Chapter 11: A Little Piece Of Heaven

SPENCER’S POV

Frala’s story affected me more than I liked to say. On some level, I’d suspected that she was keeping something from us, and now I knew for sure.

Did I resent her for keeping that secret? Of course not – it can’t have been easy to talk about. But at the same time, it served as a reminder that not all is as it appears. Who knew what else she wasn’t telling me?

I couldn’t assume that I knew everything. Or even that Calvin did.

Speaking of Calvin, he remained confined to our bedroom for much of the day after we returned from our rescue of Kaz. “I’m just thinking about stuff” he told Enfield and I, which I suspected was a euphemism for, I’m tortured that Mom kept that secret from me for so long.

The signs should have been there. After all, Calvin was far more colorful than his mother. In a way, I’m shocked I didn’t suspect it sooner. 

“What’s truly important,” I remember telling Calvin that first evening, “is that you love her, and she loves you. She might not be your birth mother, but she is your real mother in all the ways that matter.”

Calvin sighed. “You’re right. I just wonder…if Frala isn’t my mother, who is?”

“I don’t know,” I sighed. “We might never know.”

My fellow Litleo rolled his eyes. “You’re not helping.”

After that I stopped asking. There was no point in driving a rift between us when we didn’t have to.

A week passed, during which we recovered from our journey to Mount Thunderhead. We ate like kings, grateful to have so much food before us yet again (courtesy of Frala, of course). We slept well at night and went for short walks in the woods, though we never ventured far afield. We even played a few board games with Frala; as much as Calvin objected to this, I knew these complaints were playful in nature. He didn’t truly resent her for making them spend time together.

After about a week, we’d lazed around all we wanted to, so we elected to get back to taking on rescue missions and other jobs around Whitehall. We chose easier jobs at first, ones that wouldn’t take us too far from the village or prove too strenuous to handle. (These were often indicated by the listed rewards for success; generally, the more difficult the task, the more exorbitant the reward).

We didn’t make much money from these jobs, but in the absence of any housing expenses, that was okay. It was nice to know that no matter how a job turned out, we’d end up in the same place that night: Back home with Frala.

For a lioness who could never become a biological mother, she played the part well. She always made sure we had enough to eat from each food group (including protein, which she repeatedly emphasized did not come from actual Pokémon). Even if she was strict, she also served as a comforting presence when necessary.

Kaz was soon released from the clinic and went home to Hestia. We visited him once in the hospital, during which he thanked us profusely for getting him out of there. He also proclaimed that he wouldn’t do anything reckless for at least a few weeks (which earned him a disapproving glare from his fianceé). 

He even offered the three of us to be best men at their wedding, an offer we couldn’t refuse. I’d never even been to a wedding, so it’d be a pretty epic way to introduce myself to the world of romance.

A third week passed. For a few days during this period, we were trapped inside Frala’s home due to a blizzard that knocked the power out for a good several (seven) hours. I found myself shivering in the rocking chair.

“How am I going to deal?” I remember exclaiming, to which Frala snorted.

“You just make do, the way we all did before electricity was invented. Wrap yourself in as many synthetic fur blankets as we’ve got.”

Luckily, the outage didn’t last long. Not so luckily, we quickly got cabin fever again, much like we had during our grounding. There were only so many board games to play, only so many bath towels to decorate, only so many theme songs to compose. 

As such, I had plenty of time to think about my former friends, as well as human society. They wouldn’t be searching for me too hard by now, would they? After all, it had been almost a month, and though I was far from familiar with the inner workings of missing-person cases, I felt like they rarely lasted this long. The human authorities were probably forced to deliver difficult news to my parents.

During the days I tried to keep busy – that was the best way to keep such thoughts at bay. When I had enough to do in the company of Calvin and Enfield, I was content indeed; when I lay awake at night, I felt tortured, trapped inside my own mind. Frala’s home might as well have been the coziest prison in the world during the blizzard, but that wasn’t much consolation. After all, a furnished log cabin prison is still a prison.

When the snow let up, we resumed our explorations of the village and its surrounding environment. A few times we ate dinner at the nicest restaurant in town, the White Lion, our meals financed by the gold we earned on the journeys. (According to Frala, the three G’s of adventuring were Guts, Gold, and Glory. We had at least one of those things in abundance).

