Difference between revisions of "Well of Memories"

Revision as of 03:54, 14 May 2013

Well of Memories
Part of Pre-arc
← Pre-arc	Mission 6 →
Release Date	May 17th, 2012 - Part 1 Aug 21st, 2012 - Final Part
Author(s)	Latiass
Illustrator(s)	PurpleKecleon
Links	All 17 parts

Template:Clr

Dong ding!

The sound of that bell ringing sent shivers down Gunpowder’s spine. It was the voice of his nightmares. It could mean only one thing: a new customer had come into the store in order to attempt to buy something. The last two Pokemon that had come in were also “attempts”, as Gunpowder was incapable of finding anything the customers needed.

Shopkeep was certainly not Gunpowder’s dream profession. However, after having spent an embarrassingly long amount of time alternating between sleeping under the docks or in the gutters, it seemed rather hard to turn down such a deal.

This deal was offered to him by none other than Anana, a sweet little yellow lizard who he had been helping since arriving at the bay. At first she had him finish small tasks in exchange for food, but as the workload grew larger and larger, Anana decided it would be a better investment to hire Gunpowder on as a full-time employee in exchange for room and board.

Since she had been impressed with his prior work, Gunpowder hoped he had finally caught a break, but his performance with this first day had almost completely shattered that distorted painting of potential reality.

“Uhh.. Hello?”

The voice belonged to a tiny green lizard. Anana mentioned something about a regular like him, who she referred to by name, but Gunpowder wasn’t really the best at retaining... anything.

“Ah, apologies Mr. Snivy matey. I couldn’t see you there! You know how it is, right?”

“Eh? First you ignore me,” the Snivy said in a most distasteful voice, “and then you take a stab at my height? Do you even know who I am? Certainly not this ‘Matey’ you speak of.”

“No sir, I just meant.. I don’t know what I meant.” Gunpowder took a deep breath. “I’m new. I just started today, y’know. Cut me some slack.”

The Snivy still did not look impressed, but seemed willing to forgive Gunpowder’s immense insolence. He waved his hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, fine. I am here to pick up a package. I trust your boss told you about it.”

“One moment, sir, I will take a look for you.” Gunpowder walked towards the wall, not having the slightest idea where to find such a thing. Sweat would be dripping down his face, were he a creature capable of such a feat. He was a man of the ocean, a sea dog, and yet here he was, nervous about being unable to find a package for an annoying little morsel. Unfortunately, he was not paying enough attention to where his claws were wandering, and one of them clumsily knocked a glass bottle off the shelf.

This is it, he thought. This is the end. The loud crash drew Anana’s attention immediately, as she was concerned for the product, of course, but more so the well-being of her customers; she couldn’t bear the thought that someone could be hurt in her store. Before she could speak, the Snivy raised another objection.

"Oy, you oaf! Thankfully, that was not my package, but you must be more careful if you want to make it in this business! Seriously, I cannot believe that--"

"Penne," interupted Anana. "What have I told you about treating my employees poorly?" She put her arms on her side and gave the Snivy 'the look,' and he knew exactly what she meant.

"I.. I'm sorry, Anana. You know how it is. I'm just so busy lately and--"

"Yes, I understand," Anana interjected once again, but instead of upsetting the Snivy, it just made him more timid. "Let's see.. Ah! Here it is." She grabbed a small box off the shelf, nowhere near where Gunpowder had been searching, and handed it to the Snivy. "I'll charge it to the account," she said with a smile and a wink.

"Thank you, Anana. As usual, it was a pleasure to work with.. you." The Snivy had added extra emphasis to 'you.' Anana glared at him again. The look on his face in reply said it all, as did his rather hasty departure. Gunpowder bowed his head in shame as soon as that tasty treat was out of sight.

Anana walked over to Gunpowder and put her hand on his thigh. "It's OK, dearie. It's tough to start out. That gentleman is also known for being.. not so much of a gentleman. Now, chin up!"

Despite her kind words, Gunpowder refused to stop moping. She made a 'hmph' noise and walked out of sight. She wasn't gone for long, since Gunpowder could hear the sound of a crate sliding across the hard floor. Just then, he felt something get planted atop his head. He looked behind himself to see Anana standing on top of the box.

"There! This seems to always cheer people up. Here, take a look," Anana said with a gleeful smile and a mirror in her hand. On his head was now the most ridiculous hat he had ever seen. It was a big, flowery purple sombrero that said "ANANA" across the top. Due to the symmetry of her name, it was clear even to Gunpowder what it said through the reflection. He couldn't help but giggle a little at the sight of his own misery.

"See, sweetie? I knew it would help! Your punishment for being sad for something that isn't your fault is to wear this hat. After all, the image of my business is important, and this hat just screams 'me'!" Anana snickered to herself as well. Gunpowder knew she was mostly just joking, but he really appreciated the efforts. She always treated him like this.

Dong ding!

Another customer. Great, Gunpowder thought to himself. Another chance to mess up, but this time in front of my boss. Anana's face lit up.

"Come on in, I've got everything you could possibly need! Make yourself at home!"

She looked up at Gunpowder, urging him to lean forwards so that she could whisper to him. "Let me handle this one, dear. If you watch me, you'll learn a great deal about how to handle customers." She hopped off her throne atop the crate and cheerfully went to assist the customer.

Anana handled everything quickly and elegantly. Not only did she know exactly what the customer wanted without having been told, the small talk she made elicited laughter from said customer. Gunpowder was giving her his full attention, but he just couldn't see himself replicating what was just done. He just wasn't a Pokemon-Pokemon.

After concluding the business transaction, Anana held herself high, a big smile across her face. Gunpowder knew the real reason she took the reigns. She wanted him to learn how to handle customers better, sure, but more than that she wanted to show off. Gunpowder had known her for long enough to figure that much out, at least. She was good at hiding it.

“See? It’s not so bad! You just have to stay positive!” Anana could definitely tell Gunpowder was all but positive, and her face reflected this. Never had a smile turned upsidedown so quickly. “Come on, Gunpowder. You look like you’ve got something else on your mind today. What is it?”

“It.. It be nothin’, OK? I just don’t think I be able to do this yet, s’all. Can we trade jobs fer today? I promise I’ll get good at this, but.. just not today, aye?”

Anana stared into the very depths of Gunpowder’s soul. She knew he was hiding something, but she also knew there was no sense in prying. If he wasn’t going to say, nothing would change that. She let out a sigh of defeat.

“Fine, fine. Go help Fabian in the back with counting inventory,” Anana said rather dismissively. Before she had even finished, she had found something much more interesting to fiddle with on the shelves to pass the time until the next customer came in. I can’t really count, Gunpowder thought to himself. Bad time to mention it, though. Not like there’d ever be a good time. Anana probably thought he was an idiot.

He moped his way towards the back room, but it was empty, save for a large number of boxes, bottles, chairs, a desk.. Not that empty, then. Still, Fabian was nowhere in sight. Guess I’ll wait for him, then...

In front of the desk was what appeared to be a lillypad, but the way it was positioned made it look like a chair. Anana was known for her green and nature-esque themes sometimes, so it didn’t seem that unusual to Gunpowder. When he placed his big butt atop the chair and it spoke, however, he knew something was amiss.

“Watch where you’re pointing that thing there, muchacha!” The chair stood up on its feet, being surprisingly tall for a.. lilypad. Gunpowder’s lack of deductive reasoning was sometimes surprising, but in this case, it did not fail him, and he guessed correctly that this creature was Fabian.

“Eh.. Yeah, that’s me,” replied Fabian in a most sluggish voice. “I was enjoyin’ a bit of a siesta while waiting for my chica to come back. We got a lot of countin’ to do still.” He scoped Gunpowder out. “Why’re you here, anyway, eh? This area’s for employees only, muchacha.”

“Aye, I am an employee. Just started. Been helpin’ Anana for a while, but not here at the shop. This be rather new to me, and I got sent back here ‘cause--” Gunpowder thought for a moment, his face turning a bit red. Best not tell the truth to someone he only just met. “--well, ‘cause I’m not feelin’ too well today, yeah. So Anana sent me back to give ya a bit of a hand!”

“Oh. An idiot, then, eh?” Fabian scoffed. He knew that Anana wouldn’t let someone in the back unless she trusted them enough to not steal, or if she thought they were too stupid to do so. Since Fabian hadn’t heard of Gunpowder before, process of elimination pointed to only one answer.

Despite those words cutting Gunpowder real deep, he laughed. His situation was rather amusing, after all. It’s not like he was in this God-forsaken bay by choice anyway. He didn’t actually care what the residents thought of him. He knew he was wise in ways they would never understand.

Gunpowder wasn't about to leave it at that, though. He explained to Fabian his arrival at the bay. Gunpowder remembered being on his ship with Bluegill, and then.. something.. happened. His memory was foggy about that point. A total blank. He remembered being on the ship, and then waking up in the care of some doctors at the bay. Anana was there to comfort him; she later explained that her and Bluegill were associates. Surprising, since Bluegill was a scurvy pirate and Anana was but a child. Life is full of surprises, though. From then until talking to Fabian, he had just been helping Anana.

Fabian listened to the whole story intently and, in fact, seemed to quite enjoy it. Once Gunpowder had finished, Fabian apologized for his previous remark and said that Gunpowder was a “buena muchacha." Whatever that meant. Gunpowder felt his story had wasted enough time and was about to ask what work was required of him, but Fabian had a different idea: more time was to be wasted with stories. The onslaught of questions was almost unbearable. About Gunpowder's hometown, about what it was like to sail on the sea, about his experiences with Anana. It was just too much.

