Fandom Sands of Darkness (Pokémon)

[Gold.]

Introduction
~
“Welcome back from the break, we’re continuing our coverage of the missing ship known as the S.S. Libra which vanished under mysterious circumstances only just three days ago. Rescuers are conducting an on-going search for the missing people and Pokémon lost at sea, but foul play is expected. We go now to one of the men heading up the case, Detective…” Ryker heard the sound of the TV coming down the hall first. A sigh and a roll of his eyes. Of course they were still going on about this. He entered the kitchen, unsurprised to see his grandmother seated at the kitchen table, peeling potatoes and watching the news. She’d had the TV on multiple different news stations since the incident three days ago, and she’d been pretty attentive to it since.

“Why don’t you watch something else, Nana?” he suggested as he strode past her to one of the kitchen drawers. He opened it and fumbled around the miscellaneous items inside, forgotten coins and fortune slips clinking together. She had to be getting sick of watching the same story over and over. Ah. There it was. He fished an old, grimy police's badge out of the drawer and slipped it into his pocket, satisfied.

“Are you kidding? This is the story of the year!” she exclaimed at him from her spot, giving him that look like, ‘do you have to act so young and stupid?’
“Are you going out today?” she asked him before he could reply. Out, Ryker knew, meant out of town.

“Yeah,” he responded with a slight nod. “I’m going down to Gateon to pick up that bike part for Yuri.” Yuri was an acquaintance of Ryker’s who battled at the colosseum sometimes. He lived on the other side of town, and he’d crashed his bike last week and was trying to repair it. He’d had to order the part from elsewhere, but since his bike was totaled, he couldn’t go and get it. Ryker had offered to pick it up for him.

“Good, get some papaya while you’re out,” Nana said without even looking at him. “And don’t you dare forget this time, unless you want to be disowned.”

“I won’t, Nana, I’ll get the papaya,” Ryker promised with a sigh, knowing her threat was an empty one. She always said that ever since he’d forgotten her papaya one time. “I’ll see you in a bit,” he said, then walked towards the front door. He pulled on a long duster hanging on a coat rack and grabbed a set of keys off a nearby hook. Then he opened the door and stepped out into the hot sun.

“Well hey there neighbor!” Keegan was leaning up against the rinky fence that wrapped around Ryker’s yard. Lurking about, as always. An easy smile was spread across his features. “Are you going out?” Keegan reached a hand over the fence. Ryker took it and they did a little bro handshake absentmindedly. Out still meant out of town. Ryker noticed Keegan was wearing a dusty black leather jacket himself.

“Are you?” Ryker asked, quirking a brow at Keegan as he opened the gate and exited his yard. Little bits of sand shifted under his feet as he walked.

Keegan's smile widened slightly. "Only if you are, neighbor," he said. A pause as they crunched over the sandy trails and then, "What happened to 'It's not a good idea for me to leave Pyrite Town right now, I don't want people to worry?'" As he went, he dropped the tone of his voice, mimicking his idea of Ryker's speech patterns. The man in question rolled his eyes. "Seriously though," Keegan said, his face growing serious. A rare display, coming from him. "People are starting to get a little bit worried." A nod of affirmation from Ryker. He knew that already, of course. "I think maybe you should come out and say something, put people at ease. Y'know, work your usual magic!"

He knew that too, of course. "It'll sound a lot better if we have something concrete," Ryker murmured in reply. What a disaster. This whole incident, suddenly Orre was in the spotlight on the international stage. No one had cared about them before and now it wouldn't be long before things escalated further, trade sanctions were put into place, more Interpol would show up... he needed to find this stupid ship, and find it fast. But oh, things got better, as they always did. The media was stoking people's fears about kidnappings, evil villains, and crime syndicates; an article had been written about Ryker himself dredging up his past, implying he'd been part of the ship's disappearing act. People were really starting to freak out, even the criminals he knew. For three days now he'd been trying to hold things down in Pyrite, keep the colosseum operational for normalcy and finance, and try to dredge up information about the missing ship.

"Anyway," Keegan said after an unusual, extended silence from him, "I heard you're going to Gateon 'for Yuri,'" air quotes at that part. "Why? I told you, nobody out there knew anything. And your weirdo stalker was hanging out there. Oh, are we going to teach him a lesson?" Keegan's eyes were alight, and he clapped a fist into an open palm.

"Get real," Ryker said with a sigh. On the edge of town, they skirted around one of the rocky outcroppings that protected Pyrite from the worst of the desert storms, heading towards where a series of bikes were parked. The vehicles all belonged to residents, specialized to get around a region that, otherwise, didn't have any infrastructure.

