Joint Venture
Undisturbed dust in the middle of the desert springs to life by the imposing jeep trailing through the landscape.
The roofless vehicle traverses through the untamed scenery, the latter looking as pale and cold as any other day despite the harsh sunlight perpetually laying waste to the barren sands. Even though the cloudless sky shows promise in adding more visual flair to the environment, it’s only ever a timid blue descending into a smoky gradient. All in all, South American deserts weren’t the most glamorous place to conduct black ops in.
A resolute, dark haired caucasian driving the humming jeep stares at the horizon unfazed by the heat, blazing yet another cigarette of his own between his gloved fingers. Clad in body armor and on a mission by his government, special operative Flintlock’s angular face is as stern and defiant as death itself. Though in reality, he is mostly afflicted by boredom. His visage is constantly accosted by the heat and the inescapable sand trying to further irritate his tanned skin.
Riding shotgun is his equally unenthused companion: a large dark quadruped coiled up in a the seat with his eyes closed. The three-feet-tall, otherwise ferocious beast peacefully keeps his eyes closed and remains as still as the rumbling vehicle allows. To any other eyes, it may look as though the mightyena is asleep. To Flintlock, Kaiser patiently awaits his next command to be issued, knowing danger is always imminent. The higher-ups at the three letters would object to not deploying standard issue pokemon were it not for the agent’s insistence and the mightyena’s outstanding performance overseas raising an eyebrow or two. Having faced the prospect of a repurposed surface-to-air blowing up his torso, Flintlock never regretted not bringing an excadrill instead when things turned sour. Or, God forbid, that one rogue metang from three years ago.
That same devastating creature had long since started stirring and moving, annoyed at its boredom as its snout prodded the thigh of his owner. Scratching Kaiser’s neck, the man could do nothing but oblige to the unspoken request. The same hyaenid with jaws capable of chewing through a fighter jet’s chassis, now kicking its leg slightly at being rubbed in a spot that his hindpaw won’t satisfy.
A beeping sound that only the man can hear through his hidden headpiece interrupts the moment. He throws away his cigarette into the speeding sands before clicking the headpiece with his fingers:
“Fergus!” an enthusiastic male’s voice resonates in the man’s eardrum.
“Quincy,” Flintlock’s deep voice answers. “Tired of codenames by now, I see.”
“Uh, haha… sorry, Fergus!” Quincy perkily apologizes. “I don’t think anyone cares much, though. No one in their right mind’s gonna get mad at how Flint and co. do their thing.”
“Ha. Well they will be unless I get briefed on this,” the operative retorts, keeping his hand on the mightyena’s head. “I’m not a miracle worker, anyone care to fill me in on the mission before I get sniped?”
“Oh, uh, s-sure! One moment!” Quincy quickly assures as the sound of keystrokes filters in through the audio. “This is Recon RN200947, operative Flintlock sent, overseen by Quincy Taylors…” the mission control supervisor rattles off. “...intel informs us that some type of congregation of cartel members, hoodlums and other small-time criminals has been sighted up north. Photo ops have identified a number of high-profile political figures of this country visiting the area at irregular intervals. It’s highly likely for them to be in a ‘joint venture’ of sorts.”
“So it’s Tuesday in Latin America. What’s the catch?”
“Well, logistically, it doesn’t make sense for them to conduct whatever business they’re planning in the area they’re located in. This is not exactly the jungle highlands, so it’s harder to keep things undercover, not to mention this is an atypical hotspot for activity of this sort to begin with.”
Kaiser’s ears twitch with every futile attempt to figure out the tiny voice inside his owner’s eardrums. He lazily sits up.
“And here’s the weirdest bit,” Quincy continues, audibly flipping a page while adopting a more droning tone: “There’s been an anomalous roentgen reading in the general vicinity. Radiation numbers weakly correlate to readings found in previously known lorentzian constructs...”
“You’ve used that term before with…?”
“...uh, the wormholes in Alola! Yeah, I was about to say that. A-And you won’t get radiation poisoning over there, it’s well within safe mSv exposure.”
“In other words,” Flint finalizes while gazing at the horizon, looking as unfazed as before. “It might another case of activists with too much money on their hands meddling with forces beyond our control. We do a round, then make sure nothing goes against our interests. Neutralize threats if the higher-ups so deem them. Everything correct so far?”
“Uh-huh. According to your latitude, they should have a bunch of prefab buildings up ahead beyond the dunes, populated by around a dozen men. Radiation levels tend to have a tiny, but significant spike during this time of the day, so you may catch them in the act with whatever gadgets they’re using.”