Finally, Fabian gave up on asking Gunpowder for more stories. Unfortunately, the pirate was not free. Not even close. It was time for Fabian to tell his own stories, and he could probably spend an entire week telling them. All of them were long, all of them were boring. Well, all of them but one, though Gunpowder’s lack of attention made it hard to catch. It was something concerning Anana's sister.. Apparently, this girl had run away and no one had seen her since. Anana had never mentioned her sister to Gunpowder before, so it was worth storing in Ye Olde Mental Bank. Otherwise, Gunpowder’s mind had left.

"H-hey," shouted a familiar voice. It was Anana. "What are you two-- Fabian! Are you wasting time again?!" She had placed her hands on her hips and spoke in a firm tone. Almost like an angry mother. For all Gunpowder knew, Fabian was actually Anana's adopted son.

"A-ah, Miss Anana. I was just tellin' this new guy how we do business around here and--"

"No buts, Fabian," interrupted Anana. Fabian hadn't said 'but', so Gunpowder thought it a bit odd...

"Right, right. Lo siento, chica." Fabian bowed his head in shame.

"It's OK, dearie. You'll just have to stay back extra late to make up for it! Then I'll let you go home." She winked at Gunpowder when saying this, as if it were an inside joke for the two of them. She then turned her attention directly to Gunpowder. "Speaking of home... it's time to close up shop! I've already finished everything, so I hope you're ready for some supper!"

Gunpowder was always ready for supper. And lunch, and breakfast, and mid-day snacksies, and before-bed-comfort-meal, and the list went on. He liked to eat, in any case. Of course, instead of informing Anana of his gluttony, he simply nodded and followed her out of the store.

Gunpowder couldn't take his mind off the story he was told. All he could really remember was 'sister.' He was just so bad at paying attention to boring stories. Fabian probably explained everything, but Gunpowder didn't care at the time. Best to get it direct from the source, he thought.

"Hey Anana," said Gunpowder, reluctantly. "Do ya.. do ya have a sister?"

Anana stopped dead in her tracks. Her expression, jubilant moments before, became blank. She almost appeared dazed. This was not something he was used to. It was almost a little frightening. As quickly as the change came, it left, and Anana once again regained her cheerful disposition. She turned and smiled up at Gunpowder.

"Oh, yes! I do. But don't worry about her, she moved out ages ago." Anana resumed walking, as if nothing had happened.

"R-right. What be for dinner?" Gunpowder inquired, trying to change the subject without seeming rude. Hard for him, since his voice was rather gruff. He always came off kind of rude.

"Oh, dear! Do I have something big planned for you! After all, you worked hard for me on your first day!"

No I didn't, thought Gunpowder. Still, he was excited to forget about the disaster that today was and get some food in his gut. Anana's cooking was always most excellent. Top notch! Not much further now...

Before long, they arrived at the luxuriant Kecleon house. Gunpowder had the vague notion that it was Anana’s parents’ house and not simply her own. It might as well have been for how often either one of the parents showed up, though. Seldom, Gunpowder would see Anana’s mother zipping about, always stressing over one preparation or another. It didn’t really register in his mind as something to think about. He was usually too concerned for himself.

Today was not one of those days that Anana’s parents would make a rare appearance. No, it ended up being a much worse guest for both Anana and Gunpowder.

As Anana opened the door, she let out a gasp, the sort that gets caught in your throat and then chokes you a little. This instantly set off Gunpowder’s instincts to be on guard, fight if necessary. He was the type of guy to want to brawl in response someone else’s fright or surprise. Probably it was just the result of years of scuffles hard ingrained into his nerves. It didn’t matter. (His own surprise, though? That was another story. Devonshire ended up being very good at completely catching Gunpowder off guard. This, of course, is something Gunpowder would never want to admit, but it was always written all over his face. Devonshire had a way of doing that to near everyone. Not even on purpose, you must know.)

Expecting an intruder, all he saw was another Kecleon. Not the mom. No, this definitely wasn’t the mom. He, she, it(?) looked a bit crazed. Wasn’t the dad. The dad was always angry, the mom was always stressed. This one was purple with crazy splotches of pink and white, and-

“That yer sis?” he asked, more to himself than Anana. She wasn’t even listening anyway. She was intently focused on who Gunpowder was pretty sure had been the missing sister (had been, up until they opened the door to the house, anyway--she was no longer missing, you see).

“Back so soon?” Anana asked that wild girl. If she was upset, she didn’t intone it. Gunpowder envisioned Anana amusedly asking the same of a customer who’d accidentally forgotten to buy something, or who’d left something behind in the shop. This was not the case though. She was not welcoming this sister Kecleon, this rough, irritating, infuriating girl he would end up seeing again some short few years later, that PK whose name he did not yet know but whose name he would soon find out.

A brief glare was the only response our kind Anana received before that Other Kecleon went back to stuffing items into a small burlap sack, the kind that were kept around the kitchen. Anana stepped into the building, not satisfied. That Other Kecleon, that Sister Kecleon, she was busy. Fruits and berries from all around the kitchen had been gathered, but only a few were actually going into the sack. There was only so much space. She might have been leaving again. It seemed that way. No, she was leaving again, Gunpowder remembered. She left after their fight. He skipped back in time to that moment, to before Anana changed and never came back.

He was still outside, looking in at the two. Ready to hop in if Anana needed it. She was his employer, after all. If he didn’t take care of her, he’d be out of work, and that would simply be no good.

“You know, Mom and Dad have been mad ever since you left. I’m surprised you had the nerve to return after what you did,” Anana said. Not a bit of malice in that statement. Just a fact of life laid out nice and clear for the Other.

“So what?” she spat. “They got what they wanted,” that Other, that PK replied. Here, a sort of bitter resignation could be found. What happened? He never actually found out, not in the then, not in the now. He never could talk to PK in the now, and Anana’s facade had become much too thick to cut through. The now was different.

But this was the then.

“You think it’s so easy? I guess you might think that! It’s always been easy for you, hasn’t it been, sissy kecky? You set them back months. Months of extra hours and time they had to work, you know. They’re still years from their goal. Because of you! Because of your selfish whims. I hope you know that!” Anana said. It might still have been something said in passing to a much-liked and favored shopper. This marked Gunpowder’s transition into feeling uneasy and not wanted in this scene. This was when he started to feel rather conspicuous, like a dusty plaid recliner in a room full of precious antiques. He didn’t really belong here. This was only something for the two sisters. Yet, he felt inclined to watch. So...

“I’m getting out of here,” that Other replied. Gunpowder realized what she looked like now. Some sort of tribal Pokemon. Those markings had to be a type of pigment, probably found in the nearby forest. Some were faded, most were a mixture of smudged and spread in erratic ways, and a few looked freshly and cleanly applied.

“I’m sure. You’d love nothing more than to skirt duty, wouldn’t you? Had everything all laid out for you and what? You crush it beneath your little toes. You do that to anything that’s nice, don’t you?”

“Mom’s sending me,” that PK, that purple, pink, marked one replied. This must not have been the expected response, for Anana went silent for longer than a beat.

“Sending you away? I’m not surprised. You’re really not fit to-”

“To Tao. She’s sending me to Tao,” PK interrupted. “To Dad, to do what you can’t,” she added after a moment of reconsideration. The bitterness was gone and her face twitched into a deranged smile occasionally, but Gunpowder could see this was really the face of a terribly downcast girl. He wanted to feel some sort of pity without even knowing her situation. Maybe he did feel a pang or two.

Gunpowder didn’t really understand the significance of this at the time, but it was this exact moment he recalled when he saw PK (though washed of these strange markings, not any less unhappy-looking) in passing later in Tao, before she had inherited anything from her father, and after Gunpowder had met and joined up with Devonshire.

Gunpowder also didn’t really understand why this was so upsetting to Anana, what Anana couldn’t do, or why it took her so long to conjure up another retort.

When she did finally manage to speak, she was livid. Her tail curled and uncurled in little rapid movements, and he thought she dimmed some in color. Maybe that was the light playing tricks on his eyes. No matter. The pretense of a collected, caring individual was stripped away with the comment Gunpowder still didn’t quite fully grasp.

“You’ve got to be lying. You’re worthless at running anything. You’re rude, obnoxious, you have absolutely no sense of what it takes to look after a customer, you’re completely inept-”

“You can ask Mom when she gets back. I’ll be gone by then.” The Other managed to pull a reversal here. It was now Anana who looked absolutely unhappy, and this Other-- this PK--had managed to pull some delight from her sister’s dismay. Gunpowder’s thoughts turned to vampirism for a brief moment.

Then PK cocked her head up a little, taking Anana’s silence as the perfect opportunity to land another blow, this time on Anana’s companion. “Yeah? You got somethin to say too? Are you her next little pet? With that big, stupid hat?”

What the hell is she--? Hat. The hat from the store, the big, purple hat he had forgotten to take off. And Anana hadn’t said a word. The big, well... It was stupid, but it embarrassed him to an incredible degree to have the big, stupid hat in the spotlight like that... It was supposed to be ridiculous and silly, and it had made him feel a little better earlier, but now he felt ashamed. That conspicuous feeling was amplified. That Other also seemed to delight from this. Once again, Gunpowder’s thoughts drifted back to vampirism for whatever reason.

The overall encounter didn’t last more than few minutes, but it left a dark cloud over the heads of Gunpowder and Anana. It was hard to really think about much else with the shame riding so heavy on his heart. That sister girl, that tribal girl, she left shortly after cutting Gunpowder and Anana in spots they couldn’t easily recover from. Gunpowder couldn’t have known what that Other was going through at the time, couldn’t have known what horrible things she had or hadn’t endured, and it just didn’t matter. The words echoed in his mind for much of the rest of the night, stupid and petty as they were.