"Forget the harbor," Keegan pressed. "I've been thinking about it, we should head north and question the Crane Lab, hit Clover Sanctuary. They were heading the research project, maybe they wanted to steal all that info for themselves. And the Sanctuary, they've got rare Pokemon. Maybe they've got something like that leviathan thing." The single eyewitness report from the incident. A report of a massive sea monster carrying the ship away.

"Aren't you the one concerned about public image right now?" Ryker quizzed. "If you're so worried about your stalker friend writing about me, do you really think I should go out and harass a sanctuary for Pokemon right now?"

Keegan frowned as they reached their bikes. Ryker ignored the expression, double checking the extra supplies he kept in the bike bags in case of emergency. "You should take this guy seriously, he could ruin your reputation!"

Ryker swung a leg over his bike, settling back into the seat. He turned a blank expression onto his friend. "Are you coming with me to Gateon or not?"
Keegan mirrored his movement, the frown leaving for a cheeky grin instead. "Someone has to work the PR team around here." There was a roar as they started their bikes, sand flying in all directions. In only a few moments, they were riding off under the morning sun, west towards Gateon Port.

Ryker
~
It was only a four hour drive (with good weather) to Gateon from Pyrite. The two pulled it off in three hours and thirty-nine minutes. At least I'm getting a win on something around here, Ryker mused as they parked their bikes outside of town and began descending the slight, sloping incline that led into the city proper. The buildings were in Gateon were old, crumbling white structures that had probably been quite pretty when they were new. Along the docks, dilapidated boats were moored, bobbing with the tides. The rest of the town was sort of tiered and many of the buildings had signs darkened with age or cracked neon displays. The most eye-catching structure was a nearby clam house that advertised a musical dining experience. The two men passed a group of rough-looking sailors huddled together in the plaza, playing a dice game. Ryker made eye-contact out of the side of his eye with one, and the man looked away with haste. Ryker's own gaze flicked away, uninterested. No one would bother them. The sailors in town might've been the rough and tumble sort, intimidating in their own way; but Ryker and Keegan were dressed for the desert, and everyone in Gateon knew better than to pick a fight with anyone that came out of the east.

Ryker spotted his target and locked on, his stride picking up the pace, scattering a flock of Wingull pecking at the cracking plaza tiles out of his way. Shellder Shack Hotel. The only one in Gateon. The one that housed almost all the outsiders that came for a stay in the region when they first arrived. The only place for a tourist to charter a dune buggy to leave town. And the best part? They kept their records old school. Striding past any people lingering outside, Ryker slammed the heel of his palm into the front door and shoved it open, not breaking step for a second as he entered the outdated lobby. The floors were fading beige carpet and the walls had once been white, Shellder statues and other motifs decorating the space. The woman behind the counter stuttered mid-greeting as they came in, seeing the look of intensity on Ryker's face. He was at the counter, slamming the grimy police badge down on the counter in a flash. "I need your records and financial status on everyone who checked in or out in the last month."

"I-I don't think I can--" the woman stammered. "I would need to ask my manager--"

"Then go get your manager. This isn't a request," Ryker growled.

Keegan
~
"Sorry, 'scuse us!" the blonde said with a friendly laugh and an apologetic smile directed towards the people outside that Ryker stormed past. "What the hell are you doing?" he hissed into Ryker's ear, smiling all the while. Keegan knew better than to try and stop Ryker once he was on target though, so he simply picked up his pace and rushed after his friend. Oh boy, and here we go, Keegan thought, watching Ryker slam his police badge down onto the counter and start barking orders. You didn't wanna drive by the sanctuary because too conspicuous, but what the hell is this then?!

"I'm so sorry, miss," Keegan cut in smoothly, smiling his easy smile. He opened his leather jacket, briefly showing off the shiny OPD badge pinned on the inside. "My partner doesn't get to leave headquarters very often so he has no idea how to act in public, please ignore him. If we could just see those records in a timely manner...." A gentle laugh and a casual appealing glance to the other people in the lobby, as if to say, nothing to worry about here, folks!

 

[Zedalith]

Vegas Riviera

The Journalist

Krabby Club

smooth sailing

interactions

me myself and i

Idle din and clanking cans. This place amounted to aught else. Patrons nursed from sizzling cola and discount fries like hapless morons–stomachs bulking with heavy paunches protruding from their belts. They ignored the world around them, the panic, the terror–instead, they stuck to mindless hedonism while the world crumbled around them. It assaulted his senses, vile scent clinging onto the fabrics he wore, violating and odorous.

