The Wreckers - New Hideout
The Wreckers - New Hideout
Chapter 2 of my Pokemon Thuglife AU. Again, inspiration comes from my good friend Puck’s Pokemon Superhero AU, Dustpan. Check her Twitter Puckarooni.
Enjoy the exploits of my young punks.
Alolan Joe - Alolan Ratata Ben - Spearow Zach - Zigzagoon Sherman - Sentret
~~~~
The Wreckers stood in the parking lot of the old thrift shop. The sun was setting on the cape and cast an orange glow over the scene.
“Ben,” Said Joe, contemplating while stroking his ‘stache, “When I said we needed an official hangout for our official crew, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
Ben quirked his head to the side, “It’s the only abandoned place left in town.” He folded his arms and turned to Joe, “Unless you want to start a turf war with The Darkness.”
Sherman coughed, “The Darkness? B-But they are the biggest and baddest team in town.”
“We’d be crushed.” Zack said, picking up a discarded “thrift shop rewards” card off the ground.
Joe cleared his throat. “Right, no need for that.” He looked back to the thrift shop. The sunset reflected off the cracked windows and illuminated the several layers the filth and graffiti that had piled on since it was abandoned years ago.
“It’s…perfect.” Joe said, gagging on the words as they came out. “Let’s go in a check out the official crash pad for the Wreckers.”
They all nodded and followed Joe into the thrift shop. The setting sun continued to creep its way down the horizon.
…
Ben ripped off the boards baring the entrance and they made their way inside. The shelving was in disrepair and the paint on the walls was peeling. The floorboards showed their lack of maintenance as well. The air was heavy and each footstep echoed and somehow enhanced the silence.
The team split up to investigate the shop.
Joe wandered the aisles, murmuring about future design plans. “ah yes, the pool table will go here. And this is where we can have the television. I wonder where we could fit the couch…”
Ben had already set about pushing some of the shelving around to make space for themselves.
Zack and Sherman wandered the perimeter together.
“Hey, Zack.” Sherman said, looking over the stuff on the shelves, “Do you know why this place was abandoned?”
Zack looked over a handful of penny candies he had found.
“It’s haunted.” He said.
Sherman looked at him in a moment that seemed to last too long.
Zack looked up at him, his eyes shining from within his hoodie.
“Maybe.” He concluded. Sherman let out a breath he realized he had been holding. He turned and noticed that Ben and Joe had overheard the comment and had stopped their activities. Everyone froze for a moment.
“Welp,” Joe said at last, “I think that works for our first survey.” He clapped his hands, “We’ll come back again tomorrow.”
Ben scoffed, “Feh, what’s the matter? You scared?” He crossed his arms and smirked.
Joe and Sherman spoke over each other, each with their own flair for denial.
“Yes,” Zack said sheepishly.
Joe looked back at the sunset, “Besides, it is getting rather-” Suddenly, the four of them were plunged into pitch black. “-dark.”
From the center of the shop a hazy purple glow bubbled up from the ground. The four members clamored for the exit in the dim, eerie light. Ben grabbed at the door but it wouldn’t budge. They fought for an attempt to try the door as the light grew stronger. A large ball of purple ethereal vapor hovered in the center of the shop before a pair of bright red eyes flashed and locked on the small group.
“TRESPASSERS!” Came a bellowing voice. The mass started to float towards them.
“Dammit, Ben! You had to pick a haunted place.” Joe cried.
“This is not my fault, you bristle-lipped jerk.” Ben said. Joe snapped to Ben with eyes full of fire in complete disregard to the looming supernatural danger.
“Guys, come on,” Sherman said with a quivering voice, “Isn’t there something we can do?”
“Give it something?” Zack said. He reached into his pockets and pulled out his current stash.
Sherman picked out the thrift shop rewards card, “What is this?”
Joe glanced over and saw the card, “That!” He said, snatching the card, “Is our ticket out of this.”
