Special - Widget

N0ize grumbled to himself as the air buffeted him through the cracked windscreen. Cyph3r didn't appear as bothered, casually steering the sharpedpo ship through System Sky with the intention of finding somewhere to stop for repairs. Besides the incineroar's grumbling, the ship was silent, the only other noise the unsettling rattle of the engine.

Tracer sat huddled in a corner beside Widget, the latter toying with a laser module that had rolled out of a small cupboard. The door still hung open, shaken off its catch after the battle with the pyukumyuku. Tracer eyed the module cautiously as though it might set off an array of attacks should the eevee bop it any harder than he already was doing.

The delphox shifted uneasily, glancing around at the wrecked ship. His eye wandered to a fine crack in the ceiling and he opened his mouth as though to query how long it had been there. Instead, he stood up and dusted down his trench coat.

"Pardon me," he said. "I'm going to use the rest room."

"Back of the ship." N0ize waved a paw behind him without even glancing over his shoulder.

When Tracer had vanished out of earshot, the large incineroar finally twisted in his seat to look over the back of his chair, his eye going from the rest room door to the eevee still batting the laser module between his paws.

"Might I ask," N0ize half-growled, "what a fine rogue like yourself is doin' hangin' around with a posh city shamus like him?"

Widget cocked an ear and glanced at the space pirate out of the corner of his eye. "Why not?"

"You're a criminal, ain't ya?" N0ize asked. "You have that air about ya. Not many 'mon could just venture into Pulse City like you did and pawn off a government ship without even flinching at the sheer thought of the consequences."

Widget shrugged and watched the laser module skitter from his right paw to his left. "I don't really care for Socket. So why wouldn't I sell off her ship in favour of a better disguise?"

N0ize roared with laughter and struck a large paw on the dashboard. "That's what I mean! You ain't some cold blooded detective, kid. You've got 'shady' written all over ya." He gathered himself and wiped a tear from his eye with one claw. "So. Spill it. What landed you workin' with the fuzz, then? You payin' back for your transgressions? Or just tryin' to not lose your tiny life?"

Widget lifted his head to look him in the eye. He'd stopped batting the module back and forth, holding it under his left paw. Before Annie's ship tore a hole in his window, he'd been keeping Tracer and Widget around out of curiosity, but since then his demeanour had changed. Part of Widget thought he blamed them for the human's actions. No... he fully thought that. The space pirate had threatened them, and the eevee wasn't entirely sure he wanted to spill his life story to a 'mon who'd threatened his friend.

He looked back down at the floor and recommenced idly swatting the laser module back and forth.

N0ize twisted back towards the window and tutted. "Fine. You don't have to tell me nothin', I was just curious."

Widget rolled his eyes.

"Can't blame a 'mon for bein' curious," N0ize went on. "I just don't see the fascination in stickin' around a 'mon who could just as easily trade you in for some credits."

Although... Widget frowned at his paws. It might actually change the space pirate's opinion of his friend. Help him see Tracer in a different light. He looked up at the back of the incineroar's head, then cast his eyes over to Cyph3r. If the magmortar was interested, he didn't show it. Moments ago, they'd been trying to shoot down another ship regardless of the lives on board. Now all they cared about was repairing the damage done to their ship, even if it meant wringing the two detectives from ear to tail to get a single credit out of them.

Widget ran the scenario over in his mind. Telling them his reasons for sticking with Tracer might actually serve to be a decent experiment. See if the two space pirates actually had a heart between them.

"All right." His voice drew the incineroar's eye back to him. "I'll tell you why. But it's a long story, so you might get bored."

N0ize shrugged and tucked his paws behind his head. "We've got time. It's a long way to the Analogue Isles."

"Analogue Isles?" Widget squeaked.

N0ize grinned from ear to ear.

Widget cleared his throat and regained his composure. "Fine. But you're putting my entertainment skills to the test here. Want me to use shadow puppets?"

"Do whatever you want." N0ize waved a paw and turned back to the windscreen. "But I don't appreciate the sarcasm, or mockery to my intelligence."

Widget chuckled and turned his attention back to the module. Then he began relaying the events of his life.

...

I was a sickly pup. Always had my mother worried and doctors running back and forth. See, I was born with a rare degenerative bone disease, and an immune system that even the clean air of Meta City could wreck havoc on. Somehow, I managed to survive until I were twelve years old. But things weren't looking to get any better for me.

One day, the doctor made a house call for the last time. He took one look at me, ran some tests, then pulled my mother aside for a 'private chat'. Well, I might have been on my death bed, but I could still hear a pin drop. I remember it clearly. Four words that reduced my mother to tears.

"He won't see dawn."

After he'd gone, mother cried. Silent tears rushing down her face as she told me everything would be okay. Lies, but I appreciated it. Then she vanished from the room. I could hear her on the phone, talking to her friend. I knew her friend. He was round in a heartbeat.

