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LNOEW: Interlude XII - Raifort
🕑 Added 2025-05-14 17:40:48 +0000 UTCRaifort POV
Slipping past a guard, I hid behind a shipping container, waiting for his partner to finish their loop. From what I’d seen of them, they were sloppy, and tonight proved to be no different, with the other guard continuing along around the bend without waiting for their partner to be covering them. A good thing, as they’ll be hauling these crates out by first light.
That time frame still gave me plenty of hours in which to get the items for my mysterious buyer. Ducking ahead through where the gap in the guard’s surveillance was, I made my way deeper into the maze of crates and containers that made up this wharf.
Sticking to the shadows, I avoided any prying eyes as I made my way to the target. Despite the lack of light, I had no problem making out the label I was looking for. Crate number 104, aka, the one holding the ‘rare book’ the client wants.
A small part of me couldn’t help but wonder what my ‘client’ wanted with it. Not how I usually operated, but a historical artifact like this was intriguing to my own sensibilities. Pah, ‘usually’ I’d simply snatch such a find for myself (even if I’m more interested in treasure and lore of history, not millions of years pre-history). But that was a few months ago.
I was paused outside the crate, waiting in my hiding spot as I tried to figure out how to go from here. Cautiously, I pulled out one of my Pokeballs and released Haunter out in front of me.
“Hauuuunter,” they wailed, and I waved for them to be quiet.
“Shhh! Look, we’ve been over this. Help me with this score, and I’ll be able to feed everyone for a good while, ok?” He clapped his hands once before quieting down at my glare. We waited a minute for any sign of a guard walking by before I spoke up again.
“You just need to slip past the door, then open it from the other side. Simple enough, no?” He eagerly agreed, his body shifting to squeeze through the crack in the crate door. Perhaps some Moves could have been better in opening it up, but the Porto Marinada security wasn’t a joke. They had plenty of security Pokemon that could detect such things. It was why I kept my partner in her ball, despite how useful illusions would be for sneaking around.
The door creaked open, the hinges a little rusty but nothing so noisy as to attract attention from down the dock. Before I could breathe a sigh of relief, though, alarms started blaring from around the container, a security light at the top flashing.
Haunter, who had been floating there triumphantly a second ago, now shrieked in panic, waving their hands up wildly in the air. Groaning, I pushed past them, rummaging through the container. “Hold off anyone who comes looking!” I released Seviper to help him while I looked through the crates.
I hate this. Stupid technology, giving people warnings. Sure, ancient ruins sometimes have traps built into them, but I know how to spot those better! All these wires and security systems… very much not what I like to deal with. Back in the ‘good old days,’ I would hire patsies to break through any modern security if I needed to. In my current situation, I was lacking in options.
A flashlight shined through the container, causing me to hiss and shield my eyes. “Is that- it’s Raifort, the Pokethief!” The guard holding the flashlight proclaimed. I bit back the urge to correct him. I’m a regular thief! The Pokemon theft was just a means to an end! And I gave them back! An act that ended up screwing me over, but I couldn’t regret it, not after remembering how distressed that Klefki had been. Just everything else about that dumb heist I regret.
The guard was accompanied by another one, both of them releasing their Pokemon. From the sounds of sizzling acid on concrete, however, none of the security team was eager to close in on two Poison Types. I used the chance to look through the crates more carefully, prying open a few boxes.
It took a minute to find the long case holding the stone scepter (though along the way I found a handful of specialty Pokeballs and evolution stones, which I shoved into my bag, hoping I could pawn them off for a few extra Pokedollars later). After confirming the crimson bound book was within the long crate, I slammed the lid back shut and hefted it outside. There, I saw another couple of security officers join the standoff, sending out their own Maschiffs to join the ones already hounding my Pokemon.
“Is this some kind of a joke? Haunter, use Dazzling Gleam! Seviper, cover him.” My Ghost Type stop belching out noxious fumes with smog and instead gathered a large burst of light above them while Seviper breathed out an Icy Haze over the dock, obscuring their vision. Hmm, they must have buffed themselves up a bit while I was busy.
It did the trick; obscuring their vision for a moment was all Haunter needed to bathe them in the Fairy Type attack, crushing their resistance. What they get for all using the same Pokemon. I don’t care how good they are at their job; sharing a critical weak point is the biggest vulnerability you can have. Sir Frances proved that a scant four hundred years ago when he attempted to lead a Kalosan invasion through these very docks- As the dog Pokemon gave pitiful howls, I heard other guards rushing to our location.
