THE SMILE OF FAMILY

by Ryan Libra

Author's Notes

I'll have to post this again so that people don't get confused.

I don't own pokémon. But I can't wait for Black and White (English). :)

- x x x -

CHAPTER 5

The door of a pokémart opened with the jingling of wind chimes. Allison Andies stepped in, looked around, and got his first impression: the Higgins pokémart was as neat as his own. The shelves and racks were all arrayed in orderly lines, and each had several small compartments that contained the costlier items such as Charcoals, which powered up Fire attacks, and Focus Bands, which decreased the chances of a pokémon fainting once its energy was depleted. Despite the number of people coming in and out, not a speck of dust could be seen on the polished blue floor, and the counter, which was a couple of meters before Allison, showed no signs of filth, either. It even seemed that the walls had been given a new coating of paint; it used to be that those cream- colored walls were a light blue.

The owner of the pokémart, Larry Higgins, was a middle-aged man with jet-black hair, a pointed nose and chin, and beady brown eyes. He stood behind the counter with a clipboard in one hand and a pencil on the other. When the man spotted Allison, he raised an eyebrow at him and whispered to a teenager, who nodded and headed into what Allison supposed was the storage room. Higgins then approached him with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Finally here. I asked someone to get the package from the storage room. Do have a look around.” He then excused himself as a customer called his attention.

Allison occupied himself with scrutinizing the pokémon merchandise and comparing the stock with his own. There were a lot of valuable accessories here, particularly vitamins that upgraded the base stats of a pokémon. However, the store had a general lack in evolution items, an edge he had over Higgins. That the Andies pokémart had an abundance of them was heavily due to Wade, who often went to the seaside to collect King’s Rocks from Slowpoke and Water Stones from under water.

“Here you are, sir,” a boy said as he handed over a parcel the size of a Drowzee. He suppressed a frown as his nose caught a sharp odor that had to be coming from the white box. Allison wished that the storeroom had not held all those Mint Berries. It was a smell he really could do without.

“Thanks. I’ll just see myself out the door, then.” He opened the door and was nearly run over by a portly man with a pudgy, ruddy nose and rather abundant facial hair. It was obvious that he was some sort of chef, what with the hat and the apron being dead giveaways. Not bothering to express his indignation, Allison walked back toward his own pokémart.

- x x x -

Chef Hotnoser looked at the pokémart in disgust. Everything was inappropriately too neat in this place; there wasn’t even a speck of dust that corroborated that someone had been here. How could a store be properly called a store without the grime? He certainly wouldn’t set up his kitchen in this too tidy hole. He looked for the owner of the pokémart and saw a skeleton of a man with a clipboard. No doubt an inventory; more of his orderliness.

“Well, well, look what the Meowth brought in,” Larry said as he approached him. He distastefully glanced at the chef’s henchmen, who were clad in nothing more than dirty khaki pants—the oil stains were from the restaurant— loose beige vests, and shabby leather sandals. “I haven’t seen you in a while, Hotnoser.”

“I need your stock of Mint Berries, Pin-Face.”

A muscle twitched in Larry’s cheek. “Oh, that could be arranged. I hope you can afford the price—”

“It’s for the Consable Clan.”

The pokémart owner’s condescending smile dropped out of his face, along with any remaining traces of emotion. Hotnoser could have laughed as he heard the gears turn in Mr. Higgins’s head. He always was business- minded.

“That’s surprising. You never mentioned anything about a Clan in all my years of knowing you. I suppose I should consider this as a business proposal, am I correct?”

Hotnoser simply grinned.

- x x x -

“What are we doing here again?” Skye asked.

He and Wade had brought back the stolen Wooper along with Officer Malone to the shop near the beach. After a profuse thank you from the wrinkled old shopkeeper, Wade had asked the policeman if he and Skye could leave the thief to him; after all, they had already given their side of the story. Furthermore, if more questions were in order, there was always the shopkeeper and the two kids to provide answers. Without bothering to accommodate Officer Malone’s reply, he had dragged Skye off into an especially rowdy group of trainers who were whooping and catcalling over a match between a Gengar and a Flareon so that the policeman wouldn’t be able to follow them easily. Skye nearly got burned by an Ember attack in the process.

Wade and Skye were currently in the town square, with its mortared sidewalks, cemented narrow streets, and the central fountain, a sculpture of Shellder shooting spouts into the air. A black lamppost stood on each corner of the square, and Wade spotted a pink, soft-bodied slug crawling up one of them. What are those things? he thought, a little in amazement. It looked like a Water pokémon, but he had never seen one before. He found out its name when one of the shopkeepers came scrambling to it and plucked it from the lamppost, with a relieved, “So there you are, Shellos! I was looking all over for you!”