I was exhausted. I barely remember his visit. Tracer, a delphox from the outskirts. I always remembered the smell of his cigars as he told me stories when mother had to work. Kept by my side, making sure I had everything I needed. This time, there were no such stories. He helped her bundle me into my wheelchair and pushed me out of the house. I didn't see much, my eyes were too tired, and I could barely move my head. But I remember seeing her pink ribbons fastened around the handle as she wheeled me along Meta City's streets. Silently walking beside Tracer as he puffed on his cigar.

"Where are we going?" I managed to ask, voice barely a whisper.

"To someone who can help." That was all she said.

I should have seen it coming. Being shoved through Central Meta Hospital's rotating doors, and the chaos that followed. Staring eyes, my mother arguing with the receptionist and the doctors. The looks on their faces as they tried to calm down a crying and screaming sylveon. Then they did it. They took me away, leaving a nurse furret and Tracer to comfort my rapidly calming mother. I remember her tearful eyes, watching me as the doctors whizzed me away on a stretcher. Tracer placing an arm over her shoulder, whispering that everything would be okay.

Lies.

I don't remember much after that. Everything went dark as various pokemon rushed about me, fastening things to my body. The next time I opened my eyes, it was bright. Unbearably bright. Something was very different. I could breathe freely. No breaths followed by a racking cough. No coughing up blood. No chest pain. The air smelled - tasted - felt clean. I took a few deep breaths as I blinked the dazzling light away.

The first thing I saw was the face of an ursaring staring down at me. His lips were pulled down in a frown until he saw me come to. Then he beamed from ear to ear. A happy beam. One that said whatever they'd done appeared to be a success.

"Welcome back," he said. "It's been a long week."

A week? I tried to push myself up, something I'd not been able to do in over a year. For some reason, I felt like I could do it. But my limbs still wouldn't obey. They felt heavy, tired, sore.

"What happened?" My voice was oddly stronger, despite the croak from being asleep for so long.

A nurse rushed to my side, holding a cold cup of water to my lips. She wouldn't let me gulp it down. I had to take steady sips while she instructed me to be careful in case I made myself sick.

"You've had very complex surgery," the ursaring explained. "It will take a long time for you to recover from it, but when you do, you'll be stronger than ever."

I frowned. "What surgery? Mother couldn't afford any surgery..."

That's right. Brush aside any misconceptions you have about 'rich 'mon livin' in the cities'. Rich city medicine is exactly that. Expensive. Not available to all. It doesn't matter if you live in the city or the outskirts. Living in the city is basically paying premium prices for clean air and healthy food. Mother worked six days a week in a bakery, selling fresh baked goods to commuters. Once her stock was out, she closed up shop. It were enough to get by. The surgery she'd wanted me to have... it cost almost half a million credits. We didn't have that kind of money.

"Don't worry, I'll explain everything." The ursaring pulled up his Clipboard and sat down heavily beside my bed. "You've suffered from a degenerative bone disease your entire life. The first thing we had to do was replace your entire skeleton with a biologically safe mechanical one. Lightweight, but you'll notice the difference. All your muscles have been structured to it, but due to them being underdeveloped, you'll need a lot of rehabilitation to get used to moving with it. The next thing we added were filter valves to various main arteries and your heart. These will remove all toxins, bacteria and other nasties from your blood stream, given you lack the white blood cells to deal with it. A lot of damage had been done to your lungs, so they've been enhanced to state of the art biomechanical implants that can filter out the air. The final addition is an everstone. The drawback to all these medical procedures is that you definitely won't be able to evolve. But evolution isn't everything."

I blinked, speechless. They'd basically turned me into a cyborg. It was what my mother had wanted and more. There was no way she could have afforded all that.

The doctor lowered his Clipboard and smiled at me. A warm smile. "It might sound like a lot to deal with. But it's saved your life. You'll live to see... oh... a good seventy or so more years yet."

"What about my mother?" I asked. "We can't afford this."

"It's been dealt with, don't worry." The doctor rose to his feet. "She's waiting to see you, actually. She's visited whenever she could, and her friend, too."

He left the room, stepping aside to let someone in. But the look of surprise on his face told me something was amiss. The pokemon that stepped inside wasn't my mother. It was Tracer, and he didn't look happy. Probably because the ursaring took his cigar away and waved it at him in a silent scold. The delphox watched him leave, then plonked himself down in his seat.

"You're looking well," he said.

"Where's my mother?" I asked. "He said she was waiting-"

Tracer waved a paw to cut me off. "She's had to work today. So I've visited in her stead."

"But I've just woken up! I thought she'd-"

"It was unexpected." Tracer reached into his inside pocket for a cigar, then froze, frowning at the 'no smoking' sign. He sighed and let the tin fall back into his pocket. "Widget, I don't want to be the one to tell you this. But your mother has to make a lot of money very quickly. So she's working every chance she can get."

"A bakery reels in nutpeas," I said. "And pokemon only want to eat when they're hungry."

"She should really tell you all this. Not me." Tracer placed a paw on my shoulder and a look of surprise crossed his face. But he didn't say anything about it, just reached into his pocket for his computer. "So what story do you want today?"

