Chapter 1: Jackpot

“Adamantite, at two o’clock!” a staticky voice crackled through Loken’s transceiver headset. “A wh— ot of it too. Over.” 

“Hah, how’s the radar looking? Over,” the zangoose asked through labored pants. 

“The what? You’re breaking up.” 

“The radar, Rover. I want the radar! Over!”

“Gotcha, gotcha. There’s a big fella at your six, but it’s— way from you. You’re good to keep going. Over.” 

Loken jumped over a tattered fence and in front of a collapsed landing garage. The wind was picking up, and the torrent of debris peppering his bodysuit intensified. He looked behind him, scanning for any enemies Rover may have missed. 

A razed Haven looked back. Hundreds of buildings, most toppled, all devoid of intelligent life. Explosions sounded in the far distance. Behind the ruined cityscape, a bright scarlet sky stretched to the horizon. It was featureless, save for the scraps of plastic and metal whizzed around in the air like a terrestrial asteroid belt. 

Loken turned his attention back to the landing lot. As much as his grim working environment wore him down, the pay certainly kept his spirits up. And the first thing he was going to buy with today’s haul is a new transceiver. 

Scouting the premises of the lot, Loken made his way to the back of the structure. A few supportive pillars persevered amidst the rubble, presenting a sizable entrance. The zangoose ducked under a steel beam and hopped down onto the cracked asphalt. Dusting off his suit, he surveyed the area.

Rows of spherobiles packed the facility, with not a single parking space empty. Most of the vehicles were smashed through, and several more were fried to a crisp. Spherobile catalyzers went for a pretty penny, but were just far too heavy to be lugging back. Especially on the eighth floor of a dungeon. 

“Row Five, section B. Three revacycles with full fuel. And while you’re at it, check out the vehicles in section D. Over.”

Loken dashed over to the fifth row. Sure enough, three revacycles lie on their sides. The zangoose popped the adamantite fuel cells out of their sockets one by one and shoved them into his backpack. He proceeded a few columns over to section D, where a couple of semispheres were parked. 

“Some rumidium alloy in one of the center spheres,” Rover explained. “But just grab it and go. The zombies are approaching. Over.”

Loken flicked the side of his visor. As his helmet began to whir violently, three purple outlines appeared toward the center of the lot. He pried open the spherical trunk with his claws, shoved the rods into his bag, and bolted out of the facility. 

He trusted Rover’s judgment. The crafty emolga was always spot on with his tactical decisions. Loken was there to execute his commands with adeptness and precision. The two made quite the effective team of scavengers. 

Ever since mystery dungeons began popping up across the sprawling city of Haven, a new and incredibly lucrative business opportunity had presented itself. After all, it would be a shame for all the precious metals in the corrupted zones to go to waste. The government apparently thought otherwise and has since outlawed civilians entering the mystery dungeons. They have been taking the offense rather seriously, as hundreds of guards lined the entrances to the mystery dungeons every day. It’s a strange decision, in Loken’s opinion. The economy depended heavily on the extraction of these treasures. 

Despite the heightened security, the infiltration of corrupted zones was made trivial by the fact that money speaks louder than laws in Haven. With Loken’s connections, it wasn’t difficult to find a guard or two who would look the other way for a wad of hard cash. Scavenging was a rare profession in the criminal underworld. Modernity had drained society of its innate thrill-seeking fervor, turning much of the common folk into lame corporate drones. As a result, true go-getters like him and Rover filled an essential niche in the black market and were invaluable assets to the Coven. 

“—ken, can you hear me? Three entities at your nine. And they’re f-” Static. Loken pounded his earpiece. Fuckin’ worthless hunk of junk. 

As if on cue, the aforementioned entities burst out of the face of an apartment complex to Loken’s left. Two arctibax and a mienshao with bloodshot eyes and open wounds leaking purple blood rushed towards him with incredible speed. Loken flicked his wrists. The devices on his arms extended into a pair of segmented whip blades. Razor sharp plates of simple titanium alloy connected by a flexible nanofiber core. He liked to keep the materials basic and the technique flashy, in true zangoose fashion. 