“TRESPASSERS!” It roared again. The mass had finished its slow, menacing migration and was now looming over the four of them. “YOU WILL BE–“
“Actually,” Joe said, holding up the card, “We’re customers.” He spoke with absolute confidence, almost casually.
“Customers?” The mass said, in a nervous and soft tone.
Suddenly, the lights in the shop came to life. Joe and his crew covered their eyes until they adjusted. Standing before them was a young woman with wild, flowing purple hair and a tall pointed hat. She wore an apron that had a name tag on it.
She clapped her hands in front of herself, “I’m terribly sorry, valued customer, feel free to look around.” Her voice was mellow and comforting. The four of them glanced at one another and then to the shop. Illuminated, it had taken on a new life, looking much less of a total wreck than before. The woman nodded and then levitated off the ground to go tend to the aisles.
The crew stood in shock. Ben woke up first and slapped Joe in the gut.
“Ouph, ahem yes.” He straightened up, “Well, I am afraid we can’t stay tonight. Must be moving on.” He offered.
The lady turned to them with a dour look on her face, “O-oh.” Her shoulders slumped forward, the lights began to dim.
“A-actually,” Sherman said, “I was wondering if you had uh–” He glanced at Zack who pulled out one of the penny candies and shrugged. “Uh, penny candies?”
She lit up again, the lights of the shop coming back to full illumination, “Why yes we do. Right this way, valued customer.” She glided through the air and showcased a small section with different colorful wrappers on display. “We have a rather impressive selection, I think.”
Sherman and Zack joined her and began nervously looking over the candies. The atmosphere relaxed slightly, Ben looked over the shop and sighed.
“I guess this is a no-go, huh?” Ben said.
Joe twizzled his mouse-stache, “I wouldn’t say that.” Joe walked up to the floating ghost woman. “Say, my dear. You wouldn’t happen to have a place where we might be able to rest a spell?” he motioned to the others, “We have been working hard all day and could really use a place to take a load off.”
She regarded him for a moment, her face scrunched in and she glanced around the shop. “Hmm, well,” She said, biting her lip, “I am not really supposed to, but,” She looked back at him, “But you are valued customers so I think it will be fine.”
She flitted over to a door along the back wall that said “employees only”. She opened it up and it revealed a small lounge with a TV, a couch, some tables and chairs and a vending machine. “Feel free to relax as long as you like.” She said. “After all, it has been a long time since we had customers.” She looked away, her eyes unfocused, “A long…time.”
“Yes thank you,” Ben said, scooting past them and hurling himself on the couch. He landed with a thud and kicked his feet up on the shoulder rest. “Aha! That’s more like it.”
Joe joined him in the room, seated at one of the tables. “Yes, yes this will do wonderfully. Thank you very much Miss…uh,” He squinted at her apron, “Drevie?”
The woman nodded, “You can call me ‘Dee’.” She said.
Joe smiled back at her, “Excellent, Miss Dee. My name is Joe, that’s Ben.” He motioned to the couch. Ben lazily lifted his hand in greeting. “And the two outside are Zack and Sherman.”
“A pleasure to meet you all. Oh, I had better get back to the floor. Take care.” She said and fluttered off.
Joe leaned back in his chair and stroked his mouse-stache. “yes, this will work.”
…
Sherman and Zack joined them in the lounge when they finished purchasing their candy. The ordeal had left them all rather spent, before they knew it, they had passed out in the employee lounge. Joe joined them in resting his eyes a spell. Ben had been snoring since Dee went to cash out Sharman and Zack.
Dee dutifully stood at the register till daybreak, awaiting any further customers.
…
Joe pried open his eyes as a brisk chill washed over him. He sat up from where he had been lying in the grass. He looked around. He had somehow ended up outside, looking at the backside of the thrift shop. Nearby, the rest of his crew snoozed in a heap. Joe got to his feet and cleared his throat.
“Alright, look alive you punks.” He said, clapping his hands.