The two - Anana and Gunpowder, that is - stood in silence after the experience, for what felt like hours. Days, even. At least to Gunpowder. Though deep down, he knew it was but a moment. He had to leave. It was unusual for him to get so riled up over something so seemingly insignificant, but there he was. He just had to get away from that house, the place which held that Other.

Not a word was said to Anana as he departed. Surely she would understand. It looked like she tried to reach out to Gunpowder to stop him, to say that she was sorry, but all he could muster was acknowledgement. The walk home, as he expected, felt longer than the walk to Anana’s house. He tried so hard not to dwell, but to no avail. He was stuck on that Other’s words, that Other’s unusual appearance. It was not one he would soon forget. Not ever, in fact.

In front of him was the store. It looked rather different in the dim light of the evening. What few rays of twilight reflected off the windows of the shop made it rather difficult to see inside. The glass had been tinted, probably to discourage would-be burglars. There was a distinct feature of one of the windows, however: a silhouette resembling Anana - or maybe that PK from previously - speaking to a.. Gunpowder couldn’t quite make it out. Whatever it was, it made him feel very uneasy. It was a shadowy figure, even by the already diminutive standards of light.

Gunpowder’s room and board came at the cost of having to protect the store during the night. Just making sure no one broke in. Considering the area, it would come as quite a surprise were it ever to happen, and yet.. Gunpowder was cautious, but had learned the best way to confront an evil doer was to barge in, unafraid, cheerful, loud.. In other words, as ‘Gunpowder’ as he could possibly be.

That was precisely what he did, barging in through the door, laughing to himself as loud as he could. A bit insane to the onlookers, sure, but.. Wait. What onlookers? Upon entering the store, it was empty. There was no way the two other creatures could have escaped that quickly. Was there another door? Gunpowder wasn’t even sure anymore. The thing he was sure about was the absence of anyone but himself in that store. His previous unease was set to rest, replaced with a new confusion. Perhaps I’m just tired, he thought to himself, stumbling to the back room.

That Fabian fellow was gone. He was always gone at night. He was supposed to be Gunpowder’s room mate, but they barely even spoke. That day was the first time they’d had a real conversation. Gunpowder figured that’s why he was to take care of the store, as the current security wasn’t really up to snuff.

In the corner Gunpowder’s bed laid. Bed was perhaps a loose word to use, as it was more a stack of boxes packed closely together. Not even a blanket. Anana had offered to prepare something better to sleep on, but Gunpowder insisted on the current situation. “I’m used to it,” said he. The truth was, he hated it. It was cold and uncomfortable. More than that, he hated troubling the people he cared about. Did he care about Anana..? He was unsure. Still is. It didn’t matter. He still slumped onto the bed all the same.

~

He couldn’t sleep. How long had it been? A few hours? Still night, since it was too dark for a normal Pokemon to see in the shop. Gunpowder was no normal Pokemon, though. He could see clear as day. He was used to this darkness too, sailing all night to avoid being caught.

Before Gunpowder could get caught up in memories of yore, he heard something crashing to the floor in the front of the shop. It both alarmed and relieved him to know that someone else was as clumsy as he was in the shop. It dawned on him that this was.. unusual. Anana wasn’t clumsy. Who could it be, then? That Other from before? Anana had said she was to leave, but.. Gunpowder couldn’t shake it. As it was his job to make sure nothing happened, he decided it was time to take a peek.

He crept along the wall towards the door. Before getting there, he could hear.. a voice. Actually, two voices. Very distinct. One sounded like Anana, the other.. Deep. Raspy. Ugly. The opposite of Anana. Not that Other. This surprised Gunpowder. Who could Anana have invited to the shop at such an hour, he thought. Only one way to find out. He poked his head around the door, hoping to stay as inconspicuous as possible.

His eyes widened at the sights before him. Anana was walking backwards slowly, and clumsily.. no, not quite that. She was shaking, so possibly scared. Gunpowder wasn’t sure. Encroaching on her personal space was a yellow lizard.. thing. Gunpowder deduced the ugly voice belonged to that thing. How fitting, since it also looked ugly. Things looked bad, but Gunpowder, being astute as he was, decided to wait to see how things unfolded; he was taught to never make assumptions unless necessary. Or unless he felt like it. He didn’t feel like it this time, though.

“Look, there’s no needin’ t’ lie t’ me.. I can tell when thas the case. And it’s the case. Where is that ass?” It was the ugly voice first.

“I.. I don’t know anything...”

Anana was now pushed against a corner in the shop. She could barely move an inch. Her eyes now showed her fear. Definitely not a customer. Gunpowder was about to speak, in an attempt to scare the assailant away, but he was interrupted by that very same Pokemon.

“That’s quite a shame.. Dorsen said you’d know, and he don’t tend t’ make mistakes. I guess ya won’t tell me, then? Should I smash this shop up t’ help jog that memory o’ yers? Or maybe.. ” The ugly one stared at Anana. His look was very sly. “Well, at least it won’t be a total waste of my time, eh?”

His arm shot straight to Anana’s side, and the grip seemed strong. Anana tried to squirm away, but no avail. There were no tears forming in her eyes. Her day started so well, but then her sister ruined it all. This guy wasn’t making it better. She looked away and closed her eyes, unable to look at that monster any further. All she could hear was him laughing to himself under his breath.

Just when Anana thought things couldn't get any better (or worse), something whizzed right by her. Whatever it was, it felt fast and heavy. She could no longer feel the hand on her side. Had he run? That didn't make sense. He was so determined. This sudden movement was followed by a loud thud and the sound of many things crashing to the floor. Then a loud groan. A very pained one. It didn't feel right to her. Part of her wanted to just fall asleep. Just wait for it all to pass. But the part of her in control knew she had to open her eyes to find out what had happened.

In front of her stood Gunpowder. Anana was happy to see him, given her situation, but that feeling was not meant to last. The look on Gunpowder's face was one she had never seen before. He was baring his fangs, and he was growling. His eyes were murderous, and it was no wonder. Anana could hear the sound of something dripping on the floor; it was blood. The room even smelled of it.

She followed the path up, and to her dismay, it flowed along Gunpowder's arm. The arm lead straight into the chest of the yellow lizard she was dealing with previously, who was now pinned against the wall. Through coughing up more blood, the lizard managed to speak, muttering the words “its you” before going limp. It was the last ounce of his strength. He was now dead. Murdered.

Anana was not sure how to feel. On the one hand, he was going to do... something. Something bad. She didn't want to think of what it could have been. She couldn't. This lizard was probably not a good Pokemon to begin with and thus probably deserved it. It was probably a long time coming. On the other hand, someone was now impaled in front of her. Did anyone deserve such a fate? She felt dizzy. It was difficult to keep her composure.

Gunpowder finally snapped out of it. His face returned to its usual dumb look. He finally had a chance to assess his situation. He didn't even remember what happened. Still, even. One minute he was staring at the two, the next, he was staring into the dead eyes of Anana's assailant. The look on his face turned to one of shame and fear. He pulled his arm away and let the body hit the floor. He looked over at Anana to see that she was still shaking.

She was just a kid. She acted tough, she acted like an adult, but the reality was she was still young, at least compared to Gunpowder. She was so good at hiding it, but these were not normal circumstances. Tears were flowing down her cheeks. She began to bawl. Gunpowder wasn't sure what to do. Touching her in any way to comfort her didn't feel appropriate, since he was likely the cause. Leaving her there to suffer didn't seem appropriate, either. She just witnessed a rather violent death. A murder.

A murder. At Gunpowder's hands. He kept repeating that in his head. He couldn't get over it. He began to panic. He was a mess. What was he going to tell people? How was he going to deal with all of this? What am I going to do?

Gunpowder was fumbling for words. He was trying to explain what had happened, but he was having a hard time. That was when he noticed something unusual about the body. On the thing's shoulder was a tattoo. It sort of resembled Gunpowder's face, except more gnarled. Its sight gave him a sinking feeling in his gut. He understood now. It was that sight, along with Dorsen’s name, that threw him into a fit of rage.

He pointed it out to Anana very calmly. He explained the tattoo was a brand, of sorts. The brand of his family, of his brother. His name was Dorsen. Those with the mark were members of his gang. It had actually been run by Gunpowder's family for generations, hence why the mark resembled his face. Originally, only Pokemon sharing Gunpowder's species and family name were permitted entry to the gang. It seems Dorsen had a different idea of membership, letting such a hideous creature join.

They were a drug cartel, but that's really all Gunpowder knew. Following the death of his parents, he was next in line for taking charge, being older than his brother. When it was offered, he refused and ran. He had no choice but to run. No one refused such an offer and got away with it. Upon learning of Gunpowder's refusal, Dorsen swiftly took over the business and ordered Gunpowder's 'removal.' He had been running ever since. Typical sob story.

That was what caused him to lose it. His brother must have known where he was. This little grunt had an idea, so it was only natural. That wasn't a big deal in itself, but this guy suspected Anana was associated with Gunpowder. He couldn't let that information escape. He couldn't put Anana at such a risk. That's why he...

“How many,” interrupted Anana with a question. “How many before him?”

“None. This is the first. I've never wanted to do that. I've never wanted to sink to the level of...” Gunpowder paused. “A level that low.”

“Well, now you have. What now?”

Gunpowder shook his head. He had no idea. He wanted to leave. It was probably the best course of action. It would give Anana time to clean up. To tell the authorities. Gunpowder wondered if she'd rat him out. She certainly had no reason not to. Not like it mattered. All the more reason to leave. He told Anana this. She didn't say a word. He told her again. Still no response.

