Storm

[Flynt]

It was raining in Rustboro City, a steady, constant rain, which hadn’t stopped for over a week now. Water pooled in the streets, flowing downhill like a river. The Monferno known as Aleci Temps, Sub-Don of the city, watched the new river go under the protection of a large umbrella. Near him, drenched to the bone but not seeming to care, was Seth, a Buizel assassin, and his top Enforcer.

“This bad weather makes it difficult to get anything done,” the Monferno noted, “For both us and the Red Shield.”

“Shane thinks they’ll make a move on one of the outlying towns soon,” Seth replied, “Littleroot or Fallarbor, somewhere defenses are light.”

The rain had stretched the Red Shield Gang thin. With no sign of the weather turning, the group was being forced out into the open. All the Mafia had to do was wait and attack them when they made their move. Still, this weather was just as bad for them as it was for the Red Shield.

“Mikhail is worried about flooding in Slateport City, and they’re considering evacuating Sootopolis entirely,” Seth continued, “Mossdeep and Lilycove are alright for now, but continued flooding would a problem. They’re already moving what equipment they can out of that old base off Lilycove. Dewford is already stalled because of flooding, and unless more Corsola corpses wind up under Pacifidlog, it doesn’t have long left.”

“These cities have been with us for centuries, to think that they would be lost to a little flooding,” the Monferno frowned.

“Teach them not to build on a place so flat,” Seth smirked.

“Seth, how cold of you,” the Monferno said, reproachfully, “Any word from the other regions?”

“Nope,” Seth replied, “They’re all taking about the rain, but none of them are revealing where they’ve been hit hardest.”

“Worldwide flooding, it can’t be natural, and it can’t be just rain causing it either,” Alec muttered, stepping down into the street. Water quickly filled his shoes, but he slogged on nonetheless. Seth followed behind, his bare feet and webbed toes having no issue pressing forward.

“Maybe that crazy old Torkoal was right,” Seth said, overtaking the Monferno, “Maybe you guys put too much smoke into the atmosphere and now the ice is melting.”

“Please, Seth, Global Warming is a crackpot theory with no evidence to support it. It’s just an old coot’s way of whining about how the old ways were better,” Aleci chuckled.

“If you say so, boss,” Seth replied, stepping up to the curb.

“I fail to see how you can walk through this disgusting sloth with no worry of catching something,” Alec muttered. It was true; the water was a disgusting gray color, the result of water mixing with the trash and filth that littered the ground. In the lower parts of the city, sewage had also begun mixing with the water, creating a festering mess that Pokemon had to slog through everyday just to get to work.

“I can wash my feet,” the Buizel pointed out, “Same can’t exactly be said for your shoes.”

Seth held out his hand, and helped Alec up to the curb. The Monferno looked down at his shoes, which were indeed full of water. He cursed under his breath, then started down the road. Seth followed after him, snickering to himself. After a little ways walking, the two of them entered a tower.

The tallest building in uptown Rustboro City, the Devon Building was where Alec ran the city from. It also housed the living quarters of him, his Enforcers, and their underlings, if they had any. It was kept powered and watered every day, all day, even when bad weather threatened parts of the city, like it did today. Upon entering, the Buizel and Monferno were blasted with a wave of cool, dry air. All the rain had made it very humid out.

Aleci immediately took off his shoes and threw them away. After what Seth had said, he wasn’t sure if he could ever wear the pair again. The bottom of his pants was soaked, but otherwise the umbrella had protected the Monferno’s black suit and fedora from getting wet. He put his umbrella down like a shield as Seth shook the water from his orange and cream fur. There was no easy way for him to get the water out of his clothes though, and thus the Buizel’s black pants and bandanna clung to him, dripping water.

The Buizel tried to walk further into the building, only for Alec to quickly close his umbrella and hold it in front of him. “You aren’t tracking water around. Stay here, I will find you a towel to wrap yourself in while your clothes dry.”

The Monferno handed the umbrella over, then started up the stairs to the next part of the building. He first made a stop in his own room, changing into a dry pair of pants and putting on a new pair of shoes. He then went to one of the bathrooms and grabbed a towel for the Buizel, before returning downstairs.

