“Hey Boss,” Kenny sent Hoshi's way as the latter did his best to hold still. Casca might've had an ocean of experience when it came to disguises – compared to him, at least – but even she couldn't make the act of getting one's eyebrows plucked into a pleasant experience.

  “Yeah?”

  “Is there a reason we ain’t just takin’ Diglett's Cave?”

  The senior grunt needed to resist the urge to turn his subordinate’s way. “Because we want to get to Saffron City, and the tunnel comes out near Pewter? Literally further away from our destination than where we are now?” Have you not been paying attention?

  Kenny grumbled. “Okay, but if we go from Pewter to Cerulean and then just go down Route Five, we can get into Saffron without, ya know, goin’ into uncharted wilderness.”

  “Didn't you suggest cutting through the woods instead of taking Route Thirteen a couple days ago?” Hoshi asked in turn.

  A particularly stubborn hair decided that it didn’t want to leave, causing a jolt of pain as Casca’s tweezers settled the disagreement. Ugh. The juicer looked Hoshi’s way, grimacing in solidarity. “That was before we got attacked by ninjas in the middle ‘a the night.” Kenny's disguise had also received an upgrade, though a less painful one than the senior grunt was experiencing: a fake beard to go along with the wig.

  And honestly… he looked better? The artificial – or at least false, Hoshi wasn't sure if it was actually synthetic or from a real person – hair was covering up some of the puffiness, as well as hiding a portion of the acne scars. And the sailor's accent had tapered off a bit too, corresponding to the gradual lowering of his stress level basically one-to-one.

  On impulse, he voiced another question. “Hey Kenny, why do you shave your head?”

  The man paused, and his eyes narrowed for a moment before settling into an expression of faintly rouge embarrassment. “Uh… Well y’see, I apparently look a lot like my grampy, when he was younger at least, and…”

  Hoshi grunted to show his understanding as his subordinate trailed off. Ah, yeah, that's… yeah. “How're those eyebrows looking, sunshine?” he changed the subject. Kinda regret asking.

  “You tell me,” Casca replied. “These look like Hoshi Mutsu's eyebrows to you?”

  Okay, time to face the music. With his breath held, Hoshi stopped deliberately avoiding looking in the gold-rimmed hand mirror, and… “Huh. That is… different.”

  He had always had large, fluffy eyebrows, ever since he was a kid. They were probably the most eye-catching feature of his face; Hoshi had a love-hate relationship with them, since they reminded him of his father, but also…

  Well, they reminded him of his father.

  But those caterpillar-like things had disappeared, replaced by a mirrored pair of thin, tightly-controlled lines. With coloured contacts behind another pair of glasses, he looked completely different from his normal self – and, despite his hair still being a straight brown, completely different from the disguise he'd worn while walking to Danny's place. Yet again, he was struck by his girlfriend's skill.

  “Different,” Hoshi repeated with a shake of his head. “Completely different. Casca, you're a fucking ‘kazam.”

  The stranger in the mirror took a moment to preen as she stood beside his reflection. She had, of course, done herself first; Casca was now sporting differently-dyed hair in a natural blue, with matching contacts and stern half-moon glasses. Combined with a conservative outfit, the ensemble reminded him vaguely of Lorelei, the one Elite Four member to ever hail from the Orange Archipelago… and he wasn't ashamed to admit that the hot librarian look was really doing it for him.

  “Thanks, stud. Though this time tomorrow, I'll probably be wishing some of the time I've put into fashion had gone to training instead…” The words were self-deprecating – but her smile revealed amusement, and Hoshi snorted.

  “Well to answer your question, it all looks fine to me. Everybody ready?”

  A series of affirmations from the crowd of disguised Rockets, and Hoshi smiled.

  “Well, let's get to it.”

  Unlike Officer Jennys, which all looked the same for convoluted reasons ultimately tracing back to the fact that Kanto’s first Shogun had been a pervert obsessed with having an all-female, all-blue-haired elite guard, and Nurse Joys, who all looked the same because being able to distinguish the person you should talk to when your charmander’s tail had gone out was important, Kanto's third group responsible for keeping both trainers and civilians safe and healthy were an eclectic bunch.

