“Damn is it cold out.”

  Hoshi recalled thinking the same thing the day before, but if he compared his current state to when they'd been hiding the hoverbike under the coastline… well, the him of yesterday had kind of been bitching over nothing. Just slightly.

  Because the early Thursday morning had to be at least ten degrees colder, probably more. Vermilion was a chilly city given its proximity to the icy waters of the Seafoam-fed Celadon Sea, but it didn’t usually get much snow, and not this early in the year when it did – and yet there were soft flakes of intricate crystallized water drifting down in intermittent flurries.

  “Yeah,” Kenny agreed absently, his breaths producing a large cloud of mist that trailed after his wig-covered head. “Think it’s..?”

  “The Articuno?” Casca finished. “Maybe, but it seems weird, right? The birds don’t usually go active one after the other – not if one of them’s been beaten recently, at least.” She yawned. “It’s like they take their turns messing with the weather, all spread-out and gentlemanly about it.”

  She smirked, but Hoshi was in no mood for banter and only grunted his assent. Arc, it really is fucking freezing, this coat isn’t doing shit. The winter jacket would’ve been perfectly fine on any normal October day, but the cold snap was sapping at his bones and making him cranky. “At least it’s too cold to be wet. The ground should be nice and firm.”

  Walking through the city in disguise was a strange experience, though held up against the litany of even stranger things that had occurred over the past days, he supposed it was pretty average. Nobody paid the trio any attention as they made their way north; it seemed that most other people were also feeling some weather-induced crank, and just wanted to get where they were going… But despite that, Hoshi decided to skirt around the busiest streets, just to avoid tempting fate. Would be silly to get caught now, when we’re just about to leave.

  Up through the Young District they went, then the city’s outskirts, and as the morning sun lifted off the horizon Hoshi released his raticate to deter any wild Pokémon from approaching. Guts skittered along the side of the path, sending hostile growls and low-pitched squeaks at anything that attempted to approach while nibbling at white-tipped grass as the three Rockets continued. It was almost relaxing – no, compared to the latest string of misadventures it was relaxing, even with the threat that a Ranger could pop up slightly out of place and ask for their identification. Hoshi’s almost-entirely-self-inflicted wounds weren’t bothering him any meaningful amount, and despite the cold the edge of Route 6 was… peaceful. It won’t happen. The Jennys don’t like Rangers butting into ‘their territory,’ so if there’s a check it’ll be on the Route proper.

  But peace turned to a green soup of mixed emotion as the telltale smell of garbage and poison Pokémon found Hoshi’s nostrils, the junkyard becoming visible in the distance. Danny… Your letter was fucking terrible, it didn’t tell me a damn thing. Sure, it implied that he’d been found by some remnant of his old gang, but there wasn’t much to work with. Wherever you are, I hope you’re giving ‘em hell you old bastard.

  The gate was unlocked and wide open as always – Hoshi had never actually seen it closed a single time, and now he probably never would. “Wow,” Kenny commented from the back. “This’s all from the power plant? Look’t those turbines, size ‘a yer damn head…”

  Hoshi nodded at the gross understatement as he scanned the piles of electronic waste for any signs of yet another ambush. “A lot of it is. Stuff from town, too. I think he made a deal with some other waste disposal places to get stuff rerouted, so he could run his salvage thing even though this place is in the ass-end of nowhere… Anyway, first thing’s first: let’s take a look at the shack.”

  “Already sweeped the place, stud,” Casca countered. “That’s where we found the note. Nothing but junk.”

  “I wanna look at it anyway.”

  Again putting action to words he started forward, setting a brisk pace through the junkyard’s more open front. The koffing that usually floated around were hiding from the cold, their bodies collapsed into crevisses within the porous environment; only the bright white crests signalling ‘don’t bite me, I’m poison’ standing out against the darker purple made them visible at all, unlike the grimer who were completely invisible. Feels eerie – like the place knows it’s abandoned, somehow.

  Hoshi found the door to his friend’s cabin unlocked, but as Casca had said Danny’s living space was completely cleaned out; even the speakers strung up in the rafters were gone. The only things left behind were the bed, the desk where his computer had sat, and a few of the more damaged pieces the building’s owner had liked to collect, the little plastic statues of cartoon and game characters lined up on the windowsill.