Seth was chuckling to himself when Alec returned. He pointed to the floor around the Monferno, where watery footprints could be made out. Alec’s footprints. Once again, the Monferno cursed himself under his breath, before throwing the towel at the Buizel, around whom a puddle was forming. He called in a maid while Seth stripped. The one that came out first, and older Chansey, was unfazed when she walked in just in time to catch Seth just before he managed to wrap the towel around his waist. Seth didn’t seem to notice either way, so the Monferno decided he just wouldn’t mention it.

“Linda, hang up the Buizel’s clothes to dry, then do something about all the water that’s been tracked around,” Aleci ordered.

The Chansey preformed a slight bow, then hurried to do as told. Alec, meanwhile, called Seth over to a side room. A few people were waiting for them there. Jacob and Andre, a Lucario and Linoone from the Red Shield, had followed Seth after the Buizel had fled the Red Shield encampment. The Lucario wore a gray jacket and black pants, his left eye scared and milky white. The Linoone wore a simple pair of black pants, and while he appeared mostly normal, his left eye was brown, unmatched by the right’s blue. Unfortunately the Buizel was somewhat attached to them, too much so for Alec to remove them without affecting the Pokemon’s performance.

That’s where the third Pokemon came in, the Dusknoir named Hades. The imposing Pokemon had one order, to protect Seth. This meant from everyone, including any Red Shield threats that made themselves apparent. The Dusknoir’s stomach mouth, which used to ferry souls, was stapled shut, and the eyes on his chest bandaged over. The four formed what was known informally as the Assassin Team, with Seth as the Leader. The fifth and final Pokemon in the room was Shane, a Zoroark and Alec’s other Enforcer. The Zoroark had its hair cropped short, and wore dusty gray pants and a sleeveless shirt. Prison clothes, the same outfit Alec had found him in.

The Linoone approached Seth, a little wobbly on his hind legs, and held out a cupcake. The Buizel took it, before frowning. “What’s this for?”

“It’s a cake,” Andre replied, “Happy birthday!”

“Birthday?” Seth blinked.

“Yes, you idiot,” Jake chuckled, “This day sixteen years ago you hatched from your egg. So you get some cake and a present.”

“Present?” Seth asked. It was obvious the Buizel was completely lost.

“Just eat the cake!” Andre grinned, “And then we’ll give you something.”

Seth nodded, and slowly bit into the cupcake. Then determining that it was good, he quickly ate the whole thing. Alec then reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out a black handle, and held it out for Seth. The Buizel accepted it, and looked it over.

“Push the lever on the side, just watch your fingers when you do,” Alec explained.

The Buizel did so, and a blade flipped out of the opposite side of the handle. It was a switchblade, a nice one at that. The Buizel gave it a few practice swipes, then flipped the blade closed again. He looked at Alec, who nodded, smiling a little.

“That’s your gift, take good care of it and it’ll see you through many missions as a member of the Mafia,” he said. “The blade is stiletto, better for stabbing then cutting. As you know, the blade retracts into the handle, so you can carry it around in your pocket no problem. Now then, if you’re done with the festivities, I’d like for you all to take a seat, we have a little planning to do.”

[Flynt]

Rain pounded against the roof of the tent that had been set up for Nicholas Incansia, leader of the Red Shield Gang, to relax and plan in. The group was less then a mile outside of Fallarbor Town, the steady rain mixing with the ash from Mt. Chimney. They couldn’t remain here for long, but they had few places to go. Meteor Falls had already flooded, and unless Red Shield wanted to be trapped in place, they had to go through Fallarbor.

Still, tensions were running high in the gang; many wanted to take Fallarbor. Nick could understand their want for doing so. The rain was getting at everyone, including the Quilava, and with flooding on the rise, it was better to be somewhere sanitary, especially now, so soon after the gang had lost their doctor, Marco Thompson. The town was weak, still reeling from the Black Ops Gang forcing their way through the area on their way to Rustboro City not six months ago.

