♫

Howling winds and rain pelted Jaime’s thick helmet, sheets of cold ice so thick she could barely see the pitch-black clouds or the massive Tower rising beside her. Her jumpsuit was the only thing keeping her from freezing, and that just barely. Jaime pressed herself flat in the saddle while Bane, her Salamence, twisted between crackling lightning bolts, and every hair on her body stood up. Thunder boomed.

Ears ringing, Jaime blinked the white from her eyes. Another flash of lightning struck the side of the tower, but this bolt came from the stormclouds above her, not behind. Streams of pressurized water and jets of flame brightened the island below, but the only shapes she could make out were herself, Bane, and the yellow monstrosity chasing them.

“Bane, around! Bank around!” Jaime shouted, and Bane twisted towards the tower. He turned so quickly she felt her stomach lurch, and almost tore free from the saddle despite the straps holding her boots. Bane flew around the tower, nearly scraping the sides with his belly, another spike of nausea making her grimace.

Flight was supposed to be freeing. Not this. Not whatever this had become. But she wasn’t about to get chased down by some asshole’s rogue Dragonite. A flash of yellow behind her made Jaime curse, and she almost missed the dark shape clinging to the Tower’s side. “Bane!”

Bane’s eyes were better than Jaime’s, fortunately. As the dark shape—the Honchcrow—lurched towards them, it squawked as a torrent of purple-blue dragonfire engulfed it, burning away feathers and searing flesh, tuning it to roast chicken. The bird’s corpse plummeted into the water below. Jaime grinned and patted Bane’s neck, but neither rider nor mount forgot the Dragonite still chasing them. Lightning flashed, and though it only clipped Bane’s wing, he roared.

A roar more of rage than of pain. But lightning could still kill him as easily as it would Jaime. She grit her teeth. This damned monster kept chasing her, and nothing she tried worked to break her tail. How was she supposed to get into the Tower if she was getting chased down by a dragon that refused to seek easier prey? There was only one thing left to try.

“Bane, up!” Jaime shouted, bracing for another stomach-lurching turn. Bane’s upward turn was almost as sheer as Magnic Tower’s walls, and black spots flecked her vision as she held onto Bane’s neck. He gained speed as he flew, the clouds so dark and thick they could have been the ground rushing up to meet them. The thought did nothing to soothe her nausea.

Thunder boomed and Bane roared again, a painful howl that set Jaime’s teeth on edge. She hurriedly unclipped her boots from the saddle. She nearly fell out right away, but she held onto the saddle’s pommel with one hand and unsheathed her sword with the other. It was more of a long knife, but the tip was sharp.

They shot free of the clouds, and after a pause and a fond pat for her loyal mount, Jaime slipped free of the saddle. Bane felt her go, and knew to circle back for her. Jaime fell, twisting around so she dropped head-first towards the clouds again, and with a yell and a thrust she stabbed her sword through the tiny yellow spike on the Dragonite’s head, just as it burst free of the clouds. Her shoulders almost burst from the impact, but the blade bit deep through tough dragonhide and into the monster’s brain. It died.

“Bane!” Jaime shouted, just as another thunderclap broke the sky. She looked up before the clouds swallowed her, and she saw her Bane hurtling away, lightning flashing all around him, smoke curdling from his corpse.

Jaime screamed his name as she fell.

...

The storm above almost seemed a different world to Tash. The deepest part of Magnic Tower’s moat was darker, for one, if not slightly more wet. He didn’t envy the lunatics up there—not in a tempest that furious—though down here wasn’t much better. Flashes of light still lit up the sea floor, which was all rock and seaweed as thick as his arm.

Whoever thought the bigwigs behind the Tower’s construction could keep the secret entrances so well hidden, and so much a secret? The few hints Tash managed to glean was really only a suggestion of a hint, but he didn’t have anything else to go on. Only so many people could get into the Tower before the entrances closed, but Tash wasn’t about to get caught up in any early fights. Let fools kill themselves and each other while he found his way through stealth.

Glass, his Vaporeon, emerged from the shadows and swam slow circles around Tash’s waist, a delighted gleam in her eyes. Tash grinned. Good news already, and less than an hour since the challenge began—this was going to be easier than he expected. He gave Glass a pat and checked his oxygen tank. With proper breathing he could last a good while longer. Time to go see this secret entrance.

