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“This ain’t no place for no hero
This ain’t no place for no better man
This ain’t place to no hero
To call home”

This Ain’t No Place For No Hero __ The Heavy

I break in the apartment the next morning by masturbating for the first time in years. My body thanks me, I thank me, and the woman next door curses me through the wall. I’m glad I’ve made friends already.

But, I have about jack shit to eat, so I shove Golem and Magnets’ apricorns into my cargo pant pocket and stomp down the stairs of the apartment complex. Nimbasa is huge, but it’s much more welcoming in the day than in the dark. There’s a spring in my step as I walk two blocks down to the nearest drug store and buy things like flour, eggs, baloney, cheese, milk, and canned goods. The basic essentials to start stocking my fridge and cabinets. It’s too much to carry on my own, so I steal the shopping cart and push it all the way to the apartment, into the elevator and into my room. I’m too lazy to bring it back, so I leave the shopping cart in my room and head back out.

This time, I walk down the streets looking at all the stores. I have a whole day to kill, and I should at least acquaint myself with the area and find out what’s here. There’s cute cafes, corner bars, tiny little self-owned shops, and it’s nice to have a little distance from the chain restaurants. I’ll have to be careful not to throw all my money away on the local restaurants.

My favorite thing? The people don’t give a shit. There’s no one waving at me cause we’re a small town that’s pretending it’s as big as a city, no, these people barely even blink at me. I walk down the sidewalks and don’t change my trajectory, and people walk around ME. Hah. I can dig this.

I find downtown with the bigger, company-owned stores. It’s busy. The crowds make me feel claustrophobic. I find a mattress store, buy a mattress and slate it to be delivered later in the afternoon. Further north is probably all sport stadiums. I only vaguely remember these things about Nimbasa. The city has attractions of every sort buried in every inch of the place. It’s why it’s one of the densest cities in Unova.

The Pokemon Center. That’s an important landmark. I’m in a big city that could be full of thugs, despite what my uncle thinks, so I consider where the Center is located. There’s bridges to the east and west. Join Avenue to the south. The biggest route for trainers would be the southern one, and that’s close to the train station. If trainers take the trains, it’s logical to keep all these places lumped together and the Center in easy access. I travel back south, pass the train station, pass the subway, and explore for over half an hour before I find the Center on the corner of 31st and 42nd. I pick up some pamphlets about the Desert Resort and a day old newspaper.

Then, I find my way back to the apartment. I’ve got a good sense of direction, and I make it back within the hour. I’m pushing lunch time, so I make a sandwich and start unpacking and organizing my new place. My feet are light, and I’m humming some sort of radio tune as I go, fitting my iron bed frame together, hefting my dresser where I want it, and shoving blankets into my closet. My shoulders and hips move in some sort of epileptic movements, like a zap of electricity keeps me moving, and it’s hard for me to grasp that this is excitement. I’m happy, excited, and I haven’t felt this delicious taste of optimism for the future in a long time.

I spend a little extra time organizing my bookshelf. I line up my books and old binders, put a picture of the family on there, and prop up my diploma. I wipe off all the dust and consider actually getting something to hang it. I glance around the room. It looks very empty with a single half-sized bookshelf and a tiny round table with two chairs, but it’s MY place. I let Golem and Magnets out of their apricorns. I grin at them even though Magnets floats off curiously to look around.

“Here we are boys,” I say with a grin. I gesture to the room and spin. “This is a new start. I’m gonna start saving up. Study. Get in grad school. And I’ll finally be on my way!” I hug and scoop up Golem as much as I can, and he pings at me when I can barely lift his heavy ass. He picks me up instead, and I laugh and pat his shoulder. Then, I see Magnets by the wall, one magnet primed.

“Don’t you dare!” I snap at him. He jerks back with a metallic whine of innocence. I point my finger as Golem sets me down, and I shake my head. “Don’t you do it, Magnets. You stay away from ALL the outlets in here, got it?” Magnets continues to play coy, so I narrow my eyes. He backs away.

I spend the rest of the day reading old notes and sitting on a burr of excitement. I’m here. In Nimbasa. I’ve got a steady job, and a place. I can do this. Eventually the mattress is delivered. I wrestle it on my bed, make the bed for the only time I will ever make it properly and consider the Indian restaurant on the corner. It’s evening. I could stand at least ONE time eating out. At least break in a new city by splurging just a little more? It really isn’t all that much . . .

Against my better judgment, I decide today is the one day I’ll splurge a little more. I’m ravenous and I want some good food. I return Golem and Magnets and tromp down the apartment staircase and into the foyer. There’s a small pack of people surrounding the TV, but I ignore their murmurs. I don’t stop until I have half a foot out the front door when I hear, “. . . unprecedented return of Team Plasma—”

I stop. I look back at the TV. Before I know it, I’m hovering too, craning my head to see the TV with its picture of Virbank City’s docks. There, on the fucking screen, is Hugh Matisse in the center of a backdrop of destruction.

“Get out of my way!” I snap, and I shoulder past one of the people who swears at me. I crank the knob for the volume even though it’s plenty loud. He looks battered. His tie is all crooked and loose, his hair is disheveled, and there are stains under his pits. He’s holding his riolu that looks like it’s been put through the wringer, but its ears are still perked up alert. Its eyes are wild and scared. Hugh’s eyes are tired and hard. I can’t tell if those flecks and stains on his shoulder are dirt or blood.

I miss the reporter’s question because I’m so gob-smacked at seeing him this way. He shifts Romulus into one arm and gestures to the background where one of the ships is morbidly damaged. “Came from the sea,” he starts saying, “in a real old ship. Pirate ship, sails and everything, and they dressed in black, like pirates almost, but you could tell it was still Plasma, cause they still wore the symbol on their chest,” and he gestures to his own as illustration. He reaches up, and my heart freezes. It is blood. It’s on his hands, and he brushes his nose with the back of his hand. He leaves a smear on his face.

“Started attacking. Mainly on this ship. I just got back from Castelia, so I tried to do what I could to protect people. Just. Threw myself in the fray, didn’t really think. These blokes ran up on us all, and gods know what they wanted. Don’t think they wanted nothing.” Hugh uses his palm to rub at his eyes. I suck on my bottom lip. He doesn’t do a good job at hiding his tears. “Um—” and there’s a quiver in his voice, “w-when people started dying, I just had to do something, you know? The sailors could help, but it took the coppers and the gym leader a minute to roll up—and the leader’s just a girl,” and he gestures helplessly. The setting sun casts the crime scene in a hellish orange glow, and it occurs to me that we’re watching this live. My feet itch to move, to run all the way back to Virbank. What is Hugh doing in Virbank? He has three gym badges, he should be in Nimbasa by now—

“She just a girl still, she shouldn’t have to deal with this,” and he points somewhere off screen, presumably to where Roxie is. “They just—killed as many as possible. Tried to sink the ship. Don’t know what they could have wanted, but it was Plasma, for sure.”

