin’ useful.” Butch jumped out of his chair, and with a limp, he walked back out the door, leaning on the porch fence again. “I’m a damnedest traitor if there was such a thing’.”
“Mister Bundy, you ain’t on the Rowlet Hoot trail no more,” she said, laughing as mimicked the kids of the town.
“It ain’t funny…” Butch twiddled his fingers as he did. “There is somethin’ you dunno about that heist.”
*** 12 Years Prior ***
Orre Desert Oasis
The lake’s ripples froze as the heat beamed down on it, attempting to suckle its life from its grip. The Krookodile lay beside one another, growling and snapping playfully. Although, playtime would be over soon. The dusty grass swayed a little, and a warm wind blew past Butch.
“Hey, Bundy.”
“Yeah, Clay?” Butch replied.
“Come and help us move them bodies.”
“Bodies?” Butch asked Clayton.
“Yeah, you know the ones of the desert dwellers from Mt. Battle,” Clayton grumbled, he sat down as he did, taking his white hat off and resting it on a log. “Them Machamp can’t keep doin’ all the work, Bundy.”
“You mean them ‘Shadow’ Machamp?” Butch scoffed. “They ain’t no real Pokémon.”
Clayton picked up and tossed his hat threw the air, bashing it against the side of Butch’s scruffy hair. “You wanna go back to The Under without no money? Them big boys will have you all thrown into their rings.”
“Yadda, yadda, I know Clay. What you want me to do?” Butch leapt up off the floor, tired, he rubbed his eyes and wiped the sweat off his forehead.
“Help me take on them, bosses.”
“Clay, you know we got nothin’ on them Cipher gang folks. Besides, didn’t Bennett give you them Shadow Pokémon?”
“Heh, I guess that’s what you think. Maybe you are right, he adopt us.” Clayton smirked back, showing a poké ball. “Anyway, back to the job… Shadow Blastoise, perfect for dealin’ with whatever them desert dwellers pull.”
“It ain’t no real Pokémon.” Butch yawned as he looked up. “All right, I'll help you move them…”
*** Present ***
Pyrite Town
The wind blew through the town like a soft echo, brushing past anyone who dared obstruct it. A leather hat skimmed past the salon and down the dusted road into a Mudsdale watering hole. Butch reached down into the rusted metal, scooping his hat back up. He grunted a little looking at the water, droplets trickling down onto the ground. He chuckled a little at the thought of the desert heat, draining them up within the hour.
He heard the thunderously callous footsteps behind him, starting to grow louder and louder. “Heh, don’t you Krookodile learn nothing?” He turned in place, looking up at his most loyal Pokémon. The striped beast turned its dark malicious smile into a playful, gleaming one once more. “You thought you could pounce on me?” The Krookodile sniggered a little in response. “Well let’s start our little trip by headin’ to them mines,” Butch said, petting he Krookodile’s nose.
The Krookodile turned and tilted his long nose.
“Why? Well, we gonna be needing then tools, the under ain’t no easy trip. Besides, this place ain’t exactly a crime-free town.” Butch readjusted his jacket and placed his hat back on his head. Beckoning the mon, he started to make his way back down the twisty street towards the shackled mines.
With each step, Butch could feel a strain on his chest. He looked forward to see a dirty white chalk outline embedded in the dusty ground. On the wooden arch, attributed by the townsfolk, were metal plates hanging down. Each with a name and year engraved on them.
“Hey, you wantin’ to battle?” A young teenage girl shouted at him, tossing a poké ball in hand.
Butch walked up to her, “I don’t see me having a choice,” he muttered. “Ten paces?”
“Fifteen,” the girl snapped back.
‘You must be thinking I’m an old fool,’ Butch thought. “Fifteen it is,” he answered. As he expected, she smiled back. ‘Judging by her general attire and attitude, it’s hard to guess what mon she gonna pull.’ They both made their way to the centre of Duel Square. Butch felt his hand touch one of his six Poké balls. ‘Golem, with sturdy we should be okay,’ he thought. “Ready?”
“Ready,” the girl replied.
He nodded, turning his back to her. Cautiously he stepped forward as an onlooker counted to fabled ‘fifteen’ steps they were supposed to take. However, upon ten, he heard her swivel around, throwing her Pokémon out to knock him down. He turned quickly, throwing his Golem out into Duel Square.
“Earthquake!” they both yelled.