He was mulling over his options. Then he remembered his encounter with that Other. She wouldn't know what had happened. If Anana told the authorities, that PK wouldn't believe the story for one second, not because she trusted Gunpowder, but because her distrust for Anana was so great. Gunpowder recalled her destination was Tao Village. He vaguely knew where that was. It was now his destination, as well. It was almost too perfect.

Gunpowder had been so lost in his thoughts he hadn't noticed Anana rummaging through her cabinets. She was looking for something. It didn't take her long to find it, of course, since it was her store. It was Gunpowder's old hat.

Gunpowder had completely forgotten about it, having cast it aside when arriving. It reminded him too much of Bluegill. It used to belong to him, after all. It was his favorite hat, and Gunpowder greatly admired it. He gave it to Gunpowder just before they parted ways. It was painful to think about in his current state.

Anana brought it to Gunpowder and handed it to him. There was a cloth note pinned to it. It was Bluegill's writing. Gunpowder had no idea when he could have left a note, or why he hadn't received it previously, but he didn't really care very much. He wasn't the best at reading, and Bluegill's writing was terribly messy, but somehow Gunpowder could figure it out. It was like a doctor-receptionist relationship. It read:

Yo,

I figure I can't expect ya t' stay 'round that city

forever, eh? Well, whatever. Dunno when I'll

be back. You know how it is. Didn' mean t'

bail on ya like that. You know how it is. Well,

hopefully I'll see ya again.Outta space. Cheers.

Gunpowder removed the note and pinned it to the inside of the hat. Then, as is the natural thing to do with hats, he put it on his head. It was still a perfect fit. He was meant to wear this hat. Not some goofy hat for a shopkeep. This was who he was.

“He told me to give you that note only when you left. You are leaving, right?”

Gunpowder nodded. He stared at his yellow friend and noticed her color was darker than normal. He knew what it meant. He couldn't think about it. It was time to go. If he dwelled on it, he'd have considered staying, which he couldn't afford to do. He was not very good at goodbyes. Not very good at all.

He wanted to give Anana a hug to comfort her. He held his hand out to her, but when he got a look at it again he quickly retracted it. His vision was kind of cloudy. He didn't understand it. It was as if it was raining inside. But it wasn't. He took one last look at Anana before walking away. As he left, he could hear her sniffling, but it soon faded into the distance, with the city soon following. He was walking at a brisk pace, trying to escape everything as quickly as possible.

His head was a mess. He couldn't properly remember the order of events anymore. He still didn't. Not like it mattered. The only thing that did was making it to Tao. He had no idea what he'd do when he arrived there, or how long it'd take, but that was all he had on his mind now. He pushed everything else out. Anana, the bay, Bluegill, they'd all be forgotten for many, many years. It was a whole new life for Gunpowder in Tao.

How long had it been? When Gunpowder had left the bay, it was night, and it was now midday, but he had seen such a sight at least once before. More than a day and a half of walking straight in the heat. He had no idea where he was going anymore, but he was too stubborn to admit to being lost. At first, he was following the coastline, but had since diverged from that path. He was now walking on what he figured was a road. The dirt was packed down, for whatever reason.

Roads made him think of how sore he was. His body was adapted to harsh conditions, being a land shark, but even he could take only so much. Thoughts of the bay had all been pushed out of his head and replaced with images of water alongside thoughts of dehydration and sore muscles. More vampirism, too, just briefly. All he wanted was something to drink.

Just when he thought luck was against him, out the corner of his eye, he caught sight of something reflecting light in the distance. His excitement got the better of him, leading him to conclude it was a pool of water and head towards the source, which was slow and involved a lot of fumbling. He could almost taste it. He could certainly smell it.

It was then that Gunpowder realized luck knew no sides. Expecting to find a luxurious pool filled with ladies, he instead found a stinking cesspit of a swamp. It was not very big, so it was more likely just a standing pool of water. It was certainly not drinkable, not even to Gunpowder. He sighed, bowed his head, as was tradition for him when ashamed, and sat down on a nearby rock to pout.

“Hey! Hey you!”

At first, Gunpowder thought he was hearing things, but the voice shouted again. And again. He glanced around, trying to find it, and to his dismay, it sounded like it was coming from the swamp in front of him. He brought a claw up to his eyes to block out the light, and there, in the middle of all the muddy water, stood a rat-like creature. It looked like it was.. bathing. In that. Ugh. Gunpowder didn’t want to think about it. Gunpowder waved, lest the creature emerge to inspect him further.

“Well, howdy! Glad ya finally noticed, partner,” shouted the creature. He squinted to get a better look at Gunpowder. “Hoy, you’re lookin’ a bit scraggly, aintcha?”

Gunpowder nodded. He was trying not to draw too much attention to himself. All he could think was “please don’t come over here.” The rat hollered something unintelligible at Gunpowder, and then began to emerge from the swamp, and then.. walked straight up to Gunpowder. Great, he thought. This thing can read the opposite of my mind.

The rat put his damp paw on Gunpowder’s leg, which just sent shivers down his spine. Perhaps it was all a hallucination, Gunpowder thought to himself. Those happen to people after walking in the sun for too long, after all. There was no way Gunpowder’s mind could drum up such a creation. It was a dilapidated house in Pokemon form: scruffy and unkempt, walked with a bit of a limp, and was clearly missing its front teeth.

“So, what’s yer name, champ? Whatcha doin’ all the way ‘round these parts,” the creature inquired. It seemed like a curious beast.

“M-my name..?” Gunpowder couldn’t help but stutter. His mouth was too dry to speak without great effort. “... Gunpowder.”

“Gunpowder? That’s a scary untraditional name! Ain’t never heard anything like that before.” The creature wiped his ‘clean’ on his own fur, and held it out to Gunpowder. “Name’s Otis, by the way.”

Gunpowder reluctantly extended a claw to shake the creature’s paw, but before they could come into contact, the rat pulled away. Gunpowder realized his arm was still covered in blood, though by that point it had mostly dried and begun to peel off. Still, it was clear something bad had happened.

“Eh, you ain’t one’a them crazies, aintcha? I can’t afford to be gettin’ killed, y’hear.”

Gunpowder shook his head. He certainly couldn’t tell the truth, or he would be labeled insane. He awkwardly fumbled with his words until he came up with a reasonable alibi: he had finished cleaning meat for food the night before and forgot to wash up when finished. Having such sharp claws was rather handy, he explained with as few words as possible. The rat hesitated for a moment before nodding.

“Oy, I hear that. Glad to know there are other meat eaters out there, y’know? None of that pure veggie crap,” Otis said in a rather resentful tone. He continued to rant, and Gunpowder thoroughly paid as little attention as possible. In reality, Gunpowder hadn’t sampled much meat before, his tolerance for garbage was just much lower than usual. Besides, his mouth had its goals set more on liquids than any kind of food.

“Aye, don’ mean t’ be rude, mate, but I’m really damn thirsty,” Gunpowder interrupted. “Got any fluids on ya?”

“Oh! Of course, yes! Got some in yonder carriage! Come with me!”

Gunpowder had been oblivious to it, but a little further down the road, there was a rather large carriage. The large rat had already waddled most of his way towards it, shouting curses about walking slow along with Gunpowder’s name. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, but the creature’s rants were difficult to understand. Gunpowder’s legs weren’t exactly eager, but he followed shortly after regardless.

The carriage itself was actually hilariously unfitting for its occupant. It was ornate and well taken care of. A large size, too. More than big enough for Gunpowder and this fellow. There were two seats inside, opposing each other. At the front of the carriage, which Gunpowder could only assume was the creature in charge of pulling, was a large black and white.. thing. It was on all four legs. It looked very strong. It was bigger than Gunpowder, too. He knew who to pick fights with, and this beast would never be one of them. It looked friendly, though, and smiled at Gunpowder. He smiled back to be polite.

“Like the setup, yeah? I built it myself, I did!”

Gunpowder didn’t believe that for a second. Not one damn bit. He didn’t push it further, though. It wasn’t worth the effort. While telling the story of the carriage’s construction, the rat handed Gunpowder the jug of water he had fetched. It was unopened. Gunpowder stared at the rat fellow, and there was an unspoken agreement. The rat knew what Gunpowder meant, and while still continuing his tale, helped open the jug and handed it back. Gunpowder promptly shot down the liquid.

It was so freeing. His thirst was finally quenched. His face immediately lit up. He was happy for the first time in days, over a glass of water. How humiliating. Unfortunately, his afterglow was not meant to last. It was that rat’s raspy voice.

“So, be straight with me. What’re ya’ll doin’, anyway? Where ya headed?”

Gunpowder hesitated for a moment. He did that a lot when talking with strangers. He didn’t really trust anyone, except Anana. But now he didn’t really trust her either. No harm in telling this guy where he’s going, though.

“Aye.. Headin’ to uhh.. what’s it called? Tao? Summin’ like that.”

“Oh? What business ya’ll got ‘round there?” asked Otis, unusually more inquisitive than previously.

“Just.. lookin’ for a bit of work. I got some heavy baggage, if y’ know what I mean. Need a fresh start, heard it was a good place.”

“What baggage?” the rat creature thought to himself aloud. He began to search for a bag, confused, though he did give up after a short while. He must have thought Gunpowder was still struggling with dehydration and shrugged it off.

“Well, Tao’s a good place. Plenty o’ places to work! Could work at the Café, could work-for-hire with some merchants, and if you’re really bad off, that shady Devonshire fellow might have somethin’. He takes all kindsa workers, no questions asked, I hear.”