Oh Hugh, you idiot! I can’t believe him. He could have gotten himself killed playing hero! Gods, this was—I was at at those docks a mere three days ago. How did Uncle Marshal know? Where did he go? A big namer like an Elite Four member would have been the face of an issue like this. Did he leave? He figure since I’d gone and nothing happened that nothing would?

Why Hugh. Why would you do that.

He looks completely joed. His entire face is dragged down like his skin is melting off his bones. His hands are still shaking. I barely notice the ambulances carting off bodies in the background. I just see my friend who’s stepped in shit big enough and far enough away that I can’t help him. What the fuck is he doing in Virbank? Why’d he fight like some half-wit action hero instead of running like a sensible person? Why’d his heart have to be so big he thought he had to help everyone else?

“Ain’t go no idea,” he says, and I snap back into the conversation hearing his voice. He shrugs, and Romulus digs its paws into his button up. “Sorry I couldn’t do more is all. ‘Lotta people been hurt here today. ‘Lotta people didn’t make it.” He gives a weak laugh and rubs at his eyes again. “Lost over half my team, but I’m still one of the lucky ones.”

Something stabs my heart. God damn it Hugh.

Hugh shakes his head, and he says, “No, I don’t know anything. Just a guy who tried to keep people safe is all.” He looks down and scratches the back of his riolu’s head. Romulus jumps and trembles at his touch, and Hugh backs up, saying, “I’ve gotta get this one to a Center. Excuse me,” and he walks off. The camera pans back to the reporter. Blood rushes in my ears.

I run to the phone on the wall before I realize belatedly that Hugh won’t be at the Virbank Pokemon Center immediately. How long does he need to get there? If he catches a cab—but if the police have to talk to him—the docks are how far away—

I wait half an hour before I call. He’s not there. I wait another ten, get antsy, and force myself to wait five more minutes. I call again. The person tells me to hold, and I shuffle my feet as I wait for Hugh to pick up.

“Hel—”

“Hugh!” I practically shout into the telephone. “Hugh, what the fuck was that? Are you okay?”

“Josey, I’m okay—”

“That was Team PLASMA—”

“I couldn’t just not—”

“You’re not a hero, Hugh!”

“Josey!” His voice is sharp enough that he cuts my tirade short. I suck on the inside of my bottom lip, struggling to hold back the dam of concerns and fears that well up against my heart. God help this idiot because I can’t. Hugh blasts out a breath. There’s a beat of silence, and I hear him suck in a sharp breath and squeeze out, “What was I supposed to do, Josey?”

“Run,” I tell him. My heart is racing. My adrenaline is already running away with me and I wasn’t even in his situation. “Like any regular human with a brain, Hugh. You run.”

“People were DYING, Josey.” There’s a raw edge to his voice I’ve never heard before. The threat of tears is shaking his voice, thickening it like blood as he whispers, “I couldn’t just run, Josey.”

I can hear his breath. He’s rasping, and everything is tight like knuckles bleached white, and I know he’s trying so hard to hold on to the situation. I don’t know how to grant him control of it all, but I swallow and try to backtrack.

“Are you okay?”

“No.” The word tears out of his throat, jagged, wheezing. His usual smooth voice is wrought and strained, and I can’t hold him together from here. “Josey,” he whispers, “they were KILLING people. I ain’t seen nothing like it since when those dragons fought, Josey. I didn’t—I didn’t know what it was like—at ground zero, you know—”

“Stop, Hugh.” I close my eyes and lean my head against the wall. “Deep breath. Okay?” I hear him loud and clear follow my instructions. I rub at my temple, and my hand squeezes the telephone tighter. “Okay. Okay, Hugh, come here to Nimbasa, and—”

“NIMBASA?” he explodes. I wince at the sudden spike in volume. “What are you doing in Nimbasa?”

“What are YOU doing in Virbank?” I snap back.

“I was on my way to see you!” he shouts. I wince. “I came back ‘cause—because of your letter! You said you let your ma go! ‘Course I came back, Josey! What do you mean you’re in Nimbasa?”

My jaw works with unsaid words. A knot of guilt balls up in my stomach. Of COURSE he’d come back to see me. I didn’t tell him a thing about moving. I didn’t give him any indication of what was going on with my life because I was butt-hurt about his achievements. And now because of it, he’s back in Virbank at the scene of a slaughter with half his team dead because of ME—

“I moved.”

The truth slips from my mouth and echoes into the receiver. The words are so faint I can barely hear them myself, but the deafening silence on the other end of the line smothers me. I squeeze my eyes shut. I need him to say something. The quiet is always worse than his judgment.

Finally, he chooses to end me with a soft, “You didn’t tell me.”

My jugular bobs and I nod. “I know. I’m sorry.”

An incredulous laugh bubbles from him. It sounds wrong, like he’s being twisted inside out. “I don’t even need to be in Virbank,” I hear in his breath. My heart shatters. I blink back hot tears.

“Hugh, I’m sorry.”

There’s another long pause where he holds me at the mercy of his hands. I hear his breathing on the opposite end, the huff, the cringe. And finally, he says quietly, “Yeah. I’ll come back to Nimbasa.”

My chest spasms. “Hugh—”

“Should be there in a week or two,” he continues over me. “Need to visit Molly and Mom before I do anything else.” His voice deepens with a suspicious husk, “Anyway. Nimbasa. See you there. Later, alligator.”

“Hugh—”

He hangs up on me. I thunk my head against the wall again and try to control how much my heart breaks. Why didn’t I tell him anything? Why couldn’t I be happy for his achievements? Why’d I have to be such a selfish, jealous bastard that I wouldn’t even tell him about my plans to move? Hey, Hugh, I’ll see you in Nimbasa soon, because I’m moving! That’s all I had to say. He wouldn’t have gone back home to see me. He wouldn’t have been in Virbank. He wouldn’t have been caught in the center of all that if it weren’t for me.

I forget about the Indian restaurant. I trudge back upstairs and flop on my bed, and guilt eats away my appetite.

*

I have to go to work the next morning. I don’t want to. I want to go straight home to meet Hugh to apologize somehow, but instead I get up early, grab my apricorns and take the bus to work. I find the building I need—a glitzy thing with arches and shining windows that’s for the models and the famous. Hooked adjacent is the gym, also decorated to hell and back. I go to the side building to the rear entrance and enter from there, because undertakers don’t get to go in the front door.