His partner guided him through water—Glass could see much clearer in water than a human could, even in the dark—and it didn’t take long to reach the unnaturally-circular hole in the ground. It looked like the entrance to a tunnel, rimmed with steel plates and a menacing gap almost too small for anyone to fit through.

Tash smiled. This was going much easier than expected. Surprise or not, he was probably the first to find this little hole-in-the-ground, and before long he—

The ground lurched beneath him so suddenly Tash only had a heartbeat to react before something slammed into his gut. He barely had time enough to feel the blinding pain before it cut off abruptly, leaving him dazed and blinking confusion. Rocks shifted below him, and a strange creature made of spiked ridges and sharp claws rose from the ground, eyes filled with rage.

Glass smashed into the creature’s side like a tiny torpedo, but the monster didn’t even stagger. It swung one of its massive arms, its movements unhindered despite the water pressing down on them, and impaled Glass with ones of its clawed hands. A red cloud burst from Glass’s middle, and Tash just stared, paralyzed. He barely registered pain as the Barbaracle grabbed his arms and tore them free, like picking leaves off a tree branch.

Somewhere above them, a body crashed into the water.





“It’s looking like a close battle, folks, with the last two challengers fighting on the very top of Magnic Tower. It’s taken us almost a week to get up to this point, but now the final stretch is close at hand! Leandra’s Drapion has been an absolute menace in this fight, while Otto has proven himself and his Pokemon no small threat. But will he be able to overcome the last hurdle and take down Leandra?”

Genevieve—Jenny for short—stepped off the pier and onto the dock of Helix Port, pausing to stare at the small city laid out before her. At first glance it was clear this was the ‘tourist’ section of the city. Shops and restaurants lined the boardwalk within clear sight of the docks—stores selling Four Isle-themed knickknacks, shot glasses, T-shirts and bathing suits with ‘I <3 HELIX PORT’ or other such touristy phrases.

Small stalls lined the walk as well, selling salt-loaded french fries, corndogs, or fried fish “fresh from the ocean.” The smell of oil and fat hung thick in the air, even with the salty ocean breeze coming in. Not far west of the docks, people gravitated toward the already-overcrowded beach, even with the sun halfway over the horizon and falling.

“Oh, and it looks like Otto’s last Pokemon is out, and that Skarmory of his is a true menace. Look how it soars, folks! I don’t know about you, viewers, but I certainly wouldn’t want to be on the other end of those bladed wings.”

Jenny shifted her pack, ignoring the boardwalk despite the grumbling in her stomach. The food, like on the boat, would be more expensive closer to the boardwalk, and judging by those lines in front of the stalls it would be well past nightfall before she got her turn. She didn’t have to walk far to find the first set of hotels lined up right by the dock—most probably had balconies overlooking the sea, or even backdoors and ‘special, exclusive access pathways’ to get to the beach.

And each one would cost her an arm and maybe a foot for their smallest room, if one was even available. Jenny ignored the pretty lights and the tempting scents and headed deeper into the port city. She hoped to find a place to stay—she’d heard the streets here could be dangerous, especially for a woman alone—and she had no intentions of sleeping outside. Not if she could help it.

“The contestants haven’t been standing idle either, folks,” the announcer said. “Leandra and Otto are still trading blows with their Magnic-approved steel blades—you’ll never find better steel than Magnic steel, viewers, remember that. But—Oooh, the Drapion caught Skarmory in its pincers! Skarmory is trapped now, and all that’s left is Otto himself. It doesn’t look good for our underdog challenger.”

“Allura,” Jenny said. “Are you satisfied now? I’d like my phone back, please. Allura?”

“And there’s the surrender we’ve been waiting for. Otto concedes defeat, which means Leandra is clear to climb those final steps and Ascend the Tower, and that will conclude this year’s Magnic challenge.”

“Allura!”

The Mawile walking behind her a step jumped with a surprised yelp, then glanced up at Jenny with those big red eyes and a sheepish smile. She hesitated, then adopted a look of pure innocence that Jenny didn’t believe for a second.