Clicking my tongue in frustration, I looked for a way out. Running in between the crates, I soon found myself at the edge of the pier, water in front of me and angry shouts behind. Recalling my Poison Types, I released Grumpig. “Platform, please.”
Nodding his head, he created a glowing pink horizontal screen for us to step on. I hefted the crate on top with me, and Grumpig slowly directed it across the water. I need to work out more. Though it would be easier if I could just carry it outside of the case, but the padding will help if anything happens.
As if on cue, a Barraskewda launched itself out of the water at us, narrowly missing me. A small boat turning towards us indicated it wasn’t a wild Pokemon being randomly aggressive with us, but a sign of focused opposition. “It seems they still haven’t learned their lesson,” I said, drawing out Lumineon’s Pokeball. “Show them the error of their ways; no one gets between me and my treasure.”
Releasing my Pokemon, they splashed into the water, glowing brightly under the dark waves. This made him into an instant target, but since his evolution, he was strong enough to defend himself. Under the water, Whirlpools swirled, battering the ship and all of the aquatic Pokemon sent after us.
The battle was close, however, and I saw that the boat would soon reach me if I didn’t do anything to fix it. "Oho? Such persistent fools," I said as I released Scizor. "Bullet punch. Show them that if they haven't learned anything from the failures to catch me so far, they're doomed to repeat their mistakes."
The sight of my Bug Type, his red exoskeleton gleaming in the dim light, earned a yelp of surprise from someone onboard. It was too late for them to recall their Pokemon to defend the ship from our counterattack. Scizor, for his part, flew up, well above the boat… before diving straight down, punching a hole through the bottom. That might have been a bit overkill, but it did the job. I'm sure with their own Water Types they'll live. Right?
Banishing such nusancesome distracting thoughts from my mind, I turned my attention to my Pokemon. Scizor's waterlogged wings and steel-coated body meant he couldn’t swim away from the destruction he had caused. Thankfully, Lumineon was able to push him forward to the point that I could return both of them. The coast guard had bigger problems than us to deal with now, desperately trying to escape their sinking ship.
Grumpig and I jumped off the platform as we reached dry-ish land. Running along the beach, I made as much headway as I could. Which was, unfortunately, little, as one final security officer chased after me, hanging off of his Bronzong as it floated through the air.
“We’ve found them! Sound the alar-”
“Night Slash,” I called out, tossing my Pokeball up so it bounced right off of the enemy Psychic Type, releasing Zoroark above them. My starter slashed down with vicious glee, sending the hunk of metal crashing to the beach, the man on his back landing with a nasty crunch.
As his howling got annoying, I asked Zoroark, “Can you filter him out?” She gave a quick nod of her head, and suddenly blessed silence took hold. Only an illusion, but at least it gives me some peace of mind. Now, let’s take some away from them.
“Set multiple fires around the containers. Let's craft an image of destruction and terror as great as the end of the envious King Jeharis,” I stated grandly. Zoroark smirked, knowing as well as I did the tales of the monarch his splendour and the magnificent jewelry he wore which drove his enemies to burn his city to the ground, and needing no further instruction.
Raising a hand as if she were composing a melody. What rang out was not music but the snap and crackle of burning wood, the hiss of flames. The auditory elements were accompanied by the visual ones, great bonfires bursting up at different places all over the docks. She took my instructions to the letter, with the flames occasionally 'leaping' from one stack of totes to another in that same odd motion like a fish surfacing above the waves that had been caught on the ancient tapestry depicting 'The fall of Eldemire.'
Excellent. They’ll be busy panicking until we’re long gone. We slipped into the shadows, hiding in the cover of night.
***
Medali was too far to walk to. Not and meet my client on time, but there were other methods than walking. Transportation services more… discreet than Flying Taxi or Rent-a-Cyclizar. A legal gray area in how the Paldean League operated, not wishing to quash small businesses directly. And yet, they’d still like to keep a discreet eye on the comings and goings of the people here.
The ‘compromise’ was that more mainstream travel services simply used the government influences and resources to outcompete any others. Yet there were still those (like myself) who wanted to travel with no questions asked. I wouldn’t be giving anything up if they did talk, however.
By the time I stood at the empty spot in the field I’d arranged for our transport to arrive in, I had changed my appearance entirely. Gone were the blue jacket and pants, replaced with a silky black dress. My hair was short and red, with plain (ugh) emerald earrings. No sign or trace of the accessories bearing mythological iconography I used to wear.
