Zerflah

Pokemon: Kings and Queens

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.

Pokemon: Kings and Queens

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.

The Taygete Project

Cat lost her persona. Zia slipped away from her like water in sunlight on a hot day She turned to steam and drifted away on the breeze. She reached to grab it, to pull it back, but her hands grasped only smoke. She sat in the changing room, mere minutes before her performance, her hands gripping her knees so tightly her nails dug into her skin. They left impressions, like miniature scars.

Leave Taygete before you can’t get out. Star’s last words to her rang in her head, as loud as the church bells back home. They rang every Sunday, and her father always give her and her little brother a piece of candy after service. The anticipation of getting that treat always made Cat love going to church on Sundays, and now that she was older she recognized the clever scheme for what it was. She hadn’t been inside a church for years.

What would it be like? After she left home and began traveling around the world, religion was one of those things that changed wherever she went, and after seeing the similarities between all of them, she wasn’t truly sure if she could follow any one. She followed none of them, but at the same time, she followed all of them.

This life will suck you in and won’t spit you out until you’re as withered and dried as a corpse. Cat grimaced. She did feel tired more often than not lately. With her job pulling her one way and her night life pulling her another way, the tiny apartment she was only able to rent because she had a roommate to split the costs, and the mold growing in the air conditioning, it was a wonder she found sleep at all. Angie was a wonderful friend, and Cat really did love her, but…

Star was right. This life was draining her. Straining her. Every day felt the same, and the bits of joy she managed to eke out of her life seemed like pitiful embers compared to the blazing bonfire she’d known when she was traveling around the world. Why was she here, in Taygete? Why did she stop moving from place to place? She didn’t need to come here, not when there were hundreds of other cities she’d yet to see. She could have performed around the world, and her notoriety would have spread that way.

So why was she still here? Why?

Go to the country, find a farm somewhere or a husband or both, and give your life to something worth doing. Cat would have liked to find a husband. Children were one of her life’s goals. But she didn’t want to stop traveling either, and to do that, she’d need to find someone willing to leave everything behind for a life on the road. By the time she saw every end of the world, maybe then she’d be ready to settle down in one place for a time and raise her sons or daughters. She’d treat them better than her mother had treated her. Her family would be whole and unbroken. That was something worth devoting her life to, wasn’t it?

The clock ticked the hour, and Cat knew she was running late now. She tried to reach for Zia’s persona, but the mask again slipped from her reach. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she stood and walked out of the changing room. She felt oddly calm. Her nerves should have been a frazzled mess—she should be halfway to panicking—but instead she was…ready.

No singing tonight, Cat thought, moving through the dim hallway towards the stage. No music, either. Just me.

She could hear the crowd in the Heritage. The club would be packed by now, and the lengthy pause between performances hadn’t gone unnoticed. The stage manager was giving her a dirty look as she approached, but she ignored him and moved out onto the stage. As she did so, she let her mind drift, letting it focus on the nails in the boards below her. With a subtle turn of her awareness, those nails turned into magnets, gently pushing against her skin until she strengthened her aura and directed it into the nail-turned-magnets.

The result was that she rose into the air with every step, as if she were climbing a set of stairs no one could see. Her shoes, with nothing left to support them, fell off her feet and clattered to the ground. Cat stopped center-stage and looked out at the crowd, perfectly aware she was giving the front row a chance to look up her skirt. She didn’t care. Let them see. They wouldn’t find any strings holding her in the air.

For a moment she merely stood there, scanning the crowd and waiting. She recognized few of them—only the regulars who came almost every night, though she didn’t know them personally. A pair of men in the back were watching her closely, but no more closely than anyone else trying to see what was holding her up. They’d never suspect the truth. Nothing held her up.

Then, finally, the mask of Zia fell over her eyes and took control. Relief flooded through her, and Zia began her dance. She swayed to the music in her mind, the tune in her soul and the beat of her pulse. It was a fast beat, and it grew faster as she danced through the smoke-filled air, the scent of cigars and off-brand tobacco or weed heavy in the air. She danced, and she let her multi-colored dress shift and dance with her, until she appeared to be not just one, but two separate dancers in the same body.

She threw herself across the stage, the beads in her hair clacking with the rhythm in her heart. She twirled and twisted, spun and pirouetted, and flared her skirt out so far she exposed herself to half the crowd. But she didn’t care. She didn’t see a crowd anymore. She saw a field of grass and a bonfire so bright and hot the wintry breeze never touched more than the sweat on her brow. The tribe danced with her, and there was laughter, singing, and clapping in time with the beat of the drums.