“Y’know… Kaiser’s been wanting some action. He can only lie around doing nothing for months at a time before he starts scratching the walls or the car seat.”
The mightyena’s brow furrows at the words, opening his eyes but not quite raising his gaze towards Fergus. As if annoyed by the obvious lie his owner just told.
A sigh can be heard amidst the raspy frequencies. “Flint, this is recon…”
“Quincy, you know that’s code for indicting them with something,” the operative replies to the disembodied voice as he pats his partner’s furry head. “They find us out and we have a post-hoc for conflict if they misbehave. I don’t pick fights I can lose, don’t you worry—”
“I’m serious! Fergus, I… this is not Ferrum, just catch them in whatever meeting they’re having and gather the intel. The sleepers at this country’s government should take care of the rest.”
“You did say it was a dozen guards? So long as they’re not the ones sneaking up on us, opening fire… well, I bet Kaiser could take their mons head on if it comes to that.”
“And If it does come to that, promise me you’ll follow your current trajectory if you have to make a getaway.”
“Any reason why you’re being fussier today?”
Quincy had a strange relationship with Fergus in the past. In general he is a strange person to be in this line of work. But then again, were it not for life to somehow land him a position in black ops, Fergus would’ve been bored out of his mind out there in the middle of the freezing woods that one time. Nerdy kids like him weren’t supposed to be able to connect to someone like operative Flintlock given the circumstances, but one shared interest in horror films was all it took for them to coalesce. That and Quincy being chronically easy to tease.
One thing Quincy isn’t, though, is untrustworthy.
For one, it’s hard for him to lie in the first place. On the other hand, such a job required a certain degree of transparency in order for there to be practical results. Nonetheless, it’s hard to shake off the feeling that he’s hiding something.
Why was he just getting briefed now anyway?
“Well…” the meek supervisor at the other end is caught off guard. “I’m… worried about you getting into another portal again.”
“I ain’t stupid, Quin. Last thing I wa—”
A violet bolt erupts beside them with a deafening boom.
Another bright dazzle narrowly misses them. Sounds of whizzing bullets die pattering on the sand.
“KAISER, PROTECT!” the operative bellows, ears ringing.
In the very instant it takes for Flint to recenter the speeding jeep on unsteady terrain, Kaiser leaps to the rear.
The sudden green half-bubble around the car makes the salvo of bullets rattle ineffectively. Kaiser’s growling scowl remains unwavering.
Out of nowhere, two, three bikers are ominously trailing in from behind at different angles, several yards away. All men wear green hoods of different kinds, their faces further concealed by improvised black masks. All of them cease fire at the shield.
Most concerning of all is the entities weightlessly hovering along: three multicolored, bird-like figures had also joined the chase, flying nearly motionless like ghostly automatons carved from wood. With a single eye atop their emotionless frames, one of them blasts another Psybeam that fulminates the barrier with a bang. Kaiser’s legs helplessly relent against the assault.
“FERGUS!” Quincy’s voice cracks. “I'm losing you! Status report?!”
“BIKERS ON SIX, all of them have SIGILYPH!” Flint informs.
“Th-They’re more organized than we thought—”
“You think?!”
Another boom shakes the entire vehicle to its core. Kaiser’s Protect miraculously not breaking gives the man more precious moments to find purchase in this situation. Kaiser might be strong and have the type advantage, but he’s clearly outnumbered and distracted having to protect his owner. Reaching for his colt and attempting to engage three assailants at the same time would be nothing short of suicide. Any of Kaiser’s attempts at fighting back would leave them exposed.
If this next bid to defy death doesn’t kill them both, it’s better than nothing.
“KAISER!” Flint yells, looking back at the rear and meeting Kaiser’s strained red gaze. “CLONE TIME! LIKE WE PRACTICED!”
The mightyena quickly nods. Kaiser returns to his fierce pose and loudly cries out.
A violet bolt connects and explodes.
The magic bubble shatters into glowing shards and dust.
From the ethereal dust leaps ten, fifteen, twenty different mightyenas, bursting out of the back of the car like a group of ravenous insect spawn. The army of beasts phases in every conceivable direction out of the same origin point: the dauntless Kaiser standing steady, glower unperturbed.
For less than a second, all the bikers can see is countless dark omens against the horizon…
…a cheap intimidation trick that might’ve worked on amateurs. Though a shrieking rider phased by a clone has his bike careen and tumble with a trailing cloud of sand in his wake. His sigilyph stays with him.
