Shtomping Below

Andrew’s heart beat rapidly. 

“Can I open my eyes yet?” The Marshtomp asked. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and a cold sensation seeped into his skin as Thomas’ vines danced around his face.

Thomas giggled softly. “Not yet!” His voice was cheery, even more so than usual.

Andrew grumbled. Everything was dark green except for a small bout of light breaking through.

Resistance is futile. It can’t be that bad.

“Andrew, I love you, I want you to know that. But the way you acted at my parents’ place… Sorry, I just can’t let it slide.” 

Thomas sighed as he lifted his vines from Marshtomp’s face, light cascading down his eyes before the world became clear to him again.

He had never seen something so horrible.

Before him was the kitchen sink, or rather, a metal cauldron built into the countertop with a hole draining outside the house. It contained no liquid– It was instead filled to the brim with towering dishes, blocking half of the window behind it.

“There was a pasta eating competition at a restaurant nearby. I took the liberty of volunteering to wash all of the dishes used!” Thomas proclaimed as he smiled warmly.

Andrew’s mouth fell agape. “N-No… you wouldn’t.”

“But I would!” Thomas replied before stepping over to Andrew. 

The Marshtomp felt a tingling sensation before Thomas leaned over and planted a small kiss on his cheek. 

A sudden heat spread across his body. His eyes darted between himself and the looming pile of dishes which seemed to mock him with their aroma of fresh pasta. It was by no means bad. In fact, it would be quite pleasing to most.

But his overexposure had transformed the once splendid dish into something repulsive. The urge to gag grew stronger and more nagging with each moment he stared at the stained porcelain dishes. 

Thomas pulled a chair from out under the nearby table and sat down. “You embarrassed me. You do the dishes.”

“This is not fair,” Andrew humphed, crossing his arms.

The Servine rolled his eyes. “I think it’s rather light considering your actions.”

“I’m the president!” Andrew whined as he stomped his foot like a toddler. “I don’t have to do what you say!”

Thomas reached out a vine and coiled it around Andrew’s flipper. He pulled him forward, meeting no resistance until Andrew’s forehead was touching his. 

Hey, this is pretty romantic…

Andrew closed his eyes and awaited Thomas’ incoming kiss. Maybe he’ll even let me off the hook with these dishes? 

But it never came. 

“I am not giving you a choice here,” the Servine whispered instead. “Wash the dishes unless you’d like me to seek… alternative punishments.”

He gulped. Thomas again uncoiled his vines and released Andrew from his grasp. 

The Marshtomp looked back at the dishes, sighing. “Fine, I’ll wash the stupid dishes.”

“Great!” Thomas replied in the earlier cheery voice. “Don’t worry, I’ll be here to keep you company.”

He’s talking like this isn’t the worst torture imaginable.

The Marshtomp shuffled over to the sink. Lying beside it was a metal bucket full of soapy water and a yellow sponge. He squeezed it once before dipping it into the bucket. After it was heavier, darker, and dripping with suds, he moved the sponge onto a plate on the counter and began to scrub.

“I think this is fairly mild considering how you behaved,” Thomas reminded him. A steaming mug had since materialized on the table before him which he picked up and took a small sip from. 

Andrew groaned as he placed the first washed plate to the side. “Will you let it go already? Your parents and how I was at their house is all you’ve talked about since we went!”

“Andrew, you’re the first partner I’ve ever had,” the Servine replied. His eyes softened. “You’re the first person I’ve ever looked at and immediately knew that I loved. That we were meant to be together.”

“I have that effect on most people.”

Thomas smiled, shaking his head. “I was just… I told them how much I loved you. I made you seem like the perfect partner in my letters.”

He placed another dish to the side. “I don’t see anything wrong with that. Maybe I have my faults, but we’re both pretty great, right?”

“I love you, Andrew. And because I love you, I am obligated to say that you are not a perfect person,” the Servine spoke with a hint of weariness.