The Krabby Club, stood in an unassuming corner of Gateon Port with music so thunderous that you could hear it before you even saw the sign. The bar was sparsely populated. The noise of boots squeaking against the floorboard was audible in the brief pauses where the song changed.

People had a habit of striking up conversations in places like this. They drank, they cried, and spoke words that best go unsaid, not knowing who was listening.

Everything in Orre was bronzed and dusted. Creaking floorboards, worn roads, and an uneducated populace were just some of the amenities the denizens were kind enough to provide. Everyone he addressed always had a look in their eyes that communicated their desire for him to hop on the first boat elsewhere.

His pen rasped against paper while a thumb massaged the back of his notebook. The digital age brought with it a boon of advances in exchanging information. But, there was just something intimate to pen and paper. That aged feel in your hand and the inky scent of dye-staining paper had a way of enthralling him and helping him become his best self. It was a needed aid, given his standing here.

His eyes flitted upwards to look across the top of the page. The bartender swiped the bartop with a grey, well-used rag. They dusted the tabletop with large and smooth motions. The bartender’s cheeks were sullen. Gray hairs spouted from his chin like mold after the rain. His glasses sagged from his right ear, ill-fitted for his thin, gaunt face. There was an obvious attempt at avoiding eye contact with Vegas that was made by the older man.

Vegas only offered a silent appraisal. Pitch-black eyes sifted through the barkeeper's countenance, greedily devouring every inane detail. The barkeeper's shoulders became slack, and he seemed so much smaller.

“Can I help you?” The words jolted out of the barkeep’s hastened lips. Their eyes became much more ravenous, donning a challenging glare. The barkeeper’s fingers clamped down on the tabletop, leaving imprints in the shape of their nails in the soft oaken wood.

Vegas returned the glare with a smile and a mouth full of mirth. He leaned forward, white coat swaying at the sides of the barstool.

“I’m new in town, and I could use a friend. Someone whose job is to talk .. and hear things,” he spoke coyly. His arm reached over the tabletop, and he rubbed circles into the wood with the top of his pen.

A scoff was relieved from the older man’s lungs. It was a long and croaky sigh–his lack of amusement was unmistakable. “I can’t help you with that,” he spoke dryly. His shoulders flipped as he spun around at the ankle.

“You have a ring on your finger, are you married?” Vegas asked to deaf ears. The barkeep paid no mind, instead, they drew further apart, legs carrying them an increasing distance away from the source of his irritation.

“That younger girl you were talking to earlier–she your wife?” Vegas cried, his hands forming a makeshift microphone so that his voice might carry across the bar. The barkeep's legs locked in place. His hands clenched tight. Curious looks became pointed their way. Save for the sound of music blaring in the background, the bar fell silent.

The barkeep turned and waltzed forward. His lips formed a tight line that sliced across his jaundiced face. His lowered eyelids became a loud warning, danger mingled with the latticing of his leathered skin. “Keep it down,” his voice was low and gravely–like the rumble of a bear when you’ve stepped too close to their cub.

Vegas’ smile turned up at the corner. He then lifted his right leg to cross over the opposite one. Vegas reached into his pocket and pulled out a card, before sliding it across the table with his palm resting on top of it. “You hear anything about Cipher, Ryker, or our missing boat, you give me a call?”

The barkeep stared down at the offered item. His brows grew closer while wrinkles settled even further across his weathered forehead. Vegas blinked and the card was snatched from his hand. The older man grumbled something under his breath and turned his neck to begin to step away.

“Wait! Before you go…how about you buy everyone here a drink of choice?” He asked, no, demanded. His neck twisted and his head tilted at such an angle that white tresses draped from his head. “Say it’s on V.” His bright pink eyes flooded with mischief.

“Tch… A round of free drinks, courtesy of V!” The bartender declared, with a baritone voice rich enough to carry through the wide walls of the bar. Satisfied, the younger man ushered the bartender away with a flick of the wrist.

With the tension defused, the rumble of the bar seemed to return. The clatter of glasses and the pouring of fizzy beverages overtook the scraping of his pen as he scribbled a note within the confines of his notebook.