  Pokémon Rangers had a wide assortment of duties to attend to, though the full list was somewhat deceptive; a lot of them were terrain-exclusive, like keeping rivers from being overfished or underground paths from collapsing.

  But the one most people pictured when they thought the word ranger was not only the most widespread and time-consuming, but arguably also the most important: keeping wild Pokémon to a manageable level. Not driving them off entirely – that would be hideously labour-intensive, bad for the region's ecology, and counterproductive in terms of trainer strength – but, at the very least, keeping strong monsters well away from the public paths. Non-trainers needed to be able to get from city to city without armed escorts after all, lest things threaten to devolve back to the bad old city-state days of the past.

  It was a position with a lot of respect to go with a similar amount of responsibility – in fact, one could say that a Pokémon Ranger was a lot like a Gym Leader, just without the Pokémon Gym… Or maybe that was just what Rolando liked to tell himself; he had, after all, wanted to be a Gym Leader for most of his life, including seven of his eight years as an Ace trainer.

  But as that last tournament had played out, his feelings had changed. Truthfully, he couldn't say why; it was just… one of those things. He had woken up the morning after an impressive showing, walked out into the pavilion, realised that that was probably going to be his last really good tournament year… and simply found himself at the Ranger sign-up stall.

  And it wasn't like he regretted that spontaneous decision. Ranging was rewarding in its own way, different from fighting trainers while still being a battle – and one his aging team were more equipped for, anyway.

  Though that wasn't to say he didn't fight trainers.

  “Group of… I'm counting ten, Central. A good ways into the woods, off-route.”

  Back when he'd been a normal trainer, Rolando – Ron, to his friends – hadn't had very many opportunities to fly on Charizard’s back – because yes, it was fast, but it was also a great way to get lazy about training. Hopping from Saffron right on down to Fuchsia was a great workout for his flying type's wings, and absolutely no challenge for anyone else.

  But these days, he was in the air about as often as he was on the ground – which meant he'd gotten very good at spotting things from above.

  “Copy,” came the reply from the short-range radio on his hip. “Pokémon?”

  “Oh yeah. Some pretty strong ones.” Is that Big Glow they're fighting? I think it is. Looks like they'll drive him off, too. Definitely not newbie trainers.

  Wind ruffled his hair as he descended a bit, Charizard's hide sensitive enough to feel the pressure of his heels and knees. It was a real boon that they didn't need a set of reins, because-

  “Central Two’s picking up the balls; looks like somewhere between high twenties and low thirties. Station one says they haven't let that big a group through today – they must've either met up in-route, or hopped the blockade. Think these are fleeing Rockets?”

  “Ten people with evolved ‘mons leaving the city, going off-route to do it…” If they were normal, they’d be at the Nationals right now. “And right after the mayor's house got blown up to boot? Yeah, I'd take that bet.”

  A long pause, then – “You're cleared to question them, Ranger. Engage at your own judgment.”

  An unseen nod. “Copy.”

  -Because it left him free to operate the radio, and Charizard free to aim a Flamethrower in whatever direction he wanted – though they probably shouldn't open with that.

  No matter how loudly Ron's gut was screaming ‘these aren’t normal trainers.’

  Do I go in hot anyway? he asked himself as his starter’s leathery wings cut the air with a faint sound – and then the noise sharpened as Charizard's downwards glide turned into a proper dive, Ron's question answered by the ‘mon’s perception of his body language long before the man's conscious mind had finished processing.

  I guess we are! “Flamethrower! Give ‘em a scare!”

  Hoshi wasn't entirely sure what made him look up. It could've been a tiny sound, or the subconscious perception of a deepening shadow. Heck, it could've even been some kind of psychic premonition.

  Or maybe it had only been sheer, dumb luck.