The Mafia presence in the town was still light, the new Sub-Don, a Krokorok named Scott Williams, and his Scrafty Enforcer Richard Knox were the only notable members currently stationed in the city. The rest were their underlings, many of whom were still new to the job. Taking Fallarbor wasn’t the hard part, though. Keeping it was. The second they moved on Fallarbor, the Krokorok would send a distress signal, and men from Mauville and Verdanturf would be knocking on their doors within hours.

“A stealth operation,” the Quilava muttered, “We need to take down the Krokorok first, but everyone knows our faces.”

“That’s a bad habit you know!” a voice called from outside the tent. The flap lifted, and in walked Vincent West, the Flygon who, along with Nicholas and his brother Daxter, founded the Red Shield Gang. He was the gang’s Tactician and Cartographer. Wearing a hard hat and a pair of black shorts that nonetheless touched his feet, Vincent looks incredibly casual, even in comparison the Quilava himself, who’s faded black pants were betrayed only by the bandages wrapped around his middle.

“Sorry,” he frowned, “Usually Dax would be here for me to bounce ideas off of, but with what happened.”

“Hey, don’t mention it!” Vincent grinned, “Jake and Andre are keeping him safe. He’ll be back before you know it!”

“Yeah,” Nick sighed, “But I do wonder what made him act like that, and run off in the first place. Not to mention he gunned down Marco.”

“You know how he was with Seifer,” the Flygon said, “He’s probably dealing with PSTD or something.”

“They are going to demand I punish him, and I don’t know if I can do it,” the Quilava muttered.

“Then for now let him stay with Jake and Andre,” Vincent said, “Now then, what were you saying about a stealth mission?”

“Taking Fallarbor Town, the only way to do it is to remove the Krokorok without him realizing something is wrong,” Nick explained, glad for the change in topic, “The problem is all of Red Shield’s members are well known. There are wanted posters up for us in every major city.”

“Well,” the Flygon thought, “Not all of us. We do have a certain Buizel on our side whose face has never appeared in the posters.”

“What, Rick?” Nick blinked, “But Vincent, he just lost his brother. I can’t make him do that. He’s just a kid, anyway, thirteen years old!”

“You doubt what teenagers can do when you’re only eighteen yourself?” Vincent asked, “Rick’s a strong kid, he can do it. Besides, if Scott’s anything like the last Sub-Don, he’ll love to have a Shiny Pokemon to flaunt around. We just have to get the kid in with him, and then the kid can take him out, or even just shut down his communications. The only other option is storming the gates and alerting every Mafia member from here to Lilycove of our presence.”

The Flygon spoke the truth, as much as Nick hated to admit it. Richard, Rick, Thompson was a Shiny Buizel, and Marco’s younger brother. The Floatzel had kept his brother’s presence in the gang a secret from outsiders, to the point that the little guy wasn’t on the wanted posters. He would be their only option, as insane as it was. Nick sighed, nodding.

“Alright, but only if he agrees,” he said.

Vincent grinned reassuringly, then slipped back out of the tent. A few minutes later he returned, Rick in tow. The Shiny Buizel was bundled up despite the humidity, wearing hand-me-downs that looked to be his father’s. A gray ski cap, blue long-sleeved jacket that reached his knees, brown pants that were bunched up and muddy at his ankles, a gray scarf, and gray fingerless gloves all went to cover a Buizel with shiny golden and cream fur, and a silver flotation sac around his neck.

“Hello Ricky,” Nick grinned, “Is everything going alright?”

“Yeah,” the Buizel nodded, “I’ve been trying to help out where I can. As long as I don’t feel like I’m in the way.”

“How’s it been since Marco passed away?” the Quilava asked.

“Okay, Cid’s been really helpful, and I’ve had a few months to get over it,” Rick answered, looking away from Nick.

It had been four months since Daxter had apparently snapped. The Buizel had gunned down Marco, and fled the Red Shield encampment, which at that time had been north of Slateport City. Nick had ordered Jacob and Andre to follow and possibly retrieve him, but hadn’t heard from any of them since. Meanwhile, Rick had been left with no living family, a feeling the Quilava didn’t want to even consider knowing. Still the young Buizel soldiered on, bottling everything that had happened to him. One day it would burst, and Nick did not want to see the result.