Gunpowder’s interest was piqued. Work without questions sounded like something he could really use. “How could I find this er.. Devonshire character?”

“Eh? Well, I don’t know much ‘bout him, other than he’s from Tao. I’m not from there, myself, but I think someone said he’s in a shady, boarded up ol’ buildin’. Not sure, though, so best t’ ask around.” Otis paused for a moment, walking up to the door of the carriage. “I’m a merchant myself, of sorts. A farmer, sellin’ seeds. Tao is my next stop, why dontcha hitch a ride? No charge, it’s no skin off my back.”

How.. convenient. Perhaps too convenient, but Gunpowder was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He graciously accepted the offer, hopping into the slightly-too-small-for-Gabites cabin. He couldn’t stand, but he could at least sit comfortably. Or maybe lay down. That seemed like a mighty good option, too. Either way, it felt great to not be standing for the first time in a while.

The inside was well-furnished, fitting with the decor of the exterior. Gunpowder pondered what he’d look like as a farmer, only briefly, as it seemed to turn a profit, given this rat’s belongings. It was a bit too much, though, which made him snicker a bit under his breath. The seats were as comfortable as they looked.

The carriage began to shake, and it scared Gunpowder at first, prompting him to look out the window, only to see that they were moving. Since Otis wasn’t panicking, Gunpowder assumed this behavior was normal, and he calmed down.

“Never been in a carriage before? It can be a bit scary at first, but it’s comforting! Ya’ll can take a nap if you’d like! Figure we’ll be there by the end o’ the day.”

Gunpowder had already laid his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Sleeping sounded like a very good idea. He could probably sleep forever, but reality would not permit him to do so. It didn’t feel like long before he had fallen asleep...

… and it felt like even less time had passed when he was woken up by the sound of the door opening. It was Otis, unsurprisingly, explaining to Gunpowder that they had arrived and that he should watch his step. Gunpowder paid no mind to such advice and promptly landed flat on his face, which his rat companion found most amusing.

The pair had barely exchanged words before Otis had departed for whatever his next destination may have been. Seemed a bit in a hurry. Gunpowder waved in thanks. Otis was a salesman, so perhaps he had somewhere to be. Deadlines seemed unusual to Gunpowder. He hoped this Devonshire fellow wasn’t a fan of them either. He hoped they got along well.

Gunpowder observed how quaint the village was. It was so much smaller than the bay, and the buildings had such unusual shapes. He didn’t know much of small towns. His home town and the bay were both rather large. It made finding the “shady, boarded up building” rather easy, however. It was merely a hop and a skip away.

At last, he stood in front of it, and it was then he realized his journey to Tao had finished. It seemed so much longer than it was. And the building in front of him looked far more sketchy than he had hoped. Was this really the place? he thought. He imagined all manners of terrible things befalling that rat in the event that it was bad advice.

Hopeless as it was, Gunpowder knocked on the door to the dilapidated building, genuinely expecting someone to answer. Not a soul. The only peep was the echo of his knock in the empty-sounding structure. It was starting to look more and more like Otis was just trying to avoid conversation about the subject and sent Gunpowder on a wild goose chase. That was when Gunpowder noticed someone coming around from the back.

“'hoy, the two of ya-- do ye know where at I can get a drink?” Gunpowder hollered. His rough and raspy voice quickly got the attention of the two Pokemon. One was a black and red fluffball, and the other was.. weird. Gunpowder didn't like his look very much. Looked lazy and a bit dense. So did Gunpowder, which he was and still is fully aware of, but he judged just the same.

He remembered that day quite well, in fact. It was one of the few things about his memory that wasn't foggy. It was, after all, the first day he met Devonshire. It was also the day he began to rack up the largest tab Spinda Cafe had ever seen, and to this day, it remains unpaid, save for a few coins here and there to avoid the guilt of debt.

Gunpowder had found Devonshire by harassing the staff at Spinda Cafe (which had also become a regular pastime of Gunpowder's), and then that fox and dog creature. They told him the entrance to Devonshire's elaborate cave system was in the back, covered by a rock. Gunpowder made short work of the cave system, as caves were his speciality. He thought he might even know the layout better than Devonshire, now.

As it turned out, that cute little fox was working for Devonshire and had just quit. Just as Otis had said, Devonshire offered him a job, no questions asked. Not just any job, though: a leader of this “Rogues guild.” Gunpowder hadn't known what a guild really was then, and he still didn't fully understand now. He was completely unfit for the job, but Devonshire was desperate, and so the two began their partnership.

Devonshire was very accommodating towards Gunpowder. If he needed anything – food, shelter, money – Devonshire would provide. It was a great deal for the two, since Devonshire had no need for material possessions, and Gunpowder didn't mind the work. In fact, he found it rather easy, at least at first.

Devonshire had Gunpowder taking on the more mundane tasks that he was incapable of doing, most of which involved leaving Tao due the ghost's inability to do so. Devonshire didn't care how Gunpowder accomplished these tasks, neither, and Gunpowder was quick to pick up some “mercenaries” to handle the especially simple things. Like cleaning his cave, or fetching him food, or massaging his back.. the sorts of things required to operate.

Those mercs were quick to join up with the Rogues. It seemed Gunpowder was more approachable than Devonshire. Not surprising, as most fear the dead. It was an efficient system: one handled recruitment, and the other handled jobs. The Rogues guild was Devonshire's right hand, and no one seemed to care. It seemed like Devonshire cared the least.

Eventually, the partners began to trust each other more. Or rather, Gunpowder began to trust Devonshire. He began to tell Devonshire all about his past, but the conversation mostly steered towards Gunpowder's brother and his gang. Devonshire didn't seem to care. At all. Nothing seemed to turn Devonshire away, but nothing really pulled him in, either. As far as Devonshire was concerned, they were just business partners.

Devonshire must have trusted Gunpowder, in his own special way, as the tasks he asked of Gunpowder became less mundane and more dangerous as time went on. It felt as if the outcome of the jobs was actually important to Devonshire. He also insisted Gunpowder do them alone. Gunpowder respected that, and stopped taking his cronies with him on any jobs. At the time, he didn't trust any of the guild members. He still didn't, and probably never would. It was just the nature of the business.

The way in which they were dangerous eventually lead to its own job. Contacts were found dead before arriving, and seemingly random dangers were befalling Gunpowder as he was out working. Weird things, like rocks falling on him, freezing temperatures, and intense headaches. Sometimes they were bad enough to send him home. Devonshire was rather suspicious of these events and investigated further, and found a real lead on the source.

Gunpowder should have made the connection at the time and been more prepared, but hindsight is always twenty-twenty. They had tracked it to “a small operation” not far outside the village. In fact, Devonshire found it was only one Pokemon behind it all, and he was hiring out all the 'work' against Gunpowder to keep himself hidden. Nothing hides from Devonshire, though, especially around the village. Gunpowder made a mental note to never get on Devonshire's bad side. Lying also seemed like a safe thing to avoid.

Devonshire decided it would be up to Gunpowder to solve it. “After all, this mess is your fault,” he said. Or something like that. Gunpowder was unsure how it was his fault, but he didn't argue with Devonshire. Not like help was needed anyway. It was only one Pokemon, and Gunpowder was considerably larger than any of the residents of Tao Village. Thus, preparations for his 'infiltration' were nonexistent. His plan was to storm in and apprehend the suspect. To him, it was a perfect scheme.

The location Gunpowder had been sent to was actually not unfamiliar. Since he had been living in the guild itself, invading Devonshire's privacy, the pair had been on the lookout for a place to put Gunpowder more permanently. Gunpowder insisted on it being a cave, and they had narrowed it down to one not far from the village. By coincidence, it was the very same cave Gunpowder stood in front of. A wiser Pokemon would have asked more questions, but Gunpowder was not that type. He walked right in.

The only light was from the entrance. There was no way to tell how deep the cave went. Gunpowder's eyes were trained to see in minimal light, not absence of light. If it went deep enough, it might have even connected to Devonshire's cave system, he suspected. It would explain how Devonshire pinpointed the location.

Gunpowder made a few more steps in. He sniffed the air, trying to pick up on the scent of whatever had been troubling him. It smelled.. familiar. He couldn't quite put his claw on it, but whatever it was, it made him feel uncomfortable. The smell was getting stronger, too. Gunpowder stopped moving. The scent was still intensifying. It could only mean the beast was approaching him. A fight was sure to follow.

Gunpowder tried to assess the creature based on his limited knowledge as quickly as he could, hoping to gain an advantage. Familiar scent, hires others to attack, never getting his or her own hands dirty, stays in a cave, and specifically targets Gunpowder. Connecting the dots, it would had to have been...

Before he had time to react, he felt something hit his head. It didn't knock him unconscious, but he was rather dazed. He couldn't see anything, and he couldn't move. His ears were ringing. He felt someone grab his arms and tie them behind his back, and then drag him along the floor. It was incredibly painful, but he was too out of it to scream. All he could do was wince in pain. He was soon surrounded by darkness. When he stopped moving, he felt his head get hit again, and again. Still not hard enough to knock him out, but more than enough to make him faint. Dizzy, too.

In his memory, there was a blank spot between being hit one last time and 'waking up.' He was awake for all of it, he knew that, but he just couldn't remember. He was sore all over. It was more than just his head. His arms, his legs, his sides, his.. Well, his everywhere. Places he didn't think could bruise were causing him pain. Perhaps his memory loss was for the better.