*** 15 Years Prior***
The Deep
A rumbling sound rocked around the open space, followed by the swift tumbling of the two boys. Dust kicked up off the ground as the first, a tall skinny ten year old struggled to his feet. Reaching to his shoulder to dust himself down, he found himself quashed by the second.
“Butch!” he hissed. “What the hell are you doing down here?”
“Sorry Clay, I just wanted to have an adventure just like you,” Butch said, clambering over his squashed friend and standing upright. He touched the blood on his lip from when he had fallen. “Damn it, Clay! Look what happened to my lip!”
“Keep it down, this ain’t no good territory. This is Cipher territory.” Clay adjusted his soft cap, turning around as he did to get a good look of the area.
A bright light shot out from one of the seats in the arena. The stream made both boys cover their eyes and fall back down onto their knees. The floor felt cold, and a chill darted through the air.
“What we got down here now? Two young guttersnipes.” A darkened figure stood up, peering down at the both of them. As the rest of the battlefield turned dark. “What you doing down here? This is Cipher territory. I am afraid I have no choice but to…”
“Wait!” Clayton shouted out, pouncing onto his feet. “You be no good hootin’ Rowlet, and I’m gonna stop you and take you to the sheriff.”
A cackle filled the air, making the stadium feel full of folks from the town. “You, you guttersnipe don’t stand no chance. I tell you something for skint though, you got till the count of five to get lost.”
“I challenge you to a draw!” Clayton shouted.
“Sure thing guttersnipe. Have it your way then.” The man jumped down onto the floor, rolling as he did. “On my count of ten.”
“Heh, no mine,” Clayton argued, a smug grin danced across his face. “At least that way I know you ain’t going to kill me.” He shot a pointed finger at the man.
“Heh, as you wish.” The tall man turned back around, as did Clayton. His sharp build made Clayton look far smaller than he was.
Butch’s eyes fixated on the two as they took their steps forwards. Each stepped took an eternity to pass. His heartbeat started to race.
“Five, six, seven, eight, nine…”
Before Clayton could let the word ‘ten’ escape through his lips, he felt a sharp needle rush through his shoulder. A Beedrill glared back at him as he turned around to face the Cipher man. The darkened look of sadness on the Beedrill’s face locked onto him. He fell to his knees in pain.
“Unique, isn’t it?” The man walked back over to the boys, withdrawing the Beedrill as he did. “A shadow Pokémon.”
“S-shadow Pokémon?” Butch gulped.
“That’s right. A Pokémon without a heart. We make them this way, more raw power. Afterall, Cipher should be runnin’ Orre, not them City men.”
Clayton sat up, drawn in. “Power?” He held his shoulder a little tighter.
“As for you little guttersnipe,” he bent down on a knee before Clayton. “You got guts, but nothin’ to back it up. We always need new grunts. Tell you both something, you work for us now, we feed you, and don’t throw you to the mons.”
“Sir!” Clayton spluttered out.
“Yes, sir,” Butch whispered.
Clayton slowly started to stand up, “What’s your name, sir?”
*** Present ***
Pyrite Town
The earth slowly stopped shaking as Butch looked up. The Golem’s foot sunk into the ground from the cracks. She wobbled a little; however, the Vibrava was wedged in between two rocks, which had shot up out of the ground from the colliding earthquakes. It was shaking, desperate to escape.
“Heh, do you yield?” Butch said to the girl with a smile on his face.
“Damn you, mister!” she scowled and twitched a little, withdrawing the squirming Pokémon from its wedge.
He put his hands in his pocket and continued to walk through the square. Uneasily, he watched on as the other trainers readied to battle him if he came too close. Tossing their Poké balls up in the air. He lowered his eyes to ensure he didn’t make accidental eye contact.
His Golem trudged along behind him with a limp. Upon noticing her suffering, Butch turned to her, raising his own Poké ball up, returning her. “I guess you are tired, girl.” Keeping his eyes locked onto the floor once more, he continued to walk down the street. News of Clayton’s escaped had spread, as the streets had more or less empty except for Duel Square. The Krookodile yawned behind him, tired from the walk already. The mine was in sight now, but the cold feeling of the air made him feel sick to his stomach, as with each step closer, he came closer to facing Clayton.
His eyes looked on at the sun, as he walked out of the town, westbound until he reached the stone edge of the mine. Placing his fingers tightly around the wooden exterior, he could feel his body shiver once more. The mons inside had long since gone, it was just him, his Krookodile and his thoughts from there on out.