“Come on, Allura,” Jenny said, holding out her hand. “The fight’s over. Besides, you’ve seen it half a dozen times already, and I’d like to preserve some of the battery tonight. Don’t give me that look. I’m not falling for your fake tears.”

Allura’s expression turned sullen and she reluctantly picked Jenny’s phone off the ground, then handed it up to her. Jenny had to stoop a little to take it back, but she gave her friend an affectionate pat on the head, which made the little Mawile smile.

Maybe there was still some time to find a treat before bed. An inexpensive treat. Jenny didn’t want her Allura to get fat, after all. She glanced over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of the yellow cocoon hanging from her pack. Mars seemed perfectly content, though it was hard to tell now. She missed having the friendly Weedle on her shoulder, but he seemed happy enough where he was.

“I’m beat,” Jenny said aloud. “Come, Allura. Let’s go find a place to stay the night.”

She’d surprise her friend with a treat later. Probably.

The maglev ran smoothly on its way to Saffron City, maintaining its precise schedule. Ezra and Levin sat opposite each other in the cabin, playing cards on a tray table. Ezra reached into his jacket and set a sizable stack of golden coins on the table. “No fucking way,” Levin scoffed. Ezra kept a stern gaze and pushed the stack further towards the center with the others, not saying a word. “You really wanna lose your payday all in one go, huh?” Levin reached for his own coins to ante but watched his friend cautiously for a tell.

“I fold,” Levin conceded, deciding not to test his luck. Ezra smiled, scooping up the pot and flipping over his cards to reveal a terrible hand. “Fuck!” Levin shouted, earning himself incredulous stares by other passengers. “Fuck…” he muttered again, shrinking down in his seat.

“You were close,” Ezra laughed. “But you need to learn not to crack under pressure. Remember the job in Pewter?”

“Asshole.”

“No such thing in this life as a sure thing except death and taxes. At the very least guys like us can dodge the latter. Sometimes you just gotta go for broke. Another round?”

“Fuck off.”

A woman walked down the aisle and took her seat across from the two, grabbing a book from her bag to occupy herself. Ezra gave her a sidelong glance and a smile, shuffling the cards together.

“We thought you missed the train,” he said. “Would’ve been a shame if you couldn’t join us for the afterparty.”

“Had to take a detour. Too many eyes.”

“And the goods?”

“A hunter always catches her prey.”

“You had it easy,” Levin chimed in. “All you had to do was watch the cargo on a boat.”

“For two weeks.”

“Yeah, and?”

“That’s two weeks Minerva went without pizza,” Ezra said, standing up. He moved over to sit next to her, placing his arm around her shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll grab some in Saffron on me. I know a place you’re gonna love. When we’re there, we can talk about our next move.”

“Boss already has another job lined up, huh?”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s an easy gig. Nothing the three of us can’t handle…”



The best waves always came in the morning.

Minerva glided on the water, surfboard at her side as Agares swam past her. The competitive Croconaw, eager to show off, raced full speed looking back at his trainer and not at the jutting rock he promptly slammed into. Agares crashed through the other side of the stone and rushed to catch up. The waters further beyond the shore foamed as Minerva approached, ready for the crest to form.

She propelled herself on her board and balanced herself firm, riding up and down the smaller waves. The Croconaw swam on his back alongside Minerva, electing to pace himself this time. Minerva crouched and gave Agares a rub on the belly, while he playfully splashed at her in return. She let off a soft chuckle before turning to the horizon where something caught her eye.

A hunter always catches her prey.

The grandest wave of them all took form, creeping up to swallow all in its path. Minerva chased after, and in perfect form trailed through the barreling tide, droplets of water glistening past her. No longer was there a sense of time, and memories of Cinnabar Island didn’t seem so far away. Then it was over. The waters calmed with Minerva left standing on her surfboard, staring back at the shore. Picking up on her cue, Agares swam behind the surfboard and pushed Minerva all the way to the beach.

“Smooth moves out there,” a man in an Alolan print shirt called to Minerva. “You too, little dude.” Agares placed his hands on his hips and turned his snout upward in a proud pose.

“Thanks for watching my stuff,” Minerva said. “And Shax. I usually hate having to ask.”

