The Powder Keg of Grandeport

“Have all the necessary payments been made, Chloe?”

Andrew and Chloe stood outside Grandeport Castle. It was dusk, the sun only barely peeking over the horizon. The Flaaffy was cloaked in darkness—and Andrew was cloaked in his dark green cloak.

The Flaaffy sighed. “Yes. I’ve taken the liberty of delivering Poke to everyone on your list.”

“That’s nice to hear,” Andrew whispered in an ominous voice, leaning toward her and cracking a smile. “You’ve done a very good job, Chloe.”

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean what am I doing?” Andrew huffed as he crossed his flippers. “Am I not talking to you?”

She pointed at the looming wall of the castle. “Why are we standing out here in the freezing cold at this hour? Andhy are you speaking like a villain from a kid’s book?!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he humphed as he stomped his foot.

She clenched her fists and looked up at the sky. “My Arceus Andrew!”

“Okay, let’s be clear. I have been nothing but perfectly reasonable with you. I have told you what you’re supposed to do, Chloe, and all you’ve had to do is get it done. So would you drop the attitude and show me a bit of respect?” Andrew responded, sticking his chin up.

The Flaaffy’s head fell back down, meeting Andrew with a large scowl and hateful eyes, fury filling every inch of her pink, moonlit face. “Excuse me, Andrew!?”

“I am paying you a ridiculous amount of money! …How much exactly, I forget,” He muttered. “And you’ve done nothing but complain, complain, complain!”

Chloe threw out her arm and pointed her finger at him. “I only complain because of how ridiculous you are!”

“Do I not have a right to be ridiculous?!” He snapped back as he lurched forward with flippers raised and ready to attack.

The Flaaffy jolted backward. She shot her arms up to defend herself as a soft crackle of electricity not unlike Charlie’s was emitted by the tufts of wool on her head.

Andrew sighed, remaining in place as he gazed at the frozen Flaaffy. That’s weird… Did I scare her? Is it just a ploy to garner some sympathy with me? No, it’s…

“Ch-Chloe, can I ask you something?” The Marshtomp asked softly.

“What?” She jeered, her eyes flashing red and piercing the darkness of the night.

Andrew’s fingers curled into fists. “Are you afraid of me? Like, do I scare you or something?”

“Of course not! I’d never be scared of a stupid Marshtomp!” She humphed, staring at him with disgust at such an idea.

“You seemed scared a second ago.”

Her ears twitched. “I wasn’t.”

“Look, Chloe I—” 

Andrew e shut his mouth and his eyes. Thoughts swirled through his mind, fragments of words. He tried to piece together something that would make sense. 

“I’m trying to be a better person. And I don’t know,” the Marshtomp began as his gills drooped. “I want to be on good terms with you. There are enough people already who want me dead, and I don’t think I can deal with another, especially not one I interact with regularly.”

The Flaaffy took a deep breath, looking up at the moon. “Andrew, I don’t want you dead. I might not even hate you, I guess. It’s just, things have been hard for me lately, and this job causes me so much stress!”

“What? How? Minister of transportation is the easiest job ever to exist,” Andrew remarked with a huff.

She tilted her head. “You think shuttling money from a cave in the middle of nowhere is easy? I’m sorry, Marshtomp. What do you do all day that’s so challenging?”

“I think that’s irrelevant, hahaha,” he laughed nervously, tugging at his left flipper.

“And what if I screw up?!” Chloe shouted before throwing her arms out. “What if I do something so wrong that you fire me? And then my mother—you don’t know what she’d do to me!”

Tears began to well from her eyes. They grew into small pools before streaming down the poor Flaaffy’s face and dripping down onto the cool grass below. The electric sheep let out a soft wail as her hands shot over her face to block out her surroundings and stop the tears.

But her tears still flowed from beneath them, and her cries remained loud. Andrew stood idly and began to fidget with his fingers as he looked away.

Oh no. Do I like, say something? I… I should! I have to be a better person, even if Chloe may be part of the secret conspiracy against me. Alright, Andrew. Man the hell up you wimp, time to show some empathy!

“Chloe I’m sorry—”

“She’ll kill me, Andrew!” the Flaaffy sobbed. “My mom will chop me up and sell me for scraps!”

A stream of glistening water burst from her eyes to feed a puddle on the ground. Andrew took a step back, his heart beginning to pound as an alarm began to go off in his mind. What do I do?! How do I calm her? Why is she crying? Will her mom kill me too?

