I also don't really know the format for doing this so I'm just going to wing it.
Also ALSO, I'm gonna change a few details for better story progression, but the main meat of the game will still be here.)
Normally, I wouldn't go straight to blowing the shit out of the building I'd been living in for the past year and a half. Normally. But you know, I was pretty drunk at the time and when you're blitzed on jello shots and jager bombs -not a great mix, btw- everything seems like a great idea. I'd been so fucking done with top-heavy Gonzap and his angry steroid pecks going and bossing me around all the time, that well, I felt like giving him a great big middle finger straight up his ass in the form of grand larceny. Seemed like a good idea at the time, I promise. Not so much, of course, when I had a sugar crash at that Outskirt Stand.
Well, I say sugar crash. To be fair, it was almost an ACTUAL crash.
"Wes, SLOW DOWN!"
"Yes, please, I'd really like to keep living past the next thirty secondsTHERE'SATRAINTHERE!"
"I fuckin' GOT IT, GOD!" I screamed back at my Pokemon, braking the bike so hard I nearly dumped it. Sand flew, the metal creaked and strained, but it held and I didn't hit the abandoned train engine sitting in the middle of the desert. After a moment for the dust and adrenaline to settle, Rum, my ever-trusty umbreon burst out into relieved laughter, much to his brother's chagrin.
"I can't..." Rum gasped out between laughs as his brother glared daggers at him. "I can't believe that actually WORKED!"
"I can't believe my buzz wore off so fast," I groaned into my folded arms, resting my head on them and the handlebars of my bike. Oh, Jesus tap-dancing Christ I felt terrible. Doing twelve straight jello-shots on an empty stomach was not a good idea. It was five hours ago, but foresight was not ever my forte.
"We don't know that it did, yet, because we're barely away from the Hideout! Gonzap and all of his stupid goons could follow us with that very viable trail we left," Whiskey, the dutiful killjoy Espeon snapped back. Rum chuckled more, which of course only pissed Whiskey off more. "And what in HELL is so funny?"
"Wes and I fucked with their bikes before we blew the place. Unless those assholes are running after us on foot -which you know they aren't- we'll be fine!" He shouldered Whiskey playfully, the gesture doing little to appease his brother's anger. "Hey." I soon felt paws on my thigh as Rum leaned in to press his stupid, wonderful face against mine. "Probably should get you inside and some water and Asprin, buddy. Look at that thing you took."
I let out a long groan, hoping to vent the simultaneous sugar crash and possible hangover from my body before pushing myself up from my bike. Yeah, water was probably a good idea. Whiskey, still ever bitchy as always, hopped out first, glad to be out of my death machine. "You're going to get us all shot," he spat angrily as he trotted toward the train as I dismounted.
"Thanks, Mom." I snatched the loot I'd stuffed from the Hideout and slung it over a shoulder before pocketing my keys and following Whiskey. "Maybe next time do more than just wait in the getaway car while Rum and I do all the freaking work." As we approached, however, two kids about my age waltzed out of the bar and it suddenly dawned on me: holy shit there was a truck there. And that truck was probably stolen. I felt Rum bump against my leg protectively and looked down only to see his cautious expression. His eyes flicked to the truck bed, where there lay a large burlap sack that was very much moving.
"Fwaah!" the first Asshole belched out triumphantly, "We sure pigged out, eh? I love chowing down after a job. It adds to the flavor, I swear!"
"Heheheh, yeah," Asshole #2 agreed. "And we bagged ourselves a great big catch, too. Boss'll be sure to fix us up with big rewards, too. Heheheheh, it doesn't get any better than this."
I didn't recognize the two, which meant they weren't from Snagem. And that was good. But the "boss" they mentioned could have been any number of crime lords or self-proclaimed lords that made their dens in Orre. Though the right thing to do would have been to cut loose whatever was squirming in that sack, no one in Orre ever got by by doing the right thing. It was just the way of life here, and everyone seemed to accept that. I didn't relish the fate of whatever was unfortunate enough to be caught by these two morons, especially since they left it out in their metal truck bed, in the sun, in a desert, in the middle of the afternoon. Maybe whatever it was would die of heatstroke soon and wouldn't have to suffer much longer. The two didn't seem to mind me eavesdropping, however, and simply got in their truck and left. All I could do was go about my business.
I'd been inside the Outskirt Stand before when returning from the odd job here and there, so the bartender merely gave me a fond nod as I stepped in. It was little more than a run-down bar, but then again, what else would someone expect out of an abandoned train engine-- in Orre, of all places? It had running water and electricity, though, and that was all anyone could really ask for. Whiskey and Rum were already waiting in our normal booth in the back, the only waitress filling small bowls with water for them to drink.
"So, what did we end up with?" Rum asked eagerly as I sat down, the waitress pouring a water for me as well. I thanked her quietly before popping open a small bottle of pills. With my medicine taken, I shoved the duffel onto the table to inspect.
As I was about to speak, however, the TV blared out the emergency jingle, a sound everyone in Orre was well-acquainted with. Out of sheer instinct, everyone in the bar stopped their conversations and listened. "Authorities have made a stunning announcement on the mysterious building that exploded in Eclo Canyon: it was Team Snagem's Hideout. Team Snagem is a gang of Pokemon abductors that have already been marked for arrest. The Hideout was discovered only as a result of the explosion. By the time police arrived, the ruined building had already been abandoned. The cause of the explosion is under investigation. It should become apparent eventually." The reporter signed out and the conversations resumed in the background.