“No worries. Little man’s just vibin’.”

Minerva’s Natu nested himself in the center of a sandcastle, basking comfortably in the sun and in no rush to leave. There was no use in moving him now—he liked it there. “Shax, let’s go,” Minerva said, to no avail. Agares puffed up his chest and threatened to kick over the sandcastle but was met with Shax’s unnerving stare. “Guess we’ll get food without you.” In an instant, Minerva felt a small weight upon her head—Shax had teleported to her as a sign of compliance. “That’s what I thought.”

“I didn’t catch your name, by the way,” the man said. Minerva paused for a moment before giving him a lie.

“Athena.”

“Well it was nice to meet you, Athena. I’m Shaun. With a ‘U.’ Maybe next time I’ll join you out there on the waves, yeah?”

“Maybe. We’ll see. See you later, ‘Shaun-with-a-U.’”

Agares spotted the fried fish stand and pointed excitedly at it, holding up three claws at Minerva. “You’ll get one,” she rejected, gathering her things. “We’ll get more later.” Agares got his fish, Shax was given berries, and Minerva bought a small cup of shaved ice for herself. Minerva spent the rest of her time enjoying the festivities of the beach—morning became afternoon, and afternoon into the evening.

The sun rested against the skyline, signifying time for Minerva to return home. She grabbed her phone and tapped “Helix Pizza” at the top of her list, right above a contact labeled “Hardass.” The first tone didn’t even finish before someone picked up as if expecting her. “The usual?” the recipient asked.

“The usual. I might not be home right away, just so you know.”

“If you aren’t there, we’ll leave it on your front desk. Don’t blame us if it gets stolen.”

“Fine.”

Minerva looked forward to the end of her night, and the pizza waiting for her back home. Every meticulous detail of it burned in her mind: aged white cheddar and mozzarella, caramelized onions complimenting the assortment of mushrooms, and topped with shaved Parmesan and the signature helix swirl of garlic aioli.

Nothing was going to go wrong today.

Dusk fell slowly over the small port town, the tides receded and the beachgoers and surfers slowly returning to shore. Rather than thinning, the crowds on the boardwalk only grew thicker as the sun fell and the moon rose. Street lamps and store lights kept the pathways lit and the nocturnal Pokemon came out to play. Mostly Glameow at this hour, but Vicky spotted a Hoothoot perched atop one of the taller buildings near the dock.

Those never usually caused any problems. But where there are Glameow and Hoothoot around, there are also plenty of Rattata. Those little rats never seemed to disappear, no matter how many the cats and owls killed. Vicky had seen enough rat corpses in two years to match the dead during the Kanto-Johto war a few years back. Gruesome stuff, that.

Vicky absently puffed on her cigarette, until she realized it had burnt all the way down to the stub while she was distracted. Annoyed, she stamped the pitiful ember out and tossed the stick into the ash tray. It was about time to be going anyway. The kid would be returning home by now, and Vicky wanted to arrive early and prepare a little ambush.

“One for the road, officer?” the bartender suggested, offering a suggestive smile. It was more of a lemonade stand than an actual bar—the place was set up out in the open with a few bar stools and some small tables where people could sit and smoke in the sun. There were a couple stands like this all over the boardwalk, and Vicky was a regular at most.

“Not tonight, Mason,” Vicky said, draping her coat over one arm and pressing a tip onto the counter. “I’ve got work to do.”

“Will I be seeing you again, Vik?”

“You know the answer to that by now.”

Mason nodded, the smile never leaving his wide face. “Whatever happened to that prodigy you were talking about a few weeks ago? You never did say much about them.”

“You know I can’t talk about work, Mason, stop bugging me about it.”

“I can’t help it,” Mason said with a shrug. “I’m curious. You sent them on a job not too long ago, as I recall. Did everything go well?”

Vicky eyed the bartender.

“I’m only curious.”

“Everything did go well,” Vicky said, lighting another cig and taking a long drag. She stamped the light out and tucked it away for later, then gave Mason her other eye. “And that’s all you’re getting out of me. I’ll see you soon, Mason.”