He cleared his throat and raised a finger. “Chloe, I promise you don’t have anything to worry about. I’m not going to fire you.”

“How do I know that?” she screamed, her bottom lip quivering as she took her hands off her face. 

Andrew smiled nervously. “Well, I literally can’t without my power being challenged, so there’s something.” 

This hardly seemed to calm the Flaaffy, who continued bawling as though she were falling to her death.

Her employer looked to the sky. The sun had long since set at this point and the only light came from the moon and a few lit windows in the castle. He cleared his throat. “Ch-Chloe, I do have to get home soon. My roommate will start to worry if I’m out for too long. And y’know how it is. That’d be a whoooooole thing.”

“Y-You promise to never fire me?” Chloe sniffled, wiping her face.

Andrew rolled his eyes. “Yes, I promise I will not fire you. Just keep delivering money to whoever I say and everything will work out fine.”

“I’ve delivered all the money you wanted me to,” Chloe said with a quiver still in her voice. Tears stained her face, and the puddle beneath her was almost the size of the Flaaffy herself. Despite this, she had stopped crying, much to Andrew’s relief.

He tapped his head. “Hmm… Drop some off at my house tomorrow and take whatever is left for yourself.”

“Thanks,” She replied as she regained her composure, standing tall and speaking normally. “. I’m sure my mom will be happy to hear about this.” 

“Your mom?” Andrew snorted. “I said for yourself. Get something nice, gamble, buy fancy crap, do whatever Pokemon blow their money on. Maybe invest in real estate?” 

“It’s fine. My mom will probably have a better idea of what to do with it all anyway. Could really make the guild a lot nicer, maybe some lucky Pokemon will even get a raise,” she said as she began to walk away from the castle.

Andrew ran to catch up with her. He placed a flipper on the Flaaffy’s shoulder, pressing down and pulling Chloe to face him. “Give your mom a cent of that money and you’re fired.”

---

Thomas opened the door with a smile. Andrew nodded before wiping his feet on the doormat beneath him and stepping inside. Warm candles lit the hallway as a foreign aroma drifted from the kitchen.

“Something’s cooking,” the Marshtomp laughed, leaning his head on Thomas’ shoulder.

The Servine gave Andrew a small kiss. “I know you’ve been getting fed up with pasta, so I’m trying something new.”

“Ooh, do tell,” He replied, but he gave no opportunity for Thomas to do so, making his way to the kitchen to investigate the strange, sweet smell. 

The oven was on, a bright light glowing within it. Andrew had never taken the time to pay it any attention before. It was a black, clunky contraption like that of a furnace, hidden away in the corner of the kitchen. A dark black door with a clear glass window covered its front. A long pipe stretched up from it and into the ceiling, releasing somewhere outside. 

He sniffed the air. It was a familiar smell, but one he had not experienced in some time. “Thomas, what is this? I recognize it.”

“It’s lasagna!” Thomas replied happily. 

Andrew’s mouth began to water. A slight pang of hunger deep in his gut had suddenly multiplied by ten times as if his stomach were now a bottomless pit waiting to be filled with cheesy goodness. “Lasagna? That takes me back.”

“I think it’s just about ready,” the Servine said as he reached over to the counter, where two fabric tubes lay. He slipped them onto his vines before opening the oven and taking the lasagna out. 

As Thomas placed it on the counter, steam rose from the pan, cheese bubbling and settling back down. It smelled amazing. As the dish was no longer confined to the oven, Andrew could get a good look at it, feeling whatever hunger he felt a moment ago totally dwarfed by the intense beckoning he was feeling now.

 “It’s beautiful,” he muttered, entranced by the dish.

“Good, isn’t it?” Thomas asked, now brandishing a shiny knife perfect for slicing into the layers of exquisite cheese, pasta, and tomato.

Andrew stepped back. I might start salivating on it if I stand here much longer. 

Thomas drove the knife into the lasagna, cutting it straight down the middle. There were no noises except for the longing rumbles of Andrew’s stomach echoing through the house. The Servine began creating columns upon columns of perfectly sliced lasagna. 

“Andrew, could you get me the spatula and some plates?”

The Marshtomp obeyed, getting two plates from a cabinet and a spatula from a drawer before handing them to his boyfriend.

Thomas scooped up two large pieces of lasagna onto each plate. 

Words failed Andrew as he stared down at the glorious tower of pasta.