  “The note was under the bed,” Casca said as Hoshi peered at the empty space. “I wouldn’t have thought to look, if he hadn’t been hiding under our bed in the apartment.”

  “What?” Kenny broke in before she’d even finished speaking. “Under- what?”

  “Oh, Arc, don’t get me started. It was so weird – and he only popped out after we’d knocked around the other three old guys a bit, so he must’ve slept through the screaming…”

  The senior grunt let his girlfriend’s explanation fade into noise as he picked up a plastic clefairy, the cheap material gone green from age. Huh. Okay, I get why you were so put off by your programmer friend just up and disappearing one day; this is double spooky. And I even got a heads-up for it. He set the figurine down and sighed. “Yeah, nothing here. Let’s get going.”

  Out the door, which was slammed with finality by the chill wind, and into the junkyard proper. The towers of waste were as precarious-looking as ever, casting deep shadows even as light scintillated off broken glass and smooth metal. “So what’re we lookin’ for?” Kenny asked as they trudged through frozen puddles of dirty water, the ground crunchy with both frost-touched dirt and bits of plastic.

  “It’s not obvious from outside, but one of these mountains is hollow. Look for one that’s mostly cars and other metal junk.”

  It took longer than usual for Hoshi to find the ‘kennel,’ as Danny had sometimes called it; the frost and thin coating of snow had changed the appearance of the once-familiar path just enough to turn his friend’s business into a maze – but eventually he recognised the car that served as the secret room’s entrance. It was in slightly better shape than most of the surroundings, which was no doubt why Danny had chosen the thing.

  “Here we go,” Hoshi said as he wrenched open the glassless door and crawled inside, finding…

  That this area, too, had been cleaned out. There were no Pokémon in the welded-together cages – but, as his eyes scanned around and Casca and Kenny followed, it became clear that the place wasn’t entirely empty. There’s still some food in a few of them, and-

  “Pokéballs!” his girlfriend exclaimed, bidding Hoshi’s head to whip around. Even though Casca was literally pointing at them it still took the senior grunt a moment to recognise the balls for what they were; like the note, Danny had gone a step further than was probably wise in hiding the things.

  They were at the bottom of the slowpoke’s kiddie pool, which had partially frozen over, and were painted a cool blue to match the plastic bottom. He sent his girlfriend a nod as he watched her cloyster break the ice and use the pool as it was intended. “Huh, you spotted those really quick.” I think I might’ve looked for an hour before finding them, maybe more…

  “Hey, get out of there!” Casca commanded, returning the giant clam so she could reach down and go fishing in the ice-cold water – and after a moment, she came up with what Hoshi recognised as a Dive Ball, a specialty Pokéball for catching deep-sea monsters like the one that had been lounging on top of them like it was protecting a clutch of eggs.

  Or the shellder that’d been in the pool previously.

  “Got one!” she yelled. “Oh hey, there’s writing!”

  Casca tossed the ball to Hoshi and resumed the search, going shoulder-deep in what must be water several times colder than the bay. Shivering in sympathy, he examined the supposed writing – and found that the woman had been exaggerating a little bit; the black sharpie marking the ball didn’t spell out any letters, only a drawing of a skull.

  The fuck does that mean? “Hey Kenny, look at this.” Hoshi passed the tool over, and the musclebound man squinted at it.

  “Think it’s dangerous, Boss? Like, some kinda wild Pokémon?”

  “Maybe…” But I don’t think so. “Let’s see if the others have the same thing.”

  The two remaining Dive Balls were retrieved after a bit of fruitless splashing, followed by Hoshi deciding to cut the knot and just upend the entire pool – and it was a good thing he did, because doing so revealed another note taped to the summer toy’s underside. “Seriously?” Casca asked as he pulled the paper free, the tape already mostly unstuck by dint of sitting on top of damp earth. “Hoshi, your friend is a weirdo. In what normal series of events would we have found that?”

  Internally, Hoshi agreed; the pool made some level of sense as a hiding place, put looking under the thing? He shook his head as he read. “Damn, the humidity got to it…”

  But, thankfully, it was still legible with some effort.