We didn’t do these jobs every day, though. If nothing that seemed easy enough for us was available, the three of us would often join in a village game of tag with the younger Litleo. A few times we even engaged in snowball fights, and let me tell you: Those kids might seem like more bark than bite, but they can pack a punch in a snowball war! 

Even with the bruises I earned, I was invariably laughing with joy by the end of each snowball fight. There’s something about such activities that makes you worry less about more adult matters, and it reminded me of that time I’d volunteered at a Pastoria City preschool. This snowball game felt like going back many years in time; I might have been five years old again, not forced to worry about anything but inviting a friend to go sledding.

After a month of living in Whitehall, I had to admit: I was enjoying myself. 

Yes, I missed my human parents. I missed attending classes at GPU – I’d no doubt been suspended in absentia for missing so many classes. (That was ironic, considering I was the guy who’s always twenty minutes early to each lecture.)

Whenever I get back to civilization, I’m going to write a paper about everything I experienced. Maybe even an honors thesis!

“Civilization” is a strange word. Pokémon societies were often depicted as primitive in Pastoria City’s media; hell, we often associated them with shamans and magic, elements of a fantasy novel rather than real life. But the villagers in Whitehall seemed to care for each other, and the community was orderly enough; in other words, it was civilized.

So my honors thesis was sure to be a hit, assuming I ever got to write it. But I was in no hurry to return to the human world – there were still so many chapters of this story to be written.

And in the meantime, I got to enjoy true companionship. To me, that was a slice of paradise if there ever was one. When it came down to it, that’s all I really wanted.

Of course, I knew that this “honeymoon period” couldn’t last forever. Eventually we would have to start taking on more difficult jobs in order to gain prestige, which might put us in even more danger. And there was still Syndicate 23 to worry about – who knew what they had in store, or if they were even still a threat?

 But for the time being, I was genuinely happy. 

(Insert a horizontal line here)

Once February rolled around, we became busy with another endeavor. Thank Arceus for Hestia – otherwise we might have all gone insane from having nothing to do.

“Why don’t you help us plan for the wedding?” the Pachirisu suggested. She and the three members of Team Earthlink stood on the village green (though the term “green” is used loosely here, since it was still white).

I gulped, not knowing how to respond to that. I knew I had to seem modest – I, a human-turned-Litleo who’d only been part of the community for a single month, was hardly worthy of such a privilege. 

“Uh…why not?” Calvin replied, glancing in my direction. This sent me the following message: Don’t you dare say no.

Nonetheless, this is what I said: “I don’t know if it’s appropriate. It’s your wedding after all.”

“It is our wedding,” Hestia responded, “but if not for you three, the wedding wouldn’t happen! So you should help us plan if you want to!”

I glanced up at the rising sun. Despite the early hour, there was little doubt in my mind that the planning could easily become an all-day affair if we let it. Therefore, it was best to just say no, wasn’t it?

Before any of us could answer her question, I felt a blast of warmth. On a freezing morning, this should not have happened unless…

“Team Earthlink!” I heard a familiar Torchic bark.

I took a look skyward to find Agarth flapping his wings furiously in our direction. The guildmaster’s beak was turned upward, and he looked ready to breathe a veritable river of fire. He could char us into a crisp if he wanted to.

“What’s going on, Agarth?” Enfield squeaked, flapping his own wings as though to feign excitement. But this feint didn’t last long.

“I thought you three received the notice from Pelipper this morning!” Agarth screeched. “Didn’t you?”

I grimaced. I remembered no such notice, not that I’d checked the mailbox at Frala’s home frequently. Truth be told, I could barely remember where that mailbox was.

“We didn’t,” I admitted.

Agarth narrowed his eyes. “So it comes as a surprise to all of you that you have cleaning duty today!”

The three of us looked at each other, eyes boring holes into one another’s souls. If looks could kill, the village green would have been a warzone.

“I didn’t know…” I began.

I may not have known that we were shirking our duty, but I still had to duck as Agarth aimed a fiery jinx at my head. (Okay, he might not have actually breathed fire here, but far be it for me to know the difference). And then the Torchic clicked his tongue against his fangs.

