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Frontier Town The Wanderin' Zera

Reader mode
Wes was grateful that the barkeep—Gerome, apparently—was unbothered by his staring. He nodded and pulled out a few bills from where he’d stashed them under his makeshift brace. It was turning out to be quite handy, that thing.

He realized he had no idea about the money in this world, so he simply slapped down a couple bills and hoped it was good enough. “Thanks. Something moderate, if you don’t mind.” Hopefully a few drinks could take the edge off of the ache in his leg, the weariness from his lack of sleep, and his jumbled thoughts on…everything. All of this.

Gerome did not ask Wes’s name, so Wes was comfortable with not giving it—until Dawhatshisface practically yelled it. He sighed before meeting the Poochyena’s gaze and nodding. “Right. And, ah, remind me your name again? Sorry. It’s been…a long day and a half.”

He then perked up at the mention of Gerome’s “sand powers.” “Really, is that what it is? Because you’re a rock type?”

Wes eyed the glasses thoughtfully. Gladion said he was a rock type, right? Could he learn to do that, too?
 
"A very talented one," Gerome replied simply. "You'll want to specialize in it for years and years if you want to get to my level of barkeep prowess. Sorry, though. I'm not hirin'."

He took the bills and eyed Wes again. He must have mentally noted something with that pause but then poured a simple, sweet drink for Wes with only a tinge of bitter alcohol.

"Ain't you a rock type?" Gerome asked. "Real suspicious question to ask."

Wes could potentially think that he was already exposed and ruined everything. Dave could potentially think that Gerome was fucking with him.
 
Wes felt a brief flare of panic, though he was careful not to let it show. He looked over Gerome with a measured expression, analyzing his body language for any hints at what his motives could be. To trust him or not…?

“Well, you said it yourself,” he said coolly. “Took you years of specialized training. I figure not everyone would have the knack for it, typing or otherwise.”

He paused to take a swig of his drink. …Huh. He didn’t mind the taste, but was there any alcohol at all in this thing? Did…did the barkeep think he was a kid?
 
HelloYellow17 said:
“Well, you said it yourself,” he said coolly. “Took you years of specialized training. I figure not everyone would have the knack for it, typing or otherwise.”
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Dave watched with interest as Wes played it off without appearing flustered. Back on the train from Blaguarro he recalled him being very blasé about the clothes theft, planning out how to create a distraction if they needed it. And this clearly wasn’t the first time he’d had to bluff or lie.

He’d also said something about taking some experiments and running.

“It’s Dave,” he said. “Gerome’s been telling me some interesting stories. Want to hear them?” Had Wes heard Kimiko’s warnings yet? Hard to tell. He definitely seemed to be trying his hardest not to let on to Gerome that he was human.
 
Dave sighed. Fine.

He leaned over closer to Wes on the bar, pushing his glass with him. He was not clambering off the goddamn barstool and then back up for this, not while he had tiny Poochyena legs. "Apparently, there's a band of former humans running around that have got it into their heads they're superior to regular Pokémon, and these dicks could raze towns if people pushed them the wrong way."

He took a swig of his drink, but kept an eye on Wes's reaction.
 
Wes saw Dave struggling to close the distance and resigned himself with a sigh. Fine, looks like he’d have to get a little cozier with people if he wanted intel. He hopped one seat over and pulled his glass with him.

Butterfree said:
"Apparently, there's a band of former humans running around that have got it into their heads they're superior to regular Pokémon, and these dicks could raze towns if people pushed them the wrong way."
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Wes’s eyebrow shot up even higher “Hah. How about that.” He sat back for a moment as he absorbed that information. “Well,” he continued in a low voice, “if anything Jaak said about former human Pokémon is true…then that likely means a whole lot of trouble.”

He glanced at Gerome, who barely appeared to be listening—and if he was, he seemed remarkably unfazed by it. Wes understood why the aloof barkeep hadn’t immediately spilled this information when asked; he got the feeling that the less attention they drew to this conversation, the better.