Some of the water dripped onto Andrew’s flipper, causing a pleasant sensation to run over it. “Nobody’s perfect. But as far as flawed people go, I’m not that bad. Mirage was more flawed than me.”

“That’s not a high bar,” Thomas said before taking another sip from his mug. “And at least Mirage was known for his decorum, which you severely lack.”

The Marshtomp craned his head back and grinned. “Decorum! I’ve got plenty of that! I’ll show you all my decorum when Christmas comes around.” 

Thomas gave him a deadpan stare. “I don’t think you know what decorum means.”

“Words have meanings,” Andrew replied flatly, his voice monotone. “If a word is used so much to represent one idea, its meaning is diluted. In addition, if a word is used so much to represent an idea which it wasn’t intended to, it will eventually come to do so.”

 His partner’s eyes narrowed. “Okay then…”

“So basically,” the Marshtomp continued as he put another dish to the side, “If I say decorum means to decorate, it does.”

Thomas stood up and brought his mug to the sink before placing it on top of the pile. “Perhaps, but you are the only one claiming decorum means to decorate. Nobody else is. So it does not have a new meaning.”

Andrew glared at him. “You don’t expect me to wash that.”

“You never do the dishes!” Thomas humphed. “I know you’re out of the house more often, but it’s still no excuse. The least you can do is wash one more mug.”

“I never do the dishes?” Andrew scoffed as he held the sponge inches away from Thomas’ face and shook it. “You bring in extra dishes for me to do! How can you say I don’t?!”

The Servine curled his hands into fists. “I only brought in extra dishes so you’d do the dishes!” 

“I thought this was punishment for acting out at your parents’ place!” He yelled. “But now it’s because I don’t do the dishes? Huh? Make up your mind Thomas!”

“I have made up my mind! You’re doing the dishes!” Thomas shouted back.

Andrew threw the sponge, which hit the wooden floor with a loud, wet thwap. Soapy water escaped and sprayed across the floor. 

“I’M NOT DOING THE DISHES!” 

The cry echoed throughout the house. The dishes rattled clanking noisily against each other. The sound subsided as quickly as it had erupted, and the room fell into a tense silence. 

Andrew stood still with his feet drenched in the soapy water. Thomas simply gazed at him, a look of bewilderment on his face.

The Marshtomp found himself taken aback by his partner’s expression. A tension rose from within his chest as a primal urge to fight back, to win, tried to escape his mouth. He expected Thomas to be upset, to feel the same way.

But he didn’t. Or at least, it didn’t look like it.

The Marshtomp picked up the sponge and placed it back in the bucket, making sure to savor every moment his fingers were submerged.

He sighed, “Thomas, I’m—”

“Just don’t.”

Andrew reached out a flipper. Thomas’ vine came up to coil around it. His grip was light enough that the Marshtompcould easily yank away if he desired.

“I’m sorry!” He pleaded. “I got angry, and I didn’t mean to lash out, and I’m scared because ever since I—”

“It’s fine,” Thomas replied, in a cold, dead tone of voice. 

Did I kill him? Is Thomas’ ghost possessing his body?

They both stood in silence for another moment. Andrew picked the sponge back up and began to scrub. Just like nothing ever happened.

Thomas sat back down. The Marshtomp looked behind him after each plate he washed, but at no point did his partner meet this gaze. He looked at the window, the floor, and the ceiling, but not at him. It was as though he no longer existed in the Servine’s eyes.

Andrew chuckled awkwardly. “So…”

“So,” Thomas replied back.

The Marshtomp stared blankly out the window, not focusing on any one sight in particular. Spears of grass swayed in the backyard as the winds of the neverending winter pushed them back and forth like a pendulum. 

“Is this our first big fight?” He asked, still avoiding his partner’s gaze.

Thomas also looked out toward the yard. “I guess so. Unless there’s something I’m forgetting.”

“It’s weird. I guess I’m Surprised I was ever able to get into a relationship where I could have a big fight over something stupid.”