My regular clothes were in my bag, along with my ‘acquisitions’ from the auction house storage. My wig as well, having cut and dyed my hair rather than trying to wear a wig full time publicly and hoping no one found out. I suppose that one could say it’s folly for me to cling onto my past and dress up like how I was pictured in every wanted poster before enacting a heist, but it feels like the only time I can be me.
I checked my ID and saw the name Gabriella Witherspoon. Bland and forgettable, one of half a dozen different fake identities I’d grabbed when the full attention of the law turned its eyes on me.
A soft breeze drew my attention upward. “I’ll admit, I hadn’t expected this,” I stated aloud as the Pokemon and pilot descended down. There was no need to raise my voice, as this Flying Type didn’t flap his wings heavily to fly but simply floated down. “I didn’t realize Jumpluffs could carry people.” Not a common or wild trait, to be sure. No book I've every read has hinted at the possessing such.
The reedy man remained hooked to the odd harness attached to his Pokemon even as he stood on the ground. “He’s a surprising fellow, this one. But don’t worry, he can carry you jus’ fine.” Tossing me another harness, he motioned for me to strap myself in. “Oh, you’ll probably want to put your Pawmo in the ball. We’d hate for anything to happen to the little lass.” He sounded like he could not possibly care less about the fate of my ‘Pawmo.’
“Don’t worry, little one; I’ll be fine.” I said, recalling my disguised Zoroark. I honestly have no idea, but at this point, I’m almost too tired to care. At least my team will tear them to shreds if they try anything.
Before my ‘public debut' at the hands of that wretched child, I’d always skirted the edges of the darker side of society, but even that was enough to know that other criminals rarely wanted to throw down with each other unless they were sure of the outcome (or suicidal fools). In a Pokemon battle without any rules, both Trainers could easily become liabilities or even casualties, unless the strength gap was vast.
Hooking up the harness was awkward in my current attire, but I got it done and soon enough we were lifting off. The Jumpluff wiggled his cottony arms, conjuring a powerful wind at our backs, and began to rise. The harnesses seem to be made of a special material, which might contribute to some of it, but it still feels like a miracle that this Pokemon can fly while carrying us. I didn’t know the specifics, nor did I care to imagine why.
A few cotton spores drifted around us, and I said, “Don’t let those touch me.”
“What? Too precious to mess up your clothes a little?” The driver said. Is ‘Hecklen Transportation’ indicative of his name? There’s no historical significance to it, just another service some of my less-than-legal contacts passed along to me. Before I became too ‘hot,’ that is. No honor among thieves, and no one willing to risk Martha’s wrath to hide me.
“Hardly,” I bit out, shivering in the wind as we flew across the night sky. “But I’ve heard tales of what those spores can do to someone’s skin. Horrible coughing fits, rashes, and worse.”
“Pluff pluff pluff,” the Pokemon in question chortled, and I could just imagine the malicious glee in its beady red eyes as it did so. Still, the spores drifted just enough that they avoided landing on either one of us.
Silence fell afterwards, neither of us having any desire to fill the air with meaningless chatter. Down below, I could see countless ruins calling out to me. This stretch of land is filled with them. What ancient texts might they hold? Do safeguards and traps from the past remain for me to test my mind and might against?
My daydreams of having the means and opportunities to explore them ended as we neared the city. The man started taking us down, well outside the city limits. “Wait, what’s going on?”
“Sorry, can’t make it into the city proper. A few… bureaucratic disputes between myself and them. There’s only a kilometer left.” Easy for the one not wearing heels to say! I seethed but said nothing as we landed, unstrapping from the Jumpluff. Releasing my disguised Zoroark, I began to walk away before he stopped me.
“Hey, where’s the other half of the payment?” I had paid him half up front, and I was sorely tempted to tell him to screw off, but I had a better idea.
Adopting a slightly ditzy voice, I said, “Oh, my bad, totally forgot. Here you go,” I said, handing him a wad of Pokedollars. He greedily grabbed the paper, counting it for a second before stuffing it in his bag.
“Pleasure doing business with you; feel free to call me again,” he said before floating off. I very much doubt I’ll be doing that. Especially since that was a bunch of Pokeopoly dollars that Zoroark was making look like real money. My only regret is that I don’t get to see the look on your face when you find out, mwhaha.
The joy of messing with him and saving a few more Pokedollars didn’t change my situation, and so I trudged up the hill towards the city. I can deal with the dangers, the risks, and the thrills that come with searching for lost treasure, but this? The discomfort that permeates every step of my travels, stops me from getting a good night's sleep… These details never made their way into the historical texts, and I see why now. It’s a constant nuisance but with none of the excitement.