Loken launched his left blade toward the entities, impaling the furthest artibax just under the neck. He pulled his arm back, retracting the blade and dragging the corrupted body with it. The mienshao emitted a gnarly growl as the impaled arctibax corpse slammed into its spine, snapping it instantly. 

Sensing the commotion behind it, the remaining arctibax sidestepped just in time to dodge the attack. However, in its confusion, it failed to react to Loken’s right blade slamming directly into its side, slicing it in two. Viscous blood spurted out of the severed torso, painting the concrete sidewalk purple. 

Loken grimaced as he shook the corpse off his blade and retracted it. Splatters of bloody ooze landed on his boots.

“Good work, Agent 47.” Loken looked up to see a familiar aircraft about half the size of a spherobile hovering overhead. Myriad stickers were plastered all over the minijet’s black hull, and its neon yellow lightning bolt LEDs made it stick out like a sore finger. 

“Save the jokes, Rover.”

“Aw sorry, you’re such a killjoy. Anyways, we’re approaching the next floor. Portal’s at our two o’clock.”

“We headed to floor nine again?”

“Why not? I’m kinda hard-strapped for cash at the moment.”

“Are you serious? We each hauled in twenty five thousand sheets last month.”

“A new Rushido expansion just dropped. So I took some liberties with my budget.”

“…”

“What? Packs are expensive! Luckily, I have good connections with some scalp- uhh, I mean, entrepreneurs, so my prices aren’t too bad. Pulled a secret reverse starfoil holographic in my first box!”

“You’re lucky you didn’t go to school with me. I woulda shoved you into so many lockers.” Loken began walking toward the portal. “Anyways, enough bickering. Next floor it is.”

As the duo emerged from the muggy wisps of red portal fog, Loken’s helmet began flashing warnings in his face. 

“Yeah, yeah. High corruption zone. I get it.” 

“You know if you’d let me root your helmet, those warnings would disappear. Food for thought.”

“Not happening.” Well, Loken trusted Rover’s judgment on almost every occasion. Potentially bricking his hundred grand Vistar helmet was a rare exception. 

The cityscape came into view as the last of the fog subsided. The ninth floor of the eastern dungeon is where the buildings get really messed up. Highrises spliced with refuel stations, water tanks mounted on the sides of buildings, crooked roads leading directly into walls. 

“Woah, that’s a NEAT jet!” Rover exclaimed, pointing his headlights at a destroyed aircraft embedded into the face of a hospital.

“I mean, it’s alright yeah.”

“No no, it’s a Next Era Aerospace Travel Jet, model eight. I was debating getting one, but they don’t come in my size.”

“That’s cool and all, but let’s stop idling away. Time is money. Go do your thing.”

“Yessir.”

Rover’s ship zipped away into the debris-filled sky and out of sight. Loken tapped his foot as he waited for his commands. He adjusted the thermals on his suit to account for the increasing heat. Damn, it was getting real stuffy. 

His transceiver squeaked to life just a minute later. “Zygarde’s Cores, we hit a jackpot! Loken, head straight forward at twelve o’clock. There’s a jewelry store wedged between two condos. Over.”

“Requesting radar. Over.”

“Two small entities milling about inside. Nothing you can’t handle. Over.”

Trying his hardest to avoid piercing his favorite boots on the shattered glass and wayward nails scattered across the burning asphalt, Loken hurried down the lane. Arriving at a dilapidated storefront squashed between two towers, he kicked down the lopsided door, weapons at the ready. 

The store was empty. Well, actually it wasn’t. There were rows upon rows of jewelry encased in high security display cases, from ebonstone wristwatches to diamond encrusted armbands. It was a treasure trove. But the entities Rover mentioned were nowhere to be found. 

“Did the entities leave? Over.”

“-still there. The signals seem to be coming from beneath you. Have you checked underground? Over.”

“Let me nab all this shit first. But why would a jewelry shop have an underground floor? Over.”

“Maybe it’s a byproduct of the corruption? Or it’s where they store the best goodies. Worth taking a look. Over.”

Loken went from case to case, deactivating each lock and popping the contents into his bag. The grin on his face grew wider with each trinket collected. What a haul. 