The area he was in wasn't dark like before. It looked like there was an opening in the ceiling of the cave that let some light in. It didn't look natural. He was still bound, but he had been positioned with his back to the wall. At least he was sitting up. That was the only plus he could think of. His situation looked very grim. His life flashed before his eyes. He hadn't really led a fulfilling life, so that only killed a couple minutes. He wasn't sure if his attacker would be back to finish the job, or if he was left to die.

Just then, a shadowy figure emerged from what Gunpowder thought was a corner. He couldn't quite make it out, but whatever it was, it was actually rather large. Bigger than him. His suspicions about his assailant were soon confirmed by his speaking.

“I've been looking for you, Finnegan. Why'd you leave home?”

It was Dorsen. There was no doubt. Only two knew his past that far back, his real name: Dorsen and Bluegill. Gunpowder would never have forgotten Bluegill's voice, and it was not the voice speaking to him now. Process of elimination left only one.

How did he find Gunpowder? The first thought he had was that Anana had sold him out. If her life were in danger, that would have been for the better. Gunpowder would have gladly traded his life for hers. The only reason Gunpowder could think of for her not to was that he liked her. Hardly a good one. Maybe he found Gunpowder by dumb luck. But then how could he have known about where Gunpowder was, seemingly at all times? The only person with that knowledge was-

His train of thought was cut short by immense pain in his side. Dorsen had kicked him, his claws sinking in. Gunpowder could easily be killed by them in one fell swoop, but it seemed Dorsen was more intent on torture than killing. Gunpowder always knew he was fucked up, but even this seemed like a lot.

“I'm talking to you, Finny ol' sis'. Are you even listening?”

Another kick, another wince in pain. Gunpowder refused to acknowledge his brother. Not with that name. Gunpowder had left it behind, and everything associated with it, which he had hoped included Dorsen. It seemed clear now the only way to have been rid of him would have been to 'fight fire with fire,' but Gunpowder didn't have it in him to take out his own brother when he had the chance.

“The family misses you ever so much! ... At least, they would, if any members were still alive,” Dorsen said in a tone that was clearly only meant to antagonize Gunpowder. “I hate you. I've always hated you. But I know the feelings might have been mutual, eh sis?”

Gunpowder recalled a fight they had at a young age. Dorsen had won the fight, yet Gunpowder was the one to walk away victorious. In the midst of the clash, Gunpowder had slashed at Dorsen's eye, causing loss of sight. He had worn an eyepatch ever since, which he had pulled back to show Gunpowder the scar that had been left.

“I don't forget anything, Finnegan. Especially not how much dad liked you more. Always. I hated that as much as you. Knowing how well you got along killed me, and eventually him. No one questioned his death. No one dared question me... but then, you left shortly after, which was a smart move. Too smart for you. How'd you figure it out?”

Gunpowder muttered a 'fuck you' in response. Deep down, he knew his parents had been murdered by Dorsen, but he didn't want to admit it to himself. He didn't want to think someone could be so heartless, so insane. Dorsen gave Gunpowder another body blow, which made his insides feel even more like ground meat.

“Don't you fucking dare speak like that to me! You are trash! To think, dad was going to put you in charge! A girl?! You are weak compared to me.”

That had always been a point of contention amongst Gunpowder's family. Gunpowder, being the eldest, was first in line for the head of the family 'business.' Never before had a female taken such a place. Gunpowder always thought it odd that, through the entire line of his family, no females were born first, and he suspected that if a female was born first, it was killed, and Gunpowder was just lucky.

Considering his family and species background – both of which are considered highly territorial – it was no surprise that Gunpowder's sex caused a lot of contention. There was a group that considered it irrelevant, that such a thing wouldn't dictate how the family was run. But there were also others that felt it would 'taint' the system. Dorsen was one who eventually came to believe this, as well, but with more intensity than any before.

“You wouldn't have even been useful for continuing the family. Just look at you! You're so small and weak!”

Gunpowder had lost interest in hearing Dorsen's meaningless taunts and had instead begun to devise a method of getting out. He was trying to weasel his arms out of the restraints without being noticed, but it was no use. Gunpowder briefly pondered how such a tight knot was tied with such worthless hands, but remembered it was probably more hired work. Gunpowder figured there was no use in holding back, since he was doomed no matter what he did.

“Funny that ya should call me weak, when you rarely be gettin' yer hands dirty. All that hired work t' mess wit' me.. I can't imagine how ya run the family. Pathetic, really.”

Gunpowder laughed. It was all he could do. Dorsen was not nearly as amused. He took up his claw, about to stab Gunpowder in the chest. A fitting end, considering Gunpowder's first kill recently. A chill ran down his spine, but it felt.. different. It was not caused by the thought of imminent death. Something else was there. Dorsen clearly felt it too, since he was frantically looking around. The room seemed to get colder, too.

“Who's there?! Wait.. You're-”

Before Dorsen could utter the name, a dark black spike shot through his chest. It reminded Gunpowder more of what he had done. It was not Dorsen's doing, but even still, it felt like he was further torturing him.

The cave turned dark, but not as if the light had been cut off.. Gunpowder could still clearly see himself and Dorsen's impaled body in front of him. It felt like purgatory. It was so cold, so empty... like the absence of emotion. So much so, in fact, that Gunpowder felt nothing at the sight of seeing his brother dying in front of him.

The darkness began to recede from the walls and shift to Dorsen. It was enveloping him. He was completely surrounded, with no escape. The shroud began to move downwards, through the floor. It was like a knife through butter, it moved so seamlessly, and yet so slowly. Dorsen's last word was just “Fin,” which he spoke just before his head was submerged in the rocky ground.

Near where Dorsen had been pulled under was a crack in the ground. Something had begun to ooze out of it, slowly. At first Gunpowder thought it was that darkness seeping out, but he realized soon that it was blood. It filled him with dread. Was he next? Why was someone doing this? Where had it come from?

The room began to fill with that same darkness again, with the origin being that same crack in the floor. Soon Gunpowder was completely surrounded. Against what he thought was the far wall was what appeared to be eyes. They were flickering, shining. They were getting closer. Below them a large mouth formed. It had immense teeth, and they were sharp. Gunpowder couldn't move, couldn't blink, couldn't even think. It felt like he was going to be crushed. He thought it was the end. He thought he would die at the hands of that beast. Or mouth, as it were. He finally managed to close his eyes to think of Anana, just one last time.

That was when he awoke. He shot up from his “bed,” panting heavily. His eyes were wide open. He was shaking. Terrified. It took a moment to get his bearings, and he realized he had suffered from a horrible nightmare. A nightmare that felt all too real.

Gunpowder realized he was not at all in his bed, but rather on the floor, against a wall. In front of him, lying in the middle of the room, there was a crack in the floor. The same crack from his dream. Was it the same cave, then? It seemed like it was. Gunpowder realized that his nightmare consisted of memories, some of which he was unaware he had. It felt so unnatural. The events that he actually remembered were distorted in the dream, too. It felt like.. like someone had warped his memories into a nightmare. It felt fabricated.

He tried to imagine who could do such a thing. Who would want to. Reliving those events, even through a dream, was complete torture. The list of potential culprits in his head became smaller and smaller, and he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach when he realized it had to have been someone he trusted. There was no one else with knowledge of such events.

His dismay soon turned to rage. It was an anger more intense than any he had felt before. Or perhaps not. There could have been more memories locked inside his head that he was unaware of. He felt disjointed, split apart. His mind was in disarray. His careful deliberation had reduced his assailant to one possibility. He didn't want to admit it, but it was the only thing that made sense.

Gunpowder stood up and bolted down one of the tunnels. Fortunately, unlike in the dream, the passages were now lit up, at least partially. Devonshire had made an effort to add a lighting system, which consisted mostly of holes in the ceiling. Perhaps it was more elaborate, due to the depth of some caves, but Gunpowder never really cared.

Not like he needed the light. Due to having lived around the caves for so long, he was very familiar with the network, and knew the way to Devonshire's office from anywhere inside of it. It was the fastest and most convenient way for Gunpowder to travel, but he always preferred the outside route. He had always thought it was because “he enjoyed the scenery,” but he knew now that it was due to repressed memories.

More than anything, though, Gunpowder focused on the name of that single Pokemon. The one who could wrong him, the one who could torment him so. It constantly echoed in his head, as if his mind were a great, empty hall. Every time he pictured the name, and the Pokemon belonging to it, his anger became increasingly intense.

That name was “Devonshire.”

It was actually a short dash to the underground of the law firm, which came as a surprise to Gunpowder. Normally when furious and heading to confront someone, it would feel as if time had stopped. Not this time. This time was different. Gunpowder figured it was because the culprit was someone he trusted. The only person he trusted.

The area around Devonshire's office was different from the rest of the caves. It was darker, colder, and more twisted. Gunpowder had never really concerned himself with such trifles, but his nightmare served as a wake-up call. The environment was so fitting for someone like Devonshire, so much so that Gunpowder could see the ghost's face on one of the walls. The more he thought about it, the worse he felt.

He had to stop and take a final moment to think. It all felt too unreal. He was always so selective of the people he genuinely trusted, but the few that he had were long gone from his life. Gunpowder pushed Anana away due to his inexperience, and he still had no real idea why Bluegill had left. Now, Devonshire's number had come up. Gunpowder figured it had to be some sort of curse.

Amongst his anger was a torrent of other emotions. Sadness for yet another loss and regret for having trusted Devonshire in the first place. Due to their relationship, there was also doubt and hope. Doubt about Devonshire being the culprit, and hope that Gunpower's doubt wasn't dumbfounded. He was conflicted, and briefly, thought about asking Devonshire for advice. Such an idea turned all those other feelings into fuel for his anger.