“Well, if you’re up to it, I have a job that only you can do,” Nicholas continued.

“Only me?” That got the Buizel’s attention again, “What sort of job?”

“Infiltration,” the Quilava answered.

[Flynt]

Richard Thompson, Shiny Buizel and as far as he knew the last surviving member of the Thompson family, had just set out on the first mission he’d ever done. He was thirteen, the same age as the Linoone Andre Wesson was when he first started working for Red Shield. Unlike Andre, who was a Technician by trade, Rick had been drafted into an infiltration role. The only unknown Red Shield member, it had fallen upon him to find a way into the Mafia’s base a Fallarbor Town.

When Nick had told him about the mission, he had accepted without a second thought. It was only now that he really considered what he’d just signed up for. There was no turning back now though, so he pressed forward, entering Fallarbor Town. The town showed signs of recent repair, the work of the new Sub-Don. It still had a long ways to go before it was anywhere near the state it used to be in though. Scott Williams was an ambitious Pokemon. He wanted to take Fallarbor above and beyond what it had started out as.

The town seemed oddly empty. The sun had only gone down an hour or two before, and yet there was not a soul on the streets of Fallarbor. Suddenly, the rain began to pick up, sending the Buizel scurrying for shelter. He finally found it in the entrance to an alleyway. He watched the rain from the shelter of the alley until suddenly…

“Hey, kid! It’s past curfew, why the hell are you out?” a voice behind him called.

Rick jumped, then spun around, a light momentarily blinding him. The light was lowered, and after a moment the Buizel’s vision returned. A Scrafty stood in front of him. Wearing a white muscle shirt, with his yellow molted skin dyed black, he was undeniably the Enforcer Richard Knox. He had the hood he’d worn as a Scraggy pulled up over his head, protecting his eyes from the rain.

“Um, I’m sorry sir,” he replied, “I don’t have anywhere to go.”

The Scrafty sighed, “Come with me.”

He led Rick through the streets, into a slightly larger building. A number of people were here, sitting and standing around the area. Many of them were young, like he was.

“You aren’t from around here I guess,” the Scrafty said, “I’m Richard Knox, Second-in-Command. This city has been under Martial Law since the Black Ops Gang rolled through here. Curfew is in effect. If you have no where to go, you’ll have to stay here until they process you.”

“I’m Ricky,” the Buizel introduced himself, “and thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet kid,” Richard smirked, “You still have to get sorted out.”

He lead Rick over to a counter where a line had formed. After instructing the Shiny Buizel to go to the counter and do as told, he left the building, heading back out into the rain. He tugged at his scarf a little, not exactly sure how he was going to get anywhere near the Sub-Don. Still, his Enforcer seemed nice enough, maybe Rick could get to Scott through Richard?

Before he knew it, the line had moved, and he was in front of the counter. The Pokemon behind the counter, a bored looking Sneasel, looked him up and down, pausing on his face, where his golden fur was most visible. She looked down at the counter, and paged through a book she had lying on her desk.

“Um, miss?” he frowned, wondering if she’d forgotten about him.

“Name?” she asked.

“Richard,” he replied, wondering if he should give his last name as well. He probably shouldn’t, given how his brother had been on the wanted posters.

“Last name Richard?” she said, glaring up at him.

Now he recognized what the book was, a manifest. Everyone born in a major city or town had their name registered, as well as a photograph taken. The photograph was renewed every other year, so the Mafia could keep track of you. There was no lying his way out.

“Thompson,” he admitted, “Richard Thompson.”

She cocked a brow, closing the book and grabbing another. “Thompson, Richard.” She said after paging through the book a bit, “blood relative to Thompson, Marco and Thompson, Seth, son of Thompson, Reece and Rosewalle, Annabel.” She looked up at Rick, smirking. “Well then, if you are who you say you are, you got some important people in your family. Not to mention you’re also a legit Shiny.”

He nodded, though one of the names confused him. He had never met a Seth Thompson, nor was he aware that he even had a brother other then Marco. He caught himself wondering if this Seth knew who he was, and what he was like. Did the Sneasel know anything about him? Or what if she was lying? Adding another family member to test him, see if he was who he said he was?