The inside is fancy by virtue of too much money. The floors and walls are sleek and shining, and it’s easy enough for me to find where to punch in for my shift this morning. I walk down the hall, wondering who’s supposed to be “training” me today. The cleaning man looks at me in my regular getup—the baggy pants, suspenders, steel toed boots—and even he gives me a look of general judgment and confusion. But, with enough walking I find the back room because the second I walk in, three people look at me.

The guy beams. “See?” he said, and he turns back to the taller woman. “Here she is! She can do it!”

I frown. It’s too early in this job to be volunteered for something when I haven’t even had a proper day on the job. “I’m not doing anything,” I say out loud, but the two ignore me. A tall woman, and a pair of twins. They have the exact same face and body type in their matching blue jumpsuits. Their faces are the same, their hair is the same, the way they stand is the same. Even the girl’s chest is flat as a pancake. The only difference is her hair is dyed bright, cotton candy pink.

“Mr. Edwards DID say she liked pulling overtime,” the girl says, and I narrow my eyes. Oh no he didn’t.

The tall woman, in a slick blue blazer and skirt eyes me as I come up. She flicks her eyes up and down me and says, “Well, you ARE certainly dressed for the part.” She flips back into her clipboard and says, “All right, Curtis, you’re off the hook.”

“Yes!” and he pulls his fist inwards with triumph.

“Congratulations, Miss . . .” There’s a pause as the woman clearly has to consult her notes for my name. Bitch. “Josephine, Eble—”

“That’s Ebele—”

“You get to go to the Castelia Sewers.”

I blink. “What?”

She pulls a paper off her clipboard and hands it to me. I’m stupid enough that I take it. “Brittany Shultz, owner of a delcatty, lost a battle with a wild boldore and ran away without returning her pokemon. A Castelia City mortician is looking for the pokemon, has not found it yet, and so we’ve been enlisted to help.”

“It was probably eaten,” I say even though I don’t know what kinds of pokemon are in the sewers.

The woman doesn’t even bat an eye at me. God, what a bitch! The least she could do is look at me! And she continues, “Due to Ms. Shultz being a resident of Nimbasa City, the delcatty would need to be transferred here anyways. You are to find the delcatty and bring it back to cremate it for Ms. Shultz. Do try to be punctual and find the thing before the day is up. Ms. Telsa would not be pleased to spend extra money to cover an overnight stay.”

Shit! Panic floods me. My first day and I’ve already been forced to do the job no one wants to do, AND if I don’t complete this thing on time, I’ll have the wrath of Elesa Telsa on my ass already? I swear a blue streak in my head and say, “Look lady, I don’t even know anyone’s names yet, and aren’t I supposed to be trained before I do anything like this?”

The woman writes something on her clipboard and doesn’t even look down her glasses at me. “You are a transfer, Ms. Eble—”

“EBELE.”

“You already know the job. Besides,” and finally she looks up at me with glinting blue eyes. “Ms. Telsa is not pleased with your stunt against Cheren, who is a dear friend of hers. I think it would be best to keep you out of her sight for now, don’t you?”

Heat flushes into my face. It’s on the tip of my tongue to spit that it’s not my fault her friend is a bully and a sore loser, but I manage to hold my tongue. I need this job. And I need it bad enough to go stomping through the sewers to find a rich kid’s dead cat.

The woman is satisfied with my defeated silence. She hands me two tickets and says, “Good! I’m glad we understand where we stand. You’d best head out, Ms. Ebele, we haven’t got all day.”

And she turns and walks off without a second glance. I’m gritting my teeth so hard I might bust a blood vessel in my temple. The blond boy—Curtis—pops into my view with a smile.

“Aw, don’t worry about her,” he says. He points his thumb. “That’s Dolores Joyce. She’s tough, but she’s effective. And she’s right about Elesa not liking you. It’s best you’re not on the sidelines yet.”

I wrinkle my nose at him. “You just didn’t want to go to the sewers,” I accuse him. “This is your job.”

He holds up his hands innocently. “Sorry, kitten.” I bristle at the nickname. A pikachu scampers up, and he scoops up the rodent and lets it sit on his shoulder. “Elesa has her favorites, and it’s us. Besides, I don’t think you have quite the . . . LOOK that she wants in her gym.”

“What look?”

“Oh you know,” and the girl pipes up, waving her hands indiscriminately. She has one of those emolga rats on her shoulder. “You’re really . . . Well, you’re clearly wheat. Country bumpkin, right?”

I bristle. I don’t like how they’re talking to me, even if they’re trying to be polite. “Aspertia isn’t the country, it’s a city,” I say defensively. It’s a city! It’s in the name, even if it’s not really a city.

The girl holds up her hands and I can’t believe that she looks offended. “I’m not trying to start anything! Honest! Elesa is just . . .”

“Particular,” Curtis puts in helpfully. I narrow my eyes at them. Blond-haired, blue-eyed bastards. Curtis holds out his hand and says, “Hey, let’s start this again. My name’s Curtis. This is my little sister, Yancy.”

I don’t take his hand. Yancy pipes up, “Hey! We’re twins, dummy!”

“I was still born first.”

“Oh shut up!”

I glare at them both. I hear them. Loud and clear. I’m not pretty enough to be in Elesa’s gym model castle of glass? I see how it is. I look at the tickets in my hand. One is for the train, and the other is for a cab. Well, at least it’s not coming straight out of my pocket anymore.

“Look,” Curtis says, and he’s still smiling, just as waifish as his sister, “This is going to work out well, you’ll see! Yancy and I are better at dressing the bodies and paperwork anyways. Elesa needs someone strong in the back, and by the look of your guns,” and he swipes a playful punch at my bicep, “you’ll fit right in!”

I glance down at where he touched me and look back up at him and his sister. I keep frowning to let them know that I don’t believe them, and Yancy finally just rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Look, just because she’s sending you to the dump doesn’t mean she thinks you’re trash—”

“Sure seems like it to me,” I interrupt.

“It just means that SOMEONE has to do it. It makes sense that the new kid has to do the job, right?” Kid? My glower darkens at her. Kid? I’m clearly older than these two. She laughs. “Oh come on, it’s just a little friendly hazing. Besides, you’re all ready to go, and you probably need to hurry! You don’t want to get on Elesa’s bad side on the first day here, do you?”

I glare at them both. They’re smiling like dolls. “Whatever,” I mutter, and I push out of the room.

And I fucking take a taxi to the train station. I don’t see the Vanderbilt boy anywhere. I sleep on the train there and end up back in Castelia after another 36 hour train ride. It’s midday the next day when I arrive, and I grab a hotdog from a hotdog stand, and I take a taxi to the entrance to the sewers. There’s probably only a couple hours of daylight left. The guy in charge says the Castelia undertaker is already inside. I go inside.

