With his mood suitably ruined, his plans for finding Combee derailed, and now the proud owner of a pair of staunch and silent bodyguards, Ethan, Jessie, and James sat where all people who were down in the dumps sat.

  At a bar.

  While not a heavy drinker, Ethan did drink every once in a while. Since he’d been whisked away to the world of pokemon, he hadn’t had the chance, but he did wonder what they served here in this world. Comparing the alcohol to his and Shuckle’s berry brew could also be written off as a learning experience… Yes, this was for business.

  The bar they found themselves in wasn’t some dive bar or energetic place for trainers—this bar was for the oldies. Men and women in their forties, fifties, and so on sat around in small booths or at the bar-counter chatting away like long lost friends with one another. Some had pokemon out by their side, and one mighty and frightening Pinsir even drank with its trainer in one of the dim corners.

  Ethan sipped an Amber Bloom, which was a mead made from honey and, of course, flowers.

  He was getting a little sick of flowers and the taste of flora, if he was being honest.

  Jessie and James were drinking sterner stuff—liquor which he didn’t catch the name of. Meowth was out and about, doing recon on the area for their protection.

  They all sat in an awkward silence as they sipped, but eventually, James couldn’t take it anymore. “Sorry.”

  With a dull thud, Ethan slapped his glass down onto the bar and fixed James with a stare. “It’s not your fault, James. Please, stop apologizing.”

  “He’s right.” Jessie added, finger twirling around the thin and short straw in her dull brown drink. “It’s not our fault. It’s just our shit luck. Nothing can ever go right.”

  They each took a sip in depressing silence before Ethan ordered a different drink. As he waited for his new beverage, he carried on. “You guys did a fantastic job at the stand. I was dead weight. How much did we make today?”

  “Thirty-two thousand seven hundred and fifty pokedollars.” James instantly replied, not even needing a second to think to tally up their sales.

  Three hundred and twenty-seven dollars and some change for what could have only been a handful of hours of work… That was a great haul. “Give me seven and a half thousand and you all split the rest.” He shrugged when he felt their eyes land on him “I only supplied the goods. But, in the future, I hope that you can make a trip out here and do this by yourselves without supervision. You guys really did a great job, I hope you know that.”

  After a long and heavy sigh, as well as a deep gulp of his drink, James finally cracked a slight smile. “It was fun.”

  “You know what would be extra fun?” Jessie smiled as she leaned forward, causing Ethan’s spine to tingle with bad vibes. “There’s a stage right over there.” She nodded off towards an empty stage set-up for what Ethan could only guess was for a band of some sort. “Get some more drinks in you and put on a show for us. You’re actually pretty good at singing.”

  “I doubt everyone here would like that.” Ethan scoffed and took a swig. “They wouldn’t even know any of my songs. Plus, I’m not that good.”

  James bumped shoulders with him. “Give yourself some credit. We can hear you singing in the morning with Chatot. Where do you find these artists anyway? I’ve never heard any of the songs you have saved.”

  When Ethan’s hand stilled for a second, midway to rising to his mouth, he had a mini half-second panic attack.

  He’d never told them where he was from!

  With a practiced motion, Ethan tilted his head back and downed the rest of his Amber Bloom. Then with perfect timing, the bartender came back with his new drink. “You both are going to need a few more of those to be ready for that knowledge.”

  “Don’t threaten me with a good time.” Jessie laughed, downing her drink as well. James, not wanting to be left out, finished off his.

  They were going to get shit faced if this pace kept up.

  —--------------------------------------------------

  After several more drinks and an hour of time, Ethan, Jessie, James, and some of the other friendly patrons of the bar were laughing, singing, telling stories, and otherwise having a grand-old time. As Ethan returned from the bathroom, he wandered over to the booth he had set-up for all of their pokemon, courtesy of the barkeep—the man who happened to be the owner of this establishment.

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  Munchlax had used his time wisely, begging for scraps from all the borderline grannies and sirs. He’d also managed to get a sip of someone's drink without anyone looking, but quickly found out that they weren’t drinking these drinks strictly for their taste. That was a lesson well learned.

  Chatot enjoyed being praised by everyone in the bar. Her colorful feathers and mimicking of voices earned her more than one ‘ooh’ and ‘aww’. The other flying pokemon, Emolga, was just happy to see people act silly and enjoyed the freedom of flying around the room. Tinkatink and Skiddo were content to talk to one another and keep out of trouble for the most part. Tinkatink would collect everyone’s bottle caps from their beers and brews while Skiddo stared at people unerringly.

  And Ralts…

  “Ethan! Ethan!!! Look! Look at me!” The small voice bounced around in his head, happy as could be.