The Servine chuckled, an air of his usual lightheartedness creeping back into his voice. “Crazy, isn’t it? Who knows, maybe I’d have been burnt to a crisp in my house if it wasn’t for you.”

“Your house only got burnt to a crisp because of me,” Andrew laughed, turning back to see Thomas looking at him with his sympathetic, expressive eyes.

Thomas leaned back in his chair. “Oh well. I think it was worth it.”

Knock knock!

Thomas perked up as he looked down the hallway. “I wonder who that could be? I’ll answer it.”

He got up and made his way toward the front door. Andrew picked up another plate and began scrubbing. The pile of clean dishes had become as tall as the pile of still-dirty ones, much to Andrew’s relief and amusement.

“Oh, you?” The Servine said, his voice echoing down the hall.

Andrew placed down the plate. Crap. Okay, who do we know that knows where we live? Charlie? No, I don’t think he knows this address. I guess there is… oh no.

“Andrew!” Thomas called. “Some Pokemon are here to see you.”

Goddamnit.

Andrew trudged over to the now-ajar front door to be met with two quadrupedal Pokemon.

“Hiya!” Called out Ryder in his all-too-familiar voice, obnoxious voice.

Jason bowed his head. “Hello again, Andrew. We have matters to discuss.”

“How come you always have to bother me when I’m at home? You could at least make the office a bit less boring,” Andrew complained with a grimace.

Jason rolled his cloudy eyes. “We can’t exactly just waltz into your castle.”

Yeah. MY castle.

“I’d prefer you not drag your dirty feet in my house. Let’s take this outside, shall we?” Andrew commanded.

He traded a glance with Thomas, and the Servine nodded. Andrew stepped into the frigid outdoor air and shut the door behind him. He led the two guests onto the front lawn before plopping down onto the grass.

“So, why the hell are you here?”

Jason sat straight on the lawn like a perched cat. “Against our better judgment, we’re here to make a deal. The final deal that any of us are willing to make before there’s trouble. “

“Ooh. Trouble,” Andrew mocked as he leaned his head back and grinned.

Jason maintained a serious glare. Ryder’s red eyebrows narrowed as two canines jutted out from his frowning face. 

You want to kill me too? Sorry man, there’s a line.

“We’re not joking, Andrew,” Jason spat as his ears rose. “You single-handedly doubled the unemployment rate of Grandeport by shutting down our guild.”

Andrew lay down on the grass, raising a finger. “Do you have a source for that information?”

“Can I punch him?” Ryder asked. 

The sky turned to a deep, blood-red. The Espeon looked up to it and smirked. 

Andrew pushed himself back up. The quiet street around them seemed unchanged despite the new color of the sky. And it’s a bold assumption this idiot has the power to make anyone other than us see it.

“Really not sure what I’m supposed to take away from this. Oh no! Ryder can make the sky turn red!” He taunted as he held his flippers up to his face, feigning a scared expression. “Oh no! Oh no! Somebody, help!”

Ryder motioned a paw forward and gave his partner a bored stare. “This is why I should get to punch him.”

The Zorua raised his front leg, narrowing his eyes and focusing on Andrew’s face. But right as Ryder was about to release a punch, a lavender paw flew in and pushed the appendage down.

“I knew he’d stop you!” Andrew laughed, wiping off a bead of sweat.

“It’s the last time I’m going to,” Jason muttered, gritting his teeth.

“Didn’t you say that last time?”

“No,” the pair said simultaneously.

“Well, that’s a shame,” The Marshtomp sighed, the breath long and exaggerated. “It’s a nice red day out, so I guess we should cut the small talk. What exactly do you want with me this time? Something horrid, I imagine.”

The Espeon groaned. “It’s simple. All we want you to do is—”

“Reopen the Grandeport Guild,” Andrew interrupted before rolling his eyes. 

“Well, at least you know what we’re here for,” The Espeon muttered sarcastically.