“Thomas, I— How could this… Is this real? Am I dreaming?” He uttered. He could not tear his eyes away from the perfect lasagna, he could not move. the Marshtomp could only stare at its greatness.

Thomas smiled. “I don’t think this is a dream. But just in case it is, you should eat your lasagna before you wake up.”

They carried their plates to the table, which had a set of silverware and napkins laid out on each of the long sides. Andrew picked up his knife and cut a piece of the lasagna, scooping it up with his fork and stuffing it into his wide mouth.

It was exquisite. A familiar taste, a memory of an Italian restaurant popped into his mind. I was with my family, Mom, Dad, younger brother. I ordered lasagna and…

The memory stopped. There was something… something that was missing from it. Andrew could envision his human self happily eating the lasagna, and then… something happened.

Something.

Andrew sighed.

Thomas frowned. “Is everything alright? I really wanted this to be good…”

“No! It’s fine!” Andrew interjected, vigorously shaking his head. “This lasagna’s great. It’s just that I remembered something from when I was human because of it.”

“O-Oh, I’m sorry,” Thomas replied,’ his lower lip beginning to protrude. A quiver crept into his voice.

Goddamnit Andrew! Two Pokemon crying because of you in one day?! “Thomas, don’t cry! I love this lasagna. It’s not a bad memory! Just something I’m trying to piece together.”

The Servine seemed to lighten up, his lip receding back into its normal position before he took another bite of lasagna. He swallowed and wiped his mouth. “I’ve been meaning to ask, Andrew… Do you remember your life as a human? Usually, most humans claim to have amnesia and only remember their names.”

“No, I remember who I was damn well,” Andrew chuckled as he ate another piece. “It feels like an old memory. I was young, but I think I used to know this memory.” He wracked his mind for a moment, scratching his head. “It’s important. Probably in my brain somewhere, just buried.”

“Hate when that happens,” Thomas remarked.

Andrew shrugged. “What can I say? I think I’ll remember it if I focus hard enough. Just gotta, well, focus.”

“First focus on eating your lasagna,” Thomas joked, wiping a splotch of tomato sauce from his face.

The Marshtomp nodded, again putting more lasagna into his mouth. But he could not stop his mind. It wandered and pulled at his earliest memories; he recalled falling out of his bed as warm sunlight shined in between the cracks of shades covering a window.

He remembered coming home from school during his last day on Earth. Washing his hands, eating dinner, talking with some friends, and finally heading off to bed. Of course, only to wake up that morning in a body that wasn’t his own.

Andrew’seyes began to wander. His eating slowed to the point he was barely taking bites at all or even savoring the ones on his fishy tongue. 

“Andrew, are you sure you like it?” Thomas asked, his eyes filling with worry.

The Marshtomp snapped back to reality. Damnit! I was close. “No, I love this lasagna. It’s been so long since I’ve had anything like it—and it reminds me of home. I promise you, it’s just that I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“No, I get it. With the police and the resistance, and this whole president thing, I certainly wouldn’t have much time to think about my history if I were in your situation,” Thomas confessed before taking the final bites of his food. “Sometimes we all need a moment.”

“Yeah. I’ve heard about the human amnesia thing, and y’know what? They’re lucky.”

Thomas brought his plate over to the sink. “Lucky? Getting your mind wiped is hardly my idea of luck. Imagine losing every experience that you have ever lived. Losing everything that makes you… you.”

“I didn’t say I’d want it. But, can you imagine what it’d be like to just start over? To be yourself without all the baggage?” Andrew asked seriously. His lasagna had since grown cold, but he managed to stuff the rest of it into his mouth and swallow. 

“But you’re not yourself. That’s why it’s scary,” Thomas stated as he crossed his vines. 

Andrew also got up and placed his plate in the sink. “I’m happy that I’m still myself. Being a Pokemon has changed me, but I’m still the same person I was before this whole thing began. I’ll always be Andrew. But, I can’t lie that the idea of being something else tempts me.”

“I’d prefer you stay as you are,” Thomas groaned, a nagginess in his voice and a scowl on his face.

Andrew rolled his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere—at least not of my own volition. I’ll be here with you as long as the Resistance doesn’t get to me.”

“The Resistance isn’t going to get you,” Thomas assured as he wrapped his vine around Andrew’s flipper. He pulled the Marshtomp over to his seat and sat him down. “Stop being so paranoid!”