Quite frankly, it smells like shit. You know why? Because this IS shit. All of it’s shitty. And I start walking with my flashlight. I’m going to walk as deep as possible, because I’m assuming the Castelia undertaker has already combed the front areas. How big are these sewers anyways? Am I supposed to check under the entire damn city? If that Joyce lady thinks I can find this fucking pokemon when no one else has, she’s crazy. I’m staying the night. I know I am. Fuck what Elesa thinks of me.

A few trainers challenge me along the way, but I just flip them the bird. Once I’m sure we’re free of most trainers, I let out Magnets and Golem and have them help me search. It’s dark and wet and musty, and coagulated sewage clumps under my boots and stains the bottom edges of my pants. I try to avoid the water, but I step ankle-deep in a puddle and swear enough that Yancy and Curtis can hear it from here.

Magnets isn’t bothered. If anything, I need to leash him. I shout, “Get back here!” and “LEAVE THE BATS ALONE!” way too much, but Magnet is having fun harassing the zubats with his electricity, and Golem is helpful and tries to search with me. And the nice thing about ghosts is I don’t have to clean him when he half falls straight into the sewage, because it all sluices off him when he turns incorporeal.

I don’t know how long I walk, avoiding pokemon and trainers alike. Golem uses his Shadow Punch on a few territorial pokemon and looks far too pleased with himself when he can run them off. I don’t see the Castelia worker. Maybe it’s all a farce and they just wanted to pull the dumbest prank on me and my dumb ass fell for it.

Ha ha, let’s see how long the dumb piece of wheat searches the sewers for a pokemon that’s not there! Fucking city slickers.

. . . I’m not backwoods country wheat. I know how cities work.

I search until I come across something unusual—a tunnel connected to the sewers, but it’s not paved. It’s not man made. This is natural. I wave my flashlight back and forth. There’s no one and nothing in here but some sleeping bats above. Golem whines at the deep darkness. I swat at him. The hell, Golem? You’re a ghost!

“Hello?” My voice echoes down the tunnels. These are wilds. Did that girl go in here looking for a cool pokemon? I narrow my eyes and gesture for Magnets to come closer. “Come on you two. Stick close.”

Magnets chirps and twirls, discharging electricity as he goes. Cheerful bastard. Golem has to hold my hand the whole time in here. Cowardly bastard.

We walk in. It’s quiet as hell, and I can hear water dripping somewhere. It smells musty and wet, like mold probably grows all over the ceilings. Gravel crunches under my boots. We walk for a long time seeing nothing until I hear footsteps following us.

I whip around and shine my flashlight in the things face. The “Shadow Punch!” I’ve prepared morphs into a muffled squeak in my mouth when I come face to face with a giant boldore.

“Shit—! Magnets, Thundershock! Mud Slap!”

The two attacks collide with the rock. The jagged shine of a lightning bolt tattoos my eyelids with every blink, and I realize the boldore hasn’t even moved. It just stands there, staring at me with that fucking hole in its face. I take a step back. It takes a step forward. I take a step to the side. It takes a step to the side.

“Shit.” I keep my eyes on it, but it just follows me wherever I go. It doesn’t attack. It doesn’t really DO anything but loom like a creepy faceless rock, and it’s fucking unnerving in this murky darkness. Why can’t my life be as uneventful as it was before? Why do all these weird things have to happen to me?

Magnets knocks the thing’s head. I shoo him away before he ticks off the giant rock. “What do you want?” I finally ask it.

Silence.

“Shoo! Shoo!”

It doesn’t move.

“Oh my god. Golem, can we just kill it? Can you kill a rock?”

Really offended warbling. Fine Golem. Be a goody two shoes.

I huff. This is stupid. I’ve spent . . . Five hours now in these fucking sewers without sight of a dead pink cat, and it’s pushing near eleven at night. I’m hungry. I’m thirsty. I’m tired. I’m dirty. I can’t bring myself to give one more shit, and I mutter, “Fucking whatever. Fuck that delcatty. We’re getting out of here.”

The boldore moves. It abruptly begins turning, and I jump at the voluntary movement. It grumbles, like stones grinding against stone, and it begins to totter off on its three stubby legs. I breath a premature sigh of relief.

Golem knocks with excitement and gestures for me. He starts to walk after the boldore.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

I follow it for ten minutes before the SMELL hits me. Wet, moist, decaying flesh. Oh joy. It’s been dead, what three? Four days now? And the boldore leads me to a VERY swelled up, pus-filled delcatty corpse with flies around it.

Tasty.

I tuck my flashlight under my armpit and use my shovel to pick up the mess of cat and lament this job in a new way. I’ve never had to play fetch for dead pets before. This is new. And gross on a new level. Surely if three days have passed there’s some sort of law about how it should be left to decay the natural way, right? If there isn’t a law for that, they should make one. Fucking ridiculous.

I pull a large plastic ziplock body bag from my pocket. Golem holds it open for me while I shovel the cat inside, and I let him zip it up and drag it along. I’m gagging on the smell of that thing. I’d rather smell the shit.

And then we start walking back out. With a third and a half in tow. The half should be there—Golem has to take the body. The third, however, is creeping me out. I glare back at it.

“Hey, get lost!”

The boldore keeps following me though. No matter what I do. It’s a dogged, stupid thing that wades through the sewage after me and won’t leave me alone. I wonder if its the boldore that killed the delcatty.

I hate this job.

So I finally leave the sewers with my pokemon in tow along with the wild boldore. The night shift guy out at the sewers is so aghast and persistent about the fact that I can’t have a three foot, 200 pound rock following me around without a pokeball that he catches it in an apricorn for me and hands me the apricorn against my will. I don’t WANT this thing. But alas, I am saddled down with another apricorn. I consider dumping the apricorn in the trash, but that’d be a little meaner than I think I am. I’ll get home and then figure out what to do with the rock.

And I take a taxi at midnight, and hop on a train. I still don’t see Vanderbilt again. I starve the next morning because I’m too cheap to buy that expensive train food and make it to Nimbasa that Friday close to noon. The taxi ride takes too long in the traffic, but finally I’m dropped off at the rear entrance to the gym.

I look like shit. I smell like shit. I’m dragging a bag with the decayed body of a delcatty. Every gym worker there gives me a wide berth. I see Yancy and Curtis. They turn away, but not before I see them biting back laughter.

Pricks.

So I take a brief lunch break and I start shoveling pokemon until the end of my shift. Yancy and Curtis avoid me. Everyone does, really. I’m glad, cause I can’t give a shit about it all right now.

I punch out at five. I go back to my apartment. I take a long, long shower. And I fall face flat in bed.

God I hate this fucking job.