“My god Jason. Always the stupid Grandeport Guild with you! Don’t think about closing the guild, Andrew! Don’t close the guild, Andrew! Reopen the guild, Andrew! Do it for the children! Goddamnit Jason, do you hear yourself?” The Marshtomp mocked as he threw his arms around dramatically. 

“You think I’m going to walk back on the only impact I’ve ever had on the world? And for what!? So you and your stupid ass me-replacement can go larping around this stupid city playing police? In a city with police, mind you! Going around arresting poor, innocent Pokemon!? So you can take them back to your prison and you’ll starve and beat them in the name of justice, and proclaim your superiority? So you can banish them, humiliate them, and take away whatever’s left of their humanity!? Why should I ever allow something like that to exist again?”

The illusion faded, or so it seemed to dissipate as the sky turned a deep gray, waves of clouds rolling in from the horizon.

Jason stood up before huffing. “Do you hear yourself, Andrew? 

His fingers curled into fists. “Every. Damn. Word.”

“How do you wake up in the morning?” Ryder asked, with a serious glare, all the usual flare and smugness of his voice gone. “How do you wake up knowing all the horrible things you’ve done?”

The Marshtomp stood up and brushed himself off. “Man, there’s other guilds in the world. Yeah, yeah, Grandeport Guild’s closed. Who cares? Get over it.”

“Andrew! This is about more than the stupid guild!” The fox cried as the clouds turned dark and black. Thunder boomed as his eyes flashed a brilliant blue.

Jason tilted his head to the side, unfazed by the sudden change in weather. “Isn’t it? Ryder? Remember what we—”

“No! I’m done putting up with this! I haven’t seen my mother in months because of this dimwit! He arrested her! Don’t ya see it, Jason? Our lives were perfect before!” The Zorua cried, seething, before lunging at Andrew. He flew forward, only to be blocked by a light purple barricade appearing suddenly between them.

Andrew held up his flippers in defense. “Woah. Look, as of recently, I’ve learned that I’m flawed. But, I feel like I’d know if I…arrested your mom, ha.” He barely stifled a hardy laugh. 

A fog began to surround the trio. Lighting struck down in the distance as the booming of thunder grew ever louder. Jason was completely obscured from view, as Andrew’s heart began to beat in a rapid tempo.

“Oh please,” The Marshtomped said as he let out a nervous chuckle. “Before you almost had me fooled thinking that maybe this whole thing wasn’t an illusion. But now, c’mon. I mean it’s all so obviously fake. You’re getting desperate, Ryder.”

Dense clouds of mist now completely obscured Andrew’s vision, enveloping him. The booming thunder had given way to a complete silence. He felt the grass beneath his feet, but looking down revealed nothing but darkness. 

Utter darkness.

It was everywhere. They weren’t even surrounded by clouds anymore— by some force of sheer will, Ryder had taken him off the earthly plane. Andrew was imprisoned. There was no more noise. He called out for help but could no longer hear his own yells.

He was trapped.

Andrew jerked around violently, thrashing, punching, doing anything to try and escape the inky mist that consumed him. His own body was no longer visible, he could no longer be considered Marshtomp or human; Instead, Andrew was a floating consciousness in an infinite abyss.

Am I really… dead? Is this it? Ryder, huh? Of all people, that’s the one to kill me?

He wanted to scream, but he couldn’t.

“You don’t remember my mother!?” Boomed an ethereal voice. It was not one Andrew recognized, nor one he wanted to. 

He tried to give some response, to open his non-existent mouth. To explain his actions to Ryder— to whatever strange entity was doing this to him. Nothing left his mouth. The Marshtomp felt his larynx vibrate. Why am I not talking?! 

“This is fun. Seeing ya here, finally just knowing how it feels to be helpless! I’ve been practicing,” The voice taunted. It had raised in pitch, though still beyond recognition as a Pokemon’s, and hints of Ryder’s true voice had crept in.