  ‘Hey Hoshi, gotta write this real quick so sorry about the penmanship. Boss’s a real dick, it’s like I never fucking left!’

  And yet his writing is fucking flawless, Hoshi thought with a subdued eye-roll.

  ‘Anyway, here’s my super generous parting gift, you can thank me if we ever meet again – so in hell, probably.

  Remembered you looking at that little ghost, and where I’m going I don’t wanna bring a baby Pokémon, so you can take Grimy off my hands too. Take care of the little guy, will ya?

  Oh, and then there’s this tiny fucking electabuzz I found wandering near the power plant. I remembered you said something about your uncle maybe selling one to the place, I think it came up while you were training like mad with the guy? I forget the context. But it probably isn’t the same one – that would be a real stupid coincidence, huh? But it made me remember the story.’

  The sudden stab of grief took Hoshi off-guard, and his fingers tore the wet paper. “Damnit…” Danny, why the fuck did you have to remember that? You insult me for being a crybaby and bleeding heart in one letter, then hit me with this? Fuck you, you old…

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

  The thought petered out as he kept reading.

  ‘Did I talk about how much I hate magikarp in the last letter? I can’t remember, so if I did you’re getting it again – you better read every single fucking word of it, this fucking wannabe philosopher king grand vizier sage fuck might actually be pulling my leg about not killing me, he’s that kind of fucked up. So these might be my last words!

  Okay he’s yelling at me now but this is important so he can fuck right off the edge of my DICK. Magikarp are the fungus of the sea. I hate them so much, Hoshi. I swear they just appear places, like a curse. I swear one time when I was a little kid, my dad took the cover off the pool – it was like this one but smaller because we were poor hippy fucking fucks – and it was full of Arceus damned magikarp. They must reproduce with fucking spores, kid.

  So that’s an elaborate way to say, your taste in fish is stupid and you should buy something that doesn’t come from the bargain bin at the supermarket. Seriously, what’s the point of being a big-time gangster if you have to eat the seafood equivalent of those mushrooms that grow on bathroom mats.

  Thanks for all the fish,

  Danny

  PS if you ever tell anyone my real name, I’ll fucking mail a bomb to your house. You know I can do that, I’m fucking real.

  PPS I’m keeping the deed to the yard cuz I’m a greedy bitch and I’m planning to not die. Sorry not sorry.’

  Hoshi breathed heavily, letting the emotions scour through him and leave a trail as cold and clear as the ice water lapping at his boots – but he couldn’t stand there and reminisce forever, so he balled up the paper and rolled it between his hands until it turned to mush. There we go. No evidence. “The balls have a ghost, a grimer, and an electabuzz,” he announced to the other two.

  “Yeah, that makes sense,” Casca said, flipping the other two she'd retrieved around to show off the lightning-bolt and G written on their tops.

  Weren't confident in drawing a grimer, huh?

  Hoshi sniffed, letting the last of the grief burn itself out like a candle reaching the end of its wick, and when he exhaled the chill in the air felt a touch closer to bracing rather than painful. “Good. We got what we came for, let's…” A thought. “Actually, one last thing before we leave.”

  While it had taken an annoyingly long time to find the secret kennel, Hoshi located the mysterious machine Danny had been building – or rather the place it had sat for months – basically instantly.

  Not because the area was any more memorable – no, it was because the act of removing it had left an obvious trail. It had been the size of a car, and based on the tire tracks left frozen in the solidified mud, it must've weighed about as much as well.

  “Hey Kenny, do you recognise these tracks?”

  Hoshi’s question bid the man to squint. “Why tha fuck would I know where random-ass tire tracks came from?”

  So that's a no, then. “I dunno, you're like, the closest thing to a car guy we have.”

  “I'm almost surprised you don't know,” Casca commented. She squatted, examining the deep furrows for a moment. “My man always seems to have some piece of random trivia in his back pocket.”

  Hoshi followed her eyes back the way they'd come – back towards the entrance. “Sorry, not this time. All I can say is it was a tractor of some sort. Maybe a Bessemer? Definitely an older one, newer machines have smaller wheels because… What?”

  His fellow Rockets continued to give him funny looks. “Hoshi,” Casca said with a questioning tone as Kenny mumbled ‘weird fuckin’ nerd’ under his breath. “What makes you think it was a tractor? I would've assumed a truck, before anything else.”