  But whatever the reason, he did look up – and that meant he caught the flash of vibrant orange skin before the fire came out. “Casca!” he cried, turning fully away from the giant persian that had leapt from the trees to menace them. The action must've looked suicidal with only the context available from the ground, but Hoshi’s instincts were screaming. “Up! Water!”

  Without hesitation – maybe she'd seen it too, or maybe she just trusted him – the woman whirled to follow his pointing arm. “Water!” she cried in turn, and-

  Steam erupted as Candy and Ludicolo’s Water Guns made contact with what was probably a Flamethrower, boiling vapour shooting down from the trees to instantly coat Hoshi’s face in sweat despite the otherwise sub-zero air temperature. For the slimmest fraction of a second he waffled between diving and standing his ground – only for the sight of a charizard emerging from the sizzling cloud to tip him towards the former.

  He dove, a voice cried “On the ground!” and for a heartbeat Hoshi was back in his apartment, sand forcing itself down his throat as gunshots rang out.

  Then he grit his teeth. No. Not again – I’m not freezing up again. “Venus, stay on the cat! Rivet, Thunder Wave!” And as the orders were obeyed – sluggishly by his magneton, but obeyed – the senior grunt’s hand slipped down to his pocket. I won’t forget my options, or how to order my Pokémon.

  The first pass was a complete bust – but that was no reason to give up. As Charizard burst through the treetops, snarling at the steam and vaporised leaves irritating his eyes, Ron dropped from his Pokémon’s back – and, at the same time, he dropped a Pokéball from his hand. “Venusaur, Sleep Powder!”

  The gangsters closer to Big Glow began turning as the two who'd managed to thwart his first move reacted to the giant flower-dino’s appearance. The man released a raticate, the woman a cloyster, and as Ron rolled and felt his third and fourth ‘mon’s balls jump into his hand, he took a brief moment to assess the situation.

  Too many Pokémon to take them down through attrition. Same for stalling and waiting for backup… Hit-and-run it is.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  The forming enemy rat almost seemed to break back into light – but no, that was just a dozen twinkling stars bursting from its mouth in a wide spread. Venusaur let up on his powder to block the attack with a precise Protect, also deflecting a volley of icicles In the process-

  And then Ron's final two Pokémon joined the fray, Blastoise completing the classic Oak Labs trio as his own, much larger raticate appeared only to disappear with a Faint Attack.

  Big Glow took the opportunity to bite off a mouthful of a parasect’s mushroom while firing off light from his gem, and the ranger smiled. Hah, might be the first time I'm happy to see the ornery old cat. The persian was one of the more persistent issues that had plagued the path between the nearby city and Saffron, one that Vermillion’s Pokémon Rangers had been trying to solve since before the turn of the millennium; no matter how far he was relocated Big Glow always seemed to pop back up within a week, and he was ridiculously overpowered compared to most wild examples of his species – and even normal persian were a little too much for Route 6.

  But in this one, specific instance he was actually glad for the old bastard's tendency to try and pick off anyone in ‘his’ territory.

  “Raticate, Thunderbolt!”

  The ranger’s raticate reappeared just long enough to bathe half their monsters in lightning, then dissolved back into the forest’s shade. It might not’ve been a strong example of elemental fury, especially when held up against the charizard’s attack only moments earlier, but the blast was more than enough of a distraction to send the Rockets’ teamwork into disarray. Hoshi grit his teeth as Sleep Powder started engulfing the group – their grass types would be immune, but that was cold comfort when most weren’t.

  Then the blastoise started blasting, and one of the grunts’ beedrill went down in one hit.

  Son of a-! He really didn’t want to do this again, but that powder was seconds away from putting at least five of them down for the count – so Hoshi drew Champ’s ball. “Sandstorm! Stay mobile, don’t let anything hit you!” Little guy’s a glass fucking cannon at this stage. “Guts, find the other raticate! Pursuit!” I should’ve trained that Arc-damned move-!