With the last piece of jewelry secured in his bag, he scoured the area for a basement or some sort of crawlspace. 

“I don’t see… anything,” Loken grunted as he peeked under yet another dusty cabinet, trying not to cut himself on the glass shards that blanketed the tile floor. “Over.”

“They’re definitely beneath you. Did you grab everything from the store? Because it looks like one of the entities is holding onto an undefined object. Looks like some sort of hard drive, but a lot more… uh… complicated? Over.”

“There’s definitely no lower floor. It’s probably a spliced building from the distortion. Is that thing really worth grabbing? Over.”

“We’ve already made out like space bandits. Let’s just check this out, can’t take more than ten minutes. I really want to see what this device is. Over.”

“Fine, if you insist.” Loken pulled a hefty carbon steel crowbar out from his belt. He slammed the rod onto the floor as hard as he could. Cracked tiles flew up above his head. He slammed again. And again. And again. He kept smashing until the hole in the floor went through to the hidden room. 

“I think I can fit through that. Are the entities still active? Over.”

“One of them definitely is. The other is uhh- probably active? But it’s hardly moving. Again, they seem pretty tame. Just get in there and merc ‘em. Over.” 

Loken squeezed headfirst into the pit he made with mild difficulty. He immediately readied his blades before taking in the new environment. 

He was in a cell room of a penitentiary. Water dripped from a series of disconnected pipes embedded in the cracked concrete walls. A nasty combination of rust and mold accumulated at the edges of the room. At the far side of the room was a cell, bars bent in a crooked zigzag pattern. Outside of the cell was a desk with a series of smashed monitors and other surveillance equipment. 

An accelgor entity wearing a guard uniform turned to face Loken. The bug rushed forward, its eyes leaking black and blue fluid. Loken swung the crowbar with a combination of deadly precision and force, bashing the accelgor brutally on the side of its head. A streak of corrupted blood flew through the air and splattered against the wall, painting it bright pink. The entity staggered as it attempted to stabilize itself. Loken flicked his wrist, extending a blade and piercing the accelgor in the chest. One guttural scream later, the entity slumped onto the floor in its own discolored blood, defeated. 

 Loken’s vision shifted toward the cell. Shackled to the wall with all its limbs tied together was a slowbro entity. Its body was covered in a series of gnarly scars, seemingly inflicted before it was corrupted. Its tail was severed, and its claws had been torn off. It groaned softly as it lifted its head to look at the zangoose. He wondered what crime the guy must have committed to end up in such a predicament. 

It was time to put the poor thing out of its misery. Aiming for the neck, Loken swung his extended whip blade. The slowbro’s head was sliced cleanly off and slid to the cell floor. The impact left its limp, beaten body swaying gently by its shackles. 

“Sorry buddy,” Loken muttered and he walked toward the cell. He clicked on his transceiver. “Rover, what’d you tell me to get again? Over.”

“There should be a tiny device near the fella you just offed. Maybe it’s attached to him? I saw it move when you were fighting. Over.” 

Loken fetched a key from the chain attached to the accelgor’s uniform and unlocked the cell door. He heaved as he bludgeoned through it. The bent bars were difficult to budge, but Loken rarely had a problem he couldn’t solve with brute force. He turned to the slowbro’s headless corpse and began searching it. 

“Do you see the device moving right now? Over,” Loken asked. 

“Nope.” 

The zangoose bent over to examine the severed head next. Nothing in the ears or mouth. He peeled open the eyelids, which resulted in his claws getting soaked with purple corrupted blood. Nothing there either. 

“The drive is moving now. Whatever you’re doing, keep it up. Over.”

Loken felt an unnaturally hard bump behind the neck as he turned the head around. He grimaced as he dug his claw into the flesh and pulled out a small black box. He squinted at the fine text engraved on it. Nym.

“Found it. What the fuck is this thing doing in someone’s neck? Is it a tracking device?”

“Definitely not. Tracking devices are not encrypted that way. I’ve never seen anything like it before, and I’ve looked at all sorts of stuff. I’m fairly certain it’s some sort of N13 drive, though. An extremely dense one, filled with far more transistors than I thought was possible.”