She danced with the men. She sang with the women. She laughed with the children. Sweat flew from her brow as she danced on the stage, but Zia was reliving a memory now, and paid no mind to it. She danced long into the night, and she remembered the young man that had come to her. Picking her over of a dozen women from his own tribe to dance with. She remembered his hands on her skin. The touch of his lips. The spice on his breath.

“Stay,” he had whispered to her. But she refused. Back then, she didn’t need to think about it to know she didn’t want to stay grounded in one place for too long. If she had stayed, she would have become his wife and would never again leave the village. She’d have children by now. Sons and daughters, and plenty of both. But that life wasn’t for her.

So why Taygete? Cat wondered, the slip in her mask almost causing her to stumble. She slowed the pace of her dance, her eyes still closed. Compared to life here, she would have welcomed her chance to join one of the tiny villages and live the rest of her life there. So why here? What made Taygete so much more appealing a place to stay?

Slowly her dance came to a rest, and Cat let herself drop back down on the stage. She opened her eyes, and saw a crowd of eyes staring back at her. She blinked, startled by the unexpected sight. There was no bonfire here, only cigar and cigarette smoke, mixed with the scent of alcohol and her own sweat. She was drenched. Sweat poured from her brow, and her breathing came in dry, ragged gasps.

How long have I been dancing? Cat glanced to the side, aware of the stage director’s stern glare, and swallowed the lump in her throat. She gave a deep curtsy to the crowd, then briskly exited stage right. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Star’s figure again, and her final words echoed in Cat’s head.

You don’t belong here, kid.

“I know,” Cat whispered. “I’m going to leave.”

“Finally!” the stage director grumbled. Cat started. “First you’re ten minutes late, next you go almost half an hour over your allotted time. We have other performers waiting their turn, so if you don’t get off the stage when I tell you to, you’ll lose that privilege. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir,” Cat said. “I’m very sorry.”

The man harrumphed at her, and Cat took her chance to scurry away. She returned to the changing room and quickly washed the sweat from her face and hair, then changed out of her clothes. She moved quickly, wanting to be out of the Heritage as fast as possible, and on her way back to her and Angie’s apartment. She’d spend the night, pack her things, then leave in the early morning.

She wasn’t sure where she would go. But she had already decided to leave, and for now that was enough. She stormed out of the Heritage, and into the night.

Pokemon: Kings and Queens

Vicky

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.

Pokemon: Kings and Queens

Prologue

Six Years Ago

♫

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.

Current Day

Genevieve

“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.

Pokemon: Kings and Queens

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The Taygete Project

Catherine entered the long, narrow hallway behind the Heritage bar, heavy duffle bag tucked under one arm and an excited grin on her face as she hurried towards her goal. The back entrance was seldom used, but the owner allowed performers to go in and out that way, to give them a bit of privacy. Anyone caught loitering near that entrance was quickly disabused of their foolishness.

She could barely contain her excitement. She’d spent all day half dreaming of tonight, and her belly was so crowded with bumblebees and butterflies she half expected some might come flying out if she opened her mouth. Well, none did, but there was always a chance. And wouldn’t that be a sight to see.

Giggling to herself, Cat slipped into a back room and shut the door behind her, locking it to make sure no one would walk in on her. Then she took a deep breath and set her burden down on the vanity. The room was about as small as the master bedroom in her and Angie’s apartment, with a large vanity taking up a quarter of the space and a few standing racks for hanging dresses or suits, a closet for storing her belongings, and a small washstand for cleaning off makeup or just washing hands.

After refreshing herself in the small bathroom outside, Cat tore open her bag and began taking out her equipment and the outfit she’d chosen for tonight. Bottles and jars of makeup and paints, vials of strong perfumes, ribbons and hair ties, and jewelry of a dozen different varieties. Long and thin strips of metal as well, which she set aside, separate from her other pieces.

The dress was a thick, woolen affair of variegated colors and patterns she’d made herself while she’d lived with a tribal clan what seems a hundred years ago. It came in two parts—a loose, layered blouse with a shawl that covered her chest and shoulders but bared her midriff, and a long skirt that curved about her hips and twisted down her legs to end in loose tassels that brushed her ankles. The tassels swayed hypnotically as she practiced swinging her hips, remembering the dance she learned so long ago.

Once satisfied with her dress, Cat sat at the vanity and grabbed the jars of paint and makeup, then set to painting the skin on her arms, her face, and her midriff too. Swirls of blue and lines of gold decorated her tan skin as her brush danced over it, her top removed so she wouldn’t smear paint on the cloth. She painted the tips of her fingers, and had to wait for them to dry before painting the fingers on her other hand. She had time, though.