Andrew tried to push out words, though failed again to give any meaningful response.

“Nothing to say for yourself? That’s a shame. I wonder how my mother’s doing in whatever cell you left her in. Do you think she has a voice, Andrew?” the voice asked, full of scorn and contempt. 

Suddenly, the Marshtomp could see his flippers. His bright orange stomach reappeared as the mist subsided, allowing him to see down to his toes. The clouds began to lift like a curtain to reveal that Andrew was still on the lawn with Jason and Ryder, not in some dimension of eternal judgment.

Finally, the mysterious storm clouds blanketing the sky began to fade. Sunlight broke through as Andrew’s surroundings brightened back into their usual state of calm.

Ryder looked up at the sky. “I guess I’ll let you keep your voice. But only because I’m better than to take someone else’s away.”

The Zorua took a bow the best he could from his quadrupedal stance as Jason just stood there and gave Andrew a curious glare. 

“I think that’s gotta be some of my best work. Agree, Marshy?” The fox asked with a smirk.

Andrew scowled. “You two crawled out of whatever hole you live in so you could spook me? Again, would it kill you to do that during office hours?”

“We came here to discuss the guild. Not to do whatever Ryder just did to you. And there’s still a chance to salvage this mess if you listen to us, Andrew!” Jason pleaded, his ears drooping.

The Zorua turned away from Jason. “Personally, I came here to do whatever I just did to Andrew.”

“I’m confused,” Andrew muttered as he crossed his flippers. “You two really have got to get on the same page on this whole thing.”

“Let my mom out of jail and I’ll never bother you again. How ‘bout that? Deal?” Ryder pressed as he ran a paw along his head, tearing at the red-tipped tuft.

Andrew squeezed his eyes shut and grunted. “I don’t know shit about your mom, alright?! You’re acting like I had some master plan to arrest your mom and… don’t get me wrong, that’s actually a really good idea. But you thought of it before me.”

“Anne Zoroark. You arrested her while I was getting treated for the concussion you caused! Can you imagine how it feels to wake up one day and have everything you know destroyed?!” Ryder snapped. He narrowed his brow and stared daggers into Andrew.

The Marshtomp groaned. “I know way more about that than you ever will. Now both of you, please just go away. I need to lie down.”

“Fuck you!” Spat Ryder.

Andrew rolled his eyes. “The feeling is mutual.”

He began to trudge away from the two and back up to the front door.

“I have something I can use to blackmail you, Andrew!” Jason called from behind.

“And I have blackmail on you,” Andrew murmured without turning around. Do I? Probably. 

. “If you turn away now, that’s it!” Jason said, unrelenting as he stomped a foot. “We have what you never will. Family. Yes, at times we have our differences. We’re far from perfect. But we’ll always stick together when it matters and that is why the Resistance—

“Jason! Enough empty threats for one day! Fuck off!” Andrew shouted. He swung the door open and stepped inside. Without looking back at the two, he slammed it back shut, forcefully sealing the barrier between him and the ex-guild members.

---

“I mean, Jason was yelling something about the Resistance the other day.”

“Oh, thanks Andrew! Real helpful!” Charlie spat as he peered down from the white balcony on which they stood. 

On the ground was a crowd of over a hundred Pokemon. The group blended into an amalgam of colors and faces, but one Andrew had come to recognize as the accumulation of the former Grandeport Guild’s members.

The Marshtomp had grown numb to the waving of signs and disorganized chants. The occasional word could be heard coming up from under Andrew.

“Power! Freedom! Guild! Money!” 

But to decipher the exact meaning of the cry would be a task as worthwhile to Andrew as appeasing them. 

Charlie’s tail waved side to side as he looked down upon the gathering, watching with a look of bewildered fascination. “I do find the Tax Office to be a strange place to protest. But, I guess it’s easy to get to.”

The Balcony Andrew and Charlie stood atop was two stories above ground level. The brick building they were in rose another three stories toward the sky and was surrounded by the wooden shops and offices of Grandeport. 