Vicky turned before the man could ask anything more and strode away from the bar stand, coat tucked under her arm and her white collared shirt partly unbuttoned at the top. Anyone who knew her would recognize her, but no one who saw her would think her anything more than a middle-aged veteran. She wasn’t sloppy, but her coat was definitely well-worn and ‘carefully scruffy.’

As she walked she kept a close eye on the people she passed, though she never gave any outward sign looking. She could see a lot just out of the corners of her eyes, and she saw little of interest tonight. That was good. Despite F.I.L.E. not having as great a presence here these days, the streets were mostly safe. Some alleys could prove more dangerous, but for a port town, there wasn’t much crime here. Petty theft, larceny, the occasional assault. Nothing serious.

Usually.

Two times she passed men wearing heavy overcoats around their shoulders with an image of fangs, almost like a badge of honor, riding their coat sleeves where anyone could see it. Fang was here. And if she saw two, there were more she didn’t see. They liked working from the shadows, but so long as they didn’t do anything in front of her, Vicky couldn’t arrest them. Even though she knew they were trouble.

She moved on. No need to let a potential danger trouble her, when there was a matter far more pressing that needed her attention. She moved past the gang members and finally arrived at an old laundromat. The place was a run down ruin, just barely able to stand anymore, on the outskirts of the slums. The street here was deserted, so Vicky spared no time stepping into the old place.

She was greeted by a familiar smell, and quickly spotted the source. A large pizza box sat on the counter in the back, printed with a tiny Darumaka spinning an enormous pizza in its stubby hands. Vicky smiled to herself as she grabbed the box and carried it up the stairs in the back. She waved her card in front of the scanner to keep the silent alarm from triggering, and moved into the flat above the laundromat.

She’d grab a slice or two and wait for the kid to arrive. She always did after ordering pizza, so it wouldn’t be too long a wait.

The pale moonlight reflected upon the canals of Helix Port, stars speckling on the waterways. Minerva leaned against the guardrails of a bridge, watching the view of the city come to life beneath the night sky. Shax fell fast asleep in Minerva’s hood, while Agares curiously watched a Munchlax rummage through garbage. A family of Ducklett swam through the bridge, breaking their single file to feed on oats an old man dropped into the water.

“Hey Agares,” Minerva called, giving her Croconaw a poke. “Do you think I made the right choice, coming to this place?”

Agares stared at Minerva for a moment before giving a confused shrug. Human travails proved too complex for his mind to comprehend. He turned back to the Munchlax who now waddled to the edge of the bridge, diving into the water for the oats. The resulting splash dispersed the Ducklett and earned several curses from the old man. Agares let out a guttural laugh—Minerva shook her head.

“Let’s get going. I don’t want cold pizza.”

Minerva slipped her hands into her jacket and waded through the sea of faces out and about. They all minded their business, and Minerva preferred it that way. She soon crossed into the more questionable neighborhoods and ghosted along the deathly silent streets. At last, the ChromeWash Laundromat stood before her in all its unprepossessing glory, with graffitied walls and several letters in the neon sign that refused to light up.

“Home, sweet hole.”

The laundromat returned Minerva’s greeting with a few crackles and sparks from the letters that actually did light up. She entered the building, automatic sensors activating the interior lights. The promised pizza was nowhere to be seen, only leaving behind a trace of its scent. A burglar, perhaps? Maybe another wandering Pokemon stumbled in and helped itself. The thought was quickly ruled out, as the room remained neat and tidy—as neat and tidy as she left it, anyway.

She kicked up her boot behind her and caught the knife she kept strapped to it, ready for the worst. Agares flared his nostrils and went into high alert. Other than the pizza, nothing else was taken. The Croconaw followed the smell up the stairs, with Minerva closely behind. Minerva found herself at the door to her accommodations, distraught when she noticed that whoever was on the other side didn’t need to break in. Carefully, she brought her key to the physical lock next to the electric scanner.

“Please be a burglar.”

No, it was “Hardass.”

This collab post is sponsored by [REDACTED]

...

The living space was modestly kept with what room was available. A single bed strategically placed with the headboard facing the door, a small dining table, stools at the kitchen counter, a steel safe set into the wall and a mini sofa on a hardwood floor. It was small, utilitarian, and made into a cozy little hole by its only occupant. On the wall was the only non-utilitarian piece of décor—a poster of a shooting range silhouette with several knife marks scored into it.