His chest expanded as he took large gasps of air and his eyes darted back and forth. “Paranoid? You think that I’m paranoid after they tried to kill me?! Why is everyone so blind? I’m not being crazy!”.

The Servine tightened his grip. “I don’t think you’re crazy. We’ve been over this, you’re getting worked up over nothing.”

“So I’m crazy? This is nothing?!” Andrew shouted before he slammed his flipper on the table. The silverware vibrated, letting out a high-pitch ring.

Thomas’ scowl grew, his sharp teeth becoming exposed. “Stop putting words in my mouth! I don’t think you are crazy, but you’ve got to stop this. At this rate, it’ll drive you mad.”

“Fine!” Andrew yelled. “I’ll just ban the Resistance! Then I won’t have to think about them anymore.” 

Thomas released Andrew and brought his vines up to his face, letting his head fall into them. “No, no, no, that’s a terrible idea! And hasn’t the council already vetoed it?”

“Who cares what the council does? They’re not my boss.”

The Servine groaned. “Yes, they are.”

“The Resistance isn’t peaceful. They’re a bunch of violent rioters. I just have to make the council see that. Everyone will realize that I’ve been right all along and ban those stupid protesters. Then I’ll be heralded as a national hero, and more or less become immortal.”

Thomas laid a vine on the Marshtomp’s shoulder. “Andrew. I believe the Resistance should exist. I don’t like that they tried to kill you… twice. But, maybe they can change? If you can make that happen, it’d be the best for everyone.” 

He narrowed his brow. “Y-You think they should be allowed to exist? What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“Nothing! It’s just that after Mirage, I’d like for people to be able to… express themselves without fear of being punished,” Thomas explained, holding up his vines in concession.

Andrew grunted. “Would it be so hard for them to express themselves without trying to kill me? God, Thomas, we’re going in circles! I’m so done with this.”

He got up from his chair before pulling it out, the seat shifting with a screech and causing Thomas to back up. He slammed a foot on the ground, then the other, and the first foot again, so on and so forth. The Marshtomp stomped across the kitchen and down the now-dim hallway all the way to his door. 

Thomas followed close behind, still anxious to explain the error of Andrew’s ways. “But you’ve got to understand I’m a journalist! I know these people are bad, and I don’t like them! But if you ban them you’ll be infringing on everyone’s right to express themselves.”

Stupid Thomas, stupid council, ugh. He grabbed the door handle and swung it open. His bed was neatly made, with some obvious touch-ups done by Thomas after he’d left for work. “Yeah yeah, I’ve been in civics class, Thomas. But they’re trying to hurt me! Do you care more about your principles or my life?”

“I just think—”

“Answer. The. Question,” Andrew said coldly.

Thomas went silent and turned his back to Andrew. His tail didn’t sway or display any sign of excitement or affection. The air seemed to grow heavy as the flames of the candles the hallway went out one by one, giving way to tiny strings of smoke.

“I care about you, Andrew. You know that.”

He felt a pain in his throat, his voice coming out weaker as he nervously muttered. “Y-Yes, I know that Thomas. I never d-d-doubted it.”

Then it was his turn to break away from Thomas’ gaze. Chloe cried, and Thomas almost cried. Now what, is it my turn? Is this Arceus screwing with me? Is this what he meant by life adjustments?

“Not for them, Andrew,” Thomas said softly. “But for me, give the Resistance one last chance. And if something bad happens, I’ll be by your side. No matter what.”

“Th-Thank you,” he wheezed, tears beginning to flow from his eyes and mucus beginning to clog his nostrils. 

Thomas tapped his shoulder before the creaking of wood told Andrew he was gone. The Marshtomp disappeared into his room without looking back.

---

 Andrew sat at his desk. Before him sat a simple piece of paper with a printed decree.

“Council Approved Bill.”

“Please forward to: PRESIDENT ANDREW MARSHTOMP, to be signed.” 

His name was stamped onto the document in dark, thick black ink. Every law that found its way to his desk seemed to be handwritten beautifully in cursive. Ends of letters twirled and danced with a sort of medieval elegance, and periods and commas were perfect circles and spears. 

But, “PRESIDENT ANDREW MARSHTOMP,” always stood out in a standoffish font and blocky, monotone letters.. Somebody in the depths of Grandeport castle, hidden behind entryways and corridors must have acquired a stamp with his name. 

Kind of cool, he remarked mentally. 

He opened a drawer beneath and pulled out a pencil. All the laws were written in ink, but nobody had complained about him signing with a pencil, the papers afterward disappearing as quickly as they had appeared. 

