Montagne Khastil - Unranked - June 10th - Lumiose City, Kalos
It's too early for this shit, Monty thought as he wiped his knuckles off on his towel. The skin split on several of them, but the pain of the cracked skin was nothing compared to his right shoulder. The Kalosian could hardly lift his arm through his t-shirt as he dressed himself, and he couldn't pull his jeans up without stifling a shout of pain.
Monty replayed the encounter in the hallway with every throb from his shoulder, and he couldn't shake the fear that gripped him when the "Tyrouge" as the Madame called it came flying at him. Pain he was used to, but he'd only felt that drop in his stomach and chill in his spine twice before, and Monty would rather forget those encounters entirely and leave the feeling as foreign as the Johto shore.
Monty couldn't just forget, though, and thoughts of his recurring nightmares crept into his psyche and his blood began to rise. He sat down on the edge of his bed and tried to think of something, no, anything else, but visions of the drowning darkness and the haunting red eyes started to overwhelm him. The criminal took shallow breaths and his hands started to shake, and he buried his face in them as voices began to swirl in his mind.
"KILL HIM! MACH PUNCH!"
"Shouldn't have put up a fight."
"Use...Confuse Ray."
Monty was on the verge of tears but he looked up when he sensed a presence next to him, only to be met with another set of piercing red eyes. With an undignified yelp he jumped up in surprise, the jarring movement spurring a flood of pain from his injured shoulder, but he realized Oracle had sat beside him and felt anger rise up.
"Get away from me!" Monty shouted at the Absol, whose eyes widened slightly in surprise. "My shoulder's fucked because you didn't start fighting until the battle was at the damn door!"
The fur along Oracle's spine rose up as she rose to her feet, and she glared daggers at her ungrateful trainer as she activated her ability to its fullest extent. What would've been an annoyance twenty minutes prior resulted in practical agony on Monty's shoulder, and through gritted teeth the trainer grabbed the Luxury Ball off his nightstand and recalled the Absol.
"The nerve...the fucking nerve!" Monty muttered as he slumped back. He'd saved this thing from whatever life awaited it after the Old Guard sold it off, and it was going to Pressure him? What an ungrateful little cur.
Monty finished getting dressed, adding his grey peacoat and black boots to the ensemble, and left his room. He surveyed the damage to the hallway, noting that someone had already cleaned up the mess that he and that Unovan asshole had made, and crossed through the main chamber to leave through the bar.
Speaking of the Unovan, he was propped up in a chair at a table against the far wall, his face as cleaned up as it could be with Jacques still stitching it up. A trio of candles on the table illuminated the room, and Jacques had an old fashioned millieu medkit laid out complete with a pair of healing Potions. A single, dormant PokeBall was on the table as well.
"He's holding up?" Monty asked, his boots clunking on the bar's stone floor as he approached. The Unovan was slumped back in his chair, head rested on the wall, and Jacques' experienced hands danced across his mangled face with a medical needle and string.
"As much as he can be the way you worked him over," the old Kalosian chided, not looking up from his work. "Sit down, I'll see what I can do about that shoulder."
"I don-"
"Sit down."
Monty pulled out a chair with his good arm and sunk down, studying the Unovan's face as Jacques worked. He'd been patched up by the bartender too many times to count, and the old Kalosian's experience showed as he swiftly closed the Unovan's cuts and grabbed one of the Potions off the table. Jacques sprayed the miraculous substance into each of the cuts, and the suture's seemed to hold a little tighter wherever the Potion made contact.
Jacques studied his handiwork for a moment until he set the Potion down and stated, "He'll have a damn bad headache when he comes to, but he'll survive." The old Kalosian turned his gaze to Monty and, scooching closer for better access to the younger mans injured shoulder, asked, "Now are you going to explain what happened back there?"
Monty relayed the encounter to Jacques as he examined his shoulder, and the criminal winced as Jacques touched the tender muscle. "I've never needed to go that far in here before," he finished softly.
Jacques grabbed the other Potion off the table and began, "Well, you gave some of the girls a proper scare, but I'd say it was warranted given the situation. Turning that Tyrouge-" he jabbed a thumb at the dormant Ball on the table "-on you was like drawing a gun. It's a good thing you had your own." Monty pondered his words as Jacques applied the Potion, wincing in pain as he felt the substance begin its uncomfortable repair process.
"In fact, things could have gotten a lot worse if you didn't have that Pokemon with you. What's it called, anyhow?" Jacques asked as he wrapped a bandage around Monty's shoulder.
"It's an Absol," the younger man responded shortly.
"I know that. I'm asking it's name."
"Oracle." Monty answered.
"Then you'd do well to call it that, considering Oracle saved your life," Jacques firmly looked Monty in the eye as he scolded him, tightening the bandages a little harder to emphasize his point. "Stay there." The older man said as he stood up, and as he went to the back of the bar he asked, "Where'd you get Oracle, anyway? The Madame told me a little, but I want the whole story."
Monty filled Jacques in on his meeting with Cormier at Prism Tower and the night at the docks, and lamented the task the Boss gave him as Jacques returned to the table with a sling. "One gym badge won't be too difficult," Jacques said as he set Monty's arm in the sling. "Leave that set for at least an hour. What's your plan, then?"
"My plan?" Monty echoed. Was he supposed to have a plan? "I'm just going to go to the Lumiose Gym and let Oracle battle."
"It takes more than that to get a gym badge." Jacques stated bluntly. "You'll need to train, and strategize. Since you only need one, you should try the Psychic-Type gym in Anistar."
"What's the difference?" Monty asked, confused.
"You don't know about types?" The older man was flabbergasted.
"I don't know anything about Pokemon," Monty admitted, prompting a disbelieving guffaw from the bartender.
Jacques started to say something but was interrupted by the sound of the Unovan at their table stirring back to consciousness, and the bartender said, "We'll talk more about it later. Get going, I'll make sure the cochon doesn't run off squealing. Make sure you take that Absol of yours to a Pokemon Center before the day's done."
"Will do," Monty replied, taking his leave of the bartender with a freshly healed shoulder and some fresh perspective.