With makeup she changed her face. Her cheekbones went higher and became more prominent, her full lips drew color, and shadows made her eyes seem larger than they truly were. She tied long strings of beads to her hair, and they clacked as they brushed together. When it was all done and she saw herself in the mirror, even she had difficulty recognizing her own face. It was someone else’s face. Someone more beautiful by half.

“I am Zia the Enchantress,” she said aloud, meeting her own gaze in the mirror. A spark of amusement tickled her chest, and she couldn’t help but laugh. What would Angie say, if she heard her say that?

When all the paint dried and she checked over herself again, she redressed and sat down to wait. She wouldn’t be going out until the hour struck, and she still had a few minutes to kill before her time. Besides, those butterflies were still churning her stomach, and she wanted a moment to rest and settle her nerves. She hadn’t waited long when a rap sounded at her door, and before she could get up to answer it, the latch on the door shifted aside.

Zia tensed, then relaxed as the owner of the Heritage stepped into the room, gently closing the door behind her. The owner, Star, was wearing that snapback she always had on, ponytail snaked through the hole in the back and her head tilted just far down enough to hide her eyes. Still, eyes down or not, she gave Zia an appraising look, folding her arms across her chest.

Star was an imposing woman. She was of a height with Zia, but the way she carried herself—even while slouching and at ease—height never seemed to matter. This was a woman in full control of herself, her surroundings, and everyone in her proximity. A woman who was who she wanted to be, and unafraid of it. Zia envied her.

“I see you’re ready,” Star said, leaning back against the doorframe. Even doing that she looked in control. “The bar’s packed. There will be quite the crowd when you go out there, but I suspect that’s what you wanted.”

“I will go out in a few more moments,” Zia agreed. She tried to pitch her voice to match the owner’s tone, calm and confident, but what came out was all breathy anxiety. Star’s lips curved into a small smile.

“Relax, Catherine,” she said. “You won’t be any good tense like a coiled spring. Stay focused, but relax. Deep breaths.”
Zia tried. She really did, but there was only so much breathing could do for her. “I’m Zia right now,” she said. “I’d prefer if you called me that while I’m dressed up. It helps me...disconnect.”

Star frowned. “I think you have something backwards, Catherine Winters. Disconnecting yourself from your stage face is all well and good, but remember which one you’re supposed to be right now. You are Catherine until you walk onto that stage. Only then can you be someone else.”

“It helps me,” Zia said defensively.

Star shrugged. “Fine. Suit yourself, kid. Just remember, reveling in the spotlight is all well and good, but if you let it control your life and everything you do, you’ll get burned out quick. You could be a decent actor, if you play your cards right, but you won’t ever be more than that.”

Despite herself, Zia flushed red and almost leapt from her chair. “You can’t—” she cut off, biting her tongue as Star raised a hand. That was all she did, but it felt more like a slap in the face than the earlier comment.

“Take one from a woman who’s been where you are before,” Star said. “Leave Taygete before you can’t get out anymore. This life will suck you in, and it won’t spit you out until you’re as withered and dried out as a corpse. Go to the country, find a farm somewhere or a husband or both, and give your life to something worth doing. You don’t belong here, kid, and I don’t mean any of this as an insult.”

Star nodded to her, then turned and left before Zia could utter a word. She was still opening and closing her mouth, trying to figure out what to say in that empty room, but nothing came out. Zia...or Cat, or whoever she was, fell back into her seat and stared at her hands, her mind racing but no thought coming to the surface.

The Taygete Project

Cat laughed, despite herself. She shouldn’t have, knowing the termination letter staring her in the face was authentic. Corporate culture was rife with toxicity and unrealistic expectations, and that shouldn’t be making her laugh. She should be vomiting. It was sad, dangerous, and all too common in the world—especially Taygete. SuperLife wasn’t near as suffocating as some of the other corporate societies, but the wrong manager at the wrong time could turn a good day bad, and a bad day awful.

“I’ve never been much of a stickler for rules myself, Angie,” Cat said, placing her chin on her hands and smiling fondly at her friend. “I struck out on my own for years, ‘cause I didn’t want to be cooped up with my bitch of a mother until I was twenty. If I had let her, she’d probably have married me off like we were still in the Middle Ages or something. I had my own little renaissance, though I don’t think it was quite as abrasive as yours.”

She chuckled again, but her smile slowly faded. “It’s not really about being popular,” she said quietly. “I want to help people. Can’t just stand by and watch this city bore itself to death. I still read through comments despite some awful behavior because some people actually want to ask questions. I’m doing this for them. Not me. I think.”