Do they use a quill to write with ink? I mean, there’s no shortage of feathered Pokemon around here, but it’s still kind of weird.

Andrew lowered his pencil. Right before it pressed down on the page, it moved.

Weird.

It was subtle, but it had moved just far enough that the pencil no longer aligned with the line allotted for his signature. Not thinking much more of it, Andrew repositioned his writing utensil and lowered it back down. 

The whole room began to shake. Books began falling off the surrounding bookshelves as Andrew’s swerving chair began to rock back and forth against his will. 

“The hell is happening right now?” he called out to no one in particular before dropping the pencil.

His office doors flew open. Charlie burst through with a trail of electricity following him. The Raichu skidded to a halt right before Andrew. 

“Charlie?” the Marsthomp asked. “What’s happening?”

His cheeks crackled and a distressed expression occupied his face. “You’re not gonna like this.”

He grabbed Andrew’s flipper and yanked him out of the room. They began to pick up speed, zooming straight down the hallway. Seconds passed and everything blurred, the Marshtomp unable to make out anything but fuzzy, constantly changing colors. They went up a level, possibly two. Andrew couldn’t tell. He felt his insides twisting and churning.

After thirty seconds of running, they began to slow. After reality reformed around them, Andrew found himself in a small room overlooking the front side of the castle. He looked down out of a window to find an unfortunately familiar sight.

Oh no.

It was the Resistance.

Gathered in the castle courtyard was the same mass of Pokemon that had plagued them before. They stretched around the main gate and into the surrounding forest, the Vulpix and Lucario who normally stood guard nowhere to be found.

“Well, fuck,” Andrew muttered before grimacing.

Charlie crossed his arms. “I didn’t think they’d have the guts to show up here. Especially considering how far out we are from the city. Luckily, all twenty of the Bisharp guards are stationed at the main entrance, so we shouldn’t have a problem.”

The Marshtomp looked down. While the main gates were not in his view, he could see no guards. “I don’t see any of them. Are you sure they’re there?”

“I’m keeping them inside, so they don’t get hurt.”

Andrew turned to him, his mouth agape. “Are you stupid?” 

“What? No!” Charlie fumed, staring daggers back at him.

His hands flew onto the sides of his head, pulling his gills down. “Don’t you think it’d be a good idea to have the guards outside?!”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. They will be inside in case something bad happens.”

Andrew looked down. Making their way through the crowd was none other than Jason and Leo. It was the first time he had caught a glimpse of them in a crowd from relatively close, able to watch them strut toward the front. 

Leo’s flames were too bright and raging to be ignored, and Jason seemed calm. Ryder was nowhere to be found. Probably in the back of this mess getting beat up by some idiot Pokemon.

“What do you think they’re going to say this time?” Andrew asked, pressing his flipper up against the window.

Charlie shrugged. “Judging from my experiences with these nuts, something along the lines of ‘Reopen the guild, screw Andrew Marshtomp!’”

However, as they gazed down upon the crowd, they noticed that no podium had been erected. The crowd did not focus or revolve around Jason and Leo despite them being in front. It was strange, unorthodox. This gathering had a different energy to it.

There was little noise, the racket seeping in mostly muted by the walls. Andrew recalled the shouts of the crowd being louder when he was in the tower, decently farther from the crowd than he was currently.

Andrew moved back from the window. His heart began to pound and beads of sweat rolled down his body. “What are they doing, Charlie?” 

“I don’t know. If I had to guess, protesting? I know this is quite the revelation, but that seems to be their thing,” he sneered sarcastically.

The Marshtomp shook his head as the crowd moved forward, more and more Pokemon emerging from the forest. “No, no. This is different. I know it, this is wrong, this isn’t how their protests go.”

BANG!

His head fin vibrated, sensing movement. Looking down, he saw a wave of Pokemon slamming into the gigantic front doors. They backed up to show the neat grass below utterly matted and trampled. All of them rushed forward again in tandem, smashing right back against the gates.

Andrew’s fin vibrated again, more strongly this time. “Charlie!” 

“Don’t worry. Those gates wouldn’t open even if fifty Snorlaxes were flung into it,” he dismissed with a wave of his paw. Though his gaze was also locked onto them. “Though I’d prefer if they would stop.”

Again and again, the mass charged into the doors. With each hit, Andrew’s fin trembled in terror. 