***
Getting into Medali late and exhausted made the scant few hours of sleep I got in my hotel room all the worse, but at least I got some sleep that night. I walked in the light of day through the bustling streets, grabbing a quick breakfast from the stalls that dotted the streets. Along the way to my meeting point, I took in the sights, from the Oinkologne amphitheater to the well-worn tiled streets. This city might not be considered the most energetic of the major cities of Paldea, but it has a rich history all its own.
As a child playing a video game bumped into me without looking and barely muttered ‘sorry’ as he blithely stumbled along, I was reminded of what I didn’t like about Medali. History has its hold on this place out of inertia, rather than pride, and it shows in how technology blends with it.
In little ways, I saw how certain buildings obviously had more stories added to them, giving more space for the people but ruining the original design. People playing with handheld gaming consoles. Pah, what a fad. I just can’t see the value people find in ridiculous video games. You don’t need fantasy to find something interesting! History has its own…
My thoughts trailed off as my eyes caught on a bunch of televisions in a storefront. What irked me there was not the technology but the images displayed. It was an Elite Challenge from about a year ago, showing Martha. Her challenger had been a promising woman who had actually managed to win the two elite battles before this. But against Martha, she was crushed, the Dark Type Elite showing no mercy as she tore apart the woman’s tactics.
I turned away, continuing down the road. I hardly needed to watch it in the first place, but then again, how could I not? I feel like I’ll always be Shadow Tagged to my mother, until the end of days. My decision to strike out on my own may have been a tad impulsive, but despite the hexes and fruitless searches, I hadn’t regretted it. Not until now.
Amidst the other sites of the city, there were of course posters. Easily filtered out, to the point where even I barely noticed them. But the ones with my face on them nearly made me stiffen and wonder if this would be the day I was caught. The amount of them and the push the League had been making was unusual, to say the least.
Mother would hardly sweep my misdeeds under the rug, but she wouldn’t be this aggressive either, not towards me. She wants me back, not in jail. So is this the work of that Glitterati brat, or some other factor that’s been making my life hell?
It didn’t truly matter, but as I found myself in front of the building I was to meet my client at, I hesitated. Why carry on like this? I could go to Mom and throw myself at her feet. I wouldn’t be slipping away or escaping punishment, but she’d make sure it wasn’t too bad. There would be no chance of escaping her watchful eye, not as long as she lived, though. In a way, it would be a sentence worse than jail - eventually I would escape or be set free from jail.
The grumbling of my stomach reminded me of how much I'd exerted myself today, pairing perfectly with soreness in my feet. While I would never admit it aloud, either option was seeming better than carrying on as I was.
As I looked at the small tech repair shop in front of me, I muttered to myself, “Fuck it. I’ve come this far; might as well complete the job. We’ll see how I feel after this.” Despite the door having the closed sign up, my client had assured me it would be open and did indeed swing in at my touch.
The front of the store had an assortment of scattered parts and pieces for everything from computers to flashlights. There was a thin path between the tables and books to the front desk where I rang the bell. No one came, but a woman’s voice shouted from the back, “Just a minute!”
This isn’t a trap, right? There’s no way the League could have prepared something like this here, in the middle of a city. And if it were, they would have sprung it by now. In spite of the reassurances I tried to tell myself, fear (and impatience) took hold of me, and I strode ahead, determined to find out what was keeping her. Going around the desk and through the backdoor, I found more projects she was working on and a set of stairs leading up.
Walking up to her residence, I opened the door and saw an odd collection of items. From a cave painting relief dominating one side of the room, to ancient telescopes, to a small pile of Gimmieghoul coins, to a mock-up of the theoretical ‘Treasures of Ruin’ that had me practically drooling.
In one corner sat one of the large home aquariums sold for those Pokemon who needed aquatic living space. I had one of those for my Fineon, before I had to go on the run. Now I just have to release him out by rivers and oceans whenever I get the chance. Within this one slowly drifted a dull brown Pokemon, its rocky scales the only distinction marking them as a Pokemon and not simply a large fish.
Much like the shop below, the entire space was rather disorganized, or perhaps scattered and organized in a pattern I couldn’t see. Amidst these curiosities were the standard pieces of furniture and appliances necessary for living.
Sitting on a chair was an attractive, tanned woman, her hair a pale brown and very messy. She was wearing a matching set of orange crop and short shorts. The torn and jagged nature of her clothing matched the fanged belt and necklace she wore, as well as the vicious look in her cyan eyes as they snapped to me.