  Chaos. The claustrophobic battlefield of dense trees was further darkened by a sudden explosion of flying sand as the gible emerged, attacks flew in all directions to smash wood and draw blood, and then-

  And then nothing. “Grunt!” Tanya called, rancorous. “Get that dragon off the field!”

  Hoshi’s clenched teeth clenched harder for a moment, his thoughts racing – where are they? I know I saw the ranger dip behind a tree… He didn’t give up already, did he? We didn’t even find our asses long enough to counterattack properly, let alone knock anything out – before he stilled his racing heart with pure effort. “Champion, come back!”

  To his satisfaction the gible had actually obeyed his orders, staying out of the melee and only taking potshots with Dragon Rage, and for the first time Champion returned to his ball without being beat to shit. As the unnatural sand cleared, it became obvious that the Route Ranger had indeed left; there was another hole in the canopy where his charizard must’ve picked him up, and neither of the larger, bulky evolved Pokémon could’ve ever hoped to hide themselves.

  They were really gone.

  Hoshi let the building confusion reach his face as he looked to the executive, finding Tanya with her customary scowl. The persian, too, was gone, though that made more sense; with the density of attacks aimed its way, a wild Pokémon would need to be a real idiot to stick around and fight it out. Not that he lost; fucker took out like four Pokémon. “Was that it?” he said, hesitating to call the brief battle a victory.

  With her set jaw and bared teeth added to the small abrasions the Sandstorm had given each and every one of them, Tanya certainly looked like she’d just finished a knock-down brawl. “For now. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing that charizard again – let’s move out.”

  Going off-route was one of the worst experiences of Hoshi’s life – if it had happened a week ago, it might’ve even cracked top five.

  It was like Route 13, the training grounds of Fuchsia’s ninja, all over again… Except, somehow, even worse. The wild Pokémon were stupidly strong and heinously aggressive, attacking in waves that left the Rockets little time to rest despite their numbers. Hoshi went through more Potions within eight hours than he ever had in the previous months all together, to the point they started failing; his Pokémon – and him, too – were completely exhausted, left starving and unable to heal. And of course, that fucking ranger kept dropping out of the sky to hit them with fire and lightning and Arcus damned fucking Sleep Powder.

  I’m regretting not digging out Dad’s old gas mask from the war. Fucking Sleep Power – unfair fucking bullshit. If we didn’t have it too, I’d call it cheating.

  Even Tanya was completely wiped by the time they found something approaching a safe shelter. “There,” she said, too weary to even snarl. “That tree.”

  Hoshi blinked, looking bleary-eyed towards where the woman was gesturing. His thoughts came slowly, that’s a big tree being followed by oh, it’s hollow and I bet there’s something terrible living in there. “You sure?” he asked, half-surprised he wasn't slurring the words. “Looks like a nest.”

  “Anywhere we try to bed down will be a nest,” Tanya answered. “We’ll need to secure it before we grow too weak to fight. Heads up, grunts; this is our final push for the day.”

  Before we grow weak, huh? With effort, the senior grunt managed to dredge a bit of sardonic humour up from the muck filling his head. So, we’ll be doing it about half an hour ago, then? Heh…

  Casca let out a long groan, the vibration tickling his chest where she was leaning against him, but her hand raised all the same. “Candy, try for one last Recover, then Camouflage. Scuttlebutt, watch our backs.”

  The staryu gave a tired salute, while the newly-nicknamed corphish clicked in assent. Hoshi waved vaguely to his own Pokémon, and Crow gave a beleaguered squeak from atop Moony’s back.

  “Last push, she said. Crow, if it looks vulnerable I want you to keep practicing Poison Fang. Otherwise, stay back and do the usual. Moony, you’re the tank; Fake Tears, stay in the front. Attack when you get an opening, but don’t leave the line no matter how the enemy moves.”