“Ignorance is no excuse for playing hooky!” Agarth squawked. “This is no game, Team Earthlink! To the guild hall, now!”

Agarth escorted us to the guild hall, during which time we attracted some onlookers. It was still fairly early in the morning, but we were apparently more than an hour late for our cleaning duties. 

Calvin glanced at me, this time without any anger. Guilds have lots of jobs around here, I thought. Sometimes it’s cleaning the guild hall, sometimes it’s collecting fuelwood or harvesting fruit. We just haven’t been assigned to village work yet.

And then I grimaced, realizing that those thoughts weren’t mine. But what was I supposed to do about that?

Anyway, Agarth made a scene out of leading us to the old building, which is probably exactly what that irritable guildmaster wanted. As soon as we crossed the threshold and entered the main hall, my eyes itched once more.

In the month since I’d arrived in Whitehall, the grime seemed to have tripled, as had the amount of dust. It was so bad I could barely open my eyes to see; they simply watered too much, and I had to shut them again.

“You all know the drill,” Agarth muttered.

“Actually, we don’t,” Enfield pointed out. “You’ve never shown us how to clean the guild hall’s floor.”

“Well, you’d better figure it out!” the Torchic bellowed, spreading his wings and flying toward the ceiling. Had I possessed access to an Internet browser, I would have looked up whether or not stone was flammable; would I like what I saw?

There were no fancy vacuum cleaners in the guild hall, nor even any disinfectant wipes. The only items we had to work with were classic brooms and dustpans, which aren’t easy to work with when you have four paws.

Before long, my limbs ached to high heaven, my neck felt as though it had been stretched out further than it wanted to go, and I was panting from the exertion. Climbing Mount Thunderhead had nothing on cleaning the fucking guild hall. 

After an hour or two, we’d only cleaned up maybe a quarter of the floor space, not least because we kept accidentally stomping dust onto parts we had already swept. I was toward the end of my tether, and I think my teammates knew it.

So was Agarth. “What the hell?” he bellowed. “The task isn’t supposed to take this long! Are you three slacking off?”

“Well, how long is it supposed to take?” Calvin enquired. “Spencer isn’t used to this.”

“Several hours” Agarth suggested. “More than two, but not many.”

I scoffed at that, amazed that I had the gall to respond in such a manner to a literal angry bird.

“Not true,” I muttered. “Several means seven. Which is about how many hours it’ll take us at this rate. We’ll be done when we’re done.”

The Torchic seethed a bit, but he left us alone. By this time I was convinced that if the broom didn’t take away all the grime, the sweat pouring off our three bodies would do the job just fine. I’d rather have made fifty dust angels, even with the copious sneezing and snarking that would induce, than sweep the floor for another five minutes.

Maybe an hour later, I heard more flapping above us, and dread filled my chest to the brim. I was going to drown in it.

It’s gotta be Agarth again, about to chew us out for being slow! Can’t we catch a break?

Of course, I then expected Agarth to breathe down our necks and yell about how there would be no breaks under any circumstances. But this didn’t happen, because I noticed that the wings weren’t flapping as vigorously as a Torchic’s.

Rather, they were the wings of a Pelipper with a letter in its beak. It opened its beak to spit a letter onto the dusty ground, then flew away.

This letter’s arrival was the most interesting thing to happen in a while, so I felt drawn to it. But Agarth sprang over to the envelope and seized it before any of us could.

“This is my letter,” the Torchic snarled. “Literally, it’s addressed to me. If you three know what’s good for you, you’ll keep working.”

So we resumed the elbow grease, aching all the way. It was only a few minutes later that we all heard Agarth gasp.

“What’s wrong?” Enfield piped up. 

At first, Agarth glanced at us with a look of utmost loathing. He was going to go off on us like a nuclear warhead, screaming about how we had the audacity to interrupt our work to ask a simple question of all things.

But this did not happen. Instead, the Torchic gave off a deadly sigh before saying, “You three are off the hook for today. That’s the good news.”

I barely allowed myself to feel any relief. Since Agarth had called this the “good news”, that usually implied that there would also be bad news.