 

[Teh Frixz]

Kira
*THUMP*

*THUMP*

*THUMP THUMP*

Panic hit Kira like a hammer to the head. Eyes still deeply locked into her own abstract dreamscape, they were forced open as the primal part of her brain was set alight in fear. Cave in. The fearsome reaper of Oreburgh, the tales she'd heard as a child of miners trapped for weeks in the dark, watching their supplies of water and air slip away. Heart racing, she rolled to the side, avoiding a vein of limestone and falling off her bed. The immediate panic she felt was replaced by the throbbing pain in her head as it bounced off her poorly positioned backpack that she'd tossed aside when arriving in her room. Gripping her head and groaning, she looked up just in time to blink sleep out of her eyes and to see Igg stare right at her before running into the door once again, eliciting the same

*THUMP*

Kira's pained groan turned into a growl of frustration with the irritating little Rolycoly purposefully ramming the door to annoy her. He did this every single time he was excited and it was getting old fast. "IGG!" Kira tumbled forward from her seated position and tackled the Pokémon, ignoring both the heat and the hard edge of the coal Pokémon to lift him up and toss the nearly thirty pound creature onto her bed with a thump. "See how you like getting tossed around..." She felt momentary concern about the state of the bed before Igg began rolling in desperation, the sheets feeding into his wheel. Quickly she grabbed the sheet, pulling it free and laughing at the fearful look in Igg's eye. "C'mere, stop worrying you lug."

Joining Igg, she gave the living lumps of coal a bit of a cuddle, feeling his distress at being tossed around fade. He wasn't a comfortable Pokemon, to say the least, but he was hers and she was his. They'd been through so much together already, nights of worry for her Dad, the anxious pacing outside the hospital while her baby brother was delivered. She'd looked into that stupid red eye countless times and each time whatever worry that engulfed her, felt lessened. Igg spun his wheel as she released him, letting him return to the floor of her rented room. He sped off to go bother her dirty clothes while she inspected herself in the mirror.

It was early for most but for Kira, this was sleeping in. They'd just gotten in to Orre the night before and travel always took it out of her. Something about hurrying up to wait, then hurrying to a transfer, then waiting again, BLEH. Kira shook off the last of the feeling of travel and ran her hands through her hair. Her tan skin set off against the dark of her hair, the same green eyes staring back at her just as they always did before landing on the patches of coal dust now present on her from Igg. She sighed, trying in a futile attempt to rub the dust off her muscular arms but failing. Stepping away from the mirror, she crouched beside her pack and carefully withdrew a pokeball, gesturing to Igg who'd been watching her from his makeshift bed. "C'mon Igg, can't have you tearing up the room while I shower off. Let's go." He rocked back and forth once in the gesture of a nod before she opened the ball and in he went, leaving her alone in her room for the first time since arriving.

Grabbing a towel and a few bath items, she tossed it over her shoulder and left her room, hurrying down the the showers while it was still dark outside. At the very least, a perk of waking early was the ever present amount of hot water.

A little later, a squeaky clean Kira, newly dressed in shorts and a black tee half ran down the stairs to the lobby with all her things neatly packed up on her strong back. Breakfast was just getting setup and one of the tables had her name on it. The seat creaking under the weight of her and all her things until she decided to simply set her pack on the other chair sharing her table before getting in line to load up a full plate.

It was a big day after all. Her first full one in Orre and a day full of opportunity to start the hunt for exploitable land rich in mineable resources. She openly gobbled down her plate, eating quickly before returning to fill another plate. It was going to be a long day and dinner had been meager. If she was going to find anything, she was going to have to go where people weren't already at and that usually meant roughing it. Good thing Orre was practically empty, even by Sinnoh standards. She continued tearing into breakfast, watching people begin to slowly filter in. She'd have to wait some time anyways till the right clerk came in and she could schedule a buggy out to the wild. Pulling a map out, she covered the table with a detailed geographic representation of Orre and lost herself in planning for a while. That's what a good miner did. Measure twice, dig once.

Enough time had passed before Kira realized that she probably had to get in line to get a buggy. Her brain had been lost in planning and details of the frustratingly ill surveyed Orre for so long that the Lobby of the hotel had filled up. People idling about, chatting, getting breakfast and snacks. She looked about to see a pair of young men talking to the woman working the counter. The same woman who she checked in with here at the Shellder Shack but now she seemed a bit distressed. Kira frowned, never liking to see staff mistreated. Her family and most of her town were working class and they didn't get paid enough to get harassed by customers.

She prepared herself to say something before the second man came over to smooth things out. They looked the same way the rough sort that always expected the mining lands to be ignorant of their misdeeds looked. But whatever the issue, it seemed to be taken care of with a smile and a laugh. She got up anyways, making eye contact with the laughing man before getting in line with her things a few feet away from them.

"Hey, don't mean to barge in..." She started, totally barging in to their conversation with the clerk. "But do you intend to be long, something made me realize I've been here too long and need a ride into the desert..." Kira nodded to the brochures. "Running kinda late now." She gave the slightest of knowing smirks.

Gold.