In between the unlit lampposts were more booths that showcased more pokémon. Wade walked along the northern side of the square and stroked the head of another Shellos. It felt squishy and wet, like damp socks. Beside it were a bunch of Geodude that were blissfully unaware of their surroundings as they arm-wrestled with each other. Moving on to the next stall, Wade observed that it had a number of pokéballs displayed on a wooden table, with a big warning sign that said in hastily scribbled letters, “DO NOT OPEN.” One customer, a ten-year old boy who probably hadn’t read the sign, took one and released the pokémon inside, only to be blasted by a whipping stream of sand that quickly spread out to the whole square. Surprised screams became audible through the rush of the wind. A pokémon with wide eyes, a large mouth, and a round body colored in different shades of brown blinked at the onslaught, which vanished just as quickly as it appeared once the shopkeeper recalled the pokémon. The cross shopkeeper then pointed the sign to the boy, who shook off the sand from his clothes and grinned sheepishly.

“What was that?” asked Skye, looking a bit dazed. “A sandstorm?”

“And that’s why I told Roscoe to hide the silly pokéballs,” Wade heard one of the other stall owners say. “Those young Hippopotas don’t know enough not to use that Sandstream ability of theirs when they aren’t battling.” The other shopkeepers chortled.

Wade dusted off the sand from his clam diggers then continued looking at the other booths as if nothing had happened.

The next one had a cluster of Swinub that, to Wade’ recall, some flustered lady shopkeepers a while ago had referred to as “scooting pincushions.” Of course, said flustered lady shopkeepers had been running after the tiny things like madwomen. More pokémon came into view, and they had one thing in common: they were all of the Ground type, one that the Consable Clan highly esteemed.

Wade Consable… That was his real name, wasn’t it? Though now, everyone knew him as Wade Andies.

Wade gazed at the array of Ground types that this part of the Fair was selling. He was no longer sure if the disappearances of pokémon around the shops were just the outcome of careless hired help. Wait, on the contrary, he should have known that the Clan would come up with something like this. Sandshrew. Numel. Swinub. Barboach. Wooper. They all had one thing in common: they were all targets for a Consable heist.

What didn’t fit at all in the puzzle, though, were the Murkrow. The Consable Clan only used Ground types, and the black birds hardly fulfilled the qualities that the Clan prized with such pokémon: primarily solid defense, and secondly powerful physical attack. His frequent reading at the library told him this much: Murkrow were okay with offense, but their guard could use a little work.

Using strong-smelling food to lure Ground pokémon out of the shops and into the waiting hands of Consable menials, along with a little thievery of crates containing pokéballs with Ground pokémon. It certainly wasn’t the orthodox way of executing crime. Wade knew of only one man in the organization brain-damaged enough to conceive such an inane plan.

The chef.

“Wade… why are we here again?”

[You could be nice and tell him, you know,] Umbreon suggested.

[It’s not my job to be nice. Besides, it was the idiot himself who wanted to come along.]

[He wanted to go with you because he was worried about you,] Slowking pointed out gently.

[I don’t need anyone worrying about me.]

There was only a skeptical silence on their side. He hated it when they did that.

“They’ll be here,” he said quietly.

Wade felt Skye come closer. “Why?”

His eyes roved left and right in an attempt to spot anything suspicious. “All the Ground types they can steal.”

“… Why Ground types?”

“Because that’s what they use.” His ears perked as he heard a little girl squeal in delight. Then he heard another loud sound, but when he turned he just saw a couple of shopkeepers engaged in a game of chess, and one of them had apparently won. One of the stall owners was talking to her helpers about obtaining more feed from their storage rooms in the back.

It rattled Wade’s nerves and annoyed him to no end that he wasn’t sure what to expect!

[Wade…] Skye asked telepathically. Even in Wade’s mind he could feel his hesitation. [Who are they?]

That was when he heard an all-too familiar clangor. Stalls collapsed. Tables toppled. People screamed. Potions and Antidotes crashed to the cemented street, and all around black shapes sped and smashed into racks and counters. From the corner of his eye, Wade spotted a Swinub scoot into an alley, and another blindly dash behind an overturned table. He snatched a pokéball from his belt, but Skye held down his forearm.

[I’ll take care of this. Don’t move.]

“Don’t be stupid!” Wade snarled as he jerked his forearm free. He bounded forward but stopped short as the Murkrow abruptly ceased their attack and hovered in their places. The Dark-Flying pokémon were all guardedly gazing at one spot, and when he turned around there was nothing or no one there. Only that idiot, Skye, who was still not moving.