Description

“This ain’t no place for no hero
This ain’t no place for no better man
This ain’t place to no hero
To call home”

This Ain’t No Place For No Hero __ The Heavy

I break in the apartment the next morning by masturbating for the first time in years. My body thanks me, I thank me, and the woman next door curses me through the wall. I’m glad I’ve made friends already.

But, I have about jack shit to eat, so I shove Golem and Magnets’ apricorns into my cargo pant pocket and stomp down the stairs of the apartment complex. Nimbasa is huge, but it’s much more welcoming in the day than in the dark. There’s a spring in my step as I walk two blocks down to the nearest drug store and buy things like flour, eggs, baloney, cheese, milk, and canned goods. The basic essentials to start stocking my fridge and cabinets. It’s too much to carry on my own, so I steal the shopping cart and push it all the way to the apartment, into the elevator and into my room. I’m too lazy to bring it back, so I leave the shopping cart in my room and head back out.

This time, I walk down the streets looking at all the stores. I have a whole day to kill, and I should at least acquaint myself with the area and find out what’s here. There’s cute cafes, corner bars, tiny little self-owned shops, and it’s nice to have a little distance from the chain restaurants. I’ll have to be careful not to throw all my money away on the local restaurants.

My favorite thing? The people don’t give a shit. There’s no one waving at me cause we’re a small town that’s pretending it’s as big as a city, no, these people barely even blink at me. I walk down the sidewalks and don’t change my trajectory, and people walk around ME. Hah. I can dig this.

I find downtown with the bigger, company-owned stores. It’s busy. The crowds make me feel claustrophobic. I find a mattress store, buy a mattress and slate it to be delivered later in the afternoon. Further north is probably all sport stadiums. I only vaguely remember these things about Nimbasa. The city has attractions of every sort buried in every inch of the place. It’s why it’s one of the densest cities in Unova.

The Pokemon Center. That’s an important landmark. I’m in a big city that could be full of thugs, despite what my uncle thinks, so I consider where the Center is located. There’s bridges to the east and west. Join Avenue to the south. The biggest route for trainers would be the southern one, and that’s close to the train station. If trainers take the trains, it’s logical to keep all these places lumped together and the Center in easy access. I travel back south, pass the train station, pass the subway, and explore for over half an hour before I find the Center on the corner of 31st and 42nd. I pick up some pamphlets about the Desert Resort and a day old newspaper.

Then, I find my way back to the apartment. I’ve got a good sense of direction, and I make it back within the hour. I’m pushing lunch time, so I make a sandwich and start unpacking and organizing my new place. My feet are light, and I’m humming some sort of radio tune as I go, fitting my iron bed frame together, hefting my dresser where I want it, and shoving blankets into my closet. My shoulders and hips move in some sort of epileptic movements, like a zap of electricity keeps me moving, and it’s hard for me to grasp that this is excitement. I’m happy, excited, and I haven’t felt this delicious taste of optimism for the future in a long time.

I spend a little extra time organizing my bookshelf. I line up my books and old binders, put a picture of the family on there, and prop up my diploma. I wipe off all the dust and consider actually getting something to hang it. I glance around the room. It looks very empty with a single half-sized bookshelf and a tiny round table with two chairs, but it’s MY place. I let Golem and Magnets out of their apricorns. I grin at them even though Magnets floats off curiously to look around.

“Here we are boys,” I say with a grin. I gesture to the room and spin. “This is a new start. I’m gonna start saving up. Study. Get in grad school. And I’ll finally be on my way!” I hug and scoop up Golem as much as I can, and he pings at me when I can barely lift his heavy ass. He picks me up instead, and I laugh and pat his shoulder. Then, I see Magnets by the wall, one magnet primed.

“Don’t you dare!” I snap at him. He jerks back with a metallic whine of innocence. I point my finger as Golem sets me down, and I shake my head. “Don’t you do it, Magnets. You stay away from ALL the outlets in here, got it?” Magnets continues to play coy, so I narrow my eyes. He backs away.

I spend the rest of the day reading old notes and sitting on a burr of excitement. I’m here. In Nimbasa. I’ve got a steady job, and a place. I can do this. Eventually the mattress is delivered. I wrestle it on my bed, make the bed for the only time I will ever make it properly and consider the Indian restaurant on the corner. It’s evening. I could stand at least ONE time eating out. At least break in a new city by splurging just a little more? It really isn’t all that much . . .

Against my better judgment, I decide today is the one day I’ll splurge a little more. I’m ravenous and I want some good food. I return Golem and Magnets and tromp down the apartment staircase and into the foyer. There’s a small pack of people surrounding the TV, but I ignore their murmurs. I don’t stop until I have half a foot out the front door when I hear, “. . . unprecedented return of Team Plasma—”

I stop. I look back at the TV. Before I know it, I’m hovering too, craning my head to see the TV with its picture of Virbank City’s docks. There, on the fucking screen, is Hugh Matisse in the center of a backdrop of destruction.

“Get out of my way!” I snap, and I shoulder past one of the people who swears at me. I crank the knob for the volume even though it’s plenty loud. He looks battered. His tie is all crooked and loose, his hair is disheveled, and there are stains under his pits. He’s holding his riolu that looks like it’s been put through the wringer, but its ears are still perked up alert. Its eyes are wild and scared. Hugh’s eyes are tired and hard. I can’t tell if those flecks and stains on his shoulder are dirt or blood.

I miss the reporter’s question because I’m so gob-smacked at seeing him this way. He shifts Romulus into one arm and gestures to the background where one of the ships is morbidly damaged. “Came from the sea,” he starts saying, “in a real old ship. Pirate ship, sails and everything, and they dressed in black, like pirates almost, but you could tell it was still Plasma, cause they still wore the symbol on their chest,” and he gestures to his own as illustration. He reaches up, and my heart freezes. It is blood. It’s on his hands, and he brushes his nose with the back of his hand. He leaves a smear on his face.

“Started attacking. Mainly on this ship. I just got back from Castelia, so I tried to do what I could to protect people. Just. Threw myself in the fray, didn’t really think. These blokes ran up on us all, and gods know what they wanted. Don’t think they wanted nothing.” Hugh uses his palm to rub at his eyes. I suck on my bottom lip. He doesn’t do a good job at hiding his tears. “Um—” and there’s a quiver in his voice, “w-when people started dying, I just had to do something, you know? The sailors could help, but it took the coppers and the gym leader a minute to roll up—and the leader’s just a girl,” and he gestures helplessly. The setting sun casts the crime scene in a hellish orange glow, and it occurs to me that we’re watching this live. My feet itch to move, to run all the way back to Virbank. What is Hugh doing in Virbank? He has three gym badges, he should be in Nimbasa by now—

“She just a girl still, she shouldn’t have to deal with this,” and he points somewhere off screen, presumably to where Roxie is. “They just—killed as many as possible. Tried to sink the ship. Don’t know what they could have wanted, but it was Plasma, for sure.”