“Should we like, have the cops break it up?” Andrew asked, also staring dumbfoundedly at the protesters.

Charlie rubbed his head. “No, I’m just… why the Tax Office? Are they protesting taxes?”

“I assume they’re protesting the guild being closed,” Andrew said as he straightened his bowtie.

“I don’t know,” Charlie said as he narrowed his eyes. “I think they might be protesting taxes.”

Andrew shrugged. “You can ask them.”

Charlie leaned over the edge of the balcony and cupped his paws around his mouth. He cleared his throat. “Are you guys protesting taxes!?”

A few of the Pokemon looked up at him and hollered. He was answered only by fragments of words, chants, and instinctual cries.

“What are they saying?” Asked Andrew.

The Raichu tilted his ear toward the crowd. “I have no idea. They’re all yelling over each other.”

“I’m not sure what you were expecting.”

Charlie scowled. “They’re the ones outside the Tax Office.”

“Would now be a good time to bring up that Mirage was your dad?” The Marshtomp questioned as he raised a finger. 

“What do you think, Andrew?” Charlie shot back, giving him a weary stare.

He smiled. “So it is a good time? Alright then, tell me all about it!”

“We have more pressing matters.”

“Oh come on!” Andrew groaned as he pointed down at the protesters. “What are they gonna do? They couldn’t do something noteworthy if they tried. It’s honestly kind of sad. I might even feel bad for them if they didn’t hate me.”

Charlie took a step back from the balcony railing and faced the door. “It’s not a good look to have these Pokemon here.”

“Then shouldn’t we have the police break it up? I’m sure the Bisharps would like a bit of exercise.”

The Raichu smirked. “How would you know? They say that to you?”

“Just a gut feeling… ha… I guess,” Andrew yawned before making his way to the door as well. “Who knew being president would be so exhausting?”

“You’re just exhausted because I made you walk here.”

“I’m exhausted because—”

Before he could finish the thought, the impossible happened. The scattered cacophony of voices below came together in unison as they yelled out with all their might.

“ANDREW MARSHTOMP!!!”

The two ran back over to the edge to see a newly created hole in the center of the crowd. In the center was the Quilava Andrew recognized from the guild protest, standing on his hind legs.

The crowd quieted just in time for him to clear his throat and point up at the balcony. “Andrew Marshtomp, Agent of Giratina, bringer of distortion! You have taken our livelihoods, but you’ll never take our spirit!”

The crowd erupted in cheer. They clapped and stomped in support of Leo before pointing up themselves and booing. 

“The hell are they talking about?” Andrew murmured to Charlie.

“Uh… about that,” the Raichu uttered, biting his lip. “The ‘Agent of Giratina’ thing is a classic conspiracy. Never seen it accuse a water-type though. Oh, how times change.”

The Quilava pointed his paw directly up at the two, identifying him. “Look at them, looming… They think they’re above us! Are we going to just let them look down on us? No, we will not!”

More cheers erupted as Charlie rolled his eyes.

“Hey!” He called down. “Quilava, are you guys protesting tax policy? Because you might notice that this is a building that administers tax collection.” 

Andrew humphed. “They’re not protesting taxes.”

“We have not gotten a clear answer yet.”

“Well, I’m preeeetty sure they aren’t~!” Andrew sang sarcastically, putting on an artificial smile.

Charlie crossed his arms. “Pretty sure, or one hundred percent sure?” 

Andrew pulled at his head fin, groaning. “This is stupid.”

“You’re stupid.”

The Marshtomp let his head fall forward. “We should probably do something about this.”

“We should probably do something about this,” Charlie repeated.

Andrew looked down to see the Quilava deliberating with members of the crowd. Black and purple outlines immediately stuck out to him as Jason and Ryder, who appeared to be having a conversation with the leader.

The crowd had gone oddly quiet as if trying to eavesdrop on Leo and the pair. 

