Story Notes:
This story at some point will contain mild drug use, some violence, some ethical qualms, and a touch of lasciviousness in future chapters, after which I'll upgrade the rating to XXX.
Chapter 1
A businessman gleaned through a mound of classifieds posted on the grimy walls of the Awaran District, sweating profusely in the humid sun. Smaller pokemon struggled to keep on the sidewalk as he shifted suddenly in his frantic search. Ads for self-help seminars, writing workshops, interesting employment fields, and other hodgepodge topics, some of these ads had been plastered over in layers. "Free" advertising is quite limited. He tore some of the ads off the wall, balling them up in frustration. Soon however, he came across a poster that didn't crumple off. In fact, it seemed to be made up of cloth. On the poster were a simple pyramid and a box of text:
"Hello there, mate. If you are in need of a rare artifact, a dead man's treasure or if you just in the market for something archaic to show off to your friends at the country club, the Raiders are here for you. If you want to rendezvous with our elite force of specialized, hard-working intelligent people, then you have to follow our rules. Drink a glass of the finest sherry at the Rose Saloon, walk three blocks and drink two shots of the Jamaican Rum within a space of 3 minutes at Noctus bar then head down to Jengas for a fifth of a fifth of the green vodka."
He read all the instructions and quickly folded it away into his size 120 pant pockets. He grumbled quietly to himself before proceeding with his usual activities of slaving away at his cubicle.
---
That evening, he took the challenge these so-called "Raiders" issued. Considering his girth, it would be nothing for him. Still his voice was quiet when he asked for the finest sherry at the Rose Saloon. The bartender eyed him curiously and poured him a glass. At the second stop, the bartender there passed him the two shots without him asking for it, once again eying the great cat down it with ease. He left a ten dollar tip as he left through the door.
The humidity felt as though it had increased as the snorlax headed into Jengas. He felt suddenly hot all over, suffocating heat enveloping his body just as it had been earlier. However, he dismissed this new feeling with a small grumble and pushed the doors of the dank establishment open.
"Give me a fifth of a fifth of green."
The bartender, a Grovyle slid him the bottle.
"Yeah here you go. Pay afterwards."
The snorlax felt uncertain about the drink, glancing back at the bartender who had gone to attend other customers. Within 20 minutes, he had finished the fifth of green inebriation and awaited his meeting. A few minutes later however, he suddenly felt the heat seize him again. He struggled to get up off the several barstools he sat on only to collapse on the ground. Patrons barely cleared his descent.
"Is he legit? Is he legit?"
"Of course he is... or a really bad undercover guy. Check him for wire and such, Jergan."
"Why do I..."
"I am boss of this, remember? Besides this is tech for you."
"Pssh, I have to dig through the lard... ok clear. What now?"
"Mench, get over here and carry him to our hideout."
"He's a bit wide... someone will have to lead me there since I can't see over him."
"You can carry it? I am so glad we found you!"
"Um you two, let's go, the patrons might be sober enough to notice you know."
----
Slowly, the big hibernating pokemon roused himself from his unexpected loss of consciousness. He found himself in a strange place, comfortable nonetheless. Off-white walls everywhere were adorned with grayscale paintings, several pieces of old, refurbished Hellenistic pottery, and a large flat screen television that somehow complemented everything else. The room however was barely lit with a small light that refused to pierce the darkness of the far corners. But even from this room, he could feel the sheer wealth that laid in the rest of the house. He tried to get up, but found himself able to get up. Whatever was slipped into his drink hadn't worn out yet.
"Hello... is an...an.... anyone here? Is this the hideout of the Raiders?"
The door on the far side of the room opened. In came the same grovyle from the bar, dressed in nothing but a plain white t-shirt with the symbol of a Pyramid plastered on the chest and a pair of boxers. In one hand, he had a newspaper, and in the other, he had a lit cigarette. The gecko took a deep puff and took a seat in the darkness, not even bothering to turn on a light to read his paper.