The fur bristled along my spine and I flashed a canine at the wall. "Forget your dumb stories!"

"Widget!"

"They don't matter!" Tears streamed down my cheeks. "I'm not even supposed to be alive right now! I should be dead, but they've turned me into some cyborg freak!"

"It was your mother's request." Tracer's voice was like a calm amongst a storm, yet it just kept raging.

"We couldn't afford it! And now she's not even here!"

"She's not stayed away out of spite," said Tracer. "You're everything to her, and seeing you deteriorate has been hard! After your father left-"

"Don't you dare mention him."

Tracer lifted his paws. "Okay." He was silent for a moment, twiddling a cigar he'd absently pulled from his pocket between two claws. "But look at it this way. Once you're out of here, you'll be able to help your mother out."

"When will that be?"

"Given your enhancements, you might make a speedier recovery than any ordinary pokemon."

"Okay. How long would an 'ordinary pokemon' take?" He'd stood up. I could barely turn my head to look at him. All I saw was his pocket and bushy tail swaying anxiously behind him.

"I've no idea," he said.

Holding my head up even a fraction was too much strain. I flopped heavily back onto my pillow, and it hurt. I groaned and tried to bury my face into the pillow.

"So where does she work now?" I asked.

Tracer was silent for a moment, chewing on the end of his cigar. "The bakery. It's doing well."

Lies.

"I'll be back tomorrow," he said. "I'll tell your mother you're awake, and awaiting rehabilitation exercises."

"Why can't she come herself?" Something was up. I could smell it. Hear it in his voice.

"I told you. She's very busy."

Before I could press him any further, he left the room.

...

The next two weeks went by slowly. Doctors pushed me into rehabilitation, getting me to push against weights to build up my muscle strength. Once I was able to move my legs slightly, they had me walking on a slow treadmill to build up the strength in my legs. They held me over it in a harness, more as a safety precaution in case I lost balance or collapsed.

Between rigorous exercises, Tracer visited. I never saw my mother, not once. But I smelled her if Tracer moved fast enough. Wafting from his fur amongst the tobacco smell. There's no fooling my nose. It wouldn't have surprised me if something were between them, and I still don't know to this day. I've never asked, and I don't want to either. They were good friends, I knew that much. He kept saying she had to work, but something was definitely up. She wouldn't have just abandoned me to the hospital, sending her friend to visit in her stead.

One day, when I were standing properly on all four legs, I told him that. I shouted at him. Threw myself at him and tackled him to the ground. I don't know what got into me, but I do know I'd had enough. I wanted to see her. To know she was okay. To let her see for herself that I was okay. He grunted as he lifted me off, struggling to move me. With the knew skeleton and all those enhancements, I was about three, maybe four times the weight of an average eevee.

"Widget, listen to me," he said.

"No!" I snapped. "You're lying! Since you first visited me two weeks ago, all you've done is lie! You think I can't smell my own mother on you? If she can't visit me, then how can she visit you?!"

"She needs to visit me," he said.

"Why?!"

"Because she sold her house and business!" Tracer flashed his canines, then sighed into his paws. "I'm sorry... I didn't want to worry you..."

I stared at him, speechless. All I could do was blink as I took in his words. She'd sold everything? Everything, to pay for my life?

"I'm so sorry, Widget," he went on. "But can you see why I didn't say anything sooner?"

"No." I couldn't even look him in the eye. "No, I can't. You should have told me! Where is she now?"

"Living with me."

I blinked again, staring at his face. Mouth pulled down in a frown, eyes watery.

"Why?" I asked. "We live in Meta City..."

He shrugged and leant back on his paws. "She can't afford to. And she needs to live somewhere. I offered her a room until she can make enough to rent a house in Spool City."

Spool City... I really was rendered speechless this time. There was no way she could survive in Spool City. The air there was toxic even to steel types. A fairy type wouldn't survive a year.

I had to get her out.

I fixed Tracer with a leer, the fur bristling down my spine and turning my tail into a brush.

"You should have told me," I hissed.

"You're right." He pinched the bridge of his muzzle in two claws. "I should have. I'm sorry."

"I don't want to hear it." I swished my tail, pulling my ears back. A deep, threatening growl left my throat. "Go. I don't want to see you again."

His eyes widened and he lifted his paws towards me, but I lunged at one, grabbing it in my jaws. I bit so hard I tasted blood. He snatched it back, cradling it against his chest.

"Widget," he gasped. "I know you're upset, but... I can't do that-"

"I said go!" That's when I tackled him. Knocking all the wind out of his lungs. He rolled into the hallway, and he stared back at my glaring face as the door swung shut between us.

That was it. No more visits from the detective. No more word from my mother. No one knew where she was except me. Holed up in Spool City with an old friend, breathing toxic air. All while I recovered in the hospital until one day, they finally discharged me.

No one to pick me up. No one to take me home. A young eevee, not quite into his teenage years, sat in front of the hospital, the sirens of ambulances coming and going blaring in his ears.

Alone.