The rest know better than to be deterred by an unremarkable Double Team.
And the army of beasts stampedes through. A couple of misguided Psybeams from the remaining sigilyph manage to strike some of the clones into nothingness.
Kaiser collapses onto the vehicle, completely exhausted by his continuous use of Double Team. No new clones phase out of him anymore.
A biker aims his firearm at Kaiser.
Bang.
His aim was true.
…Kaiser fades away into nothingness.
The masked visages of the two remaining riders are wracked with realization.
“CRUNCH, DARK PULSE!” operative Flintlock yells.
From behind, the real Kaiser lands his claws on the back of the left biker and bounds towards the psychic type’s eye with a Crunch!
Kaiser lands and keeps sprinting, mercilessly dragging within its wispy fangs a screeching sigilyph by the eye.
Meanwhile, the force of the previous jump had careened the rider into another trail of sand.
Kaiser violently flings the sigilyph onto the other biker with a clang.
A fraction of a second later, the running mightyena opens his maw and blasts a vicious black bolt of his own, exploding dead center on the last sigilyph.
The next moment, all three threats have turned into nothing but clouds of dust in the distance.
“HAHA! ATTA BOY, KAISER!” Flint triumphantly howls. The black and gray beast runs alongside the jeep, a contented smug grin on his growling muzzle. Both man and beast head back into the dunes at the horizon with no one to stop them. “We’re BACK IN BUSINESS!”
“Flint!?” a distressed Quincy exclaims, his voice coming from the headpiece again. “Flintlock, I lost signal, where are you?!”
“Hey Quin!” Flint responds to the voice, heart still racing. “Yeah, HQ’s not gonna be happy about the mission being compromised, but we got out alive…”
“Please tell me you’re heading west!”
“Main highway’s not going to cut it if there are more on my tail! I’ll keep—”
“Go back, RIGHT NOW!”
“Quincy, I CAN’T—”
“FERGUS, YOU’RE GOING TO TURN INTO A POKEMON!”
There is a brief moment of silence that leaves the man stunned at whatever words just came out of mission control’s mouth.
The absurdity settles in.
“Wha—”
A flash of light sparks on the speeding vehicle and beast once they cross the invisible boundary.
The car, suddenly driven by no one, careens on the sand dangerously until it tips over.
Rolling. Tumbling. Crashing loudly into the sand like the bikes before it.
The two-ton wreck finishes its disastrous trajectory upside-down.
Kaiser could do nothing but watch in horror.
Only silence and dust remains.
(...)
…
“...Fergus… Fergus, please answer me…!”
“...Boss…!? Boss! Boss, are you okay…?! Boss…!”
…
All around Fergus’s numb, bruised body is darkness. He can feel messy fabric enveloping and keeping him down. Suffocating him.
Lightheaded, he feels his fabric prison being effortlessly dragged into the orange haze like a ragdoll. An orange haze that then becomes a blinding flash of white as his side vaguely feels the soft sand below.
…
“...Boss…?”
There is no one else around the dark room to hear the defeated slam of Quincy’s fist upon the table. No one else who heard the thunderous sounds of fender and tempered glass shattering followed by no answer at all. No answer from the valuable operative who would soon have to be reported as an MIA for the record at the very least. No answer from his friend.
He must have survived somehow?
Quincy was still getting feedback from Fergus’s earpiece. Even if no actual sounds came of it.
Was he at fault for keeping this under wraps due to executive orders?
He sure feels like it.
…
…
“...Quin… cy…?”
Mission control bolts upright in his office chair upon hearing the strange, high-pitched voice coming from the low-quality feedback. He takes hold of his headphones, nearly hitting them in the process as he presses them to his ears.
“Fergus…?!”
“...Quincy… I-I…” the unrecognizable voice keeps whispering, sounding weak and as though it’s about to give out.
“A-Are you alright? Status… report?”
…
“...what… w-what the HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM, QUINCY?!”
That was undeniably Fergus's inflection. The sudden yell doesn’t stop Quincy from tearing up in relief and laughing nervously.
“You think this is FUCKING FUNNY?!”, the voice that presumably belongs to operative Flintlock angrily squeaks.
“N-No… not at all! Heheh… I-I just thought you were dead—”
“How is this even POSSIBLE...!? Why was I not briefed on this?!”