Vicky lounged in the mini-sofa, one leg hanging over the side, and her grin turned wolfish as the apartment’s only occupant stepped in. Minerva paused by the door, staring at her and the empty pizza box on the kitchen counter. By the look on her face, it was clear she was uncomfortable with Vicky being there, but that was nothing new. The kid’s Croconaw sauntered past without a second glance.

“Hey kid,” Vicky drawled, tapping an unlit cigarette against her palm. “I hope you don’t mind I helped myself to a slice.” She jerked her thumb to the cramped kitchen. “I put it in the oven to keep it warm for ya. Why don’t you get yourself a slice and come sit down with me. I’ve got a job you could do.”

Agares sat down in front of the oven and watched it intently, waiting for any sort of cue from Minerva for permission. Minerva sighed, setting her surfboard against the wall and pulling over a stool. “Business first. I’ll eat when you leave.”

“Suit yourself,” Vicky said. She gestured with the unlit stub as she spoke, stuffing the urge to light it down. She was many things, but not the kind of asshole who smoked in someone’s living space. “F.I.L.E. didn’t originally plan on giving this job to bounty hunters, but two of our squads are missing, and the Rangers apparently have more important things to do, what with the whole Magnic Challenge coming up.

Vicky sneered as she mentioned the challenge. As a cop, she wasn’t a big fan of events that brought hundreds of fresh faces from almost very other corner of the world. The increase in gang activity, smuggling, and organized crime skyrocketed the last time the challenge was announced, and it took four years for things to settle back down to the way they were before. And that only happened after the huge turf war between Claw and Fang.

They would have fresh meat to prey on now, and the entire force was bracing itself to weather the coming storm. It made sense the Rangers had no time to spare, even for a threat as serious as this.

“I guess I’m the next expendable party on the totem pole,” Minerva quipped. “Where do I come in?”

“I wouldn’t call you expendable,” Vicky countered. “More, reliable.” She paused, letting her words sink in just long enough before continuing. “A Manectric was spotted ten days ago up north, up near the forest that blocks the view of Magnic Tower. It’s rampaged through the forest and the land between there and here, rustling up the natives and causing general havoc. Ordinarily we’d wait for a bigger predator to come along and take care of it for us...but none of them seem interested.

“As a matter of fact, every Pokemon in the area has either dipped out or hid themselves underground. Worse, people have gone missing, and not just cops. It attacks travelers looking for Pokemon to subjugate, and as far as anyone knows, it doesn’t leave bodies. I know electric-types are more dangerous for you, but...”

“I’ve fought Levin’s Manectric before,” Minerva said. “I’ve got a fair idea what I’m up against. Am I putting it down, or is this a catch-and-release?”

“We’d prefer capture. Find the monster, capture it, and bring it back so we can study what it’s ailment is. If it proves too much of a threat, you do whatever you need to stay alive. Pay is standard rate, with a bonus if you do manage to capture it alive.” Vicky paused, then winked and added, “And a bit of hazard pay too, just ‘cause I like you. Whaddo ya say, kid?”

“I wasn’t worried about keeping the lights on in this place, but I’ll take this contract. Do me a favor and take your time passing off the next job to me, I really hate having people over unannounced.”

“I make no promises,” Vicky said, standing up and sticking the stub into her mouth. Lighter in hand, she walked toward the door, pausing to give Minerva one last look. “So you know, word from further up the grapevine’s informed me that a few people are getting their fangs and claws bloodier than usual lately. Stay safe, kid.”

With that, she left Minerva to her solitude, pizza, and preparations.

Minerva stared at the door for a solid moment after Vicky left. Agares grabbed the pizza as the oven timer beeped, being clever enough to use the mitts hanging off the handle—a testament to Minerva’s discipline or perhaps a past mishap. Minerva spent the rest of the night in silence, trying to enjoy what time she had left before it was time to work again. For whatever reason, Vicky always insisted on seeing her in person when they had phones. That bugged the shit out of her.