“Are you getting any of this?” The Marshtomp whispered to Charlie.

“I gave up on trying to hear them. There should be some police down there getting this information, anyway,” Charlie said with a shrug as he looked back at the door. He walked away and disappeared from the protesters’ view.

“Where does he think he’s going?” Leo pressed.

More booing came from the crowd as the area shook with the might of an earthquake and with the potency of a volcano seconds before an explosion. Charlie paid no attention, however. He swung open a white door and disappeared into the tax office, leaving Andrew alone.

It’s me they want, isn’t it? They scared Charlie off so they could kill me!

Andrew poked his head over the balcony and cupped his mouth with his flippers. “Look, Pokemon! I really don’t want any trouble here. The Grandeport Guild had too much power. It abused its prisoners, blah blah, you get the jist. I don’t care how much you protest. Hell, I don’t care if you kick down my front door. It’s dead. Join the other guilds.”

“See him up there? Atop his golden throne?!” Leo hollered, gesturing to the apathetic Marshtomp. 

“Give me a break! It’s a goddamn balcony! And I’m up here because you’re down there below me!” Andrew retorted as he crossed his flippers and stuck up his chin.

In an instant, his head fell back down and his eyes went wide.

Uh oh.

Andrew realized his mistake before the crowd did, but it was no use. Flames ignited along Leo’s head and back and around him as the whole mob began to scream and yell, invigorated with anger. Pure, primal cries of anger and rage filled the street, drowning out any hope of reason and advocacy for Andrew. The Marshtomp’s eyes widened as a sudden weight overcame his chest. He couldn’t move. Andrew watched on in horror as the mob’s anger grew larger, their cries louder.

Damn damn damn damn damn damn GODDAMNIT!

His legs felt heavy, as though they were dragging him through the floor. He could only watch as a bright red dot flickered from the edge of the crowd, angrily flashing and glowing as if alive and in solidarity with them.

The dot grew in size to become a blazing orb of pure red fire. It suddenly shot through the sky above the crowd.

Andrew saw Leo look up at it with a crude, malicious smile on his face.

The fireball burst toward the Marshtomp, and soon it was only a few meters away. It pulsated and danced and burned without a care in the world. 

It was feet away from his face.

Andrew tried to move. But, in a cruel twist of irony, his legs were as heavy as a Snorlax, trying to pull him down to the ground below with those he had scorned. They remained locked in place, unable to move.

The fireball was in front of him.

Until it wasn’t.

Something yanked on his left flipper, and Andrew felt his legs lift off the ground as the great weight was forcibly lifted from his body. However, the weightlessness was short-lived as gravity quickly forced his body to the ground with a light thud.

The world turned upside down, and the sky became his new ground. The Marshtomp had fallen just in time to see the mighty fireball above in all its glory. It looked to be about four feet in diameter, with small flares and belts of fire shooting off from it. The fireball collided with the brick wall behind him with a roar before dissipating into thin air.

“What are you doing? We need to get out of here!” Charlie yelled before grabbing Andrew by the flipper and dragging him through the door.

His head banged against the wooden floor as his surroundings transformed from the deep blue sky into plaster walls and ceilings. He sat up, his chest still heaving as he observed the inside. 

Ugly brown walls framed the small and narrow hallway. There was a window on either side of the balcony door and another lone door at the end of the hall.

The inside was cold and drafty.

Andrew sighed, shaking as he listened to the muffled chanting still resounding from outside.“Thanks.”

“That was impressive Andrew. You got a fireball shot at you the minute after I leave, that’s got to be some sort of record,” Charlie sighed as he held out a paw.

Andrew grabbed it, and Charlie pulled him up to his feet. The two turned to the windows.

“Do you think it’s like… bad that an angry protester just shot a fireball at me?” He asked.

Charlie smiled deviously before rubbing his paws together, creating a spark of static. “Don’t worry, Andrew. We’ll make sure they get what’s coming to them.”