“Mom? Everything ok?” Came the voice from the tablet sitting on the coffee table, and in an instant her aggression melted away.
“Of course, sweetie, I just have some business to attend to. I promise I’ll call you back soon. Love you.”
He mumbled something back, which could have been interpreted as the same, but was very deliberately uncertain. “Trouble at home-”
“I told you to wait!” Sada snapped, standing up and taking a step towards me until my hand dropped to my belt on instinct, hovering over a Pokeball.
“It was more than the minute you said it’d be. Besides, I thought you’d wish to see the item I brought you. Unless I should keep it for myself?”
The woman relaxed a bit, the desire for the item clearly outweighing the annoyance she felt. “No, though since you’re offering, I would like your expertise on the matter as I study that book. I picked you for a reason, you know?” She also muttered something about ‘not interrupting her reconnecting with her son,’ or whatever, but I didn’t care.
My own curiosity piqued, I pulled the crate out of my Silph bag, placing it down on the coffee table. Opening it, I unveiled the scarlet red book within. “Excellent…” She whispered with glee, carefully raising the book out and feeling it. “You have a few hours to spare on this, yes?”
I sighed and almost wanted to tell her off, but the truth was I really didn’t have anything better to do today. And damn my curiosity which gets me into these messes, but I can't deny that I wish to know more about this artifact as well. “Yes, but make sure you pay me first. And are you going to be studying it like that?” I asked, my eyes darting up and down at her state of dress.
“Ah,” a slight blush dusted her cheeks. “Forgive me, getting a call from my son so early left me a bit discombobulated.” She grabbed a lab coat with a fur collar that was hanging off the side of her couch and tossed it on top of her shoulders, making no moves to button it up. “There we go.”
“So what is this ‘Scarlet Book’ anyway?” I asked as I sat down beside her as she handed me the agreed-upon sum of Pokedollars. It was a hefty amount, 50,000 all told, yet still only half what the starting price of the book would have been at auction.
The Professor smiled mysteriously. “I think I’ll let you come to your own conclusions first, before presenting my own hypothesis.” She cracked the book open, taking care not to damage it as she flipped it open to the first page.
“Author Professor… Heath?!” I read aloud. “This can’t be right; the only untitled book Heath wrote was the Violet Book.” I continued reading aloud as she turned the page. “Set out with the Area Zero Expedition today… Progress was slow, but one of the Trainers caught a glimpse of a rare Pokemon they swear they’ve never seen before. From accounts, it appeared to be a Donphan, but with odd mutations… will have to sketch later if I get the chance.”
My mind turned over what I was reading, flipping through the pages as my voice died out. It felt like some puzzle designed to twist my brain into knots. Each piece seems like it fits except by their base premise is wrong!
After several minutes: “This must just be a fake, a copycat," I eventually concluded. "There's no way I wouldn't have heard of another book by the great Professor Heath." Those were at once some of the most intriguing and frustrating parts of historical discoveries.
To see how people of the past would mimic the great designs of their times grants a degree of insight into what the common man thought at the time that is often missed in historical accounts of the famous. Yet for all that value, the famous people are interesting because of their greatness, and to realize that what you’d hoped is not a piece of the grand tapestry of history.
“What makes you think that?” The Professor prodded, not seeming upset.
“For starters, the very color of the book. Scarlet, not Violet. It’s old, but given the coloration of the pages, I’d estimate it’s merely a hundred years old, not two hundred like the original. Then there’s the Pokemon depicted within. ‘Great Tusks?’ ‘Brute Bonnet?’ Nothing like what the true Violet Book said Heath saw. While some of the Pokemon appear to share similarities with regular Pokemon, they're twisted but in a very different bent than how Heath depicted them. The only Pokemon that appears truly the same is the one at the end of the book, and much like all the Violet Book copies, it’s too obscured to be worthwhile for study.”
“That’s unusual. Why keep that one the same? Also, you said that it’s only the copies of the original book?”
“Yes. The original has some further details; pages in the end that were obscured are clear, supposedly.” Not that that bitch Briar will publish it. I don’t care if she wants to 'wait for proof to vindicate her great-grandfather’s name'; it’s a part of history nonetheless!
Breathing out heavily, I pushed that errant, annoying thought aside. “The details are, admittedly, unusually accurate for a copy,” I continued. “For everything but the Pokemon involved, this fits perfectly with the wave of copies that were made a hundred years ago after people stopped decrying Heath’s work as the ramblings of a madman. In some ways, prehistoric Pokemon being discovered there would make more sense than the futuristic ones Heath described, but- I don’t get it.”