Oh Hugh, you idiot! I can’t believe him. He could have gotten himself killed playing hero! Gods, this was—I was at at those docks a mere three days ago. How did Uncle Marshal know? Where did he go? A big namer like an Elite Four member would have been the face of an issue like this. Did he leave? He figure since I’d gone and nothing happened that nothing would?

Why Hugh. Why would you do that.

He looks completely joed. His entire face is dragged down like his skin is melting off his bones. His hands are still shaking. I barely notice the ambulances carting off bodies in the background. I just see my friend who’s stepped in shit big enough and far enough away that I can’t help him. What the fuck is he doing in Virbank? Why’d he fight like some half-wit action hero instead of running like a sensible person? Why’d his heart have to be so big he thought he had to help everyone else?

“Ain’t go no idea,” he says, and I snap back into the conversation hearing his voice. He shrugs, and Romulus digs its paws into his button up. “Sorry I couldn’t do more is all. ‘Lotta people been hurt here today. ‘Lotta people didn’t make it.” He gives a weak laugh and rubs at his eyes again. “Lost over half my team, but I’m still one of the lucky ones.”

Something stabs my heart. God damn it Hugh.

Hugh shakes his head, and he says, “No, I don’t know anything. Just a guy who tried to keep people safe is all.” He looks down and scratches the back of his riolu’s head. Romulus jumps and trembles at his touch, and Hugh backs up, saying, “I’ve gotta get this one to a Center. Excuse me,” and he walks off. The camera pans back to the reporter. Blood rushes in my ears.

I run to the phone on the wall before I realize belatedly that Hugh won’t be at the Virbank Pokemon Center immediately. How long does he need to get there? If he catches a cab—but if the police have to talk to him—the docks are how far away—

I wait half an hour before I call. He’s not there. I wait another ten, get antsy, and force myself to wait five more minutes. I call again. The person tells me to hold, and I shuffle my feet as I wait for Hugh to pick up.

“Hel—”

“Hugh!” I practically shout into the telephone. “Hugh, what the fuck was that? Are you okay?”

“Josey, I’m okay—”

“That was Team PLASMA—”

“I couldn’t just not—”

“You’re not a hero, Hugh!”

“Josey!” His voice is sharp enough that he cuts my tirade short. I suck on the inside of my bottom lip, struggling to hold back the dam of concerns and fears that well up against my heart. God help this idiot because I can’t. Hugh blasts out a breath. There’s a beat of silence, and I hear him suck in a sharp breath and squeeze out, “What was I supposed to do, Josey?”

“Run,” I tell him. My heart is racing. My adrenaline is already running away with me and I wasn’t even in his situation. “Like any regular human with a brain, Hugh. You run.”

“People were DYING, Josey.” There’s a raw edge to his voice I’ve never heard before. The threat of tears is shaking his voice, thickening it like blood as he whispers, “I couldn’t just run, Josey.”

I can hear his breath. He’s rasping, and everything is tight like knuckles bleached white, and I know he’s trying so hard to hold on to the situation. I don’t know how to grant him control of it all, but I swallow and try to backtrack.

“Are you okay?”

“No.” The word tears out of his throat, jagged, wheezing. His usual smooth voice is wrought and strained, and I can’t hold him together from here. “Josey,” he whispers, “they were KILLING people. I ain’t seen nothing like it since when those dragons fought, Josey. I didn’t—I didn’t know what it was like—at ground zero, you know—”

“Stop, Hugh.” I close my eyes and lean my head against the wall. “Deep breath. Okay?” I hear him loud and clear follow my instructions. I rub at my temple, and my hand squeezes the telephone tighter. “Okay. Okay, Hugh, come here to Nimbasa, and—”

“NIMBASA?” he explodes. I wince at the sudden spike in volume. “What are you doing in Nimbasa?”

“What are YOU doing in Virbank?” I snap back.

“I was on my way to see you!” he shouts. I wince. “I came back ‘cause—because of your letter! You said you let your ma go! ‘Course I came back, Josey! What do you mean you’re in Nimbasa?”

My jaw works with unsaid words. A knot of guilt balls up in my stomach. Of COURSE he’d come back to see me. I didn’t tell him a thing about moving. I didn’t give him any indication of what was going on with my life because I was butt-hurt about his achievements. And now because of it, he’s back in Virbank at the scene of a slaughter with half his team dead because of ME—

“I moved.”

The truth slips from my mouth and echoes into the receiver. The words are so faint I can barely hear them myself, but the deafening silence on the other end of the line smothers me. I squeeze my eyes shut. I need him to say something. The quiet is always worse than his judgment.

Finally, he chooses to end me with a soft, “You didn’t tell me.”

My jugular bobs and I nod. “I know. I’m sorry.”

An incredulous laugh bubbles from him. It sounds wrong, like he’s being twisted inside out. “I don’t even need to be in Virbank,” I hear in his breath. My heart shatters. I blink back hot tears.

“Hugh, I’m sorry.”

There’s another long pause where he holds me at the mercy of his hands. I hear his breathing on the opposite end, the huff, the cringe. And finally, he says quietly, “Yeah. I’ll come back to Nimbasa.”

My chest spasms. “Hugh—”

“Should be there in a week or two,” he continues over me. “Need to visit Molly and Mom before I do anything else.” His voice deepens with a suspicious husk, “Anyway. Nimbasa. See you there. Later, alligator.”

“Hugh—”

He hangs up on me. I thunk my head against the wall again and try to control how much my heart breaks. Why didn’t I tell him anything? Why couldn’t I be happy for his achievements? Why’d I have to be such a selfish, jealous bastard that I wouldn’t even tell him about my plans to move? Hey, Hugh, I’ll see you in Nimbasa soon, because I’m moving! That’s all I had to say. He wouldn’t have gone back home to see me. He wouldn’t have been in Virbank. He wouldn’t have been caught in the center of all that if it weren’t for me.

I forget about the Indian restaurant. I trudge back upstairs and flop on my bed, and guilt eats away my appetite.

*

I have to go to work the next morning. I don’t want to. I want to go straight home to meet Hugh to apologize somehow, but instead I get up early, grab my apricorns and take the bus to work. I find the building I need—a glitzy thing with arches and shining windows that’s for the models and the famous. Hooked adjacent is the gym, also decorated to hell and back. I go to the side building to the rear entrance and enter from there, because undertakers don’t get to go in the front door.