  A huff from the bear. If nothing else, the endless waves of birds, cats, monkeys, ambulatory pitcher plants, rats, snakes, dogs…

  Shrews, foxes, bees, tapir, tadpoles, beetles, little psychic monster men…

  …Pokémon. If nothing else, the endless waves of fucking Pokémon were providing an accelerated, excel-or-die training session for Hoshi’s team. He was sure that if his girls hadn’t been forced to evolve early already, they’d be doing it naturally now; Guts had perfected Hyper Fang and Pursuit, Crow’s Leech Life had transformed into Poison Fang, and Venus’s Swagger had completely shut down more than a few threats on the exhausting journey. His other three Pokémon had progressed slightly less, but they’d gotten a more valuable lesson – they were now listening to his damn orders.

  And Hoshi, in turn, was getting a crash course on what they were good at. Champ was the easiest, a straightforward attacker with one support move in Sand Attack. Each time he hit the field the dragon would immediately spring in with his teeth, forcing Hoshi to keep him on a short leash – but so long as he did, the gible was effective enough. Rivet was more mysterious, and he got the feeling their three heads didn’t always agree on things; they were clumsy, with bad aim and a tendency to freeze up, but when the tempo was in their favour the magneton packed an incredible punch.

  And then there was Moony, who he was finding out was quite stereotypical – the ursaring was a total mama bear, placid one moment and tearing something apart the next. It was almost like a switch being flipped.

  Oh right, and then there’s… Hoshi’s eyes went backwards, to where Jackson Jr. was trudging along. “You okay back there, Junior?”

  The undersized electabuzz croaked, sounding as exhausted as any of them, and Hoshi replied with a sad nod. “I’m afraid you’re up, little man. Venus and the lady here are too gassed; you’re the muscle for now.”

  With another croak, Jackson Jr. made his way forward. He was another ‘mon to wear their heart on their sleeve; the electabuzz was sullen and hated exerting himself. Well, tough luck; if I don’t use everyone equally, we’re fucking done. There’s probably like an eight-foot-tall primeape squatting in that thing – I can practically hear the boss music playing.

  All of them psyched themselves up, turned their heads skyward to check for big red pseudo-dragons, and then started forward before the next problem caught wind of them. The tree really was massive, twenty feet tall and wide enough at the base that Hoshi could’ve fit his apartment within its circumference. The only entrance was a single gaping crack in the side which exposed the interior, and as one of the front-liners the senior grunt went in first with Kenny, Tanya, and Black.

  Hoshi braced himself for something completely stupid – and felt the paradoxical emotions of relief and fury bloom like clashing flowers along the inside of his ribs. A vileplume. Fuck, okay, this’ll be easy.

  “Vileplume!” Tanya put their collective observation to words, the flower monster stirring sluggishly at the sound of her voice. “Grass types, switch out!”

  The thing was, as Hoshi had predicted, fucking massive. Its body wasn’t much bigger than that of Casca’s ‘mon, but the vibrant, rotten-meat-stink exuding flower growing from its top boasted petals three-something metres long – and of course, it wasn’t alone. What the fuck do these things eat to get so fucking big out here? This is like the fifth giant Pokémon we’ve run into…

  The battle was, indeed, fairly easy. Vileplume might have been a strong, fully-evolved Pokémon, but its ability to defend itself against other grass and poison types was basically nil – and the cold had done a number on it before they’d even shown up. Tanya’s ninetales conjured a snowstorm that dropped the temperature even further, and they took potshots at the thing and its gloom children – or possibly its gloom harem – through the entrance.

  Within half an hour the giant living hollow had been transformed into a camp. Tents were set up, a fire was started to ward off the chill, and Tanya’s bodyguards were getting to work roasting the alpha Pokémon’s nutrient-dense body while dumping the horribly toxic petals out in the forest.

  Hoshi, meanwhile, wasn’t waiting for the fresh quasi-meat to finish cooking; he was giving each of his team members a double-helping of Pokéchow-slash-camping-supplies. The last of the good pemmican went to the omnivorous Guts and Moony, while Venus got canned fruit and Crow polished off the remainder to supplement the metapod she’d been picking off all throughout the day. Champion got jerky and swallowed a whole pidgey corpse, feathers and all, while Rivet drained a few backup batteries. Guess I’m just fucked if my flashlight goes out. Should’ve prepared better for supporting my electric Pokémon…

  Luckily Junior could subsist perfectly fine off of human food, though he didn’t seem to enjoy mashed potatoes much at all no matter how much gravy Hoshi poured on. “Ugh,” he sent the monster’s way. “Don’t tell me: you’re a picky eater too, aren’t you?”