If one is looking to sell a fake, why look through the details so carefully, get the little points right, but screw up the big ones? It makes no sense, unless you’re looking to push a different narrative.
“It’s very unusual,” Sada commented, standing up and going through a stack of books before pulling out a Violet covered one from the pile and tossing it down. “A gift from my ex-husband,” she said, her tone indecipherable but carrying some weight to it. Flipping the new book open, she matched it to the Scarlet one on the same page. The exact same page.
“Word for word, stroke for stroke, this is… Heath’s handwriting! But how?” I hadn't realized it at first without seeing them side by side, but I've plumbed enough historical texts to match handwriting. There are simply too many similarities and too much effort put in for this to be a mere forgery, but too many inconsistencies for it to be genuine.
She gave me a wild grin, grabbing an academic journal and whipping it in front of me. “This should explain everything.”
I squinted, reading it closely. “‘Mitochondria form and function in class-C type Ghost Pokemon across various regions-’ I don’t see the connection.” Sada blushed, tossing it aside.
“Ah, sorry about that. I was doing a bit of light reading before bed last night.” The eccentric Professor rummaged around through her stacks of books once again before pulling out a magazine. “This should explain everything!” She declared triumphantly, one hand on her hip as she presented it to me.
I crossed my arms, somehow less impressed than before. “That rag magazine? What could 'Occulture' possibly tell us?” In response, Sada flipped it open, pointing to an article within.
“Sohdayo was the one who uncovered this story, the one that sparked the auction in the first place. The story explains how this book came from a parallel universe.”
Scoffing, I snatched the magazine out of her hands, reading closely. “There’s nothing in here to support his theory,” I objected after finishing the article. There was some stuff about the ‘mysterious circumstances’ by which it found its way into the hands of the man’s family who auctioned it off, but nothing to back it up. The trio of explorers with legendary Pokemon that supposedly happened upon his ancestor sound even less believable.
Sada sat back down. “I’m aware. However! There’s nothing to say that it isn’t true either. And from your inspection, I’d say that theory fits the bill fairly neatly. Think of what we could discover!”
“I’m interested in the past of this world, not other timelines, even if that were true.” My defense was half-hearted; however, my mind was already ensnared by thoughts of how similar it was to the copies of the Violet Book.
Slowly, the other woman nodded, losing some of her excited energy. “I am as well. The secrets of the past, all the history we’ve lost… Paldea has some of the most intensive records out of all the known regions in the world, and there are still entire centuries that our knowledge of is relegated to a few sentences in a textbook. And that’s only going back a few thousand years.”
The Professor waved a hand over at the block of cave paintings standing against one wall. “We have scant details but definitive evidence on certain parts of our world millions of years ago. All our technology and advancements are looking forward and so little to the past. It’s like no one gets it.” The frustration and longing in her voice were emotions I’d heard pass my own lips many times, from deep sighs to impassioned speeches on the importance of our past. I felt a deep kinship with her in that moment, which was why her next words reached me so easily.
“I don’t know how exactly we’ll be able to determine what happened from this book, but depending on how close the world it came from was to our own, we might discover things that never could have been found through ordinary means. Would you be willing to help me with this quest?” The question was quiet, nervous. From the state of her apartment and store, it was clear she was like me and had very few others close to her. I get how lonely and scary that can be.
Still, she delivered the question with surety, and when she held out her hand to me, I took it without a second thought. “I’d be delighted to unravel the enigmas of history with you.” Oho, what secrets we will uncover! What splendid historical facts await to be examined from this new lens? I wasn’t entirely sure about the strange Professor yet, but nonetheless, I couldn’t wait to see where our burgeoning partnership would go.
A/N: Just gonna drop this here, nothing to worry about from this team up… for now. Also, I really like the idea of Relicanth being Sada's pre-Paradox Pokemon, just like Proygon Z was Turo's
Comments
Skyfyre
Yeah, she's not a terrible person overall, but she could definitely stand to be better. Time will tell if Sada can help her out in that regard though, but they'll definitely play a role in things to come.
RageLord
So Raifort and Sada. Huh, thats something i guess. Let's hope they aren't going to fuck over everything. Sada could be an obsessed nutcase like Turo. Also cool to see that Raifort is just a rebellious kid here, just wanting to get out of her mothers shadow. But really? Becoming some c-class criminal? Thats just not it man. Atleast she feels bad about some of the things she's done.