Wes looked back at his glass. “You wouldn’t happen to have any idea about where these thugs are running around, do you?” His question was not directed at either Dave or Gerome specifically, posed in such a way that either one of them could answer.
 
"They're out east," replied Gerome, speaking a little lower this time. He even seemed to take care to avoid anyone seeing his mouth at a direct angle to avoid direct reads of his words. "Dunno the specifics... Just that the heart of the Commonwealth is where you'd see 'em way more. So, y'know. Keep outta that. Too far t' be bothered much anyway."

Finished with the cups, Gerome stepped away to talk with and serve some other patrons without skipping a beat. To outside observers, there seemed to be nothing amiss.
 
Keep out of it. Yeah, about that. Dave wondered if it'd be in any way helpful to tell Gerome about their mission. He was pretty damn confident at least he'd be very discreet about it. On the other hand, they were in a full bar, and Gerome seemed to be worrying about getting lip-read even when all he was saying was these people existed somewhere out east. And would it even accomplish anything anyway? Only if the Tyranitar happened to be holding out on some extremely useful info. Which definitely wasn't impossible, but probably not something to gamble everything on when they didn't know.

He settled for just giving Wes a meaningful glance that he hoped would communicate 'Well, this sure sounds like it could be our crisis.'

"Yeah. Sounds fucked up," he said to Gerome, taking another sip of his drink. "So what's your story, anyway?" he asked, turning back to Wes. "Thought I heard some colorful snippets back on the walk to the train."
 
Wes caught Dave’s sideways glance and responded with a tiny, barely perceptible nod. Sure sounded like what they’d come here for, all right.

Gerome turned away to tend to other customers. Wes was impressed at his ability to be discreet. How much more did this guy know that he was simply choosing not to share?

Butterfree said:
"So what's your story, anyway?" he asked, turning back to Wes. "Thought I heard some colorful snippets back on the walk to the train."
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Wes bristled ever so slightly, then forced himself to relax. The guy was just looking for conversation, that was all. He cleared his throat and took a sip before answering. “Not much of a story, really. I’m from Orre—dunno if you caught that yesterday. Real gem of a place, let me tell you.”

He let out a bitter snort. “I was actually planning to leave and head to Johto soon. After I wrap up some business.” He decided it was for the best not to elaborate on what this current “business” entailed. “But then I got dragged here, so those plans will have to wait. Or, technically not, I guess, since time isn’t passing in our normal worlds or something like that.” Gods, he didn’t even know what he was saying anymore. “How about you?”
 
Orre...? The name sounded familiar, but not as an actual place. Same with Johto.

Wait. Orre was where that one show took place, the one that'd given Jean nightmares that one time. Wasn't the main character's name Wes? Was... Were there literal fucking fictional characters here? Was he going mad?

No. No, this had to be some weird fucking coincidence. Dave downed about half of his drink. "Well, we don't have those places in my world, but hope you make it to the less shitty one after this detour." He put down his glass, wondering whether to try to probe about exactly what those places were like. Hey, does 'Orre' by any chance have a bunch of edgy violent Pokémon with their hearts closed called Shadow Pokémon? ...Maybe later, if he got tired of having a remotely normal conversation. (God, he'd said something about it being a desert, too, hadn't he. And something to do with experimental Pokémon. What the almighty fuck.)

He tried to keep the absolute batshit rollercoaster that was happening in his brain off his face. "As for me, I'm a geneticist back home. Got a lab, working on some fascinating research on human and Pokémon genetics with medical applications. Then it all, uh, got a bit sidetracked when I had kids."

God, it was weird to be in a world where people didn't know about the Pokémorphs. Maybe he'd just leave it at that while he was here. It'd be refreshing not to have any people hounding him for a while. Even if it meant being in a talking Pokémon cowboy world.
 
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“They don’t exist?” Wes stopped abruptly and tried to adjust the shock in his tone “I—sorry. I shouldn’t be all that surprised that your world probably isn’t the exact same as mine. I mean…it wouldn’t be the craziest thing that I’ve learned in the last forty-eight hours.”