"See, Whiskey? We're in the clear!" Rum whispered excitedly to his brother. "With the cops swarming the place they'll be too busy trying to hide to come after us. We should be able to get to Pyrite without a hitch." He was right, of course, and Whiskey knew it; though the Orre police were something of a joke in the region, even Gonzap knew better than to get caught trying to go after a single rogue with no resources. Rum turned back to me, eyes alight with new vigor. "So now that we've got more good news, hit us with what you got."
"Well, about... 3g's in Poke, some food, some water, Gonzap's nipple rings--"
"Sorry. Not much, really. But I did get the BIG prize." I grinned as I pulled the Snag Machine from the bag, slipping it on. It was strangely snug, somehow. Like it meant to fit. "Think of the money we could pull in from this baby. It could get us enough to settle somewhere better, like Agate. It's a decent town, even if it is God's Waiting Room. It's not covered in fucking sand, at least."
"Just Agate? Hell, it could get us to Gateon Port and a ticket out of this trash hole."
I frowned as I flexed my hand as it settled into the grooves of the machine. It was a foreign feeling, but I liked it. How Gonzap thought he was getting his giant tree limb arms into this thing was beyond me, though; it was barely wide enough for his pinky much less the rest of his terrifying arms. "I don't know, Rum. We'll figure it out as we go. But getting away from here is still a great plan now that my headache's leaving."
//Wes.// I flinched at the sudden volume change but settled as I realized it was Whiskey doing his creepy Psychic thing. As much as I hated him talking directly to my brain, though, I had to admit it was handy for being stealthy. //The man in the booth behind you keeps eyeing you. We should leave.//
With a sigh, I give Whiskey a small nod. It didn't take long to rezip the duffel and leave the booth, allowing us a quick escape. I tossed some change on the table first, though, because I'm not a complete cock-guzzler. But the creeper was quick on our heels, calling out to me once we left the safety and shade of the bar.
"Yo, wait! Wait up!" he called. I stopped on the ramp to look back at him, immediately spotting a goofy grin. "Hey, my name's Willie. After I got a good look at you, well, I got this urge to battle you. It's like I'm compelled to." That was... not what I was expecting, to say the least. I glanced down to my Eeveelutions, who seemed just as confused as I was. Rum made his own assumptions about the conversation and simply batted his eyes and puckered his lips. Gross. Funny, but gross. "Anyway I look at it, it's obvious that you're no Ordinary Joe. So what do you say? Let's you and I have a quick battle."
"'Battle,'" Rum giggled as he made eyebrows at us.
"Shut up, Rum-- Yeah, uh, sure... Willie. We'll fight you."
"Yeahah! That's the spirit!" he cried, completely ignoring or oblivious to Rum's remarks. "All right, all right. Over here, this way!" He practically skipped over to a large, flat area nearby, Whiskey, Rum and I reluctantly following. The sun was still too bright and too damn hot for my hangover, but I knew I had to get through it. Maybe I could get some more petty cash off this guy for winning.
I picked my spot to stand as Whiskey and Rum went to their normal spots as Willie started... making motorcyle motions. "Yeeeeeeeeeeaaaaah," he crowed, almost dancing with anticipation. "I'm burning now! I'm on fire now! It's full-throttle time!" I stared at him a moment before catching Rum's eye, who then ever so tactfully mouthed out the words, FOR YOUR DICK. Willie didn't seem to notice that or the subsequent bird I flipped my Umbreon since he was so busy riding his imaginary motorcycle. Please, let that be what he was imagining.
"Vroom, vroom! Let's roll!"
The battle began soon enough with Willie sending out two Zigzagoon and I couldn't help the confident smirk roll across my face. Really? This guy was so amped to show off his... two Zigzagoon? To each his own, I guess, but I would be lying if I said they would have been worth stealing. Whiskey and Rum made quick work of them, their battle strategy working perfectly for the two unevolved Normal Types. Rum would wall attacks while Whiskey would shoot back out powerful ones. It was simple but effective. Willie's Zigzagoon were no match.
Willie returned his defeated raccoons with a small click of his tongue. "Tsk. Wiped out. I still need seasoning." He came forward, placing the small amount of Poke in my hand before putting his own hand on the back of his neck. "But yeah, you're tough. Real tough. You did a real number on us. Hey, I know," He straightened and his eyes widened with realization and excitement. "Why not test your skills out in Phenac City? It's out west of here." He continued, since he didn't seem to notice my cringe. "You'll find trainers who are way better than me there. You should go out there and get some battling in."
"Yeah, thanks, I'll keep that in mind," I replied, barely keeping the vomit down. Phenac? God, never. Willie nodded and waltzed back into the bar as Whiskey and Rum followed me to the bike. "You know," Whiskey began as we readied for the journey, "Phenac IS on the way--"
"Traitor," Rum spat, hopping into his spot on the sidecar. "You actually want to go there? What makes you think they'll even let us IN? They'll accuse us of... having fleas or the Plague or something."
"We'd be passing it anyway going to Pyrite, so what's the harm?" he snapped back. "I don't like it as much as you, but everyone knows not to say no to water. Maybe they'll let us take what we need to get us to leave faster. It's worth a shot and we'd be stupid not to at least try."
Ugh. I hated when Whiskey was right all the fucking time. Made him super smug. "Ugh. Fine. We'll stop there, but only for a little bit and only for water. Then we're getting the hell out of there before they try to, I don't know, hiring us as 'the help'."
"Are you kidding? They'd throw us in jail first-- who would honestly trust a dirty mug like yours to clean their expensive house?"
"Point," I admitted as I started the bike up. I swear I swooned every time I heard that delicious roar. It was like music. "So. First Phenac, then Pyrite. Sounds good." Flipping down my shades, I revved the engine and sped off, eager to continue my lucky streak.