  Hoshi shook his head. “It wasn't a road vehicle, the treads are too deep – and too far apart. And I'm not weird, I'm well-read, you musclebrained freak.” His eyes went back to the area where the machine had sat; unlike the path – as far as the winding cleared space between mounds of trash could be called such – there was little in the way of direct physical evidence that the thing had been moved. Danny has chosen its location well in an elevated spot where puddles wouldn't form, and so there was a lack of easily-identifiable footprints or anything like that.

  “I guess it could've been some other larger vehicle? Might be they commandeered a dump truck to make it real subtle what they were doing…” He shook his head again. “I can't say for sure. Not that it would help anyway, unless they used something really unique.” So this was a dead end.

  “We could follow the tracks..?” Kenny offered, but Hoshi continued to shake his head, adding a frown for emphasis.

  “As much as I'd like to track Danny down and educate whoever’s threatening him about the exact length of a gible’s teeth, we're on a time limit here. If you see anything you want on the way out you'd better grab it now, ‘cause we ain't coming back.”

  Hoshi led the way as they left, and as he walked he let his hand drop to his belt, where a Dive Ball now sat. It won't be the same one… Danny was right, that would be one coincidence too many. It probably would've made more sense for him to take the mystery ghost, but ever since the revelation of his psychic… ness had revealed itself, he’d been a lot more leery of the type. It would be completely stupid for Hoshi to expose himself to the threat of possession; better it be on someone else's belt, so they could just recall the thing if it happened.

  That left Casca with Grimy the little green grimer – and honestly he'd be tempted to trade with her even if the electabuzz happened to be Bob's reject. Her team’s a bit weak to flying with it being a third grass; she could probably use one electric type more than I could use two…

  Whatever, he dismissed as they passed the gates. We can hash it out later, once we actually take a look at the things back at the hideout.

  They returned to the half-tamed wilderness at the city's outskirts – and Hoshi paused. He turned back, looked at the gates, and then started jogging.

  “Hoshi?”

  “One sec…”

  He stepped to the side, where overgrown grass was keeping the gate from moving with the wind, and dragged it forwards. Then he did the same on the other side, and with a sharp metallic snap the gate’s lock slid shut.

  The return to Tanya’s place felt both heavier and lighter. The sun was starting to properly rise, shortening shadows and driving away some of the unusual chill – but Hoshi was also dealing with a resurgence of emotion. Last night's episode had left him with a lingering film of tattered peace, but the passage of time had wiped it away as steadily as the receding frost.

  To put it succinctly… he was scared for Danny, and it was drawing a shroud between him and the encroaching sunlight.

  But regardless of what his feelings were, they once again reached their destination unharmed. Black let them in, and soon they were back in the basement, where Mondo and Wendy were most of the way through packing the collection of rooms into a trio of backpacks.

  “So,” Tanya asked from where she was seated, showing a token interest. “Did this friend of yours leave anything worthwhile?”

  “Three Pokémon,” Hoshi answered, satisfied at the small frown that appeared on the executive's face as he plucked the Dive Ball off his belt and showed it off. “Grimer, electabuzz, and a ghost – probably a gastly.”

  Tanya's expression moved up a notch to minute interest. “I suppose it was worth the time… Though keep in mind what I said about controlling multiple Pokémon.”

  Yeah, I think that horrible fucking debacle with the League guy was a better lesson than any amount of lecturing… but thanks for the fucking lecture anyway. Out loud, Hoshi made an agreeable sound. “I remember. Anyway; Black, other guys, you wanna release a few ‘mons and help us vet these things?” No way I'm getting anywhere near a ghost if it's even a little hostile – parting gift or not, I'll chuck that fucking ball onto the bay. So we're getting whatever it is trained right this second.

  The now-familiar act of creating a protective circle of Pokémon was done with a minimum of fuss, and soon Kenny had the mystery ghost’s ball in hand, ready to release. “Ya know,” he commented, turning the capture tool in his hand, “I kinda like the skull. Reminds me ‘a those stickers those contest fanatics from up north stick on ta give the release a little extra punch.”