… Skye?

Wade stepped back, away from him. He was doing something. He was sure of it. But what? What could he possibly do? This wasn’t something that psychics were capable of, unless he was manipulating all those Murkrow with telekinesis. Before more questions could fill his mind enough to make it explode, the soot-colored birds cawed and flapped away. Wade stared at their retreating backs.

[Follow them!] Umbreon cried. The Dark pokémon’s mental voice snapped him out of shock. He ran into an alley after one of the birds, but he didn’t get far. Skye was suddenly there in front of him, his arms folded calmly in front of his chest.

“Get out of my way,” Wade said softly, his voice a blade being unsheathed.

“Relax. No matter where those Murkrow go, I’ll know where they are.” Skye smiled at him in a reassuring kind of way. Wade fumed. Ambling off into the other direction, Skye beckoned for him to follow.

Yeah, right. May as well search for a shiny Shellder in the ocean than rely on him tracing those Murkrow. I’ll have bigger luck with the former. That conceited, big-headed, water-clogged moron! Yet he found his traitorous feet moving.

“Shouldn’t we be hurrying?” he asked sullenly.

“Nah. Even if they change locations, I’ll still know where they are.” Skye suddenly turned right, and stepped into cadence behind a troop of children, each child holding onto the front kid’s shoulders.

“I don’t believe you.”

But instead of refuting that pronouncement, Skye simply laughed. No malice, no skepticism of his own, no resentment. Just plain infuriatingly laughed.

“We’ll find them, or at least the owner of that Murkrow. That much I can promise.”

Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Wade thought vehemently.

It was difficult to discern if the path they were taking was the insane meander of someone who didn’t know his way or the purposeful stride of one who did. Wade wondered why he was still following. Not that he could ditch him; besides, he had already lost sight of those Murkrow. Might as well go with this ridiculous Farfetch’d chase.

Wade was still berating himself for being such a fool to follow him when they came across a clearing with a coffee-colored tent that was held up by thick white poles and was probably big enough to house an entire zoo. Oddly enough, there were no signs to give a clue about what kind of establishment the tent was. Could be a pokémon store, an arcade, a venue for a tournament, or a dull-colored circus for all Wade knew. It was here that Skye stopped, though.

“In there?” Wade asked, one eyebrow up.

“Uh-huh.”

Still looking at Skye askance, Wade moved through the tent flap in small, cautious steps. He felt Skye’s presence right behind him, a wall that kept his trepidation out, for some bizarre reason.

When he looked around, it was like he had put on a pair of cinnamon- colored glasses. The square wooden tables draped with ginger-hued tablecloths were scattered haphazardly across the planked floor. On the opposite side of the entrance was a counter with a glass display housing a variety of chocolates and pastries. There were a few brown fans whirring at the periphery of the restaurant. Even the cutlery was tinged with tan. Wade peeked at a menu in the shelf near the entrance.

The Mudhouse, Wade thought wryly. As subtle as a bunch of bouncing Wailmer. If this really is where those goons are hiding, then the whole place gives everything away. Did that mean that Skye was right?

A caw snatched his attention. A black shape popped out from behind the counter and settled on the cash register. Wade stared at the Murkrow, which had begun pecking at the keys.

“Get back here, you mangy bird!”

A man carrying a tray walked into view from the door behind the counter, and Wade noticed the white, dirty apron he wore that failed to conceal the bulging stomach he sported. Attached to it near his waist were four pokéballs.

“Not open yet?” Skye asked the grimy guy.

The man glared at the Murkrow before snatching it from the cash register. “Nope, sorry. You’ll have to come back tomorrow. We’ve got problems with the… uh… the stove.”

“You use a lot of Murkrow on the job, huh?” Skye went on as he critically eyed the one-foot bird.

“Which is weird,” said Wade, taking loud, intimidating steps toward the man, “since, from my memory, the Consable Clan only used Ground types.” He shot the man a look that could have frozen a Slugma.

The man stared at the two of them as if he had been punched in between the eyes. He was sweating now. “Did… did the Boss send for you?”

“That’s all I needed to know,” Wade said as he released another of his new purchases: a lithe, dark-colored feline with formidable claws and pink feather-shaped protrusions on its head.

[Are you sure about this?] Skye asked in his mind. [That one’s newly hatched, right?]

[May as well train Sneasel.]

“I hear the chef’s been busy in the kitchen again,” Wade said. He languidly twirled Sneasel’s pokéball on his index finger. “He here? I could use a few things to sink my teeth into.”

“You’re suspicious,” the man said as he set the tray down on the counter and directed Murkrow to stand in front of him, ready to battle.

“You’re slow.”