“The doors won’t hold, I can feel it!” Andrew cried, his eyes darting around. “We have to get out of here! Is there somewhere I can hide? Charlie, you’ve gotta know a place, take me there now!”

The Raichu didn’t face him. “Calm down. Worst case scenario is the Bisharp kick their asses back to the stone age.” 

The vibrations grew ever stronger. The sound of crashing against the door was grew ever louder. The room shook ever more vigorously. He shut his eyes, unable to bear the sight of the mob. Even though he had seen it so many times before, a primal fear within his bones spoke to him.

Run.

His head fin felt like it was about to detach from his skull, a searing pain shooting from it like that of a muscle being ripped out of his body. His vision began to blur and fade.

Between his sudden blindness and the rumbling below, Andrew lost his footing. He fell with a thump and began to writhe. He cupped his gills in an attempt to contain the pain, but he was helpless. The vibrations only multiplied in intensity, threatening to split him apart.

But then, in an instant, it was gone.

Andrew pushed himself back up to his feet as the pain dulled and disappeared. Charlie was still staring at the window, not making a sound. The Marshtomp noticed the mass of colors moving forward. He walked up to the window and looked below.

The protesters marched into the castle in waves, a steady beat of footsteps drumming below. Each row was like an army regiment off to battle, ready to sacrifice their lives. The forest kept spewing out more and more of them as the front of the crowd began to fill the foyer of the castle.

“Ch-Charlie—”

“It’s fine. D-Don’t worry about it!” he interrupted sternly, though there was a twinge of panic in his voice.

Andrew gulped. “I really think that we should go!”

“The guards, the guards will protect us!” he said desperately, as though trying to convince himself.

Andrew ran to the room’s door and grabbed its handle. “Charlie, we have to go!”

“And how do you want to get out, Andrew? Through the mob of rioters? Yeah, how about we march right up to them and while we’re at it, ask them for some flowers? How does that sound for a plan?”

The Marshtomp ran his fingers down the side of his face in frustration, coating it in sweat. “Isn’t there some other way to get out?”

“No!” The Raichu uttered as he ripped himself away from the window. His chest heaved and he shook his head emphatically. “There’s one way in and one way out, and that’s the entrance. We just have to hope the guards can manage to hold it down.”

“Could we like, try to jump out of a window or something?”

Charlie tapped his chin. “That could work. Grab onto me and I’ll get us out of here.”

Andrew did as instructed and grasped Charlie’s paw. They walked to the room’s exit, Charlie digging his feet into the floor. He suddenly jolted forward, causing the walls to melt and wind to blow against Andrew like a hurricane.

After a moment, Charlie skidded to a halt. Andrew found him and the Raichu in front of a stairwell. It was one that he used on occasion with it being more Marshtomp-friendly than the main stairwell in the foyer.

“Why did we stop?!” Andrew pressed, his voice filled with fear and concern.

Charlie’s paw flew over Andrew’s mouth. 

“I hear something,” he whispered.

Andrew leaned his gill toward the stairs. He heard the muffled droning of voices attempting to talk over one another. He couldn’t make out any words, he and Charlie both realized that the voices were getting louder and closer.

Charlie grabbed him again and the surroundings blurred as he began to drag him down another hallway. Soon they were at a new stairwell identical to the previous one.

Charlie poked his ear toward it.

More voices.

He groaned before running them over to another stairwell. This one was a bit larger than the others and seemed better suited for midsized Pokemon. Its walls were painted an odd, bright pink.

“C’mon, no time to waste!” Charlie shouted before taking them quickly down the steps. But to Andrew, it wasn’t fast enough. Their surroundings did not blur and each flight took five seconds to clear. 

“Why are we going so slow?” The Marshtomp complained. “I thought you wanted to make it out of here alive!”

“I’m going as fast as I can without sending us tumbling down six stories! Can’t go as fast down as I can up!”

With each passing moment, Andrew could feel himself crumbling. His heart didn’t beat as it usually did when he was scared, instead pounding erratically. The exertion squeezed his chest and forced desperate gasps out of his mouth before the pounding was followed by a slower, depressed beat.

It was intoxicating. Each second felt like a day, and each day could be their last. What if a group of them pop up right now? What could we do?! There are no guards, and I can barely fight. They’d rip us to shreds and enjoy every moment of it. I’m actually going to die today.

And the worst part was that Andrew didn’t even register the thought as irrational. There was no guarantee they would make it out in one piece, and certainly not one that they wouldn’t at least have one encounter.