Closing his eyes, taking a deep breath in he stepped over the threshold. The old minecart rail tracks were still in place, although, only manual carts could be seen in the tunnels. The darkness soon surrounded him. The wooden rails on the floor were his only savage to which direction he was going. The occasional flicker from a Litwick could be seen up ahead only to reveal them to be old and worn. Stones of all shapes and sizes littered the ground where he dared to tread. The ceiling started to creep lower and lower as he ventured further in. The rails suddenly came to a halt as he was met by a feeble bridge made from rotting slabs of wooden rail, bound together by an old rope, which looked as if it was starting to become unthreaded. Little hairs from it sprung up and looked twisted. He gazed forward once more to avoid the fear the rope put into him.
The rails of the bridge wobbled as he stepped forward. The creak alerted some nearby Zubat, who fluttered around in a panic at the sound of a dreaded predator coming through the mines to get them, only to be met by the further creaking sound of the rails. Butch could hear one of the rails beneath his feet crack in half, although he was relieved there were more to support his weight, so he pressed on. What scared him most of all wasn’t the creakiness of the mine, but being caught inside by one of the miners, who dared operate it.
A wheel with a Dhelmise hanging onto it floated on his right, with a rusted smile it looked at him, or as much as the faceless Pokémon could. A small platform rested beside it, stuck in place. However, a rusted metal ladder leaned down and stared into the deep abyss below. The Under.
The Under
Butch, tiredly let go of the ladder, as he had reached the bottom. He looked back up to barely see the light from a Litwick at the top. A little sigh of relief came from Butch’s mouth. He looked forward to see the uneasy stairs lead towards the rest of the city. The Under was completely under the influence of the Cipher syndicate. Wary of being collared and thrown in the makeshift gaol with the true convicts. He tilted his hat down and started to walk forwards towards the main minecart tracks. A woman in a dirty cloak looked at him.
“Howdy, this is the Under. What you doing down here?” she asked. “He is already here, waitin’ for you.”
“Of course he is,” Butch said, and he sighed. “Surprised I’m that easily recognised.”
“Well, Cipher Admin Bennett’s little grunts aren’t easily forgotten. You and he were his favourites after all,” she chuckled a little.
The cavern filled with a shattering boom. The wooden letters for the sign ‘The Under’ shook. The N started to crack and fall onto the cavern floor.
“Wh- what was that?” the woman asked, pulling down her hood and twiddling with her golden plat.
“It can’t be good,” Butch said, running past her towards the metal stairs heading towards the saloon. His steps echoed as the crowds of people who often occupy the streets of the under appeared to be missing.
The street in which the saloon sat was dirty, cracks rested on the ground from former Pokémon shoot outs had occurred. A few Cipher grunts stood outside the saloon, waiting, covering their faces and ears from the loud coming to blows inside. A gasp came out of one of their covered mouths, and the group rushed forwards into the saloon.
Butch lowered his head, covering his face with his hat, taking his first Poké Ball out of his belt with his right hand. With caution, he slid through the doors and immediately sought shelter behind one of the overturned tables, which were spewed throughout the room.
“I glad you finally came, partner. I was looking forward to this moment. Do you know how it feels to lose your companion? It damn well hurts, Butch. Now… one of them big shot Cipher Admins is down… heh.” He looked to Admin Bennett, who had been knocked unconscious by the fighting. The mons he had used in the battle scattered around the room just like the tables.
‘Ten mons,’ Butch noted.
“I was like your son, you said, but you would let them hang me. You wouldn’t come out of this little hidey-hole to help me. No, you chose to use your influence for control and save him. Come out, Butch… I saw you. Let’s duel right and proper this time. One on one. All other codes from code duello apply.”
“Like the gentleman you always were, Clay,” Butch said, slowly rising from his hiding spot. However, before he could fully stand a Charizard fired rapid-fire blast shots at him, making him duck for cover behind the wooden table once more. ‘Damn, this is gonna burn fast,’ he thought, feeling the blazing wood burn his skin a little. He held his breath and scurried to the outside as the smoke filled the room. “I guess we ain’t playin’ by the code then…” he gasped. He wobbled to his feet and backed up along the street.
Smoke and fire burst out from the crumbling saloon. The darkness of the under became lit by the raging bright fire for a brief moment before the smoke started to spread downwards. It covered the upper levels of the under rapidly with nowhere to escape.
“Damn it, this is bad.”