I choked back a sob and pushed myself to my feet. I didn't really know the city, yet I managed to find my way back. The little house beside its bakery. The shop was boarded up with a renovation sign in the window. 'Soon to become a bistro', it promised. The house with its little yard and picket fence had a young rattata playing in it, kicking a ball against the wall. He didn't look at me. But the sight of him playing there, in my old garden, made me feel very... very alone.

As I idly sauntered through the city, I found myself at the gates separating Meta from the outskirts. Spool City was the one sign posted, the exact one my mother had moved to. Two pidgeot stood on guard, their beaks encased with metal sharper than their own beaks, their talons kitted out with cleavers. Even their wings had wicked claws to 'give them an extra edge in battle'. They didn't look happy to see me.

"Where do you think you're off to, kid?" one of them asked.

The other clicked his plated beak in a manner that was very threatening, and for a moment I thought about running back home. Only I didn't have a home to run back to.

"Looking for my mother," I said. "She's moved to the outskirts."

"Leaving behind her whelp?" the first one snorted. "I find that hard to believe."

"Look, kid," said the second. "Any who move to the outskirts... stay in the outskirts. So that means..." He pointed a wing at me. "You shouldn't be living here."

"I didn't move to the outskirts," I retaliated. "I've been in the hospital for the past four months!"

The pidgeot exchanged glances and the second one muttered, clearly not intending me to hear, "Couldn't even afford it. Had to sell up, eh?"

I bristled from head to tail, but all he did was roll his eyes and laugh.

"Go on." The first one stood aside and waved a wing to the gates. "Go find your mother. But be aware, you move there... you don't come back. We don't want their filth trampled all over our streets."

"What about the detective?" I snorted. "He comes and goes."

"Some 'mon have special passes," said the second. "They know our routine. We can't let just anyone frolic back and forth as they please, can we? We'd be overrun with scum. Now off with you."

Muttering under my breath, I passed through the gate, but not without firing a leer at the two pidgeot over my shoulder... meeting one off the second, harsher guard.

The putrid air from Spool City assaulted me immediately. Yellow and disgusting, hovering over the buildings like a dense mist. I instinctively coughed, but I didn't need to. It didn't get to my chest, but the smell alone made me feel sick to my stomach. I crept along the wide road, Proxy Boulevard, eyes drifting over the buildings. I had no idea what I was even looking for. No address to go off. Someone moved out of an alley ahead of me and I immediately felt lighter. Another pokemon. Someone I could ask for directions.

I skipped towards the squat pokemon. A trubbish, rifling through the gutter and pulling out various pieces of indescribable garbage. It popped one in its mouth and my stomach churned. I swallowed back the urge to be sick and put on my best face, strutting confidently towards the poison pokemon.

"Excuse me?" My question drew surprised eyes from the trubbish, which narrowed into slits. "I'm afraid I'm a little lost. Do you-"

"I'd say!" the trubbish scoffed. "You look way too manicured for this hole. You want Meta City, do a one-eighty, kid." He twirled a dripping limb in a circle, prompting me to go back the way I'd come.

I frowned and shook my head. "Oh, I'm not going back. My mother moved here, and I'm looking for her. She's living with a delphox called Tracer."

At that name, the trubbish's mouth dropped, then snapped shut again as he growled. "That detective scum?!" He fired off a string of profanities that had me backpedaling up the street. Then he threw his arms back and launched a flurry of slime globules at me.

I leapt to the side, narrowly dodging two of them. The third struck me in the face and I fell into a sprawl on my back. Hard. The impact took the trubbish by surprise, long enough for me to clear the gunk from my eyes and see him lurching towards me. I sprung to my feet and threw myself at him, knocking him back into the alley. We rolled in a tangle of limbs until we crashed into a wall. The impact cracked a few bricks, sending debris raining down on us.

The trubbish struggled free of my grip and pushed himself up. He fixed his eyes on me, a wary glare, as I climbed back to my feet. Save for a few dirty scuffs and a slimy face, I was reasonably free from any injury. The trubbish, however, sported a nasty tear in his side. Blood and goop leaked into the alley and he pawed at it helplessly.

"You..." He flashed two rows of jagged teeth. "What are you? Some kinda super eevee? A runt like you shouldn't be able to tackle like that!" He turned and scrambled from the alley. Then paused and pointed a greasy limb at me. "You'll regret this, runt! We'll all be after ya!"

I snorted, sending a slime blob to the floor, and turned on my heel. Since I was in the alley, I might as well go through to the other side. Give the trubbish a wide berth. The alley ended at another road, narrow in comparison to the boulevard. It was dotted with boarded up buildings. A few houses stood looking vacant, although I spotted a dark-furred meowth in one window. No sooner had I seen them, the blind flew across, separating us.

One little house seemed to stand out from the rest. It stood between a shop selling general wares and a club with a neon sign. The animation was somewhat jarring, the image glitching at random intervals. But it got its purpose across, and was one I'd be staying well away from.