“This took us by surprise, HQ didn’t expect you to go there! They wanted to keep this secret due to the anomalous Infinity Energy readings—”
“GRAAAAH!”
“I see… that is a most interesting story, yes.”
The robed meowstic named Lliam looks at the window pensively inside his office. His blue tails sway slowly in a hypnotic fashion.
Behind his desk is a ferocious mightyena calling himself Kaiser. In a manner similar to few, his tenacious, hardened aura is difficult for anyone to miss. His gaze is even sterner than his dangerous appearance already suggests.
In contrast, a smaller zigzagoon sits beside him. Ruffled and spiky, the expression in its beady brown eyes mimics the mightyena’s scowl as well, though nowhere near as unnervingly. As a matter of fact, the critter looks as though it’s trying to imitate its older sibling and coming off as endearing rather than savage.
"So... will let us stay then, Guildmaster?" the zigzagoon asks. "It pains me to ask, but we heard this was the one place we could find shelter in."
"Oh, Mr. Fergus, I would've brought you and your friend under our roof here regardless!" Lliam answers warmly. "But you distrust us psychics, right? That is why you've disclosed all of this to me."
The zigzagoon looks away, not able to deny it.
Guildmaster Lliam turns around, meeting Fergus's gaze with his large, slightly glowing turquoise eyes. His tone becomes graver:
"I'll have you know that I've let in a team of dark-types in the past. Moreover, morality compels me to refrain from violating personal boundaries. I need only ask for you to extend the same courtesy and keep out any human governments out of our guild's affairs. Failure to comply will lead me to reconsider. Understood?"
Unflinchingly, the zigzagoon replies back at the piercing stare:
"...Aye, sir."
...
"Splendid!" Lliam finalizes with a clap, his eyes closing while smiling. "Your room is on the second floor, right beside the library. Glad to have you two on board! And to you, Mr. Kaiser, I'm sure a fighter of your caliber will be a huge boon to us!"
"Don't mention it," the mightyena's coarse voice replies as casually as his ego allows.
(...)
"I hate dealing with espers," the zigzagoon expresses as he nearly trips on his way down the spiral staircase
These had been a rough and eventful days for Fergus and Kaiser. From realizing that they could no longer cross the invisible boundary separating this world from the next, to foraging for whatever scraps of nourishment they could find. Perplexingly, due to more encounters with what Quincy would dub "non-euclidean aberrations", it didn't take long for them to get out of the desert and seemingly into an uncharted landmass. With this and more, the light blue orbs unique to this world proved useful time and time again.
Finding out a settlement that just so happened to host more humans trapped in this bizarro version of reality? Fergus could only remain cautiously optimistic. His optimism would soon be curbed by learning that he would have to speak to a psychic-type in order to find shelter. Doubly so given that the earpiece had long since ceased to function.
"Thought as much," Quincy informs. "Before I lose you for real... well... I-I just wanted to say that no matter what, I'll look for a way to steer clear and get you out of there in the future."
Fergus stands still during his trek through the woodlands, pushing in his ear with a limb: "Can I get your word on that?"
...
"I swear on it."
"You better."
After arriving at the second floor, the zigzagoon does a clumsy rubbing motion with his paw, still feeling the useless device lodged inside his ear with force of habit.
"What's coming up next, Boss?" the towering Kaiser asks in a no-nonsense tone, his tail wagging slightly as he sits in front of the small normal-type.
Fergus sits down and chuckles inwardly. "Have you always been calling me 'Boss'? It's something I've been wondering."
"Well yeah, you're the boss," Kaiser states plainly as though it were an obvious fact. "Even if we're in this... weird situation, there's no way that's changing."
"I... see," Fergus declares as he curls his spiky tail on his side.
A brief moment of mutual silence is exchanged. A silence that Fergus is the one to break:
"I'll try not to be a burden on your ass."
"And I'll follow you to the ends of the earth if I have to," the mightyena answers with an uncharacteristically earnest smile.
The zigzagoon grins slightly to himself. Even though his stoic expression is usually hard to read, it's plain for anyone to see that he's wondering how he ended up being deserving of such loyalty. He starts letting his short legs carry him to the empty room near the library, Kaiser soon joining in.
"I'll have to keep trying to figure this body out, though. I don't like being useless."
"You sure won't get bored, I imagine."
"In a screwed up way I guess you could say that."
"Yeah, no getting bored... wouldn't want dear old Boss to start scratching the walls or the car seat."
"Did you just give me lip, soldier?"
"Oh, I would never."