“The bad news is that there’s an emergency town meeting in the high school gymnasium. Everyone’s invited, and the rescue teams are strongly encouraged to attend. This letter says that it’s important for everyone in Whitehall to be part of the discussion.”

Emergency town meeting? Sure, I wanted a reprieve from work, but not like this!

“I’m required to attend – I’ll escort the three of you there. Consider this your civic duty for the rest of the day.”

Yes, even if it was an emergency meeting, I figured that it would at least be less stressful than our hard labor in the guild hall. It wouldn’t be that difficult in the grand scheme of things to just sit in a gymnasium and talk about issues affecting the village. That is, after all, how many small towns in the Pastoria Region did things. And if I was part of the community now, it made sense to get involved so that I felt like I belonged.

Looking at it now, if I had known what was to come, I would sooner have kept sweeping the floor no matter how many hours it took.

(Insert a horizontal line here)

The high school gym had a linoleum floor on which hundreds of folding chairs sat. In the middle of the room stood a buffet table with a wide variety of foods, from “meat” dishes to vegetarian dishes, cole slaw to spaghetti and fake meatballs, and even a wide array of desserts. Despite the broad selection of food, nobody seemed interested in eating.

“Buck up, my fellow Whitehall residents!” a burly Pyroar exclaimed from the end of the gym. “This food is for all of you! It’s been catered by the White Lion, the nicest restaurant in town…”.

I gulped, then whispered in Calvin’s ear: “The White Lion isn’t very nice.”

Calvin stared daggers at me, as if to say: This isn’t Jubilife City, you know! Your dining options aren’t unlimited here!

“…and I don’t want it all to go to waste. This is an emergency banquet, dammit!”

Even by Pyroar standards, this lowercase white lion was gigantic. His mane spread out several feet on either side, to the point where I worried he might trip over it. But considering his size, he was surprisingly nimble.

Some of the Pokémon at the meeting indeed took the leader’s suggestion, springing  from their seats and loading their plates with food that, admittedly, looked and smelled delicious. The majority, however, did not.

Even those who began eating did not, however, appear too thrilled about the meal. I think all of them just wanted to know the truth – why had we all been summoned here on such short notice?

The speaker cleared his throat. “I’m certain that nearly all of you know who I am, but just on the off-chance that you don’t, allow me to introduce myself. I am Barrett Pyroar, but I prefer to go by Mayor Barrett, because that’s who I am. I’m the Mayor of Whitehall, and as such, I preside over most of our regular town meetings.”

While Barrett may not have worn a sash proclaiming him the Mayor, it was hardly a secret that he spoke with authority. Whenever he said anything, you listened – even my odd brain had gleaned that much within seconds.

Anyway, the Mayor cleared his throat yet again before continuing. “Now that we’ve squared my identity away, I think it is pertinent to discuss why I’ve called you all here on this crisp, cold February day. You can all rest assured that I would not have done so if it were not incredibly important.

“What do you all know about the Pit of 100,000 Spiders?”

I shivered, not wanting to think about that many arachnids crawling all over the place. But I didn’t say anything, probably in the vain hope that remaining silent would make this idea go away. 

“It’s a Mystery Dungeon?” a middle-aged female tone suggested.

“Please state your name” Barrett replied curtly, while I cringed. Are such formalities really necessary? I mean, look how casual this meeting is otherwise!

“Maisie Pyroar,” she replied, and then the lioness stood up to make her presence known. 

“That is correct” Mayor Barrett muttered, making this whole event resemble a high school class rather than something that carried profound importance for the village. 

“So what does this pit have to do with anything?” Maisie all but exclaimed. 

“I wish I did not have to deliver this news,” the Mayor responded, “and I would have preferred to give it slowly rather than all at once. But we only have so much time here, so here goes: The humans have plans to develop the area.”

“But don’t they want to develop all the land in Sinnoh?” a younger Pyroar man enquired. “What makes this place any different?”

“Well, aside from the fact that the Pit is a Mystery Dungeon and located in close proximity to our home, the humans have acquired a permit to develop it into a gold mine. Not just a figurative gold mine, but a literal one. An open-pit mine too, which has a far more expansive footprint on the surface.”

The fear in the room was palpable; many of the attendees shivered at the thought of their land being taken away to be used for industry. 