"The answer is yes. Question: who are you?" the grovyle replied. The glow of his cigarette briefly illuminated his face. From first glance, the guy in the darkness looked to be in his late 20s and fairly short on sleep.
"M... m ... my name is not important. I...."
"Oh spit it out already. I'm tired as fuck."
"I... I... I am not the one who requests your presence! I am merely here for the sake of my master."
The grovyle paused momentarily. The snorlax felt very afraid at this point. He saw his kidnapper put out his cigarette in disgust and flick it into the ashtray all the way on the central table.
"JERGAN! Fucking hell I told you that would not work. Big ol' fatties like this one would easily breeze through it!"
The door opened again. A young looking Kecleon with glasses, a tie dye shirt, shorts and sandals came in, clutching onto his custom green laptop. Together, the two approached the half-paralyzed Snorlax who could only begin to quiver.
"You always jump to conclusions, Delaney. There is nothing wrong with my riddle and query of challenges. No police officer could avoid it, especially at Jengas. It was full-proof," he scoffed. "Even if he had someone tracking him, there was no way to..." he paused for a moment. "Oh I see what you mean about the big guys...did you swallow a tracer?"
"Of course he did," yelled Delaney. "Now what... I guess we have to dump him somewhere."
"Whoa guys hold on..." whimpered the Snorlax.
"Are you sure about it, D? Mench has serious necrophobia and erythrophobia."
"Aww come on guys, don't do this" His pleading was getting more noticeable. He tried to get up but the two pushed him back down just as he tried to shift his center of balance.
"What about it? Mench needs to man the fuck up."
"Wait!"
"What do you what Snorlax? Can't you see we are planning something?" sneered Delaney.
"M... m... my employer is here!"
The two looked out of the door and headed into the main room then at each other. "What are you trying to pull?" Delaney asked
Suddenly, the earth around the house shook violently. The two ran outside expecting something fierce, like a convoy of police vehicles or a massive pokemon like the business-suit-wearing Snorlax in the living room. Instead, a small figure emerged from the ground, dressed in a bowtie, top hat and a monocle. The two were quite shocked... the employer was ... a diglett, not a stranger either.
"What an entrance Mr. Yucca," commented Jergan.
"Hello again Jergan. Still wearing that tie dye aren't you. Not the snazziest of styles but I suppose it suits you."
"I guess I'll take that as a compliment."
"Now then, Dr. Greco Delaney, how did you treat van Munching? Hopefully not too roughly. I had him do the seeking for me since this tiny body can't really pack away that alcohol without flatlining. You should fix that or get secure phone lines."
Delaney flashed Jergan am "I told you so" look. "Go on and get Mench He is our new strongman, hailing from Germany. He's a tough guy, lifted your associate with ease out of the bar."
"Jolly good."
Somehow, the Diglett managed to enter the house without so much as breaching the soil save a small quick showing of his fore claws.
---
"Where is Mench, that supposed big ol' bear of yours?" queried Yucca. "Didn't Delaney send you to fetch him?"
"Him!?" pondered Jergan.
"Pssh. He is oft hard to convince to do anything when working out. Jergan, go get him down while I talk to Mr. Yucca." Annoyed, the Kecleon slipped out of the room. Delaney turned his attention back to his visitors. The snorlax was sitting upright and sipping on some tea brought for him.
"You know, it's really annoying when you use loopholes, Yucca, to get through the elaborate rituals needed to meet us. It's a total drag on our productivity. I can't lounge around in my boxers all day if we have to keep coming up with an idea."
"I'd apologize; but I'm likely to do it again. Also, please put on some pants. The boxers do not do enough?"
"True that. Hope you enjoy the view." Delaney could hear a small argument followed by two sets of feet descending the staircase. "Oh here they come now."
First, Jergan came down, without his laptop and with a cup of coffee. Soon after, a slim, defined Mawile came down the steps... in a blue sports bra and shorts set, a soaking wet orange towel, draped on her shoulders.