In the morning, Minerva tended to the miniature garden she had set up on the building’s terrace, finding Shax nestled comfortably in a planter—just how he was the day she met the Natu. “If it fits, I sits,” Minerva could imagine him saying with his vacant stare. She picked him up and set him in the lowered hood of her coat, ready to leave the laundromat with Agares also in tow.

Minutes of traveling through the back alleys of Helix brought Minerva and her Pokemon to a building space marked by an insignia depicting crossed swords over a gun reticle. Den of Saints, her home away from home. A few knocks on the door caused the slotted peephole to slide open, revealing a pair of eyes.

“Password,” a voice demanded.

“An Abra sleeps eighteen hours a day, unless it’s leap year,” Minerva responded.

A few clicks of locks and latches later, and Minerva was permitted entry. Instantly, she was hit with the smell of smoke and beer, and met with the sounds of raucous laughter and merriment. Bounty hunters of all ages and appearances occupied the bar and billiard tables, with two trying to best each other at darts. The interior was decorated with stained-glass windows and remnants of religious iconography, giving the impression of a repurposed church. Minerva took a seat next to a grizzled man and his Marowak.

“Havoc,” Minerva called him by nickname.

“Mermaid,” he returned in kind. “Ain’t you comin’ back from your surfing trip a little early?”

“Isn’t a little too early to be decorating the floor?”

Havoc looked beneath the stool at the pile of crushed cans and shrugged.

“It’s five o’clock somewhere. Anyway, I’m guessing you ain’t here just to shoot the shit. What can ol’ Havoc do for ya?”

“I was wondering if I could get some snares or steel-jaws off you.”

“Sounds like you picked up a job we didn’t get a posting for. Nothin’ coming in but small gigs all week.”

“I’d get big jobs too if I had a FILE agent in my pocket,” rang out another bounty hunter.

“Only three months in and you’re already getting too big for your britches, new blood,” Havoc shot back. “Shit, you ain’t even got a nickname yet.”

“Yeah, well that’s about to change, and I won’t be needing a signed gig to earn my patch,” he responded. “I’m gonna be taking an open contract: the pit fighter!”

The entire den went silent. A collective of smirks and whistles followed a moment after. Havoc rolled his eyes and helped himself to another beer.

“The damnedest thing about nameless hunters,” he said, turning back to Minerva. “Is that it’s a pain in the ass knowing what to put on their goddamned tombstones. Take a good look at that kid, Mermaid. You ain’t gonna be seeing him again after he walks out that door.”

“About the traps,” Minerva continued with undeterred focus.

“Right. I’ve got a crate in the back with some spares. Help yourself.”

“Thanks.”

Minerva loaded up a duffel bag’s worth of tools before steeling herself for the hunt. Her own personal gear consisted of a set of knives that could be attached to a metal wire belt via a carabiner to serve as a grapple line, as well as pouches of powdered bleach from the laundromat. She was stopped by Havoc before leaving the den, handing her a weathered book.

“What’s this?”

“An old tradition we have here. You’ve been with us long enough, so I figured it’s about time. What you hold in your hands is a special codex passed down from saint to saint. In it, you’ll find our code of honor as well as detailed notes, sketches, and attached photographs from the other saints taken from some of their biggest contracts. Only thing we saints love more than cashing in on a big job is bragging about it, and you’ll see plenty of that written in the book.”

“You’re just giving me this?”

“Hell no. I expect that codex back when you finish your job. If anything, it’s there to help you get the lay of the land so you don’t get caught unprepared—that’s a saint’s biggest shame. In return, I’m countin’ on you to fill in some pages with your own stories along the way. By giving you this, I’m expecting you to come back alive. Don’t disappoint me, Mermaid.”

Havoc gave her a strong pat on the back before letting her get on her way, raising a beer as a toast. Outside the den, Minerva shot a quick message to Vicky, letting her know she was ready.

The shift from night to morning changed little in Helix Port. As the nightowls and boardwalk roamers finally turned in, they were quickly replaced by early morning shift workers. Baggy-eyed and caffeine-deprived employees shuffled out of their homes, the horizon lit in a pale gray-blue color, the sun not yet visible over the horizon.

