The Viterals

Chapter 18: Farore's Kiss

They took inventory. Without any Pokémon Centers and a dwindling supply of berries, potions and powders, they would need every able Pokémon they could if they wanted to get out alive. Farore had a full line up of six, and surprisingly they were mostly untouched. Isaque was fully stocked as well, and according to him, other than his Magneton, his other five were in Hitmontop-shape.

Bambi's lineup consisted of: Umbreon, Houndour, and Bayleef. It would help, especially with the two dark types, but it still didn't seem enough. And when Farore got a good look at Zakana's line up she almost lost all hope entirely. Not that she had any hopes on Zakana to begin with, but still, she expected something . . . a little more . . . adequate.

He had a Slowpoke, who tended to try and swipe at its own tail, which was impossible given the things genetic make up and general slowness, and also a Happiny—a baby Pokémon that couldn't really fight until it evolved into its next form, Chansey. Then there were the baby Eevee, one that Farore watched over and one that Zakana watched over. Making their protection team arrive at a grand total of 19 Pokémon!

It was inconceivable. Seeing how many men were outside, and how they could, (if the rumors were true) just run to the nearby Pokémon Center and heal their Pokémon right back up, if something didn't go their way. This wasn't like a battle back at the Gym. This was an army against a small rag-tag team of Farore, a Team Rocket member, a student who'd been using Pokémon for less than a year and a man-boy who probably didn't even know where to begin when it came to type weaknesses.

They all looked at her for answers, as those seconds passed into early morning, minutes morphed into worry, and doom.

She thought of The Federation. Gym Leader Challenges were fast approaching and new, spunky, know-it-all trainers would be gunning for Farore's spot. 17-year old Farore and her infamous rise to power at age 14, dropping out of the Academy to become the biggest and baddest hotshot fighter in all of Kanto was a spot every trainer in the Universe wanted to topple. (The Pokémon Herald's words not hers). Who would be the first 13 year-old to become a gym leader? A 12 year-old? 11? Farore studied Bambi, and wondered if she looked at her and thought of such a challenge. She was exactly the kind of spunky trainer she'd seen, but without the Machamp-sized ego.

"So what are we gonna do?"

The questions couldn't stay away forever. Farore looked at Isaque. He wasn't her friend in this fight, but he wasn't her enemy. If he could help in what was to come, then she'd owe him. And in that moment she knew she couldn't have done this without him.

"What's the status?"

Bambi and Zakana shuffled into view.

Isaque pointed this way and that. "All the windows and doors have barriers and protection fields around them." He spoke in a professional tone, as though giving reports was something he did in his sleep. "We'll station Bambi's Houndour at the main entrance, in case Psychics or Ghosts try to get in that way." Isaque pointed to the other end of the warehouse. A clean line devoid of boxes and machinery had been cleared. Aisles existed where there was once chaos. "Umbreon will be on the backend."

"Bayleef's aromatherapy has Kappa feeling much better," Bambi said. "She has that old spark back in her eyes."

A black, silky smooth Pokémon sat guarding the back door dutifully, its two babies circling it like Ring-Around-The-Roserade players.

"Windows?" Farore asked.

"Yes." I can't think of any other way to get in," Isaque replied, truly stumped.

And Farore began to think: If Glaukus were here, we would never lose. Where was he? Farore couldn't go to his gym because they had to look for the ultimate risk to their safety, Zakana. His eyes, his face—they were slowly gaining their color and it seemed he would be back in the land of the living soon. Farore had to admit, given his complete and utter disregard for the beauty of Pokémon and his general bad attitude, he was at least handsome. His exhaustion peeled away his layers and seemed to make him more so.