"I expected... big... powerful ... bear or hairy other things... but Delaney, you deceived me. She is pretty... small..."
She shot a quick frigid glare in Delaney's direction then warmed up and smiled. "I think D gets transsexual fetishes from calling a girl a guy. Or maybe it's the Freudian slip..." She left her towel on the railing and settled down between her two partners, smelling of a workout.
"Oh calm down, Mench. It's not that bad. Makes people think you aren't weak." Delaney leaned back in his seat, stilling pretty smugly as the girl's temper bubbled slowly.
"So have you all heard of the War of the Roserades? Well it was a phenomenal war to be honest, giving us a lot of technology that in ways we use today. It lasted over a century that spread across many nations. Many people never knew of the existence of peace. But anyways, one of the Queens was fond of joining her troops in battle. You know, like appear before them before battle. The good old days before the leaders hid during a fight. But I'm losing track. Queen Armada was a Rhyperior warrior queen. One of the things she used in battle was a pair of gold plated shoes that strangely could not be broken yet flexible enough for her to use it and still have some comfort. Of course she was a Rhyperior so their comfort would be... oh never mind. It is imperative that you locate and collect these shoes for me."
"Longwinded much..." murmured Delaney. " Gold shoes don't fetch much on the black market. Tell me what's so special about these shoes that make the quest worth out time? "
"I'm glad you asked." He lied. "Queen Armada had huge feet and the shoes are merely gold plated. The real secret lies in the steel mold underneath. Almost all artifacts of the era are gone but there is evidence the shoes may still exist but this one may contain enough sample metal."
"What's the point of the sample metal?"
"It might hold special properties that allow it to have high strength/weight ratio. It would be the greatest breakthrough since carbon steel!"
"How much?"
"1.2 Million Upfront."
'I guess you are serious." Delaney took the case of money. "So it's shoes with you... again."
"What do you mean?" he said, a bit shaky.
"I am just commenting on the fact that you had us seek shoes the last 2 times we were hired by you."
"Good Day, Dr. Delaney. Come van Munching."
As soon as the front door was closed, Mench floored the grovyle and marched back up the stairs. "Tell someone else that I'm a man and I will take away yours," she growled. Delaney didn't respond however, she hit him too hard and knocked him out.
"Hello there, mate. If you are in need of a rare artifact, a dead man's treasure or if you just in the market for something archaic to show off to your friends at the country club, the Raiders are here for you. If you want to rendezvous with our elite force of specialized, hard-working intelligent people, then you have to follow our rules. Drink a glass of the finest sherry at the Rose Saloon, walk three blocks and drink two shots of the Jamaican Rum within a space of 3 minutes at Noctus bar then head down to Jengas for a fifth of a fifth of the green vodka."
He read all the instructions and quickly folded it away into his size 120 pant pockets. He grumbled quietly to himself before proceeding with his usual activities of slaving away at his cubicle.
---
That evening, he took the challenge these so-called "Raiders" issued. Considering his girth, it would be nothing for him. Still his voice was quiet when he asked for the finest sherry at the Rose Saloon. The bartender eyed him curiously and poured him a glass. At the second stop, the bartender there passed him the two shots without him asking for it, once again eying the great cat down it with ease. He left a ten dollar tip as he left through the door.
The humidity felt as though it had increased as the snorlax headed into Jengas. He felt suddenly hot all over, suffocating heat enveloping his body just as it had been earlier. However, he dismissed this new feeling with a small grumble and pushed the doors of the dank establishment open.
"Give me a fifth of a fifth of green."
The bartender, a Grovyle slid him the bottle.
"Yeah here you go. Pay afterwards."
The snorlax felt uncertain about the drink, glancing back at the bartender who had gone to attend other customers. Within 20 minutes, he had finished the fifth of green inebriation and awaited his meeting. A few minutes later however, he suddenly felt the heat seize him again. He struggled to get up off the several barstools he sat on only to collapse on the ground. Patrons barely cleared his descent.