Gunpowder poked his head around the corner. Devonshire was sitting at a desk, working away on something, with crumpled paper scattered about the floor. He appeared tense, at least somewhat, and seemed to be mumbling, though Gunpowder couldn’t decipher it from his distance. An unusual thing for the ghost, but it seemed to put the situation in the pirate's favor. Many mocked Gunpowder, but one of the skills he was fluent in was combat. He knew how to sneak, and he knew how to get an advantage. Especially against Devonshire, a Pokemon he knew very well. Or at least, he had thought he knew.

Gunpowder had begun to tiptoe around the corner and towards Devonshire. Despite the dragon's large size, he was capable of being quiet. It helped that he was so familiar with the floor of that office. It would have been impossible to hear him coming, even for someone like Devonshire, who was almost within Gunpowder's reach. So close...

Unfortunately, the tiniest pebble thrown into a lake could create a wave. Or, in Gunpowder's case, a pebble kicked across the ground. Despite his great care, he had alerted Devonshire to his presence. The ghost turned around and looked at Gunpowder, that creepy smile on his face. Gunpowder hated that smile. Rather, he was mad enough at Devonshire—and now the world—that he'd hate just about anything. It seemed Devonshire felt the opposite.

“Ah, Gunpowder. I was hoping you would come. I needed to tell you—”

In a twist of irony, Gunpowder was quick to betray Devonshire's trust, swinging his claw at the ghost. He really didn't expect it to have any impact, since Devonshire had a tendency to phase through everything. To Gunpowder's surprise, an impact would have been a gentle way of putting it. The hit had sent Devonshire flying out of the chair and into the wall. Adding to the bewilderment was the loud sound created by the impact. It echoed throughout the cave-office. Gunpowder would never have been able to predict such an outcome.

He pondered the gravity of his actions, albeit briefly. He was fully aware that Devonshire appeared to trust him, and that he had betrayed that, but rationalized it as Devonshire deserving it. He was also aware that Devonshire was actually stronger than him, but he wanted answers, and violence was the best way to show his seriousness.

Devonshire appeared to pick himself up ever so slowly. Gunpowder knew it was a product of the moment, of his imagination, that Devonshire was actually moving at a normal speed, but that was how he saw it all. He wanted to see Devonshire weak, he wanted to see him suffer. He was so bitter, and angry, and confused.

Devonshire appeared to understand the situation no more than Gunpowder. After all, he had just been attacked by his partner of many years. Especially odd since Gunpowder had always been so respectful of Devonshire. Anyone would have been able to tell something was up, and Devonshire was always sharp and had a way with words.

“It seems you have something to say to me, first.”

To Gunpowder, it sounded like a sick and twisted joke. It seemed like he was being mocked. Thus, he responded in kind. The setup was throwing the chair in front of him at—and through—Devonshire, while the punch line was the desk. Gunpowder flipped it over, sending papers flying. As is typical behavior, Gunpowder laughed at his own wit, but it was unlike his usual yar-har. It was more of a cackle.

“Were you not interested in what I have to say at all, then? Without my papers, it will be more difficult to tell you.”

“No I ain't interested! I'm pissed, on account o' you fuckin' wit' me!”

Devonshire’s attention seemed to have been attained. Gunpowder had finally received some semblance of the reaction he wanted. He also seemed concerned. Gunpowder assumed it was all fake, but at least the two were getting somewhere. In Gunpowder's eyes, at least.

“I ain't gonna be playin' that game, Devonshire! You know what I mean! My dreams! My memories!”

“What sort of dreams, Gunpowder?”

“Wassat? What sort? You made 'em happen! The nightmare! 'Twas made up of all me old memories 'n such! I've only ever told you. No one else. It had to be you!”

Devonshire turned away to ponder, obviously deep in thought. To Gunpowder, it seemed like he was being ignored. Of all things that could happen, the thought of being ignored by Devonshire in such a situation seemed the worst, so it was only natural to jump to that conclusion without much thought.

“W-why won't you listen to me?!”

Gunpowder's voice was shaky, but somehow clearer than ever. So much so that it was hard to recognize. That raspy pirate tone had disappeared, and in its place was the voice of a lost child searching for his mother.

“Devonshire! Answer me!”

“Ah.. Yes. I am sorry, Gunpowder.” Devonshire paused for a moment, albeit brief. “Perhaps I have misunderstood the gravity of your feelings. You did hit me, after all.” Another pause. Gunpowder was growing tired of them. “Now, tell me. Why do you suspect me?”

Devonshire's choice of the word 'suspect' was all too perfect – indeed, all Gunpowder had was circumstantial evidence. Nothing concrete. Just his gut. But that rarely steered him wrong. He didn't like where it was sending him, but he had no choice but to pursue it. He hoped to be wrong, but had no desire to run from the truth. Gunpowder would never run.

“'Cause.. 'twas all personal. It had stuff with Anana.. With Dorsen! I only ever told that t' you! You were the only person I trusted. You were the only one who could do that!”

“Do you really think so, Gunpowder? Have you not forgotten that dragon's rampage? Do you suspect me the culprit of that, as well?”

Gunpowder thought about it. It really didn't make much sense. Devonshire stood to gain nothing from destroying the village. In fact, he'd suffered a loss thanks to the downtime of many members, including Gunpowder.

“Ain't got no reason t' do that, no.”

“I thought not. Would I stand to gain anything from tormenting you, either?”

That was true, too, Gunpowder realized. Although Gunpowder liked to slack off (to which he referred as “relaxing”), when he worked, he worked harder than anyone else in the guild. He was also one of the most physically capable for most tasks Devonshire needed. Torturing Gunpowder at all would be a net loss, just like Sorbet. Gunpowder shook his head at Devonshire.

“I'd not want to do such a thing to you for any benefit. You are a comrade, after all.”

Devonshire seemed to pause on that thought. So did Gunpowder. The silence was a bit awkward, so Devonshire was quick to continue.

“Bits and pieces.. as my memory comes back, it's always fragmented, but slowly.. Slowly I remember. I remember comrades. I would never betray one of them.”

Gunpowder was.. confused. Comrade? Like a friend? Coworker? Devonshire seemed to notice Gunpowder's confusion, though it wouldn't have been hard. Gunpowder frequently sent mixed messages to people, but Devonshire and he'd been working together for so long that it was no longer a concern.

“Ah.. I'm not used to such conversation. We've never really had a discussion such as this. How do you say it? Something.. personal? Not much is personal when you're dead, after all.”

Gunpowder was still discombobulated, but for different reasons. When he had come into Devonshire's office, he was filled with the burning fire of rage, but it had become a dwindling flame. He was still shaking, due to the rush, but he didn't feel the passion anymore. He wasn't sure what to make of that.

Most of the evidence Gunpowder had collected regarding the root cause of his nightmare was guesswork, and that which wasn't stacked against Devonshire being the culprit. Gunpowder had really begun to doubt his accusation. With Anana and Bluegill, he had lost their trust, and he had lost his trust in them, but with Devonshire.. Devonshire hadn't seemed to stop trusting Gunpowder, even if that trust was expressed in an unusual way.

A deep feeling of regret and guilt sunk into Gunpowder's bowels. He had attacked Devonshire, and it turned out to be without reason. He was wrong. He didn't know what to say, but knew he had to say something.

“Er.. Well.. Yeah. 'bout that. I ain't too good at it either, y'see. I start a personal conversation with a swift smack in th' face, y'know?”

The pair laughed at Gunpowder's comment. It was as close as an apology as the two would ever get. It did stick it Gunpowder's mind, though. He did hit Devonshire, and that's usually a recipe for ruined friendships.

“... Not sure if ye can trust me after that. Not sure at all, matey.”

“Gunpowder, were I to judge you for your mistakes, I would have replaced you long ago. We've had countless members come through that door, and yet I keep you here. I keep you here because I trust you. You'll get the work done, and without ridiculous questions.”

Gunpowder was rather flattered, which was a hard game to play with him. The only other capable of such a feat was Bluegill. Or he used to be, before dropping Gunpowder off to rot on land. Asshole.

“Trust is not an issue, my friend. You needn't worry about that.” Gunpowder caught a glimpse of a sullen expression on Devonshire's face, albeit brief. “In fact, I'm quite glad we had a chance to talk. Take it from someone who is dead. You should cherish the time you have. The time we have.”

Gunpowder was not really used to cryptic messages and puzzles from Devonshire. Usually the two were very blunt, so the words came as quite a surprise. There was no way he could decipher it, and so he decided to store it in his memory bank for later dwelling.

“A-anyway, matey, ye said ye had summin' t' tell me? Wassit?”

“I had almost forgotten! These notes,” Devonshire said, pointing to the mess thrown across the floor, “were something I was carefully assembling. I was going to take them to the library in the castle, to see.. what was it? Shinar? No, no, Lexy. It was Lexy.”

“Eh? What for, if I dare t' be askin'?”

Devonshire seemed to continue as if Gunpowder hadn't spoken, which was a little frustrating. Compared to what he had just dealt with, though, it was minor.

“I think some good will come of your torment.. I have my own goals, but perhaps Lexy can help find the culprit there, as well. Maybe they are related. At the very least, it will shed some light on the current situation.”

“Ideas? What sorts o' ideas,” Gunpowder asked, expecting to be disregarded again. And he was. Fortunately, Devonshire seemed keen on elaborating further regardless of Gunpowder's inquisitive mind.

“I've always been wondering why I can't leave Tao. Why I am shackled to this place. Others like me are not, so why am I special? I thought there was something.. keeping me here, but now I have my doubts. I've found nothing, in all this time. Nothing at all. It must be some other reason.”

“Y'think Lexy'll know, then?”