“No idea what any of that means, but it better be worth the effort. Not a huge fan of digging through severed heads with my bare claws, even if it looks like cartoon blood.”

“Hey, if there aren’t any buyers, I’ll gladly send you a rack out of my own pocket.”

“We can discuss that later. Enough small talk on the job. What’s next? Over.” 

“Radar’s looking scary. Almost every other building with loot is teeming with entities. If you’re —articularly daring, you can head to your two o’clock. BZZT. There’s a refueling station with the usua— of adamantite cells, but it’s guarded by four —arly lookin’ zombies. I can try to b— one of them for ya, but I don’t BZZT. in range. Over.” The transceiver was getting increasingly staticky as Rover continued. 

“You’re cutting out real bad.” Loken sighed in both physical and mental exhaustion. “This is pissing me off. Let’s just call it a day. Over.”

“Aye aye, cap. I’m c— down to meet you right now. Over.”

Soon enough, the familiar Rovercraft descended into view, stopping and hovering a few feet above Loken’s head. 

“Huge day! How full is your bag?” 

Loken shifted his shoulders. “Still got a bit of space. But damn, it’s real heavy.”

“Quality over quantity! We got so much adamantite this run. And the jewelry is gonna go crazy.” 

“We also got your stupid little box from some prisoner’s neck.”

“I told you, I’ll pay you a pretty penny for it.”

“You just can’t help spending your fortunes on junk, huh?” 

“It’s not junk! Ugh, whatever. Let’s get outta this hellscape already. Ready?” 

Loken wiped his crowbar on a tattered piece of cloth before shoving it back into his back. He then fished a small ball made of two conjoined hemispheres out of his side pocket. 

“Let’s go.” 

Loken twisted the orb in two. A flash of red briefly enveloped his body. In the blink of an eye, he had been teleported into a trash-filled alley on East 134th Avenue. A couple of trubbish and a gulpin shot him an annoyed expression from across the tight passage, murmuring amongst themselves. He tossed the spent Tele-orb away with the rest of the garbage and headed toward the road. His phone began ringing as he stepped onto the busy city street. Countless spherobiles whizzed above him as he reached into his pocket and received the call.

“Where’d you end up this time?”

“Some random back alley again. Are all these orbs calibrated to the filthiest corners of the city?”

“Can’t expect too much from disposable tech. These are under a hundred sheets a pop.”

“What if one teleports me onto the roof of Skypiercer Tower?”

“I don’t even think they’re capable of teleporting anyone or anything over like, two or three feet above ground level. Why, don’t trust me to QA our equipment before each run?”

“Course I trust you, or I woulda quit weeks ago. Anyways, meet you back at CHQ.”

“Ta ta.” 

Loken slipped his phone back into his pocket and boarded an airtrain to the Everstone Street station. He usually got off the job early enough to miss the afternoon commute traffic, but this time around it was in full force as he walked into the cabin. Ugh, pickpocket’s paradise. He flipped his backpack to his front and wrapped his arms around it as he squeezed past dozens of other passengers. Transporting the goods was honestly the most dangerous part of the job. Never know when some slimy crooks might sense your fortune and go for a piece of the pie. It certainly doesn’t help that he’s always wearing a helmet worth as much as a low grade spherobile.  

 Loken peered out of the window as the airtrain approached the station. It was an overcast day, his favorite weather. Too much sun made his eyes hurt, and rain was a hassle for fur. Many flying mon were on their delivery shifts still, crowding the airspace. The tops of the highrise apartments grew closer, and the chatter of pokemon going about their day on the ground grew louder. Loken couldn’t shake off the unease as he imagined the area barren, desolate, with debris whirling through the air and a vast scarlet backdrop. This job was probably gonna give him some sort of PTSD. 

He breathed a sigh of relief as the train touched the ground and pulled into the station. He rushed out of the train and made a beeline for the Coven Headquarters. 