There was no telling who was in the house, but it seemed rather out of place between a shop and a club. As though whoever lived there might actually own either business. I was about to turn my tail on it when the door opened. A delphox strolled out, his trench coat billowing in the light breeze. He clutched a cigar in one paw and his filter mask in the other, but he dropped the latter to the ground in favour of lighting up his cigar. His eyes almost bulged from his head when he spotted me, and his cigar dropped from his claws into the gutter to be washed away in the thick, brown muck. A small look of remorse crossed his face, then he looked up at me again as I plodded towards him.

"Well..." He cleared his throat. "I will admit I was actually on my way to Meta City look for you."

"Don't bother," I said. "Where's my mother? I've come to take her back."

"She doesn't have anywhere to stay in Meta City," said Tracer. "And neither do you."

"Then we'll live in an alley until we find our feet!" I looked around at the yellow smog, torn posters, filthy drains. "Living in Meta's streets is better than the hovel you've got her holed up in!"

Tracer narrowed his eyes and reached for another cigar. "This 'hovel' is one of the cleanest buildings in all the outskirts."

I snorted and opened my mouth to retort, but he cut me off with a wave of his paw.

"Unlike most homes," he said, "it has a working air filter."

"Yet here you are in the streets unwilling to wear a mask," I snorted. "It's little wonder you're alive!"

"You aren't wearing a mask yourself, Widget."

"I don't need one," I said. "I've got my own filters, thanks to my mother selling everything to pay to have it done! Now let me see her and take her home, before I take her by force!"

I rushed at him, but something jammed my limbs. The trubbish's sludge bomb? I looked down to find I'd been lifted off the ground. Tracer held out a paw, his eyes glowing with the same purple light that encased my body.

"I don't want to hurt you, Widget," he said. "Not while you're still recovering. But mark my words, you assault me again and you'll meet a force to be reckoned with."

"What? Proxy Prison?" I spat.

"If you're lucky." He dropped me to the ground and I grunted with the impact. "I'll let you see your mother, but she won't be going back."

"Why not?"

Tracer sighed and puffed out a stream of smoke. "I suppose you'll see for yourself."

He twirled with a flourish and threw open the door to his office, letting in the putrid air. I followed after him, acknowledging the air filter in the wall before me. Useless, given the front door couldn't even keep the air out. It rattled as one half of it worked in reverse to clear the room of bad air.

I glanced around at what appeared to be an office. A little desk stood to my left, and before me lay a worn out sofa.

Tracer motioned for me to follow him. Another door led deeper into the house. A kitchen stood on my right as he led me up the stairs to the second floor. Four doors, one open leading to a bathroom. Given the size of the house, I guessed one of the remaining doors led to a storage closet. He threw open one of them, leading into a sparsely decorated room. A floral scent washed over me, a real blessing after the stench of outside. I spotted the culprits atop a desk. Small, colourful bottles filled with perfume. Sprawled on the bed was a sylveon. My mother.

"Pebi," said Tracer. "Look who's here."

She lifted her head, and her blue eyes lit up when she saw me.

"Mum!"

I skipped across the room onto the bed, nuzzling her soft fur. Her ribbons surrounded me, pulling me in for a hug.

"Widget." Her voice sounded wheezy, freezing me solid. "Oh, I'm so glad you're okay! I've not seen you on your feet since you were eight years old."

I pulled back from her, looking her in the eye. The whites were yellowed, and her fur didn't feel as soft as it used to. My eyes went to her face and I grimaced. Just on the corner of her lip was the start of a nasty growth. I backed away from her, then snapped my head around towards Tracer.

"She's sick!" I roared.

Tracer sighed and slumped against the wall, avoiding my eyes. My fur bristled like a brush, but before I could go on, my mother placed a ribbon between my shoulders, drawing me back.

"The air does that here, Widget," she said. "It's toxic. It's no friend to fairy types."

"Then why did you move here?" I growled.

"For you," she said. "I needed to sell everything just to make half of what the hospital wanted."

"Half? Then where's the other half coming from?"

She looked over at the desk and I followed her gaze to the perfume bottles. Tiny little bottles strained from what flowers she could get her paws on. What little System Ground had to offer, unless she'd turned to one of the floating cities in System Sky.

"Let me do it," I said.

"What?" she gasped.

"Let me do it," I repeated. "You won't make nutpeas in this dump. Pokemon in Meta City would pay much more, and I can help make it too."

"That's very kind," she said. "But they won't let you back in."

"Then I'll find a way in!" I leant towards her, brushing my nose against hers. "Please, let me help. Maybe we can make enough they can treat you, too, and we can go back to our old home and lives."

She sighed and her head fell back against the pillow. "Okay."

My heart sank. Her eyes were closed, chest heaving, breath wheezing. I shook my head and backed off the bed onto the floor.

"There's a box under the desk," she said. "Take as many as you need. See what you can do."

I dived under the desk, groping for the box. Beside it was a bag. A little errand bag that smelled as much like perfume as the rest of the room. I stuffed it until it was fit to burst and tossed it over my back. Then I bade her goodbye, nuzzling her cheek before I fled the room. The house. Onto the street.