The inside is fancy by virtue of too much money. The floors and walls are sleek and shining, and it’s easy enough for me to find where to punch in for my shift this morning. I walk down the hall, wondering who’s supposed to be “training” me today. The cleaning man looks at me in my regular getup—the baggy pants, suspenders, steel toed boots—and even he gives me a look of general judgment and confusion. But, with enough walking I find the back room because the second I walk in, three people look at me.

The guy beams. “See?” he said, and he turns back to the taller woman. “Here she is! She can do it!”

I frown. It’s too early in this job to be volunteered for something when I haven’t even had a proper day on the job. “I’m not doing anything,” I say out loud, but the two ignore me. A tall woman, and a pair of twins. They have the exact same face and body type in their matching blue jumpsuits. Their faces are the same, their hair is the same, the way they stand is the same. Even the girl’s chest is flat as a pancake. The only difference is her hair is dyed bright, cotton candy pink.

“Mr. Edwards DID say she liked pulling overtime,” the girl says, and I narrow my eyes. Oh no he didn’t.

The tall woman, in a slick blue blazer and skirt eyes me as I come up. She flicks her eyes up and down me and says, “Well, you ARE certainly dressed for the part.” She flips back into her clipboard and says, “All right, Curtis, you’re off the hook.”

“Yes!” and he pulls his fist inwards with triumph.

“Congratulations, Miss . . .” There’s a pause as the woman clearly has to consult her notes for my name. Bitch. “Josephine, Eble—”

“That’s Ebele—”

“You get to go to the Castelia Sewers.”

I blink. “What?”

She pulls a paper off her clipboard and hands it to me. I’m stupid enough that I take it. “Brittany Shultz, owner of a delcatty, lost a battle with a wild boldore and ran away without returning her pokemon. A Castelia City mortician is looking for the pokemon, has not found it yet, and so we’ve been enlisted to help.”

“It was probably eaten,” I say even though I don’t know what kinds of pokemon are in the sewers.

The woman doesn’t even bat an eye at me. God, what a bitch! The least she could do is look at me! And she continues, “Due to Ms. Shultz being a resident of Nimbasa City, the delcatty would need to be transferred here anyways. You are to find the delcatty and bring it back to cremate it for Ms. Shultz. Do try to be punctual and find the thing before the day is up. Ms. Telsa would not be pleased to spend extra money to cover an overnight stay.”

Shit! Panic floods me. My first day and I’ve already been forced to do the job no one wants to do, AND if I don’t complete this thing on time, I’ll have the wrath of Elesa Telsa on my ass already? I swear a blue streak in my head and say, “Look lady, I don’t even know anyone’s names yet, and aren’t I supposed to be trained before I do anything like this?”

The woman writes something on her clipboard and doesn’t even look down her glasses at me. “You are a transfer, Ms. Eble—”

“EBELE.”

“You already know the job. Besides,” and finally she looks up at me with glinting blue eyes. “Ms. Telsa is not pleased with your stunt against Cheren, who is a dear friend of hers. I think it would be best to keep you out of her sight for now, don’t you?”

Heat flushes into my face. It’s on the tip of my tongue to spit that it’s not my fault her friend is a bully and a sore loser, but I manage to hold my tongue. I need this job. And I need it bad enough to go stomping through the sewers to find a rich kid’s dead cat.

The woman is satisfied with my defeated silence. She hands me two tickets and says, “Good! I’m glad we understand where we stand. You’d best head out, Ms. Ebele, we haven’t got all day.”

And she turns and walks off without a second glance. I’m gritting my teeth so hard I might bust a blood vessel in my temple. The blond boy—Curtis—pops into my view with a smile.

“Aw, don’t worry about her,” he says. He points his thumb. “That’s Dolores Joyce. She’s tough, but she’s effective. And she’s right about Elesa not liking you. It’s best you’re not on the sidelines yet.”

I wrinkle my nose at him. “You just didn’t want to go to the sewers,” I accuse him. “This is your job.”

He holds up his hands innocently. “Sorry, kitten.” I bristle at the nickname. A pikachu scampers up, and he scoops up the rodent and lets it sit on his shoulder. “Elesa has her favorites, and it’s us. Besides, I don’t think you have quite the . . . LOOK that she wants in her gym.”

“What look?”

“Oh you know,” and the girl pipes up, waving her hands indiscriminately. She has one of those emolga rats on her shoulder. “You’re really . . . Well, you’re clearly wheat. Country bumpkin, right?”

I bristle. I don’t like how they’re talking to me, even if they’re trying to be polite. “Aspertia isn’t the country, it’s a city,” I say defensively. It’s a city! It’s in the name, even if it’s not really a city.

The girl holds up her hands and I can’t believe that she looks offended. “I’m not trying to start anything! Honest! Elesa is just . . .”

“Particular,” Curtis puts in helpfully. I narrow my eyes at them. Blond-haired, blue-eyed bastards. Curtis holds out his hand and says, “Hey, let’s start this again. My name’s Curtis. This is my little sister, Yancy.”

I don’t take his hand. Yancy pipes up, “Hey! We’re twins, dummy!”

“I was still born first.”

“Oh shut up!”

I glare at them both. I hear them. Loud and clear. I’m not pretty enough to be in Elesa’s gym model castle of glass? I see how it is. I look at the tickets in my hand. One is for the train, and the other is for a cab. Well, at least it’s not coming straight out of my pocket anymore.

“Look,” Curtis says, and he’s still smiling, just as waifish as his sister, “This is going to work out well, you’ll see! Yancy and I are better at dressing the bodies and paperwork anyways. Elesa needs someone strong in the back, and by the look of your guns,” and he swipes a playful punch at my bicep, “you’ll fit right in!”

I glance down at where he touched me and look back up at him and his sister. I keep frowning to let them know that I don’t believe them, and Yancy finally just rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Look, just because she’s sending you to the dump doesn’t mean she thinks you’re trash—”

“Sure seems like it to me,” I interrupt.

“It just means that SOMEONE has to do it. It makes sense that the new kid has to do the job, right?” Kid? My glower darkens at her. Kid? I’m clearly older than these two. She laughs. “Oh come on, it’s just a little friendly hazing. Besides, you’re all ready to go, and you probably need to hurry! You don’t want to get on Elesa’s bad side on the first day here, do you?”

I glare at them both. They’re smiling like dolls. “Whatever,” I mutter, and I push out of the room.

And I fucking take a taxi to the train station. I don’t see the Vanderbilt boy anywhere. I sleep on the train there and end up back in Castelia after another 36 hour train ride. It’s midday the next day when I arrive, and I grab a hotdog from a hotdog stand, and I take a taxi to the entrance to the sewers. There’s probably only a couple hours of daylight left. The guy in charge says the Castelia undertaker is already inside. I go inside.