Ben grumbled and pulled his blanket tighter over him, which was actually Zack’s hoodie and caused the poor boy to be flung over onto Sherman, who yelped and flailed his arm, smacking Ben in the face. The three of them groaned.
Joe rubbed his eyes and shook his head. “Let’s try that again. Up and at’em, gents!”
The three of them got to their feet.
“Hey, where’d the couch go?” Ben said.
“Did Dee kick us out?” Sherman said.
“Ben was snoring.” Zack said. Ben shoved him.
Joe shrugged, “Dunno about that. But I dare say our souls have not been sucked dry, so that’s something.”
There was general murmur of agreement.
“So,” Ben said smirking, “This haunted shop our official crash pad now?”
Joe looked to Sherman and Zack.
Sherman smiled, “It’s a wreck, but I guess that is kind of our thing.”
Zack nodded.
Joe laughed and twizzled his mouse-stache. “Then it is settled.” He placed his hand on the side of the building, “This will be our new pad.”
The others gave a vigorous cheer. Vigorous for the early morning, at least. Joe then turned to Ben with sharp and critical look, “Now Ben, you may apologize to me.”
Ben quirked an eyebrow, “Huh, for what?”
Joe stroked his ‘stache, “You know very well what, you sharp-eyed pigeon!”
Ben stepped right up into Joe’s face, “You wanna say that again?”
Joe sized up Ben, Ben sized up Joe. They sized each other for a moment before Joe spoke again, “I apologize for my morning breath, it must be difficult to stand there.”
Ben blinked through watering eyes, “Absolute torture.”
The two of them laughed and Joe wrapped his arm around Ben’s shoulders, “You had me going there, friend.”
“No use beating you,” Ben said snickering, “Your head’s too damn hard.”
They exchanged another laugh and walked out to the parking lot. Sherman looked at the haunted shop again.
“I hope we see Dee again.” He said.
“We will,” Zach said, taking out the rewards card and flipping it over in his hands.
More Posts from Brushlesprouts and Others
I think the worst kind of writers block is when you aren’t blocked in the conventional sense, like you know what you want to write and how to write it, you just cant put words on the page because of a crippling sense of what’s the point?
My tl is really dead rn so if ur a writeblr who writes fantasy, urban fantasy, anything with kings and queens and lots of fighting and shit (doesn’t have to have all of these elements …btw!)
That’s my jam, reblog so i can follow u and check ur rlly cool shit out
Day 4 - Freeze
I appologize, this one got way out of hand. Hopefully you still enjoy.
Prompt: Freeze
Title: A Pilot is the Soul
At the Combat Robotics center in the big city, a crowd of photographers and important looking people in suits had arrived to witness the latest prototype in Fighter Robo being showcased that day. Investors from leading tech companies, as well as KFL fans, had gathered to see the fruits of their investments. As well as the return of a retired KFL Robo Pilot. One dapper gentleman known as Danny Fierce. He was one of the first humans who took his military combat robo rig and had it refurbished for KFL fights.
His majestic partner stood at the entrance, proud as the day it was re-commissioned for the KFL. For his part, Danny walked up to an anxious-looking intern that was frantically looking around, clutching her clipboard and pen.
“Hey, excuse me. The email didn’t say where to go.” He said, slipping off his weathered cap and scratching his head, “Don’t suppose you could help with that?”
The intern gasped, “Oh thank goodness, we thought you got lost.” She clicked her pen and brought it to her mouth, “Mr. Fierce has arrived at the north entrance, I’ll take him to the briefing room.” The pen crackled some kind of response. She smiled and waved to him, “Follow me please.”
They slipped past the crowd and into the center. Passing by the posters and displays for the latest prototype. There were even some inside the elevator they rode to the top floor. Danny took note of one beside him. He muttered to himself.
“The Maverick mark two. Synthetic craftsmanship honed to its utmost potential? Pah,” He said shaking his head, “Just give me a rig and hold the synthetics.” He looked to his guide, she kept politely silent.