“Lowwwwwken! You didn’t get mugged, didya? Please tell me my drive is safe. Pleeeeease.” Rover was waiting for him atop a sign outside BayBay’s Bookstore. The emolga was bouncing about like a spoink on adderall. 

“Dude, we’re still in public.”

“Aww, scared of being seen together?” Rover winked at Loken with his mechanical eye. 

“What? No. We literally work together, dumbass,” the zangoose responded, a tad flushed. He crossed his arms. “I’m sayin’ we probably shouldn’t make a scene until we’re, y’know, inside?” 

“Whatever, worrywart. Let’s head in, then.” Rover swung off the sign like a vigoroth and glided into the bookstore. For a cybersecurity nerd, the emolga sure was careless in-person. Loken sighed and followed him in. 

Rows of bookshelves were packed inside the cramped store. The zangoose had to be conscious not to knock anything over. At the far end of the building, a spectacled bayleef stood behind the reception desk, flipping through a book with her leaf. 

“Welcome to Bay- oh! It’s you guys!” the bayleef exclaimed as she looked up and smiled. “Long day?”

“Hiya Baysil. A long day is a good day!” Rover beamed. 

“With all the energy you’ve still got, you should be the one doing the fighting,” Loken commented. 

“Hey, I launch the occasional thunderbolt and air to surface missile. It’s not easy to aim from up there!” 

“Alright, boys. Let’s calm down before someone files a domestic terrorism report. Last thing we need is the cops on our tails,” Baysil reasoned. “Boss has been waiting for you two. She’s got something to tell you.” 

“Oh?” Rover’s ears perked up. “A bonus, perhaps?”

“Only one way to find out.”

Loken and Rover proceeded to the back of the bookstore, passing through two Staff Only doors and a secret staircase hidden behind a shelf in the storage room. At the bottom of the staircase was a massive underground tunnel spanning a dozen yards wide. They had arrived at the Coven Network, the most universal black market organization in Haven. 

At the center of the tunnel stood a cinderace, who was impatiently tapping her foot. A gnarly scar that started at the right of her jaw traveled up over her nose and to her left ear, which was split in two down the middle. Her split ear hung in front of her amber eyes like a couple bangs of hair. 

“Took you two long enough,” the cinderace grumbled in a hoarse voice. She pulled a cigarette butt out of her mouth and flicked it directly into an ashtray a good five feet away with ease. 

“Hey boss! Heard you had some news?” Rover blabbed. 

“Stop calling me boss, Rover. Bay gets on my fucking nerves with that word.”

“But you are our boss.” 

“Yeah, but I don’t go around calling you guys ‘employee’.” 

“Alrighty then, Madam Rekai. What did you need to tell us?” 

Both Loken and Rekai rolled their eyes simultaneously. 

“So y’know the dungeon you guys just visited today? The eastern one,” Rekai started.

“Yeah, what about it?” Loken replied, curious where this was going. 

“Well, we can’t go there anymore. They rotated all the guards for whatever reason, so we no longer have an insider there.” 

“Bummer,” Rover grumbled, tilting his head. “But to be honest, I was getting bored of that one anyway. The layouts are too samey.” 

“Any speculation as to why they’re tightening security?” Loken asked. A seed of worry had entered his mind. What if the government was planning to tighten security everywhere?

“According to our insiders, they seem particularly focused on that dungeon. Again, the upper management isn’t giving a reason, but the other dungeons should remain safe.” Rekai checked her watch. “Well, it’s time for me to head out. Got a meeting at quarter ‘til. The port traders should be arriving in just a few.”

“Cya, bo- uhh. I mean, Madam Rekai.” 

The cinderace turned tail and jogged down the tunnel without another word.  

Loken turned to face Rover. 

“So, you feeling Dudun Diner or Clodwiches today? I think we earned a day off nutritional paste with all the cash we’re just about to rake up.” 

“Clodwiches, no contest,” Rover replied immediately. 

“Aw, c’mon. Dudun’s isn’t all that bad. I crave their stews sometimes.”

“I mean, they’re one step above nutri-paste if that’s your bar for ‘not bad’.” 

“Sure, sure. We’ll get Clodwiches. I still need to try their Cheesy Tofutastic Sub.”