Then I broke down into tears, slumping onto the mucky street, nose almost in the gutter.

"You won't get past the sentries. I'll walk you." Tracer's voice made my spine tingle.

I snapped my head up towards him, then clambered to my feet. Legs trembling. Fur bristling.

"You!" I growled. "You dragged her into this city. Offering her a home in a city filled with poison!"

"I offered what she needed," he said. "Somewhere safe, off the streets. Meta City don't let pokemon live in the streets. They're all turfed out into the outskirts."

I looked away from him, canines still bared as I tried to process it all. "Then how did she get like this? You have an air filter!"

"That one is not on me," he said. "I'd often find her room empty. So I'd go and look for her in the only place I knew where to find her. Arguing with the sentries to get back into Meta City so she could visit you."

My legs felt weak. I trembled from ear to tail as I desperately tried to suppress tears. But they betrayed me, running down my cheeks towards the ground.

"I need to help her," I sputtered. "I'll pay it all back and more! I'll save her. If the hospital can save me, they can save her! Right?"

I looked back at him, pleading. He nodded.

"Come on," he said. "I know a way in."

He fastened a filter mask over his head, then led me through the streets. He finally stopped close to Meta City, in a dank and smelly alley. It ended at a brick wall coated with outdated posters.

"So where is this magical entrance?" I asked.

"Right there." He nudged a manhole cover with a foot, and it slid aside. "Drop down and turn left. Keep going. At the third manhole, come back up and you'll find yourself in an alley with an underground cafe."

"Underground?" I repeated.

"It means 'secret'," he said. "The cafe is just a guise. Even Meta City isn't free of crime."

My canines poked through my lips but I couldn't look at him. "Then why didn't my mother use this?"

"I wouldn't tell her about it, and neither would you if you had any idea what that alley is like. A pretty fairy type like her wouldn't get out unscathed. The sheer thought turns my stomach."

I shook my head and sighed. Noted. I was about to climb into the sewers when something hit me. I looked back at him, examining what I could see of his face through the mask. Just his eyes, tinted green by the lenses.

"If you've lived here for so long, why aren't you sick?" I asked.

"I take precautions," he explained. "But it doesn't mean I wont get affected by this air one day. Now go. Before someone sees you."

I nodded and dropped into the sewers. Before I could call back my thanks, the lid clattered heavily back into place. I remember that day clearly, as I scampered over the metal grate towards Meta City's underground cafe. That day changed my life forever.

As I came back up, I found myself face to face with the cafe. The pokemon that sat around it had a strange air about them. They all looked rough, and not exactly Socket's chosen Meta City types either. Secret mutterings filled the air - about Socket, about the outskirts. It was to be my first port of call.

I went inside, embraced by the smell of coffee and baked goods. The zangoose behind the bar nodded as I entered, then his eye went to my bag.

"What've you got?" he asked, intrigued.

"Perfume," I said. "My mother makes it. I've come to sell it."

"Here?" he scoffed.

I shrugged. "I don't know where. In an alley somewhere, I guess."

He sniffed then moved closer to me, sniffing again. "You've come from the outskirts. Use our sewer?"

I nodded, growing wary. My fur was bristling and not out of anger.

Then the zangoose grinned and let out a laugh. "A little kid? All right. I can let you sell here. It's not as if you're selling home-made explosives." A chuckle. "They might go off and bring the whole place down."

He opened the latch beside the counter and led me into the back. It was filled with long tables, each one a stall. Pokemon sold everything from smuggled berries to weapons and biological enhancements. One pokemon, a zoroark, sat on a chair tattooing a scrafty's arm. So anyone really could get in through the sewer. If I knew about it, then most of the outskirts probably did. How had Socket not got wind of it?

I took the table offered to me and laid out the perfumes neatly. Then I waited for the sales.

...

For the past two weeks, every day was the same. Gather the perfumes, head to Meta City, set up the stall and wait. Sales were relatively slow. Some days I made fifty to a hundred credits, while others I made none. The average was around twenty - the price I charged for one bottle. As I sat mulling over my prices, wondering whether lowering them might attract more sales, a gruff voice drew my eye.

I looked up to see a gabite standing before me. One I'd seen a few times. Both his fins were mechanical, or shrouded in gauntlets. It was hard to say, but they sported wicked claws. Claws like daggers. I'd heard a few pokemon refer to him as Iron Claw, but he'd never shown an ounce of interest in my humble little stall. I hadn't picked up what he'd said amongst all the racket the market created, but he was looking right at me. A smirk tugging at his lips. Then he turned fully to face me and approached my stall. Each step purposeful and confident. I instinctively retreated, eyes going wide and bugging from their sockets like an alarmed goldeen. He rammed his fins onto the table, those daggers gouging into the wood. Each little bottle hopped and some skittered backwards off the stand. I leapt to catch them, but a couple missed my paws and shattered on the stone floor.

I snapped my head up towards him and narrowed my eyes, flashing a canine, but he just laughed.