  Junior burped, his face sour.

  “Of course you are…” With a sigh, Hoshi allowed his body to drop. The ground inside the tree was surprisingly soft – a rich black soil, from which a carpet of grass, moss, and what might’ve been either other trees or just shoots from the surrounding wood sprouted. No idea how they’re growing with so little light… Ugh, he repeated internally. Everything hurts. I think my psychic eruption wounds might be opening back up…

  But despite the aches, pains, and grouchy Pokémon, Hoshi felt a dull thrill of tarnished triumph. “Well, eat up anyway; we’re doing this again tomorrow,” he ordered, ignoring Junior’s bellyaching to turn his eyes over to the rest of his team. They’re tired, but… they look better now that they've eaten. Good. Strong. If we don't run out of Potions and die, my girls might actually come out of this at a third, maybe fourth badge level. And Moony and Rivet will be even stronger. In a nonsense fantasy world where Hoshi got to do next year’s circuit properly, he might actually have some sort of chance of making it to the Nationals.

  …Or I would, if we had eight Gym Leaders.

  His good mood instantly ruined, the senior grunt rolled over. A bit away Casca was letting her team gorge themselves on a pile of food, while Kenny was, for some fucking reason, doing pushups with his machoke. The sight of it made his bones hurt, so Hoshi rolled over again and watched Tanya brush her ninetails like it was a show poodle.

  To his horror, she noticed him looking and put him back to work. “Grunt, help me do Clarion’s back. She’s simply insufferable when dirty.”

  I’ll fucking kill ten of you with my teeth before you make me stand up and brush your stupid spoiled fox, said Hoshi’s tiredness, but unfortunately for it the rest of him was pulling his body up with a grimace. “Fine,” he spat as he made his way slowly towards the executive and her endangered ‘mon. “But don’t expect me to do it twice; another day of this and I’ll be basically comatose.”

  She smiled. “Oh, did you think this was bad? We’re actually making much better time than I’d planned for.”

  “Better time,” Hoshi repeated. He accepted a brush, and grudgingly admitted that the Alolan Pokémon was actually as soft as it looked. Like spun fucking clouds. “Are you serious?”

  “We’re almost halfway there. Most of the plants are hiding away from the cold along with a good proportion of the bug types; did you notice this was the only oddish-line group we encountered?”

  He blinked. No, that slipped by what with the constant unending bullshit. “So you’re saying it’s usually worse?”

  The smile lost its cruel humour. “Oh yes, Grunt Mutsu. You had better pray it stays cold overnight, or we’ll be needing a third day to make it to Saffron. Though hopefully that League man will stop hounding us; his tactics are entirely too transparent to be interesting.”

  The reminder bid Hoshi to snarl, the ice type fox turning to glare at him as it felt the emotion. Haven’t managed to find a good opportunity to nail that fucking ranger, but when I do…

  As dusk began to fall, Ron had a decision to make: did he keep harrying the Rockets, or did he head back to civilisation for the night?

  He was no stranger to roughing it, and his partners were no different – but at the same time, something was tugging at his instincts. There was an ominous shade in the air, even disregarding the unnatural cold that General Winter had put down over much of the country. Something… dark.

  And so, following his gut that had led him away from countless bad decisions, the ranger turned back-

  Only for a gigantic crobat to cross his path, blocking the way. For a moment his eyes scanned around, looking for the flock of golbat that would be accompanying an alpha – but then Charizard huffed, and he looked back and noticed the woman riding the bat’s back.

  Or more precisely, he noticed her long red scarf waving like a flag. “Janine,” he whispered. “Let’s land, Char; I think this is important.”