I sat, numb with shock, as I waited in the Pokemon Center for Skrelp, Toxie and Meowsie to recover. Two Team Yell grunts stood on either side of me, on their guards in case I tried to make a break for it, but I never did.

The entire population of Spikemuth was crowded in the tiny Pokemon Center, but all 27 of them fit inside snugly. Piers was waiting by the main reception desk, watching for Nurse Joy's return. Marnie slowly walked up to me, gave a silent look of what looked like apology, and handed me some beat up hightops. They weren't my Converse--not by a long shot--but they would be better than nothing. I took them and slipped them on without a thank-you.

They weren't too large or too small; on the contrary, they fit well without suffocating my feet. And they were surprisingly comfortable, though I suppose any type of shoe would be comfortable after walking around a ghost town for a day in nothing but socks.

The telltale ding of Nurse Joy's return made me look up to see Meowsie, Toxie and Skrelp return; Meowsie and Skrelp getting wheeled on a cart, with Toxie walking behind her. As soon as she was in the lobby, Piers' Toxtricity burst out of his dusk ball to say hello again. Piers didn't even notice as he grabbed the luxury balls from the tray Nurse Joy offered him.

As soon as we were close enough, Meowsie leapt off the cart and into my arms, where I squeezed her tightly against me. "It'll be okay," I whispered in her furry ears. "We're going to get out of here. I promise." Meowsie looked up to me with hopeful eyes, before they widened in surprise as she was sucked back into a luxury ball.

Piers' expression was devoid of emotion as he handed the capsule to his little sister, who opened it immediately after he walked over to where I was standing. "Come on," he gestured to the door. "This ain't a vacation any more, girlie. Your agreement officially starts now."

*********

Instead of immediately starting on repairs like I had anticipated, we ended up walking down the now empty streets until we reached a dusty old apartment complex. "It ain't a paradise, but it's home," Marnie explained as Meowsie leaned forward from her perch on her shoulder. She had taken up permanent residence on Marnie's right shoulder after some adjustments, and was now fairly content messing with her pigtails. I felt strange seeing her with someone else.

"Well, come on. You girls waitin' for an invite?" Piers asked, pushing open the rusted door with a grunt and horrific screech. "Isn't that the polite thing to do?" I asked, stepping inside. "Ask someone to move in with them instead of--oh, I don't know, forcing them to live in your abandoned shack of a city after you've kidnapped them?"

Piers ignored me as Marnie trotted through the door he was holding for her. "Elevator's broken," he warned his little sister before she made her way to a bunch of rusty, cage-like doors. "Again?" she groaned, and I noticed from the way her eyes reflected annoyance that this was a regular occurrence for the pair. Piers just shrugged in response. "Landlord's runnin' out of funds to keep this place goin'. Be lucky we still got hot water, the way we're goin'. C'mon, up the stairs."

As it turned out, Piers and Marnie's apartment was on the fifth floor. That meant climbing five flights of rickety old steps that threatened to crumble and send me tumbling to the basement (or the concrete base of the building, considering how weak the building's foundations were). And calling the place an apartment was being exceedingly generous.

The carpeted floor of the living room, once white or light grey perhaps, was stained and yellowed with age until it was the color of a dying buttercup. The couch was old and weathered, with rips in the cushions revealing fluff and the occasional loose spring that might poke someone somewhere important if they sat down wrong.

The kitchen was a mess, with dirty dishes piled into a mountain in the sink and the counter wasn't much better. There was no table to dine at, rather a few stools and even a bean bag situated around a card table nestled in the back, but from the look of the stains on the cheap linoleum floor and other furniture around the living area, they didn't really use it much. The tiles of the flooring in the kitchen were (what else?) stained with dark substances I really didn't want to ask the origin of.

I took a walk down the miniscule hallway in the back that led to Piers and Marnie's bedrooms. Marnie's room was fairly organized, all things considered, despite the horrific mess that loomed just outside it. She had a small, creaky bed with a few books stacked on her makeshift nightstand. There was a small lamp in one corner near a pink beanbag, probably for reading.

The walls were a nice shade of charcoal grey, and could almost be considered clean compared to the rest of the apartment. There were various pictures hanging above a cheap desk across from her bed, pinned to the wall with various forms of hanging equipment.

There was a selfie with a purple-haired boy who wore a too-big white lab coat over his black shirt, and a few scenic shots of Spikemuth which were, admittedly, striking with the fluorescent lights contrasting against the dark buildings. I snorted as I caught a quick glance at a picture of who I assumed was Piers, before he had grown his hair out, wrangling a squirming Linoone into the picture frame with a little Marnie, grinning a gap-toothed grin while squeezing a Morpeko in her arms.

"You'll be sleepin' here," Marnie gestured to a pillow on her floor. "Or you can sleep at the foot of my bed, but I've gotta warn ya; I kick in my sleep."
"Well, considering how much Gia moves in bed, I think I'm gonna pass," Meowsie said, testing the pillow with her paws. Piers exhaled, a silent reminder to keep moving; we weren't guests here. Waving me over, he walked me across the hall to where his bedroom was.

To put it nicely, Piers' room was an absolute disaster. His bed was a bunch of blankets messily thrown onto a mattress that somewhat resembled a block of concrete, and the pillows were strewn all over the floor. The blankets themselves were raggedy patches of fabric mashed together, and the pillowcases were a mosh of blacks and magentas.

The walls were stark black, which hid the wear and tear from age well, except in one area where the paint was peeling to reveal the original color of the walls; a disgusting peachish-orange color that sharply clashed with the rest of the room. I didn't see any other signs of decay, but if there was, it was hidden behind the huge band posters tacked onto the walls.

Band shirts from what I assumed were some of Piers' concerts were littered around the room, covering the furniture and bed in black shirts with various patterns on them; the Team Yell insignia, a snarling Obstagoon face, a Zigzagoon's eyeliner in white, and sometimes just black with magenta decals with sharp edges and strange shapes.

Loose-leaf papers were scattered all over the place in a tornado of half-finished song lyrics and hastily scribbled music notes, burying the rest of the visible furniture so it could barely be distinguished as something usable. I picked one sheet of paper up off the floor for a quick peek when his back was turned.

I've been so good,
I've been helpful and friendly.
I've been so good
Why am I feeling empty?
I've been so good,
I've been so good this year.
I've been so good,
But it's still getting harder.
I've been so good
Where the hell is the karma?
I've been so good,
I've been so good this year.

Piers snatched it out of my hands before I could read on. He looked at me expectantly, as if I was going to do something. "If you think I'm even going to consider sleeping in the same room as you, you are sorely mistaken," I said, taking a step back in case he tried to grab me by surprise.

"In yer dreams," Piers scoffed, tossing me a blanket and a pillow. "You're sleepin' on the couch. Just makin' sure I don't break yer fragile nose, Miss Delicate Frosmoth." I was about to bite back with a retort, but he had a point; his pillow sure seemed dense and enough to break something, whether it be a nose or a window. "Furnace tends t'get on the fritz when it gets too cold," he called as I walked to the living room. "Hope your hands don't freeze off; you'll need 'em to keep your end of the bargain, after all!"

I sent a very meaningful hand gesture his way when I was out of his range of sight, and got to work fixing the couch for the night. Once I deemed it sanitary enough to touch, I laid down and pulled the blanket over me. Surprisingly, the cushions were very soft and squishy, once I'd learned to ignore the wires poking me, and the blanket kept me perfectly warm.

I let Espeon curl up at my feet beneath the blanket, a little extra foot warmer in my cocoon of heat. I slept soundly that night, letting the neon lights and the dull roar of a crowd cheering rock me into unconsciousness.