The elevator opened up to a conference area. At the main podium, was the leader of the Combat Robo program. She waved to them.
“Yes yes, come in. Glad you could make it.” She said and gestured to a seat beside her. “For the guest of honor.”
Danny smiled and made his way past the other rows of tired-looking scientists and engineers. Some had let their chins dip to their chests and were snoring softly. When he arrived at the podium, he reached out to shake her hand.
“Danny Fierce, reporting for duty, Miss--”
“Doctor, actually,” She said, taking his hand, “Doctor Abigail Bishop.” She smiled and gave his hand a firm shake.
Danny smiled and nodded, “Got it,” He took his seat beside the podium, “Please continue.”
“Of course,” Doctor Bishop said. “Today is the big day team. We’ve put in the hours and now comes time to show it off to our eager investors. Right now, they are getting the VIP treatment and the awesome sizzle reel that our media team was nice enough to put together.” She said and motioned to a group seated in the back. They gave a weary cheer, the rest of the congregation applauded.
“And speaking of VIP treatment,” She said, “A round of applause for our very special guest, the renowned robo pilot Danny Fierce.” She clapped, others followed suit. Danny waved politely.
“We stand at a crossroads, my fellow creators,” She continued, “A new era is about to dawn. We have suffered through the setbacks and struggles of mark one, but with this, the mark two, we shall showcase the incredible might of Combat Robo development team!” She clicked a small remote and a projection shot up from the center of the room to showcase the specs and holographic design of the new robo rig. Supportive applause fluttered around the room.
Danny leaned forward.”Say, that’s pretty compact,” He said, “How is a pilot supposed to fit in there?”
Doctor Bishop smirked at him and clicked the remote again, “Oh no no, my archaic friend.” The image switched over to a spec readout, a highlighted phrase said, “Remote Operation and Autonomous Control modes”.
He leaned back, “Ah, I see.” He folded his arms and shook his head, “I dunno, you take the pilot out of the rig, the metal ain’t got no soul.”
She wore a professional smile, the kind hewn from stone and salt that belies the teeth clenched behind tightly pressed lips.
“Well, old man,” She said, “That’s what we are here to showcase.” She clicked the remote again. It brought up the specs of Danny’s rig, the Dandy Piston, and the not so flattering details. Including but not limited to a highlight phrase that said, “Unpredictable Human Error”.
“Oh, I get it now.” He said, a smile played across his face. He looked at her, “A friendly exhibition.”
She smiled, “Friendly, yes.”
The meeting dispersed and the crowds gathered at the research center’s KFL ring. Maverick Mk.2 was standing proudly inside the pristine ring. Carbon-fiberglass platting designed to look like an upright fighter jet with legs. Sleek, deadly, and super cool.
Opposite the black and red rig was Dandy Piston, Danny’s faithful rig. The center was kind enough to get the cobwebs off of it before having it deposited into the ring. Danny stood on the staging balcony situated at what would be called the rig’s neck. Danny slipped into the last of his piloting gear, modeled after the aviators of old, all leather and insulating fur. The most high tech thing on his person, the headset the Doctor was nice enough to lend him, buzzed in his ear.
“Are you ready?” The voice was the anxious intern.
“Just about.” Danny responded. He popped open the hatch and slipped his way down into the gyro cockpit. He sat back in the pilot seat, a wave of nostalgia washed over him.
“Hey there, you old fool, you remember me?” He ran his hands over the various levers and dials that made up his configuration. He took his time remembering each switch and the feel of the pedals under his feet. “Got another fight left in you?”
He slipped his hand under the main console and triggered the startup command. The cockpit hummed to life, lights flickering on and gauges spinning to calibration. The music of the machine took Danny to a special place in his mind. A time of great battles, struggles, fear, and triumph. He smiled.
“Uh, are you ready, yet?” The anxious voice said in his ear.
Danny sighed, letting his shoulder slump. “Can’t let me have anything, can ya,” He muttered before adding, “Yeah yeah, we’re ready to rumble.”