"Some little runt selling perfume?" He shook his head and dragged his claws free from the table. "Wow, this market just gets lower and lower. You ain't gonna make scotch sellin' that. Just leave, let the real business 'mon take over this stall."

I kept one eye on him, trying to mask my tremble as I pushed the bottles back into place.

"You hearin' me, kid?" he growled.

"Oh, I hear you." I sat back on my haunches and tried to give him as confident a look as I could muster. "I'm just not leaving."

His lip curled, flashing his sharp teeth. His two other cronies stepped forward beside him. A bagon and a druddigon. The latter flexed his claws then balled them into fists.

"Trash his stall," Iron Claw told them.

The spiky dragon leapt forward, his paws striking the underside of the table. Colourful bottles went flying, shattering against the wall and raining down floral and berry scented shards. Before I knew what was happening, I'd thrown myself at the druddigon. His jagged scales scraped the fur back from my skin, but I didn't care. A full body tackle sent him bowling backwards, causing Iron Claw to leap aside with a surprised squeak. The entire market flew into an uproar, pokemon abandoning their stalls to avoid the rolling bodies. Stalls toppled, wares scattered onto the ground. The druddigon's claws dug into my shoulders, lifting me off him. The strain at my unexpected weight reflected in his eyes, and I struggled, using it to my advantage. Before I landed on him, I turned the drop into another tackle, knocking the wind right out of his lungs.

A flash of purple fire skimmed by back and I looked over at the bagon. Much smaller, but just as nasty. My hind feet struck the druddigon's gut, eliciting a grunt, as I propelled myself towards the smaller dragon. Fire seared my fur, but I dived right through it. I couldn't stop. Gravity kept me going until I struck him hard in the face. His skull bounced off the floor and he lay limp as I landed beside him. Every hair on my body stood on end amongst bloodied and singed patches, and I stood breathing heavily, the only sound in the suddenly silent market, and leered up at the gabite.

"You wanna end up like those?" I growled, nodding to the unconscious dragons. "Or are you gonna clean up the mess?"

He followed my fleeting gaze to the ruined market stall, a look of hesitation crossing his face. Those claws flexed with a similar noise to the skeleton I hid inside my body. I wasn't exactly going to tackle him with those blades adorning his limbs, but he didn't need to know that.

He fixed me with a yellow glare, then threw his head back and laughed. Roaring laughter. Then he looked right back at me.

"You've got guts!" he said. "So what've you had done, then? What makes a runt like you so freakin' powerful you can take down two of the best pirates in Pulse City?"

I said nothing, keeping him locked in a leer. He just smirked.

"Seriously?" he went on. "You can tell old Iron Claw. You like... completely cybernetic or somethin'?"

Silence. I narrowed my eyes, bristling from ear to tail.

"I see." He chuckled. "So, what's a runt like you doin' sellin' perfume? With moves like that you could be sellin' so much more."

I spat with disgust and took a step backwards. "Like what?"

"Like yourself." He waved a paw at me. "Sell your skills, boy! I could pay you big!"

I gave a snort of derision and lowered myself to the ground, threatening an attack. Iron Claw raised his paws but he didn't move away. No fear in his eyes.

"Hear me out," he said. "I could pay you five hundred credits per day! Plus commission for each job you help me with. Even more if you take out one of my enemies!"

"You wanna hire me as a murderer?!" I roared.

"Not 'murderer'." He flexed two blades on each paw for air quotes. "No, I can do that perfectly fine myself. I just need you to detain them. Pokemon get pretty nasty when I go stealin' their wares. I'm a merchant by trade. I steal weapons and sell them in Pulse City. You'll get so much more than you will sellin' prissy perfume in this market, boy. Anythin' you steal and sell yourself, you keep. Add that onto what I'll be payin' you and you'll be livin' like a king!"

I stood, slack-jawed, staring at the dragon type. That made the average twenty credits a day I'd been heading home with look like nutpeas. Five hundred a day, minimum, could help my mother much faster. It was an attractive offer... but working for a space pirate?

"I'll do it," I said. "But only until I've made enough to save my mother."

The gabite jolted and his mouth turned into a confused frown. "You're sellin' perfume... to save your mother?"

"Yes," I said. "She's sick in the outskirts."

"And I just trashed it all!" He threw his paws into the air and fell to his knees. "Oh, I feel like such a fool!"

Lies.

The smirk on his face was enough to prove that. Hidden behind his bladed claws. He was winning no prizes for acting.

"Well." He clambered back to his feet and placed his paws on his hips, glancing over his fallen comrades. "I don't suppose you've got any berries to revive my crew, have you?"

I shook my head and he tutted.

"Pity. I'm runnin' low." He reached into his belt and tossed a small money pouch towards me. "First errand, go buy me some berries. Once these fools are back on their feet, we'll head to my ship."

And that's how I made the first step towards the worst decision of my life. It started with buying berries.

...