“Officer Malone should be here any minute,” Skye said off-handedly. He eyed the imminent battle with a faint grin of interest.

“Oh blast it all!” The man’s face was no longer confused; it had donned on a ferocious glint. “Murkrow, Peck that thing! I don’t know how you kids found out, but there’s no way you’re going to ruin it all!”

“Sneasel, return. Umbreon, let’s not waste any time or effort. Dark Pulse.”

The black pokémon materialized from its pokéball and released a wave of malevolent energy, which enveloped Murkrow and sucked its health. It croaked before falling on the planked floor, its scaly claw twitching.

“What the—How’d that happen?”

“Where’s the chef?” Wade asked one more time.

“As if I’d tell you,” the man growled. He brought out his next pokémon, another Murkrow.

“You are going to lose,” Wade told him dispassionately. “You’re either so stupid that you can’t recognize the vast different in strength between my Umbreon and your pokémon, or desperate. You’re nothing but fodder for my Dark types. Sneasel, one more go.”

[Will it still be a stronger foe?] Sneasel’s contour appeared from the red light of the pokéball. It faced him with an expression that Wade discerned to be unease.

Wade stared at the Dark-Ice pokémon. [You… you can talk to me?] Like Horsea did when he had battled Jacobson! The Water type might have been small, but it certainly possessed enough spunk to fill a Wailord when it had asked Wade if it could squirt ink on Jacobson’s face when he had lost.

[I felt I could,] Sneasel replied. [Is it still stronger than I am?]

Wade glanced at the Murkrow and answered quickly. There was no telling when it would launch its attacks. [It is. But I will make you stronger. Pull back for now.]

“Umbreon, cover for Sneasel. Then fire another Dark Pulse.”

Umbreon stepped forward and received Murkrow’s Peck, which barely upset it at all, then blasted the bird with another wave of sinister energy and promptly putting it out of commission. The man’s other two pokémon met the same fate, and by the fourth pokémon the man was quivering.

“I… I’ve got to warn the boss!” The man dashed into the kitchen, but before Wade could tear after him Skye was already on the move. The older youth hurdled the counter and charged into the kitchen, where a loud crash resounded. Wade followed and took a wary peek. Skye had apparently tackled the goon, who was knocked out and slumped over the table.

Wade turned back and carried Sneasel. He looked it straight in the eyes, as if the reason it could speak to him like his Umbreon, Slowpoke, Slowking, and Gyarados lay in there.

[What’s so weird?] Sneasel asked. Even in Wade’s head its voice sounded very feline. [Don’t trainers and their pokémon speak like this all the time?]

[… Actually, no.]

Sneasel’s kitty eyes narrowed at him. [I don’t care. Just keep your promise and make me stronger.]

Wade had that TM, didn’t he? He brought it out from his pocket and showed it to the feline. It could have been mistaken for a music CD, though popping it into a player wouldn’t have set anyone dancing or singing along.

“This TM will teach you a technique known as Ice Punch,” he told it. “That battle should have made you strong enough to take out a trainer’s pokémon on your own.”

[I hope you enjoy bashing those Consable scum as much as I do,] Umbreon quipped.

Sneasel purred as the TM was applied to it. [I’m sure I’ll get to love it.]

“Wade,” Skye called, “There’s a trapdoor under the table. I’ve managed to open it.”

[Thanks, you two.] Wade returned Umbreon and Sneasel to their pokéballs then went back to the kitchen. And indeed, right under the table was a trapdoor. Now that was something one didn’t see in a restaurant everyday.

“Maybe that chef guy you’re looking for’s in there,” Skye said.

Wade didn’t know how to deal with Skye’s persistence at helping him. He stood up and slowly reached for the nearest chair, then took just as much time sitting on it. Indecision could do that to a person. “You don’t have to follow through with this, you know,” he said quietly. “You’ve done plenty enough.”

Silence. Wade dared not look at the other’s face. He didn’t know what cosmic force had prompted such utterances; he was surprised his mouth had even allowed them out. Was he nervous? That was a given. But about what?

[Are you frightened that Skye will leave?] Slowbro asked in his mind.

[Are you frightened that he might get hurt?] That was Slowking doing their twiddledum-twiddledee combo.

Wade felt a hand on his shoulder. “Things like these aren’t meant to be done alone.” He didn’t have to look at the other to know that he had that confident, reassuring smile that faithfully accompanied him wherever he was.

“Idiot,” Wade muttered. He shook off Skye’s hand and stood up.

[Someone’s relieved,] Gyarados commented with malicious glee.

[Go kiss a Qwilfish.]

With one last look into the trapdoor, Wade jumped into the darkness.