“Now, we are not like the humans,” Barrett continued. “We may not agree with their aims, and we may not even like their kind – “.

“That’s an understatement” Maisie snapped.

After shooting a glare at Maisie, the Mayor kept talking. “Even if we are at odds with the humans, we aren’t going to let them do something that might endanger their kind. After all, the Pit of 100,000 Spiders is a Mystery Dungeon, which is incredibly dangerous for a human, and it’s even more dangerous because it has, well, a hundred thousand spiders.

“In other words, we care about their lives. Do they care about ours?”

Barrett let that thought sink in, and then he resumed his speech.

“Needless to say, I vigorously oppose this plan. The environmental damage from building an open-pit mine so close to our home cannot be overstated. Our ecosystem might never recover from that. Nonetheless, we have a democracy here – can humans say the same?”

I raised my paw, which nearly caused me to fall out of my chair. Barrett gestured toward me. “What’s your name?”

“Spencer T-…Spencer the Litleo” I stated, nearly using my human last name by accident. Had I followed through with that answer, the consequences might have been severe.

Barrett narrowed his eyes. “What did you want to say, Spencer?”

“Humans do have democracy, though” I objected. “There’s a legislature in Sinnoh, and the civilians vote for their leaders. If an official loses an election, they have to leave peacefully.”

“Except for that one time they stormed Sinnoh’s Capitol building” Barrett muttered. “Look it up.”

I blushed and cleared my throat. “The point is -”.

“Insurrections aside, Sinnoh is hardly a democracy. It is a state with two classes – you might even call it an unfair regime.”

“But isn’t that a bit of an extreme word?”

Barrett raised an eyebrow. “In the context of the planned development, I would argue that it’s hardly extreme at all. If anything, it doesn’t convey just how unjust this arrangement is. And the Combusken are going to come home to roost eventually, though that’s a topic for later.

“The point is, humans may vote for their elected officials, and so do we, but they have dominion over our realm. We never get a say in the central government of Sinnoh, and the national legislature has already approved this permit…”

“Wait a minute,” an older lion man began. “They’ve already approved it?”

“Why, yes. They have” Barrett replied grimly. “In my mind, it shows just how skewed their priorities are. When it comes to anything including us Pokémon in their decision-making, they move slower than our glaciers that are rapidly melting. But when they wish to exclude us in favor of industrial profits, they can move very quickly when they want to.

“In my view, we must fight this. However, I’ll leave it up to a vote. You’ll notice that there’s a table at the end of the buffet line; that table has two buttons on it. There is a green O and a red X. The O means that we’re going to fight the humans tooth and nail, whereas the X means that we’re just going to accept our land being taken for the sake of the mine. And if the language I’m using seems loaded, that’s just because I want you all to know how fervently I hope most of you choose the O.”

I raised my paw again. 

“Yes, Spencer?”

“How are we going to fight it?” I enquired. “That’s a serious question – haven’t the permits already been approved by the human congress?”

“Well, they have,” Barrett responded. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t have our day in court. It’d have to be heard in one of the human courts, though, because the central authorities are going to shop for a friendly judge. The odds will be stacked against us from the beginning.”

“So what do we have on our side?” a Pyroar woman (not Maisie) asked.

The Mayor winked at her. “We have the facts on our side. The deforestation required for such a mine would severely undermine the forest’s carbon sink, thereby jeopardizing any efforts to limit warming as much as possible. If we sue them and argue our case well – and we don’t even have to lie – then we should win.”

The most important word there was should. We should win. Not will win. Since Barrett’s voice fell toward the end of that statement, I wondered if even the Mayor were confident that the efforts would succeed.

“Let the voting commence” Barrett proclaimed. “Please only vote once, and everybody here should vote. Let’s begin.”

There were a few hundred of us, and we all got together in a line in the shape of an Ekans. Literally, it snaked all over the gym much like the queue for an amusement ride. Yet the stakes were far higher than a simple roller coaster.

It was difficult to tell from this vantage point, but it seemed like almost everyone was pressing the green button. This hardly came as a surprise, but I noticed Mayor Barrett licking his lips, probably salivating at the thought of settling this score in court.