The Charizard fired another set of fire blast towards Butch, making him dive down onto the ground and slide behind a building. As the crackling from the blast quietened down, Butch rolled to the left, back into the centre of the street, hurting his shoulder as he did. He tossed his first Pokémon out onto the uneven fiery ground.
The Arbok slithered forwards, putting up a protect as the fire shot forward once more. It smiled a poisonous grin as it readied to attack the Charizard.
“Earthquake!” Clayton called out, pointing forwards, waltzing towards Butch. The ground shook as the Charizard punched the ground with its fists. The cracks appeared around the punching, travelling towards the Arbok. The Arbok squirmed to the left, trying to avoid the onslaught of the ground being torn up, catching its tail in the ground and screaming out in pain.
Butch rushed forwards, tugging the tail out of the ground, shouting as he did, “Use rockslide!” To his command the Arbok slithered to the side, headbutting the ground, throwing rocks up in the air, slamming them with its broken tail and crying out in pain. The rocks flew towards the Charizard. The large orange beast tried to fly away, however, as it began to take off the rocks caught it, dragging it down to the ground. The roar filled The Under, just like the smoke had done prior.
The Arbok hissed, victoriously, turning to face Butch. As it went to smile again at him the Charizard struggled to its feet, its left-wing broken, it drew its claws out, slashing the air towards the Arbok, striking it firmly in the back of the head, cutting it down and leaving a scar. The Arbok collapsed to the floor from the powerful impact. The Charizard wobbled, looking at Butch and puffing smoke.
“Don’t you see, Butch? When it came to us… it was always me who was better.” Clayton stopped in his tracks. His face was worn from his time in gaol. His eyes narrowed, and his dirty and now sooty hair flopped down over his eyes. “Finish him!”
The Charizard thrust its non-broken wing forward, making the air slice towards Butch.
Butch tossed a Poké ball forwards, the smoke filling the area more so, making it hard to breathe.
A rock shot forwards into the air slash, consuming the energy it carried. The Golem fired another rock towards the Charizard.
“Keep going! Keep using Rock Blast!” Butch called out.
The Golem nodded at him, continuing to apply the pressure, hitting the right-wing of the Charizard, knocking it backwards.
“Don’t fool yourself! This isn’t over!” Clayton tossed his hat forwards.
‘It may not be over yet, but… you don’t have all your Pokémon conscious. The fight with Bennett destroyed more than half your team, you are down to one left, I have five.’ Butch smiled, remembering his count of the unconscious mons in the saloon. Ten.
“Let’s go, Mr Mime!” Clayton shouted, tossing the Poké ball forwards onto the ground. “Psychic!”
The air surrounding Butch seemed to tighten. The Golem grasped its head, roaring out as the pressure waves emanating from the Mime’s hands increased in intensity.
“Gah!” Butch cried, holding his head. ‘This has to stop.’ Butch reached into his pocket and loosely threw a Poké ball out of his hand. The Krookodile poured out of the ball, roaring and rushing between Butch and the Mr Mine.
The Krookodile rushed towards the Mr Mine, drawing its claws.
“Use Dazzling Gleam and shoot it down it its tracks!” The bright lights shot out from Mr Mime’s hands towards the Krookodile, slamming it in the chest, scorching it. However, the large Pokémon, angry, kept charging forward. The gleaming beam burning it more as each second ticked.
The Krookodile slashed at the Mr Mime with is claws, knocking it back, redirecting the bright beam into the sky. The mon drew its teeth and chomped down on Mr Mime’s arms. The dark energy surged through its teeth, weakening the psychic into a dizzied state.
Clayton drew his pistol, quickly, aiming at the Krookodile.
Bang.
The pistol fell from Clayton’s hands.
A few flashes rushed around from all around the two. Team Cipher was there. Butch watched as they grabbed Clayton, dragging him away. Butch slumped down on the ground, exhausted and breathless.
“It is over now,” Butch whispered, lying down on the floor.
Glossary
Actual – Money
Agee - Crooked
Code Duello – The Duelling Code of 1777
Gaol - Jail
Gull – A trick
Guttersnipe – A child who slept in the streets
Honey-fuggle – To pull the wool over someone’s eyes
Jig is up – Game over
Leafless tree - Gallows
Madder than an old wet Torchic/hen – Very angry
On the shoot - Looking for Trouble
Rowlet Hoots/Owl Hoots - Outlaws
Rowlet Hoot Trail/Owl Hoot Trail – Outlaw way of life/path
Saloon - Bar