Up in the command center, a host of the section leaders were gathered in front of various terminals, all whirring and beeping with up-to-date information of the condition of the Maverick. Doctor Bishop walked the rows, checking on last-minute adjustments.
“Matilda, Flick me the diagnostics. Marco, make sure the software is at its most recent patch, should be 11.5.1. Chell, no drinks at the terminals, please thank you. Juliette?”
The anxious intern looked from her terminal, lifting an earphone from her headset, “Yes, Abby?”
Abigail cleared her throat.
“Oh uh, I mean, Doctor Bishop? What is it?”
She smiled, “How is the fossil doing?”
Juliette looked back at her terminal and leaned into the microphone, “Uh, are you ready yet?” She paused and then nodded, “Okay, he said he’s ready.”
Doctor Bishop clapped her hands, “Wonderful, then let’s begin.” She dashed to the front of the command center and clicked her remote, a camera drone floated up to record her.
Out in the KFL ring, a robo announcer drone flew up to address the audience.
“Honorable guests one and all. Welcome to our demonstration exhibition match. Today, our latest creation, the remarkable Maverick mark two, will clash with one of the best robo pilots of the last generation, Danny Fierce. Please, enjoy the show.”
There came applause and cheering. A few of the gentlemen in suits who wore their graying hair in conservative styles, whooped and hollered the loudest, even starting a small chant for Danny.
The announcer drone floated up between the two competitors.
“Are the fighters ready?” She said.
Danny rolled his shoulders and cranked his controls, Dandy Piston responded by pumping a fist in the air.
“We’re ready to dance!” His voice cracked out of the rig’s megaphone.
Abigail looked across the command center, her eyes falling on Juliette. For her part, the nervous intern put on her game face and nodded.
“Well then,” Doctor Bishop’s voice boomed from the announcer drone. “Let’s BRAWL!”
The Maverick sprang to attention and charged at Piston. Metal clashed and sparks flew as the two massive battle robots exchanged blows. The audience roared with each heavy hit. Piston was a little sluggish at the start, taking a few hits that rattled Danny in his seat.
“Yeesh, at least dance with me a little before taking me back to the hotel room.” Danny grunted into the mic.
“S-sorry. Your simulation was a lot harder. Should I hold back a little?” Juliette said.
“Oh, so you got sass, huh?” Danny said. He grit his teeth and jammed a pedal. A kick flew up and caught Maverick in the chest, sending it staggering backwards. “Ha, how’d ya like the pepper on that?”
The sleek rig straightened up. Juliette came back on the line, “Actually, that should just about finish it.”
“Finish? But we were just getting warmed up,” Danny protested.
“What she means,” Doctor Bishop said, cutting into the channel, “Is she will no longer need to fight you.”
She looked around the command center, her team looking up to confirm.
“Matilda, good. Chell, excellent. Marco. Marco? How we looking?” She said.
The engineer was furiously typing at his terminal, “Uh, fine. Yeah, we’re fine. It’s fine.” He gave a thumbs up.
She smiled. “Finally.”
She clicked the remote again, her announcer doppelganger appeared before the crowd.
“Been enjoying the fight, KFL fans?”
Cheers came from the crowd.
“Because now it is time to show what the Maverick can really do! Time to switch to Autonomous mode!” She clicked her remote again.
The Maverick snapped to attention, its eyes changing color. Once a humming red, they became a pulsing green. It stood pensive opposite Piston.
Danny squinted at his display, watching the idle rig across from them. Moments drifted by before he chuckled into his mic, “So uh, is it supposed to be doing something?”
There was no response from the headset. Until a voice shrieked.
“Why are its eyes green?” Abigail shouted.
Her team was frantically typing at their terminals. Juliette smashed the buttons on her controller to no avail. Matilda was flipping through a dense tome of code. Chell scrolled through dense code on her terminal. Marco fought to deny eye-contact and keep a low profile. It did not go unnoticed.