The voting went quickly, since there was only one question at hand and all one needed to do was press a button. When my turn came, I tapped the O, though only after a few seconds of deliberation. 

If I press the red button, I’m betraying my new family. But if I press the green button, that could get me into trouble with the humans if I should ever return to them. But who knows if that’s ever going to happen?

After everyone had voted and returned to our seats, Barrett went over to the voting machine and smiled.

“It looks as though about 97 percent of you pressed the green button. This means that we have a near-unanimous agreement that we should sue the human government of Sinnoh over this project. The measure is approved.”

There were many cheers in the gymnasium, to the point that I felt the urge to cover my ears. Even after a month as a quadruped, this part was hard to get used to; I just had to deal with the cacophony.

“Now, we cannot celebrate too hard yet!” Barrett shouted, trying (and failing) to make himself heard over the raucous applause. “This is only the first step in holding the humans accountable for the damage they’ve already done!”

But the cheering continued, forcing Barrett to breathe a quick stream of fire to quiet everyone down. The gym seemed to get the message: The Mayor meant business now.

“The good news is that we still have ample time to put together our arguments and hire Whitehall’s best lawyers. Besides, like I said, it won’t be very hard to build the case – nature may do that for us.

“The bad news is that the humans will be far better-funded, and will be in front of a far more favorable judge. But that should not matter if we have the more compelling message, and I can guarantee that we will.”

Again: Should not. Not will not. The importance of that distinction was not lost on me, nor was it lost on the rest of the assembly.

“We are going to win this case, and we are going to preserve our natural environment not only for ourselves, but for future generations!”

There was more applause, and I’ll admit it: I joined in. There was something satisfying about the communal nature of this act…like I deserved to be here just like the rest of them.

“And with that, we shall continue dining! This food isn’t going to eat itself, you know!”

So that’s precisely what we did. The crowd began stuffing their faces with the catered food from the White Lion, and I couldn’t help but chomp away. The ingredients all tasted so natural, nothing like what I was used to in Pastoria City.

We ate and ate, and before long I felt uncomfortably full. I was not yet on the verge of throwing up, but I knew I needed to exercise discipline to stop eating. 

“You’re eating like you’ve never seen food before!” Enfield exclaimed.

I nodded, tomato sauce dripping off my chin and onto my plate. “What can I say? This stuff’s so damn delicious!”

“Still, why wouldn’t you use basic table manners?” Calvin snorted. “You’re eating like a wild Pokémon. You just descended on that food like a feral or something.”

I paid Calvin no further mind, using a napkin to wipe some of the sauce off my fur. Nonetheless, there remained a few awkwardly placed red spots, which would have raised eyebrows if it wasn’t obvious that I’d just chowed down on chicken parm without utensils.

We were just about to leave the gymnasium, satisfied as we were with Mayor Barrett’s resolution to take the human developers to court, when the door violently swung open and a Lucario ran in.

Much like the “wave” at a sporting event, the audience suddenly swiveled in the Lucario’s direction. This movement occurred slowly at first, then all at once, and for a moment I wondered if the intruder was bent on attacking us.

Barrett, on the other hand, did not seem to think that was it. The Mayor breathed evenly in a gymnasium full of Pokémon who weren’t remotely as relaxed. Rather, he smiled as though he were meeting an old friend.

“Stu Lucario,” Barrett mouthed. “Beautiful day today, isn’t it?”

Stu bared his fangs at the Mayor. “You’re holding a meeting now? I was eating lunch – have you all already voted?”

Barrett nodded. “I’m afraid we have. You’re several minutes too late.”

Stu panted, scratching his fur with his paw spike forcefully enough to generate a trace amount of blood. “That’s…not…actually why I’m here” he said.

The Mayor growled a bit. “Why are you here, then, if not to vote? Or you can dine with us if you’re still hungry – I know your species burns lots of calories.”

“I don’t think…I can eat” Stu responded. “In fact, I’m sick to my stomach!”

“What happened?” an elderly lioness enquired. “Is it an emergency?”

The Lucario didn’t even hesitate. “I should think so! My boy – Marcus – he’s gone! Wanted to explore the mine pit!”