Butterfree said:
"As for me, I'm a geneticist back home. Got a lab, working on some fascinating research on human and Pokémon genetics with medical applications. Then it all, uh, got a bit sidetracked when I had kids."
Click to expand...

“A scientist, huh? Sounds interesting.” Wes admittedly didn’t have the greatest opinion of that occupation, but surely not all of them were zubatshit crazy like the ones in Orre. “And kids? Plural? You didn’t strike me as the parental type.”

Whoops. He probably should have kept that part to himself.
 
Dave chuckled. "Yeah, uh, having kids wasn't the plan. It's technically just the one daughter, but I'm also something like an uncle to a few others. Long story. Guessing you're not a parent?" Wes struck him as on the young side for that, anyway, and if he was hoping to uproot his life and fuck off to a different country, it'd probably have come up.

"At any rate, it sure does sound like there are somehow a billion worlds with not much in common other than all having Pokémon in them. Whole thing is pretty batshit. Back in my world we've got seems like just about the same Pokémon species, except they don't talk. According to everything I know Poochyena brains shouldn't even be big enough for sapience, not to mention the bit where souls don't exist, but here I fucking am, so fuck me I guess." He waved a paw and took another sip of his drink. "Oh yeah, my world definitely doesn't have this short-range telekinesis thing either. What the fuck." He moved his glass up and down, marveling at it.
 
As usual, Gerome gave no reaction. He instead continued to work with the other patrons before, in a routine circle, returning to Dave and Wes for their discussion.

He must have only heard near the beginning and end, being out of earshot for much of it. "Sounds like your world's got more 'wild' Pokemon. None that are sapient like this. Y'know, if y'ask me, I think it's by some divine magic that we've got the heads we do." He tapped the side of his forehead. "All rocks up here, I bet."
 
Butterfree said:
"Oh yeah, my world definitely doesn't have this short-range telekinesis thing either. What the fuck."
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Wes laughed a little at that. “No kidding. I won’t pretend I’m some kind of Pokémon expert, but I’ve never seen that kind of thing in my life.” He took another sip of his drink, emptying the glass. “Where I’m from…well, it’s not like Pokémon aren’t sapient, exactly, because they definitely are. Just not in the same way as humans. They’re a whole lot easier to please, that’s for sure.” His mouth twitched upwards at the image of Neo and Novo’s faces when begging for bacon. Gods, he missed them already.

Namohysip said:
"Sounds like your world's got more 'wild' Pokemon. None that are sapient like this. Y'know, if y'ask me, I think it's by some divine magic that we've got the heads we do." He tapped the side of his forehead. "All rocks up here, I bet."
Click to expand...
Wes wasn’t expecting Gerome to chime in again. Had he heard what he’d just said…? Well, he seemed rather unbothered by the idea of Wes and Dave being humans, at least. Wes snorted in amusement at the Tyranitar’s remark. “Yeah, I suppose we could have had it worse, ending up here. Could have wound up one of those…what do you call em? ‘Uncivilized’ mon?”

He nudged his glass away and pulled out a few more bills. “Don’t suppose you’ve got anything a little stronger, do you?”
 
"Feral, wild, uncivilized..." Gerome shrugged. "It's a spectrum. Some are feral as feral gets, not really at the same capacity as us. Others, they just... choose to live in the wilds, sustain themselves off the land. No civilization or buildings... Folks lump 'em together, but they're different. Don't go thinkin' they're the same or you'll run into trouble."

It was hard to tell if Gerome was saying they'd run into trouble with others in the world, or with him.

"Get ready fer a culture shock, is all I'll say that you'll get."
 
A spectrum, huh. "Is that what the Escarpa Clan is? Kept popping up when I was at the library earlier." The books he'd looked at so far hadn't really explained much about who the Escarpa Clan were, only that people were apparently very eager blame them for shit.

"Anyway, I take it you're a trainer, then?" Dave turned his head back toward Wes. "And earlier I overheard something about experiments. What's that all about?"
 
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