That last part was the real kicker, though. What good could a girl dancing on a stage do for others, when all anyone ever wanted to see was less clothing and more skin? If she didn’t use that strange power of hers to ‘enhance’ her performances, would she be any more popular than the local strippers? She didn’t know. She’d probably never know. And that, despite all she said, bothered her.

I never asked for this power, she thought. She shook her head and smiled at Angie again. “You said we were shopping today, yeah? As much as I like talkin’ to you, if we don’t get up now we never will. And I have a show to prep for tonight.”

The Taygete Project

“I’m not falling in love with myself,” Cat said, flicking down to the comments section. She frowned, then kept scrolling until she found a comment not laced with sexual harassment. “Though I suppose everyone should be able to love themselves a little. If you can’t live with yourself, how will anyone else? Anyway, I’m just doing some research on how to be better at this thing.”

She set her phone on the table between them and turned it around so Angie could see the video playing. It was one of her earliest performances, done on a street corner rather than inside a reputable club like the Heritage. But renting a slot at the Heritage got expensive, and she could only do it because of her retail job, and though her performances were starting to eclipse what she made at SuperLife, she still needed that secondary income.

She found the video horrendous, but hadn’t taken it off of her account. Indeed, it still received new views and comments, though with less frequency than her newer material. She switched to one of those newer videos, and she could immediately tell the difference. Would Angie ever believe her if Cat said she felt like a different person when she performed? How could she even explain that? How could she describe the feeling she got when she put her costume on and became someone else?

The costume, the mask, the colored hair and makeup changed her. She didn’t become an entirely different person, but the persona still felt real to her. Like stepping into a role playing game with a character model and personality based off herself. One with a different name.

“I just want to be better. I’m trying to play a role here, a different character. She isn’t me, but I’m sometimes her. And I need to learn better how to be her if I want to get anywhere with these performances. The better I am at pretending, the more popularity I can get, and the better to spread what I’m trying to show.”

The Taygete Project

Cat smiled and waved away the exhaust fumes of Angelli’s departure, part of her glad the woman could leave a conversation so abruptly and part of her a little annoyed by it. She could appreciate someone always wanting to be on the move—that’s basically what her life was like for six or seven years. An international, never-ending road trip, where she often didn’t know where she’d be sleeping until night came.

It felt odd to have both a stable roommate and a reliable, if somewhat run-down bed for...eleven months now? Had it really been that long? The days went by so quickly here compared to a year ago, when every day was an adventure all its own. She was constantly meeting new people, complete strangers who seemed bemused to have a sun-tanned foreigner asking after their day, though overcoming language barriers required some creativity.

But despite all that, she never felt a true culture shock until after she returned. Modern civilization was just so different from the villages and hamlets she visited, and while the lower places of the world could be dangerous sometimes, Taygete honestly wasn’t much better. Everything was just more...convenient here.

Catherine shook her head and ducked into her car. Even if she was coasting through life now, that didn’t mean she wasn’t doing important work here. Well, partly. Cat the Retail Customer Service Representative wasn’t doing much, other than giving her a stable income. Which was still important. But there was something else too.

She turned the ignition and, while she waited for the radiator to blast the heat from her car, she flicked through the notifications she missed during work. There were several hundred of those. Most from Pathisee. Her performances were becoming more and more popular, now that she had some traction and a stable viewer base. The latest video had tens of thousands of views now, which made her smile. While a couple ten-thousands was still only a drop in the proverbial Taygete ocean, Cat knew better than to downplay the importance of the individual.

About a half-hour of driving through packed city streets and nearly getting into two accidents because some asshole cut her off on two different junctions, Cat finally arrived at the Galleria. The place was an eyesore. Nothing like this existed in many parts of the world—parts of the world she visited—and those people got along just fine without such conveniences. The towering structure, all twelve floors of it, could have served as housing for hundreds of villages and families, though Cat supposed she couldn’t be upset about it. Most village homes weren’t larger than a single story.

Still, she missed the stars.

A quick glance confirmed she’d arrived first, so Cat bought herself a pouch of fried quinoa bites, and sat down to tear into the food and her remaining Pathisee notifications. The food court was packed with people, all caught up in their own little worlds and completely oblivious to her. No one saw her. Not while she still wore her SuperLife work clothing. She couldn’t be more invisible. She liked it that way.

Cat paused, glancing up as a pair of young women passed, chatting and laughing together. She smiled to herself, then glanced around the court. Where was Angie, anyway?