  Turning, Ralts was up on the countertop using her feeble psychic prowess to move glasses full of beverages to people, sliding them across the top like in a movie. The owner/barkeep seemed more than happy to have her on hand, and although Ethan was sloshed, he could see that the man was enjoying watching the excited little fairy have fun.

  “I’m working! Like a human! I’ll even get coins!” Ralts practically vibrated with excitement, her bright eyes locked onto him through the darkened interior of the bar.

  “Good on you! Maybe you’ll see why I like money so much! This is also good practice for you! Can you feel the mental strain from moving so many bottles and glasses?” Ethan asked, only to see Ralts’ rapid child-like nods of agreement.

  “Just…” Ethan made his way over to Jessie and James as he shouted out the rest of his sentence, “Make sure your mom doesn’t find out you were working in a bar!”

  As he slid into his chair, he had to do a double take at the man sitting next to him. “Looker?”

  Looker held up a glass of what looked to be bourbon or whisky and gave his greeting. “Figured I’d stop by to see how you’re doing. I needed to come by on some business anyways. Your watchers let me know that you’re fine.” He nodded over to the two bodyguards from Interpol who’d been watching him drink his worries away.

  “You’re a grown man. So, I'm not going to sit here and lecture you… but maybe getting hammered wasn’t the wisest when ‘bad guys’ are about.” Looker added.

  “Hah!” Ethan laughed loudly. “Probably.” After a beat of silence, Ethan carried on. “Sorry for the mess.”

  “You don’t control the actions of terrorists.” Looker said, sipping from his drink. “Cynthia came. Since one of Interpol’s agents turned coat, she’s stepping up to see this whole mess through. That’d be Agent Laurent, by the way.”

  Ethan brought up the image of the man who’d fooled him earlier in the day. “So, he was an agent?”

  “Not a great one, but good enough to be in our ranks---which is very good. Never would I have thought that he’d be a part of Team Rocket…” Looker finished with a heavy and guilty sigh. Ethan saw the fatigue on the man's face—as well as the hurt. Laurent’s betrayal must have hit him hard.

  “Not the ideal circumstances for me to be buying you a drink for your help, but I think this’ll have to do.” Ethan waved the barkeep over, ordering Looker another drink. “And I am sorry. I know it’s not strictly my fault, but when things go wrong you’re always the one dealing with the mess. I just want to let you know that I’m appreciative of that and feel bad it's pushed onto you.”

  “Let’s not get all sappy now.” Looker cut him off with a mock stern look. He nodded his head towards Jessie and James who were currently in control of his phone and sorting through his music. “How are those two doing?”

  Ethan turned to stare at the duo softly arguing over which song to pick. Chatot was right behind them, instigating from the looks of it. “They’re good. No complaints.” He sighed. “They loved running that stall today…”

  “Ah-ah-ah. No sap.” Looker quickly stopped him from rambling his woes.

  “I do wonder if they’re a couple or not. They sleep in the same bed at their cottage, but separate when out and about. They’ve been traveling for so long together that it just makes sense that they’d be used to it though. Also, they bicker like an old couple married for one too many decades.” Ethan surmised, causing Looker to give him a blank look.

  “What? That’s not sappy.” Ethan said in his defence.

  “You’re right. That’s teenage gossip.”

  “Bah! You brought them up in the first place.” Ethan sipped, “What do men even talk about here? Sports? Battles? Work?”

  Looker thought for a moment, hand rubbing his stubbly five o’clock shadow. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

  When the doors to the bar opened up and the Champion of the Sinnoh region strolled inside, Ethan had assumed that most of the patrons would have had a bit of a freak out. In his mind, it would have been the equivalent of the president walking into a room. Contrary to his beliefs, many of the older generation simply smiled her way and murmured about how well of a job she’d done so far.

  Ethan and Looker both watched on, drinking as Cynthia politely made her way through the throng of drunken or tipsy men and women, responding with niceties until she made her way over to sit down right next to Looker.

  “Gentlemen,” Cynthia greeted, flashing a smile. “Today has been a day…” she groaned, her smile faltering.

  “The Champion walks into a bar…” Ethan started, drawing the curious eyes of both Looker and Cynthia. “The bartender says, ‘Sorry, we don’t serve your type here.’ The Champion replies, ‘Don’t worry, I’ve got full type coverage.’ Hah!”

  Cynthia eyed Looker with a raised brow as Ethan couldn’t stop laughing at his own joke. “How much has he had to drink?”

  “A few. He’s not too far gone yet. I think Ethan was about to go up and sing? Right, Ethan?” Looker threw a small nudge over, as both Jessie and James finally settled on a song.

  Hearing Caught Up In You by 38 Special, Ethan nodded and meandered over to the stage to begin his drunken performance.

  By the time he was up on stage and ready, Cynthia was standing front and center, phone and drink in hand with a shit eating grin.

  The next morning, Joyce would have something to cherish.

  Blackmail.

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