The duo walked down the tunnel and turned into a passageway marked by a large water droplet above it. They were just in time, as Loken could see the first of the miniature motorships pulling into the docks. 

Another scavenger duo was already there: an ivysaur and a wattrel. Loken didn’t really know them too well, but they were amicable enough (at least, relative to the other folk in the Coven). They were hardly of similar caliber as him and Rover, so he didn’t see them as relevant competition.

“Hey guys, did Rekai let you know that the east dungeon is now off limits?” the ivysaur asked. Loken didn’t quite remember her name. “I know you two head there quite often.”

“Hello, Rin,” Rover responded, saving Loken the trouble of asking later. “Yeah, she told us just now and dashed off. Oh well, we pulled one last big haul.” 

Loken took off his backpack and placed it on a bench. His shoulders were getting mighty sore.

Once the four usual customers were present, Loken and Rover began unloading their treasure. A posh greninja that spoke with a heavy Praetorean accent bought refined metals such as rumidium alloy and adamantite ingots. A talkative heterochromic sableye with an azure left eye bought any and all jewelry. A laid back scrafty with a mouth full of gold bought exclusively adamantite fuel cells. And finally, a mysterious duskull that bought any valuables the others weren’t interested in. 

“So, you’re gonna keep this?” Loken asked Rover as he pulled out the mysterious black drive. 

“Eh, I guess there’s no harm in getting a quote, right?” Rover nabbed the drive and brought it over to the duskull’s ship. “Hey, Ling. How much for this N13 type drive? Or, it’s N13 adjacent, I think.”

The duskull’s eye shifted, then grew wide. The wisp at the top of its head swayed vigorously.

“Where…” it began, then paused for a moment. “Where did you find this?”

“Trade secret, sorry! Do you know what it is, exactly? I’ve been dying to know.” 

“Twenty… Thousand,” the duskull said without answering Rover’s question.

Loken’s eyes went wide. What a find! Rover had done it again. Maybe it was finally  time to get his helmet rooted. 

“Mmmm. I think I’ll just keep it, in that case,” Rover said thoughtfully, much to Loken’s surprise.

“What? You’re fuckin’ with me. Take the twenty racks.”

“Thirty… Thousand,” the duskull continued. 

“Nope, sorry. I’ve made up my mind. I’ll let you know if anything changes, though!”

Had Rover gone insane? Had he gone insane?

Rover nudged Loken’s shoulder. He must have looked like a sawsbuck in headlights.

“Something tells me this is worth upwards of a million if these are the pawn shop lowballs,” the emolga whispered. He shoved the drive back into Loken’s bag. “Maybe it’s some trillionaire’s crypto wallet. Keep it safe for now, I’ll try to crack it.”

Rover had a point. And if the day’s events had taught Loken anything, it was to always trust Rover’s judgment. Though, he was hard pressed to believe that a crypto wallet would find itself lodged in the back of a prisoner’s neck. Maybe that theory was a bit farfetch’d. 

As the dealings concluded for the day, the two scavengers were each a whopping five thousand sheets richer. Loken watched as the duskull’s ship drifted away in the underground waterway. As much as he tried to keep his mind on the delicious sandwich he was about to eat, his thoughts kept drifting to the mysterious drive they had collected on the ninth floor of the eastern dungeon. 

What was in the drive? Why was it so hard to decrypt? Why did it fetch such an absurd price? Why was it lodged in the slowbro’s neck? He hated unanswered questions, and the air was just filled with them. The uncertainty overflowed him with crippling dread and anxiety. Maybe they should have just pawned it off for that thirty grand and forgotten about it.  

Well, Loken had just one connection that he thought could be of any help. They could run it by Rekai to see if she knows anything. The boss could be a scary bunny at times, but there weren’t too many folk in Haven that Loken trusted and respected more than her. She was responsible for a majority of the Coven’s operations and had eyes everywhere. She just had to have some answers. Yeah. 

“Loken, quit staring off into space. I’m hungry, and I need a ride!”

With that last reassuring thought in mind to ease his nerves, his stomach began to rumble. Mmm, it’s Clodwich time.