“Marco?” She said, walking quickly to him, “Fine? It will be fine?” She asked, pulling him back away from the terminal. The screen said, “Latest patch, 10.9.1”. She stood up straight and took a deep breath.
“Are you telling me, our prized prototype is standing like a dead lump of metal in front of all our investors because it had a system crash?” She said, visibly shaking.
Marco opened and closed his mouth to say something a few times before Abigail heard laughing coming through her headset.
“Aw now, you can’t blame the poor rig.” He said, pushing down on a pedal to have Piston approach the stoic Maverick. “Everyone goes through it in their first fight.” He laughed, “The Freeze.”
He got within a robotic arm’s length. In the cockpit, Danny flipped open a panel that had a big red switch. He let a wide grin pass his face as he flipped the switch. The rig started to hum louder, charging, priming, getting ready. He pulled back a lever, Piston readied a balled fist.
Abigail snarled into the mic, “What are you doing?”
“Let’s see if a nice, hard reset will do the trick?” Danny said.
“Don’t you dare!” She cried out. But it was too late.
In the audience, when they saw Piston wind up, they went wild. They knew what was coming. It had been the signature move of the pilot and his rig back in his day. The crowd cheered as the massive metal fist slammed into the sleek rig’s chest plate, lifting it off the ground. Then, the deafening crash as the hydraulic piston built into its arm sent a massive shock wave rippling through the Maverick and knocking it up into the air, end over end, in a shower of sparks and shredded metal.
The advanced piece of tech landed in a heap on the ground at Dandy Piston’s feet. The crowd was on their feet, cheering for their hero.
Abigail stood in the command center, Marco had pushed his chair far away and now she was left standing alone. Her jaw was clenched as thoughts raced through her mind. The remote that connected her to the investors that had paid for their project was heavy in her hand. Her fingers slowly loosened and let it fall from her grip.
It was caught by another pair of hands. Juliette smiled and put the remote back in her hand.
“Just another setback.” She said. “Like the mark one. Just think of how good the mark three will be with all this data.”
Abigail shook her head, “There might not be a mark three, not with that pathetic display.”
“I dunno,” Danny said, hollering through the headset, “Seems like my fans got one hellava show.” He laughed, “You tell them I am already on board for the rematch against Maverick mark three, and they’ll fall all over themselves to put money behind it.”
Abigail looked out the window to the ring, where Dandy Piston was striking heroic poses to a no doubt elated crowd. She looked back at Juliette, who patted the remote in her hand and returned to her terminal.
Doctor Bishop took a deep breath. “Minor setback folks,” She said to her team, “Now let’s go win em back.” She clicked the remote.
The folks in nice suits were stepped back into their fancy cars, smiles all around. Danny waved to them as they went off. Juliette stood beside him.
“So, the soul in the metal?” She asked, “Is that how you won your fights?”
Danny looked at her and laughed, “No, I won most of them by being a little stubborn and a lot of lucky. I just wanted to bitch at your boss a bit.” He stroked his chin and looked up at Dandy Piston as it was being loaded into a transport. “But maybe--.” He shook his head, “Bah, I’m gettin old. Come get me when you need a rusty pilot to wrestle with your latest rig.”
He headed off to his ride. Juliette finished taking her notes and hurried back inside. As the new full-time assistant for Doctor Bishop, she would be very busy.
Day 3 of arting. This character has taken me to researching the "Surgeon Barbers" of old. The sharpest razor in town for the cleanest cuts.
The Sound Of Silence really does exist, and it’s the lingering echoes of the Big Bang. Without warning, those echoes finally fade and stop… and you can hear what true silence sounds like for the first time…
been playing okami recently…
Day 5 - Cute moment. Can never be too prepared, keep child/kitten sized masks on hand for little ones.
“This is your daily, friendly reminder to use commas instead of periods during the dialogue of your story,” she said with a smile.
Well my week has been exciting so far.
someone give him a grammy