They had gone down four flights. Only four? It was hard for him to tell exactly how long it had been. Years may as well have passed in under a minute—his head would be covered in gray hair if he still had the luxury of having such a thing— 

They stopped.

Charlie’s arm was shaking. 

“Ch-Charlie?” Andrew uttered but was shut up with a paw clasped firmly around his mouth.

“I heard something!” Said a high-pitched, feminine voice. “Up there!”

Andrew tried to yell, “Run!” but only a muted grunt came out. 

The Raichu was locked into position. The sound of footsteps clamoring up the stairs growing louder, the protestors no more than a story or two below. The voices continued chattering.

“Think we’re going to be the ones to get ‘em?” Asked a rather gruff voice.

Another one laughed. “Wouldn’t that be something? Team Alpha Fire, liberators of Grandeport!” 

They all laughed without a care in the world. 

Charlie still didn’t budge. Andrew began slamming his foot on the ground, screaming as much and as loud as he could. He brought his flipper to Charlie’s paw, only for a sharp, electric shock to surge through his body. It didn’t hurt but caused his appendage to jolt away.

Shit! Goddamnit, Arceus, oh shit Charlie! Not now! Please man, just get us the hell out of here! My god, is this how I die? Held hostage by a stupid Raichu—oh god fucking damnit I deserve better than to get mauled in place by a stupid Pokemon. 

The Pokemon clopped up the stairs, revealing themselves to be a Sylveon, a Luxray, and a Meowstic. 

“I’ll be damned,” uttered the Luxray. “Is that really him?”

The Sylveon donned a wicked smile. “That’s our guy. Andrew Marshtomp, isn’t it? I’ve been waiting to do this for quite some time now…” 

Her tendrils curled into fists. The Luxray bent down in preparation to pounce, tail cackling with pure energy. The Meowtic narrowed his eyes as a strange purple glow formed around him.

Wasting no time, the Luxray lunged at Andrew. He felt time slow once more as the Luxray leaped gracefully into the air with sharp claws brandished. The Marshtomp imagined them tearing into his soft skin ripping him to pieces and electrocuting whatever was left. 

He sighed as he stopped struggling in Charlie’s grasp. I guess there are worse ways to go. Actually, no, this seems pretty painful.

But in a comical stroke of luck, the walls began to blur. The Pokemon became fuzzy dots before disappearing a second later. Andrew felt his body zip up the stairs, the force and wind rattling him in a roller coaster shooting up a hill. The pink blur gave way to a light gray one, then to a dark blue which finally changed to a cherry red all in the span of a few seconds.

Charlie began to slow, finally sliding to a stop.

He panted. “Andrew… I’m going to need you… to hide.”

“Hide?”

The Raichu opened a door next to them. Inside was a small closet occupied by a broom, a mop, and a few buckets. It couldn’t have been more than a few feet in surface area.

Charlie stuck out his arm, gesturing for Andrew to go in.

“W-What about you?” Andrew stammered as he looked up and down the hall.

He scowled. “I can handle myself. You’re a liability. Stay here until I get you, Andrew. Don’t open it up for anyone except me. You got it?”

“Can’t they just open it themselves, like it doesn’t have a lock—”

Charlie shoved Andrew. “Just get in the damn closet!”

He stumbled inside. With a nod, Charlie shut the door.

Goddamnit.

---

Andrew had lost track of time. Has it been a half hour? An hour? Three?

He sat huddled on the wooden floor of the closet, the bristles of the broom tickling his skin slightly. The only source of light was a sunray from the hallway creeping under the door. It was infuriating, preventing his eyes from fully adjusting to the darkness.

His eyes were shut. He pictured himself in the water of a lush swamp, floating peacefully to the surface. Lily pads dotted the pool as the breeze blew softly. His flippers were stretched wide to keep him from sinking—not that it would be an issue if he did…

Tap tap tap.

Footsteps.

Andrew sighed. His eyes had grown heavy and his head was slumped forward. His heart didn’t race nor did thoughts whirl. The Marshtomp was exhausted, ready to accept whatever his fate may be.

Shadows blocked the light from under the door. He suddenly felt warmer, as if the room had increased in temperature by several degrees. A soft crackling came from behind the door.

The handle twisted.

It jerked and rattled, creaking, and groaning.

A Pokemon pulled the closet door open, and the Marshtomp looked up to meet his assailant.

It was Leo.