  “Kenny, it's a schoolkid-level drawing in black marker; if you like it so much, draw some more on your own time. Right now, just release the damn thing.”

  The grunt obeyed with a snort, tossing the wave-patterned ball. It landed, bounced, and released its payload before returning to Kenny's hand – though Hoshi only heard that part, since his eyes were fixated on the Pokémon as it went from light to…

  To smoke. Knew it, that's-

  But the thought abruptly cut off as the thin cloud of grey vapour gathered further, and just as Hoshi began to panic about having a haunter only metres from his vulnerable cursed soul, a bone-white splotch emerged from within. That's… a skull? Not quite a human one, though it was closer to that than any other exposed cranium Hoshi had ever seen – though perhaps it was most similar to a mask rather than an actual skull.

  “I don't know that Pokémon,” he thought aloud – and immediately his ignorance was corrected.

  “Duskull,” Tanya named. “A more defensively-focused ghost type. Unusual to see in these parts; they tend to stay around the graveyards they're born in.”

  “Ain't that all ghosts?” Kenny asked as the duskull floated, more serene than Hoshi would've assumed possible for a being formed of regret and malice.

  Oh, this one I do know. “No, that's just a stereotype because most of Kanto’s gastly are concentrated in Lavender. Yeah, they come from there, but they'd immediately try to leave if the priestesses didn't keep them from spreading with force.” It was actually a really interesting topic to dig into – though having a ghost right there was making the stories he'd heard about what eventually happened to most spirit mediums hit a little too close.

  “Huh,” Kenny grunted. “Neat. Anyway, this guy seems pretty tame. Let's try an attack!” He swept his arm forward, an extended finger coming to rest on Black’s blank-eyed parasect. “Duskull, hit ‘em with somethin’ big!”

  The floating blob of protoplasm very slowly turned to fix Kenny with the eerie single light floating between its otherwise empty sockets – and then Hoshi flinched with his entire body as a force pressed down from nowhere and everywhere.

  It was at least aimed mostly at the parasect, though from the various winces, cringes, and twitching eyebrows everyone else felt the Night Shade to some extent. Kenny finished with his own reaction – grit teeth and a lowered head as veins stood out from his temples – and gave the ghost a tepid thumbs-up despite the actual target showing very little reaction. “Uh, good job buddy. We’ll look at your other moves later… return.”

  After that, the release of Grimy was relatively normal. Danny’s oddly-coloured grimer was both tame and affectionate, as expected for what was basically a house pet.

  Then, the last of their gifted Pokémon; the electabuzz. Despite himself, Hoshi felt an apprehension welling up from within. Come on, don’t be like that. Just… do it.

  With the nine other Rockets looking his way, Hoshi threw the Dive Ball. Its texture wasn’t bad, but there was a glossiness he didn’t like – and yet the ball hit where he aimed, right at the centre of the circle, and disgorged the advertised Pokémon.

  It was small, well below average, and looked at the parade of monsters arrayed against it with a mournful croak. Hoshi must have seen at least half a hundred of the things in the Gym alone, and yet…

  …I have no idea if this is one of Jackson’s kids or not. Despite being familiar with the species, Hoshi had seen the nameless Pokémon exactly one time, training with Humvee the electrode before he’d asked Surge about Team Rocket. If there was any kind of distinguishing feature besides just being short, the senior grunt wasn’t able to spot it.

  Another croak, and he snapped out of it. “Uh… If you belonged to Bob at any point, you’ll know this one. Give me a Thunder Punch!”

  The electabuzz looked at Hoshi, the gathered Pokémon, Hoshi again, and then began rotating its arms. “Oh, it knows Charge,” Black gave voice to Hoshi’s thoughts. Yeah, that’s not bad. A good moveset can take the edge off a bad attitude, though obviously I’d prefer that-

  The Thunder Punch hit home, knocking the parasect – the designated punching bag, seeing as it was even less capable of feeling pain than most other grass types – several steps back. Jackson Jr. lowered his smoking fist and let out a third, even unhappier croak, and his trainer shook his head as a small smile curved the edges of his lips.

  “Tough luck,” Hoshi said to his seventh team member. “You just joined a pretty tough gang.”

  Somehow, the fourth croak was even worse.