“There might be some mistake though, I don’t have a brother named Seth,” Rick said.

“Oh really? That’s not what it says here,” she said, holding out the book to him. Sure as she said, between the names and pictures for him and Marco, there was another Buizel. Black goggles on his forehead, bandanna around his neck in place of a Flotation Sac. The name read Seth Thompson. Rick blinked, surprised.

“You certainly seem to recognize him,” the Sneasel said, “Little prick appeared in Rustboro City one day, got picked up by the Sub-Don there, Alec Temps. Made him an Enforcer, at fifteen freaking years old! Guess it comes with having powerful family, I’m sure you’re well aware of your daddy’s role in the Mafia.”

Rick certainly did recognize the Buizel in the picture, but not as Seth Thompson. No, the expression on his face might be a new one, and those goggles the Shiny Buizel might never have seen before, but that Buizel was the same one nonetheless. That was Daxter Incansia, Red Shield’s Second-in-Command, and Nicholas’s brother.

He had to tell Nick! But the second thing she said caught him again. His father’s role in the Mafia? Reece Thompson had died when Rick was five years old, leaving only Marco to take care of him, they had lost their mother two years before. Reece has been a quiet Floatzel, and something of a scholar. They had lived in Mauville City all of Rick’s life, but the Shiny Buizel never remembered anything being said about the Mafia in their household.

“Miss, I don’t, uh,” he stuttered, unsure of really what to say.

The Sneasel rolled her eyes, obviously tired of dealing with him. She walked around the counter and made to grab his arm when she saw the mud that had all but been plastered to his sleeves due to the poor weather. She flinched back a little, then simply motioned for him to follow her. The people behind him had started muttering to each other, so the Buizel was happy to follow her.

The Sneasel took him to the back of the building, knocking on a door there. “Yo, Mr. Williams!”

“This better be important, Ms. Delone,” a voice inside called.

“Depends, how important is a Thompson boy to you?” the Sneasel called.

The door opened, revealing a Krokorok in a gaudy black suit, with a very wide fedora on his head. “Depends on which boy,” the Krokorok replied. He quickly noticed Rick and smiled. “I see, well Ms. Delone, I’d say this one is very important.”

He led Rick into the room, closing the door on the Sneasel. The Shiny Buizel took a seat on one of the chairs across from a desk, while the Krokorok himself sat down at a much more comfortable looking chair. He looked Rick up and down, the same way the Sneasel had, then leaned forward on his chair.

“So, you are the last Thompson boy, the only one who was unaccounted for,” he said.

“Yes sir,” the Buizel answered.

“Father dead, mother dead, one brother disappeared until recently,” the Krokorok continued, “So where have you been this entire time?”

“Wandering, sir,” Rick said, looking down.

“Wandering alone, at your age?” he asked.

“Yes sir,” Rick lied.

Scott smiled, “I’m sure it must have been hard for you. You could certainly use a bath, and I imagine a meal, as well.”

Rick looked up again, “Yes sir.”

Scott nodded, and stood from his chair. He walked to the door, Rick following behind him. The Krokorok opened the door, and motioned for Rick to exit. The Buizel did so, and suddenly felt a sharp pain on the back of his head. He fell over, vision instantly going black. The last thing he heard was the Krokorok laughing.

“I’m not that stupid, boy, no older brother in his right mind would willingly leave a child sibling alone. At least, not siblings like Marco Thompson.”

[ImmunityBow]

Cool, a fanfic. I promise I'll read it sometime soon and comment. Always great to see some Topaz community literature :3

[Flynt]

Ha. Thank you, but don't expect too much from it. I've posted these three parts around a bit to test the waters, this is actually my first time ever making a proper fanfic. The general consensus has been that I have a lot to fix. The things I've been told the most are that I need to better display emotions, write proper hooks to the plot, and better explain the universe itself. So if you see anything else you think needs improved upon, I'd love for you to point them out when you get around to reading it.

These three may be the only parts of the fic for some time, as I test out different ways to fix the issues brought to me. I will update again eventually, and I appreciate every single thing you guys point out to me that needs to be fixed. With the help of readers all over the internet, I hope to make this a better fic overall.