Genevieve checked and double-checked her supplies and gear she’d purchased from an out-of-the-way handy shop. She’d found it almost by chance when roaming the streets the night before, when searching for a place to stay the night, and got a few good deals on some slightly used camping gear. Allura helped carry the old tent and some of their food supplies in a backpack bigger than she was.

“Map says we need to go north for a few miles,” Genevieve said, examining a fold-up paper map she’d scrounged up in a tourist shop. It was the sort of thing most people wouldn’t bother with in this time and age, because of smart phones and such. But she only had so much juice in her portable charger, so wasting battery life on a map was not ideal. Besides, the Rangers would expect her to know how to read a map.

“Once we hit Helix River, we should follow it upstream until we reach the bridge crossing. About eighteen, twenty miles according to the pamphlet here. Then another twenty-five miles to reach the forest. We’ll need to camp before then. Maybe after the crossing? What do you guys think? Mars? Allura?”

Allura looked up, holding onto the little pack with both claws and smiling. She stamped her feet in a marching motion, already excited to get going. Mars, as always, was quiet, but she thought she heard a discontented rumbling from within his cocoon. She had no idea how to interpret it. Mars the Weedle used to be a joyful and animated little bug, but now...well, Genevieve wouldn’t begrudge him for growing up.

“I guess we’ll figure it out when we get there,” Genevieve said. She checked the time on her phone, then started on her way to the city’s north exist. Helix Port was a big place and easy to get lost in for someone unfamiliar with the place. Waterways were a common feature on the main roads, and those were often filled with the more docile Pokemon. A Hoothoot perched on a street lamp a short distance away, and it gave her a soft hoot as she walked by.

A few minutes later, as she moved past a series of short alleyways and off the main part of the road, she noticed Allura perk up. Frowning, Genevieve stopped and cocked her head, listening. Just faintly, she could hear a man’s voice in the distance, though she couldn’t make out the words. Curious, she moved towards the sound, creeping on her toes to stay quiet.

“I’m tellin’ ya, boss man,” the man’s voice kept saying. “Mick and Chelle just popped like fireworks! The others are still out there, we gotta go bail ‘em out.”

Criminals? Genevieve wondered. She glanced to Mawile, but her diminutive friend just shrugged her little shoulders and pointed to the giant maw behind her, which grinned menacingly. Genevieve shook her head.

“The others are just gonna have to figure it out on their own,” another man said. “I ain’t about to go toe-to-toe with some rampaging beastie.”

“There’s lives at stake here, boss!” the first man urged.

“Yeah, boss,” a female voice added. “You sayin’ yous don’t care about us?”

“I’m saying it’s too risky,” the ‘boss’ said. “I ain’t risking more lives to get back what we lost.”

“More like you ain’t riskin’ your life to help out your family,” the man said, the woman sounding firm agreement. “I’m gonna help. Mick and Chelle might be gone, but their partners are still out there, prolly scared outta their wits. And let’s not forget Lil’ Dee. You care about Lil’ Dee, don’t you, boss?”

There was a pause. Too long of a pause. “I forbid you from going after them,” the boss said, his tone exasperated but controlled and careful. Genevieve knew immediately it was the wrong thing to say.

“Yeah, well, I guess you ain’t my boss anymore then. I’m done.”

“You can’t quit the Howlers, Brian,” the boss said.

“Fuck you, Mark. You comin’ Bridget?”

“Yeah,” the woman said. “Lemme go wrangle up some of the others an’ we go save them pups.”

Hearing footsteps approaching, Genevieve hurried back out the alley the way she came before she was discovered and resumed a casual stroll down the street. She acted the tourist, gawking at all the buildings around her, so she could throw a glance over her shoulder and see two people step out of the alley together. They had black leather jackets and gray undershirts on, though the woman’s was lower-cut. On the back of those jackets was the face of a wolf howling.

Gang members. The Howlers? Genevieve had never heard of them before, but then again, she wasn’t exactly native or familiar with this place. Still, the things they said in that alley concerned her. A rampaging Pokemon? What was all that about? She paused in the street, glancing back towards the retreating figures. They didn’t look like thugs. They were going to meet by the city gates, was it? Maybe she could learn more through them.

“On guard, Allura,” Genevieve said.