Quite frankly, it smells like shit. You know why? Because this IS shit. All of it’s shitty. And I start walking with my flashlight. I’m going to walk as deep as possible, because I’m assuming the Castelia undertaker has already combed the front areas. How big are these sewers anyways? Am I supposed to check under the entire damn city? If that Joyce lady thinks I can find this fucking pokemon when no one else has, she’s crazy. I’m staying the night. I know I am. Fuck what Elesa thinks of me.

A few trainers challenge me along the way, but I just flip them the bird. Once I’m sure we’re free of most trainers, I let out Magnets and Golem and have them help me search. It’s dark and wet and musty, and coagulated sewage clumps under my boots and stains the bottom edges of my pants. I try to avoid the water, but I step ankle-deep in a puddle and swear enough that Yancy and Curtis can hear it from here.

Magnets isn’t bothered. If anything, I need to leash him. I shout, “Get back here!” and “LEAVE THE BATS ALONE!” way too much, but Magnet is having fun harassing the zubats with his electricity, and Golem is helpful and tries to search with me. And the nice thing about ghosts is I don’t have to clean him when he half falls straight into the sewage, because it all sluices off him when he turns incorporeal.

I don’t know how long I walk, avoiding pokemon and trainers alike. Golem uses his Shadow Punch on a few territorial pokemon and looks far too pleased with himself when he can run them off. I don’t see the Castelia worker. Maybe it’s all a farce and they just wanted to pull the dumbest prank on me and my dumb ass fell for it.

Ha ha, let’s see how long the dumb piece of wheat searches the sewers for a pokemon that’s not there! Fucking city slickers.

. . . I’m not backwoods country wheat. I know how cities work.

I search until I come across something unusual—a tunnel connected to the sewers, but it’s not paved. It’s not man made. This is natural. I wave my flashlight back and forth. There’s no one and nothing in here but some sleeping bats above. Golem whines at the deep darkness. I swat at him. The hell, Golem? You’re a ghost!

“Hello?” My voice echoes down the tunnels. These are wilds. Did that girl go in here looking for a cool pokemon? I narrow my eyes and gesture for Magnets to come closer. “Come on you two. Stick close.”

Magnets chirps and twirls, discharging electricity as he goes. Cheerful bastard. Golem has to hold my hand the whole time in here. Cowardly bastard.

We walk in. It’s quiet as hell, and I can hear water dripping somewhere. It smells musty and wet, like mold probably grows all over the ceilings. Gravel crunches under my boots. We walk for a long time seeing nothing until I hear footsteps following us.

I whip around and shine my flashlight in the things face. The “Shadow Punch!” I’ve prepared morphs into a muffled squeak in my mouth when I come face to face with a giant boldore.

“Shit—! Magnets, Thundershock! Mud Slap!”

The two attacks collide with the rock. The jagged shine of a lightning bolt tattoos my eyelids with every blink, and I realize the boldore hasn’t even moved. It just stands there, staring at me with that fucking hole in its face. I take a step back. It takes a step forward. I take a step to the side. It takes a step to the side.

“Shit.” I keep my eyes on it, but it just follows me wherever I go. It doesn’t attack. It doesn’t really DO anything but loom like a creepy faceless rock, and it’s fucking unnerving in this murky darkness. Why can’t my life be as uneventful as it was before? Why do all these weird things have to happen to me?

Magnets knocks the thing’s head. I shoo him away before he ticks off the giant rock. “What do you want?” I finally ask it.

Silence.

“Shoo! Shoo!”

It doesn’t move.

“Oh my god. Golem, can we just kill it? Can you kill a rock?”

Really offended warbling. Fine Golem. Be a goody two shoes.

I huff. This is stupid. I’ve spent . . . Five hours now in these fucking sewers without sight of a dead pink cat, and it’s pushing near eleven at night. I’m hungry. I’m thirsty. I’m tired. I’m dirty. I can’t bring myself to give one more shit, and I mutter, “Fucking whatever. Fuck that delcatty. We’re getting out of here.”

The boldore moves. It abruptly begins turning, and I jump at the voluntary movement. It grumbles, like stones grinding against stone, and it begins to totter off on its three stubby legs. I breath a premature sigh of relief.

Golem knocks with excitement and gestures for me. He starts to walk after the boldore.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

I follow it for ten minutes before the SMELL hits me. Wet, moist, decaying flesh. Oh joy. It’s been dead, what three? Four days now? And the boldore leads me to a VERY swelled up, pus-filled delcatty corpse with flies around it.

Tasty.

I tuck my flashlight under my armpit and use my shovel to pick up the mess of cat and lament this job in a new way. I’ve never had to play fetch for dead pets before. This is new. And gross on a new level. Surely if three days have passed there’s some sort of law about how it should be left to decay the natural way, right? If there isn’t a law for that, they should make one. Fucking ridiculous.

I pull a large plastic ziplock body bag from my pocket. Golem holds it open for me while I shovel the cat inside, and I let him zip it up and drag it along. I’m gagging on the smell of that thing. I’d rather smell the shit.

And then we start walking back out. With a third and a half in tow. The half should be there—Golem has to take the body. The third, however, is creeping me out. I glare back at it.

“Hey, get lost!”

The boldore keeps following me though. No matter what I do. It’s a dogged, stupid thing that wades through the sewage after me and won’t leave me alone. I wonder if its the boldore that killed the delcatty.

I hate this job.

So I finally leave the sewers with my pokemon in tow along with the wild boldore. The night shift guy out at the sewers is so aghast and persistent about the fact that I can’t have a three foot, 200 pound rock following me around without a pokeball that he catches it in an apricorn for me and hands me the apricorn against my will. I don’t WANT this thing. But alas, I am saddled down with another apricorn. I consider dumping the apricorn in the trash, but that’d be a little meaner than I think I am. I’ll get home and then figure out what to do with the rock.

And I take a taxi at midnight, and hop on a train. I still don’t see Vanderbilt again. I starve the next morning because I’m too cheap to buy that expensive train food and make it to Nimbasa that Friday close to noon. The taxi ride takes too long in the traffic, but finally I’m dropped off at the rear entrance to the gym.

I look like shit. I smell like shit. I’m dragging a bag with the decayed body of a delcatty. Every gym worker there gives me a wide berth. I see Yancy and Curtis. They turn away, but not before I see them biting back laughter.

Pricks.

So I take a brief lunch break and I start shoveling pokemon until the end of my shift. Yancy and Curtis avoid me. Everyone does, really. I’m glad, cause I can’t give a shit about it all right now.

I punch out at five. I go back to my apartment. I take a long, long shower. And I fall face flat in bed.

God I hate this fucking job.