“He may,” replied Devonshire. It seemed he was paying attention to Gunpowder once more. “If anyone were to have such knowledge, it would be him.”

“Wait, yer goin' t' see that little morsel? Aintcha worried you'll go all darkness spreadin' and scary shit at 'im?”

“Ah.. Yes. That is a possibility. I shall do my best to return before nightfall, however. That should prevent any incidents, no?”

“Aight then. I'd hate t' see that Lexy deal wit' that mess.” Gunpowder rubbed the back of his head with his claw, made a slightly dumbfounded face, and cleared his throat. “Guess I'll let ye get t' yer business then, aye?”

“Yes.. These notes will take a while to sort out.” Devonshire had begun to pick them up. Gunpowder pondered helping, but figured he had done enough. Also, he didn't really feel that guilty about it.

“One more thing, Gunpowder.. That instrument is missing. Has been for a while.”

Gunpowder had been on his way out of the office when he heard that, stopping dead in his tracks. The Draconicello? Gunpowder was quite familiar with the name, and it stuck in his head, just as Devonshire's name had. After all, if there was one person in the village it could impact the most, it would be Gunpowder. It could be used to wreak havoc on the Rogues.

“W-what?! Have ye any idea who took it, then? Be it that dragon we took it from? Could he have infiltrated our ranks?” There was a slight bit of panic in Gunpowder's voice.

“No, no.. I don't think that's possible. We have infiltrated their ranks, and I've heard nothing of it. Besides, if he had it, he would have surely stormed the village by now. It went missing a short while ago, during that dragon's rampage, but it still would have been enough time for him to assemble.”

“Hey, do ye think whoever be messin' wit' me and th' ice dragon has it? Seems an awful coincidence, dontcha think?”

“I believe that to be a very distinct possibility,” said Devonshire, a proud smile across his face. “Which is why I want to warn you, Gunpowder. You should be very careful. If we are right in our assumption, whoever possesses it will want to come back for you. We.. can't afford to lose you.”

“A-aye.”

Gunpowder was still distraught, but knowing Devonshire would be around made him feel slightly more secure. Only a little, though. Before Gunpowder had a chance to dwell on what he had just been told, a familiar face came bursting into the office.

“Hey, what's going on? I heard a bunch of crashing and yelling earlier! But you seem fine. Did someone break in?”

It was Dmitri, who had quickly caught the attention and glare of both Devonshire and Gunpowder. Although Gunpowder had asked most of the questions he had, he was enjoying his discussion with his friend, and did not really appreciate Dmitri entering uninvited, even though he had every right to be there.

“Oy, matey, everythin's fine. Why dontcha just—“

“Ah, Dmitri, I have a job for you,” Devonshire said in a most dubious voice. “As you can see, my papers are.. scattered. Due to the break in, as you said. Would you care to help me pick them up and sort them?”

Dmitri appeared quite excited with the idea of being assigned a menial task by Devonshire, since he was always happy to help the ghost. The two seemed to get along really well, which further strengthened his trust in Devonshire. After all, Dmitri would act on Devonshire's behalf without question, and would have been an adequate replacement for Gunpowder. And yet...

“I.. I guess I'll be takin' me leave then, aye, Devonshire?”

Devonshire didn't seem to respond, and appeared to be searching for something at his desk. Gunpowder had little to no interest in finding out what it was, and had begun to depart for home, figuring the lack of response counted as an affirmative one. As soon as his back was turned, however, Devonshire shouted his name.

“I don't want to forget to give you this. You dropped it a while ago, and I decided to keep it, though I don't know why. You clearly don't need it.”

Devonshire threw something in Gunpowder's direction, which he attempted to catch with his claw. Such appendages were useful mostly for stabbing, so Gunpowder's method of catching most things was acting as a ring toss and hoping the item would have a ring of sorts.

Fortunately, this one did. It was his eyepatch, which he had last seen during his encounter with Sorbet. He had been unable to find it, thinking it lost, but it was clear now Devonshire was the reason it had vanished.

An awkward silence had fallen over the office, forcing Gunpowder to leave, partly due to him being the cause of it. He stared down at the patch, wondering where it had originally come from and why he had it when it hit him. His dream was wrong. After Dorsen had been killed, Devonshire didn't come to attack Gunpowder, but instead approached to give him a gift. It was the eyepatch Dorsen had been wearing. Devonshire had taken it as a memento for Gunpowder, as a means to always remember what had happened. More importantly, it was to show Gunpowder that he could trust Devonshire, which was why he always wore it.

Wearing it seemed rather pointless now. Everyone in the village knew he didn't need to, but that didn't make it fake. Gunpowder pondered the idea of him not losing trust in Devonshire were he to wear it once more, but he realized such a thing was just superstition. He thought about throwing it away, but in pondering its history, he had arrived at the entrance to his home, and decided stashing it would be a better choice. With the memories of its past, he couldn't bring himself to make that same mistake again.

The cave was empty, so Gunpowder figured Dmitri was still with Devonshire. He didn't think it would take that long to put everything back in order, but perhaps he was underestimating the work involved. Not like it mattered. It had been such a long day, starting with the nightmare and ending with acting out at Devonshire. Was he losing it? Maybe. At least he still had Devonshire.

Gunpowder sat down on the end of his bed, which was actually just rocks pushed together and covered with assorted hides. Hardly a bed at all, especially compared to what the Merchants had. Better than nothing, and certainly better than what he had with Anana. Anana...

He couldn't shake that thought. He had lost Anana and Bluegill, and thought he would lose Devonshire, but he was wrong. So wrong. It was both relieving to think that life didn't always suck, but also rather depressing to realize that it still did most of the time. Perhaps he was just being negative due to the stress. That was probably it.

He had become rather nostalgic, though, and took off his hat, taking a peek inside. The note was still pinned there, rather faded due to time's passage. It was still readable, though that was likely due to having been familiar with the note's contents. The inside of his hat seemed to be a good place to hide forgotten and painful memories, in particular his eyepatch. He pinned it in front of the note, but couldn't seem to take his eyes off of it.

Dorsen and his home town.. He really couldn't remember that much about either, and although his brother treated him so poorly, there was still the confusing feeling of loss surrounding him. Everything about his past made him feel sad. It was an emotion he was mostly unfamiliar with, and the last time he had felt anything similar to it was when he had left Anana behind. Thinking about how his feelings were similar to then only intensified them. His vision was blurry, just like that same time.

This time, though, he had nothing to hide. There was no need to walk away, and no one was looking. No need to act tough, either. He hated the feeling, but he hated the idea of not letting it out even more. It hurt, but at the same time, feeling tears run down his face was oddly comforting. He was crying.

“Gunpowder, are you alright?”

It was Dmitri, with the worst possible timing imaginable. That seemed to be something Dmitri was good at with Gunpowder. Or maybe he was just being negative again. Didn't matter. Gunpowder didn't know what to say, so he said nothing. He was in his moment of weakness, and had no desire to talk to anyone. Especially not Dmitri.

Dmitri, being naturally curious, walked over to Gunpowder, sitting next to him. Gunpowder considered him thick at times, but he was certainly capable of recognizing sadness. Crying made it especially obvious, but Dmitri wasn't really sure how to be comforting. He went to put his hand on Gunpowder's shoulder, but the shark was quick to swat it away.

Dmitri wrapped his arm around Gunpowder from the back, knowing it to be a bit of a blind spot. Gunpowder wanted to push Dmitri away again, but.. it was rather comforting. Gunpowder would never admit it with words, but emotions speak much louder, with his crying only intensifying after Dmitri managed to get close.

When Gunpowder had finally finished his sobbing, Dmitri asked what was wrong once again. In an unusual turn of events, Gunpowder decided to actually fill him in. Normally Gunpowder would dismiss it or make up some bullshit story. This time it was serious. As much as Gunpowder was concerned about gossip, he figured it was time to start putting a little trust in the person he lived with.

Dmitri listened attentively to Gunpowder's story, and seemed very interested in it all, which Gunpowder thought was unusual. Mostly he thought that because he always ignored Dmitri's banter. Perhaps it was time to start listening, to start treating Dmitri as a friend.

Gunpowder had finished his story, and asked Dmitri to be alone, to which Dmitri initially objected. However, Gunpowder had assured him that everything would be fine, now that he had been given a chance to talk about it. He was done being upset and just wanted to get some sleep, hopefully free of nightmares. Dmitri agreed.

Not like Gunpowder could sleep anyway. He was still dwelling on his past, but moreso he was concerned about his future. Concerned for Devonshire, mostly. His friend was.. changing. Not in a negative way, but change was always scary to Gunpowder. He didn't want to lose Devonshire. And there was the Draconicello. Gunpowder was at risk, too.

A person he didn't expect to be concerned about was Dmitri. When Gunpowder thought about it, he realized that he already considered Dmitri a friend. Something about his curiosity and lack of knowledge was both interesting and frustrating to Gunpowder. A perfect opportunity to play pranks and joke around, which had given Gunpowder a more sunny disposition in recent times. Gunpowder liked that. He liked Dmitri a lot, too.

Thinking about that calmed his nerves. Things felt much less bleak. It finally allowed him to drift into a sleep.

@@ Line 13: / Line 13: @@
   | Stories =
   | Rewards =
+ | Author1 = Latiass
+ | Illustrator1 = PK
   | Links = [http://pmd-explorers.deviantart.com/gallery/37238682 All 17 parts]
 }}

Difference between revisions of "Well of Memories"

Revision as of 03:54, 14 May 2013

Navigation menu

Personal tools

Namespaces

Variants

Views

More

Search

Navigation

Tools