"Is he legit? Is he legit?"
"Of course he is... or a really bad undercover guy. Check him for wire and such, Jergan."
"Why do I..."
"I am boss of this, remember? Besides this is tech for you."
"Pssh, I have to dig through the lard... ok clear. What now?"
"Mench, get over here and carry him to our hideout."
"He's a bit wide... someone will have to lead me there since I can't see over him."
"You can carry it? I am so glad we found you!"
"Um you two, let's go, the patrons might be sober enough to notice you know."
----
Slowly, the big hibernating pokemon roused himself from his unexpected loss of consciousness. He found himself in a strange place, comfortable nonetheless. Off-white walls everywhere were adorned with grayscale paintings, several pieces of old, refurbished Hellenistic pottery, and a large flat screen television that somehow complemented everything else. The room however was barely lit with a small light that refused to pierce the darkness of the far corners. But even from this room, he could feel the sheer wealth that laid in the rest of the house. He tried to get up, but found himself able to get up. Whatever was slipped into his drink hadn't worn out yet.
"Hello... is an...an.... anyone here? Is this the hideout of the Raiders?"
The door on the far side of the room opened. In came the same grovyle from the bar, dressed in nothing but a plain white t-shirt with the symbol of a Pyramid plastered on the chest and a pair of boxers. In one hand, he had a newspaper, and in the other, he had a lit cigarette. The gecko took a deep puff and took a seat in the darkness, not even bothering to turn on a light to read his paper.
"The answer is yes. Question: who are you?" the grovyle replied. The glow of his cigarette briefly illuminated his face. From first glance, the guy in the darkness looked to be in his late 20s and fairly short on sleep.
"M... m ... my name is not important. I...."
"Oh spit it out already. I'm tired as fuck."
"I... I... I am not the one who requests your presence! I am merely here for the sake of my master."
The grovyle paused momentarily. The snorlax felt very afraid at this point. He saw his kidnapper put out his cigarette in disgust and flick it into the ashtray all the way on the central table.
"JERGAN! Fucking hell I told you that would not work. Big ol' fatties like this one would easily breeze through it!"
The door opened again. A young looking Kecleon with glasses, a tie dye shirt, shorts and sandals came in, clutching onto his custom green laptop. Together, the two approached the half-paralyzed Snorlax who could only begin to quiver.
"You always jump to conclusions, Delaney. There is nothing wrong with my riddle and query of challenges. No police officer could avoid it, especially at Jengas. It was full-proof," he scoffed. "Even if he had someone tracking him, there was no way to..." he paused for a moment. "Oh I see what you mean about the big guys...did you swallow a tracer?"
"Of course he did," yelled Delaney. "Now what... I guess we have to dump him somewhere."
"Whoa guys hold on..." whimpered the Snorlax.
"Are you sure about it, D? Mench has serious necrophobia and erythrophobia."
"Aww come on guys, don't do this" His pleading was getting more noticeable. He tried to get up but the two pushed him back down just as he tried to shift his center of balance.
"What about it? Mench needs to man the fuck up."
"Wait!"
"What do you what Snorlax? Can't you see we are planning something?" sneered Delaney.
"M... m... my employer is here!"
The two looked out of the door and headed into the main room then at each other. "What are you trying to pull?" Delaney asked
Suddenly, the earth around the house shook violently. The two ran outside expecting something fierce, like a convoy of police vehicles or a massive pokemon like the business-suit-wearing Snorlax in the living room. Instead, a small figure emerged from the ground, dressed in a bowtie, top hat and a monocle. The two were quite shocked... the employer was ... a diglett, not a stranger either.
"What an entrance Mr. Yucca," commented Jergan.
"Hello again Jergan. Still wearing that tie dye aren't you. Not the snazziest of styles but I suppose it suits you."
"I guess I'll take that as a compliment."