We all glared at Stu, and I couldn’t help but wonder if many of the villagers thought foul play was involved on the Lucario’s part. If they did suspect this, though, nobody voiced it aloud.

“Wait a minute,” Barrett replied evenly. “Are you referring to the mine that’s going to be built atop the Pit of 100,000 Spiders?”

Stu nodded vigorously, so much so that his head looked like it might roll cleanly off his neck. Additionally, his deep blue fur blanched at the realization that his son was in fact stuck in a location with such a forbidding name.

“That’s the one! Marcus always said he wanted to explore a Mystery Dungeon! Mary and I kept telling him it’s too dangerous, but he wouldn’t listen!”

Barrett raised a claw in Stu’s direction. “How did he get there?”

“Snuck out this morning before my wife and I were up! At least, that’s what we think happened!”

Calvin glanced at me. Is this guy legit? Or is he trying to trap us somewhere?

I shrugged. “I dunno!” I exclaimed at Calvin.

This set Stu off like a stick of dynamite. He was pissed at the implication that he wasn’t telling the truth, and wanted us all to know it.

“How dare you!” the Lucario bellowed. “You know exactly what I just said!”

Barrett was far calmer than me. The Mayor sighed; then, in a measured tone, he uttered the following words:

“I understand that you’re very upset, and you have a right to be. However, I don’t believe that gives you the right to barge in on such an important town meeting!”

“What could be more important than rescuing one of your own?” Stu exclaimed frantically. “If it were your son who’d fallen victim to his own curiosity, would you want the village to ignore your cries for help?”

“Even so, I cannot help everybody here” Barrett muttered. “Just in case there’s a rescue team willing to take this job,  you should submit such a request to the WASP guild. I’m sure they – “.

“We’re going to do it!” Enfield interrupted.

At that very moment, my fur prickled as though something were crawling on it. I grimaced, tempted to scratch the invisible bugs off my skin.

I glared at my Emolga teammate. You cannot POSSIBLY be serious.

Calvin, on the other hand, must have seen the sparkle of hope that lit up Stu’s eyes, because he nodded gravely. “I guess we have to now.”

“But spiders!” I all but wailed, springing out of my chair and landing hard on the linoleum floor.

“But Marcus!” Stu exclaimed, staring daggers at me. “You can’t just wimp out whenever you get a job!”

“We didn’t sign up for this,” I muttered. “Are you really going to make us…”.

Barrett grunted. “Of course he can’t make you do it. But if you don’t step forward, who will?”

“Some other rescue team” I insisted. “Aren’t there plenty of those in Whitehall?”

“That’s not how this works, Spence!” Calvin proclaimed. “If every team reasons this way, that some other team will step forward, nobody will!”

Barrett gave Calvin a nod of approval, as if to say: This guy gets it.

My limbs felt jittery, threatening to no longer support my body weight. I experienced a hot flash as I realized that the whole gym was looking at me, almost daring me to make a decision. I would either look like a coward or a reluctant hero, depending on what path I chose.

If we Combusken out of this one, the guild will hate us, and we might have a hard time getting new jobs in the future. At least, the public will trust us less. But Agarth might get mad if we go on another unauthorized mission – I bet we’re on thin ice with him already. Besides, SPIDERS!

“We have to do it,” Calvin muttered. “We’re going to do it, Spencer, even if we have to put you to sleep until it’s over and drag your body along.”

I gritted my teeth. As tempting as it would be to not have to think about where we were during our quest, I couldn’t say that in front of an audience of a few hundred Pokémon.

“That will not be necessary” I mumbled through clenched fangs. “I’ll come with you.”

Stu looked as though Christmas had come ten months early. “Thank you so much!” he exclaimed. “If you find him and come back alive, I’ll give you my house!”

Enfield frowned. “That will not be necessary,” he replied.

“It’s a figure of speech!” the Lucario hurriedly clarified. “But my son is even more valuable than my house! So please – find him for me!”

It was too late to back out now. Reluctantly, I stepped out of the emergency banquet (what a funny set of words!) and followed my team back into the cold afternoon. 

By this time tomorrow, we might have saved Marcus and brought him back to his father. Our quest might still be in progress.

Or we might be spider food, trapped in the dungeon with no escape. I tried not to think about that.