"Now then, Dr. Greco Delaney, how did you treat van Munching? Hopefully not too roughly. I had him do the seeking for me since this tiny body can't really pack away that alcohol without flatlining. You should fix that or get secure phone lines."
Delaney flashed Jergan am "I told you so" look. "Go on and get Mench He is our new strongman, hailing from Germany. He's a tough guy, lifted your associate with ease out of the bar."
"Jolly good."
Somehow, the Diglett managed to enter the house without so much as breaching the soil save a small quick showing of his fore claws.
---
"Where is Mench, that supposed big ol' bear of yours?" queried Yucca. "Didn't Delaney send you to fetch him?"
"Him!?" pondered Jergan.
"Pssh. He is oft hard to convince to do anything when working out. Jergan, go get him down while I talk to Mr. Yucca." Annoyed, the Kecleon slipped out of the room. Delaney turned his attention back to his visitors. The snorlax was sitting upright and sipping on some tea brought for him.
"You know, it's really annoying when you use loopholes, Yucca, to get through the elaborate rituals needed to meet us. It's a total drag on our productivity. I can't lounge around in my boxers all day if we have to keep coming up with an idea."
"I'd apologize; but I'm likely to do it again. Also, please put on some pants. The boxers do not do enough?"
"True that. Hope you enjoy the view." Delaney could hear a small argument followed by two sets of feet descending the staircase. "Oh here they come now."
First, Jergan came down, without his laptop and with a cup of coffee. Soon after, a slim, defined Mawile came down the steps... in a blue sports bra and shorts set, a soaking wet orange towel, draped on her shoulders.
"I expected... big... powerful ... bear or hairy other things... but Delaney, you deceived me. She is pretty... small..."
She shot a quick frigid glare in Delaney's direction then warmed up and smiled. "I think D gets transsexual fetishes from calling a girl a guy. Or maybe it's the Freudian slip..." She left her towel on the railing and settled down between her two partners, smelling of a workout.
"Oh calm down, Mench. It's not that bad. Makes people think you aren't weak." Delaney leaned back in his seat, stilling pretty smugly as the girl's temper bubbled slowly.
"So have you all heard of the War of the Roserades? Well it was a phenomenal war to be honest, giving us a lot of technology that in ways we use today. It lasted over a century that spread across many nations. Many people never knew of the existence of peace. But anyways, one of the Queens was fond of joining her troops in battle. You know, like appear before them before battle. The good old days before the leaders hid during a fight. But I'm losing track. Queen Armada was a Rhyperior warrior queen. One of the things she used in battle was a pair of gold plated shoes that strangely could not be broken yet flexible enough for her to use it and still have some comfort. Of course she was a Rhyperior so their comfort would be... oh never mind. It is imperative that you locate and collect these shoes for me."
"Longwinded much..." murmured Delaney. " Gold shoes don't fetch much on the black market. Tell me what's so special about these shoes that make the quest worth out time? "
"I'm glad you asked." He lied. "Queen Armada had huge feet and the shoes are merely gold plated. The real secret lies in the steel mold underneath. Almost all artifacts of the era are gone but there is evidence the shoes may still exist but this one may contain enough sample metal."
"What's the point of the sample metal?"
"It might hold special properties that allow it to have high strength/weight ratio. It would be the greatest breakthrough since carbon steel!"
"How much?"
"1.2 Million Upfront."
'I guess you are serious." Delaney took the case of money. "So it's shoes with you... again."
"What do you mean?" he said, a bit shaky.
"I am just commenting on the fact that you had us seek shoes the last 2 times we were hired by you."
"Good Day, Dr. Delaney. Come van Munching."
As soon as the front door was closed, Mench floored the grovyle and marched back up the stairs. "Tell someone else that I'm a man and I will take away yours," she growled. Delaney didn't respond however, she hit him too hard and knocked him out.
Chapter End Notes:
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended, and is applicable for all consecutive chapters that follow.