Iron Claw's ship was immense. One of the few pirate ships that wasn't based on an aquatic pokemon. The huge rayquaza wound through System Sky, each one of its many windows allowing a clear view of the dark vastness beyond. I'd never been so high up. I was fascinated. Amid the blackness, stars glittered in the distance. The flickering antennae of the floating cities flashed blue and green below. Higher up than even the cities. The world below looked tiny. From this height I could even see the huge, vast whiteness of the Dead Glacier emerging beyond the mist.

"How high up are we?" I gasped.

The bagon working the navigation controls didn't even look up at me. "About a few thousand miles, I'd say."

My mouth moved silently as I repeated those words in my head. The fleeting thought that the ship could easily fall and kill us all crossed my mind, but it did nothing to quench my excitement.

The bagon's name was Vittles. An odd name. Almost as odd as the druddigon, who'd adopted the alias Winder. Not one member of Iron Claw's crew, even himself, had names typical of System. It suited both him and his ship down to a T. I was clearly the first. An odd ball amongst a group of dragons.

And oddly enough, I wasn't remotely scared. It thrilled me with excitement. No longer confined to System Ground, free to roam the skies and earn enough money to help my mother.

I dropped down from the dashboard and turned to the druddigon pilot.

"So where are we going again?" I asked.

"Magenta City," he growled. "Sit down."

I nodded. "Safety first. Gotcha."

A quick scout of the cockpit and I spotted a spare seat beside the navigation deck. As I hopped up into it, Vittles finally looked at me. A fleeting look I couldn't read. Displeasure? Haughtiness? Gas? I ignored it and tried to work out what the pictures on the navigation screen meant.

Iron Claw marched back into the cockpit, gnawing at a large fish bone. "Almost there, then, eh?"

He tossed the bone into the corner of the room and fell down into his seat, but not without firing a grin in my direction. His long, metal claws flexed and I found myself wondering if they were an enhancement or just a weapon he constantly wore, much like one might wear a scarf.

"So what are we going to Magenta for?" I asked, tail wagging.

My eye went to the window again, spotting the large, floating city and its trademark volcano in the distance.

"I just gotta pick up some stuff," said Iron Claw. "You should know full well Magenta City creates the parts for Socket's weapons and ships. The city is filled with fire types, after all. They're pretty good at melting and melding steel."

"And where do they get the steel from?"

Iron Claw grinned wider. Not a friendly grin, but I kept my cool.

"Raster City," he said.

"The outlands?" I squeaked.

"It's the only place with steel types, boy!" The gabite laughed and swivelled back to face the window. "What they can't mine in their tiny, floating city, they have to buy! None of these floating cities are old enough to have created their own supply of ore! So why not buy shed exoskeletons from the pathetic steel types for nutpeas? I like their level of thinkin'."

I hopped from the seat to join his side. "So we're buying weapon parts and selling them on?"

All three dragons turned to look at me with equal, unreadable looks. Did they all have gas?

"Buy them?" Iron Claw scoffed. "No, boy. We're just takin' then. Then we're gonna sell 'em at Pulse City's Black Market and make a fortune."

"Same old same old," said Winder.

"I get the impression you've done this before," I said slowly. "A lot."

"Aye." Iron Claw tapped his temple with one of his blades. "You don't get to be the wealthiest space pirates in System overnight."

"So... you know what you're doing?" I narrowed my eyes.

Another grin split Iron Claw's toothy maw. "That's right, boy. I know exactly what I'm doing."

Those words and that grin sent a chill through my tiny body. I finally managed to read his expression. This was a dragon with a plan, and I was fairly certain it involved me.

As we drew closer to Magenta City, the heat permeated the ship. The rayquaza lined up perfectly with the docks, turning to allow us all out through its hatch. It was dark, the dead of night, but guards peppered the docks either manning the turrets or standing armed and waiting.

Yet somehow, they didn't see us.

Iron Claw was out first, ducking behind a metal shipping crate. Then he was gone. Winder shoved be from behind, sandwiching me between himself and Vittles. We followed his lead, scurrying across while trying to stop our claws from clacking on the wood. I don't know which of us it was, but one of us scuffed our claws a little too harshly, drawing they eye of a heatmor.

The chunky fire type readied his laser and moved away from his post, scanning the shadows silently. A long tongue of flames flicked out at intervals, lighting up his surroundings like a torch. But every 'mon knows heatmor don't need much light to go by. He spotted us before he even reached the crate. Lifted his laser. Aimed.

"Take him," Iron Claw whispered into my ear.

"What?" I whispered back, too harshly.

The heatmor's eyes widened and his claw tightened on the trigger. Then he crumpled into a silent heap.

I caught Iron Claw's eye in the distance, unimpressed, disappointed. He curled his deadly claws, ushering us on. Quick. I sidestepped the heatmor, giving him one last glance. Blood pooled around him, dripping between the wooden slats into the glass dome below. The metallic tang struck my nostrils, turning my stomach and I screwed my eyes shut, scurrying after Vittles while wishing desperately this was just a dream. Or that my eyes had deceived me.

I'd never considered space pirates to be killers. They were just outlaws, living outside Socket's rules. A faction that grew from the hatred of using water dwellers as meat. Although the trend went well beyond that, attracting the lowlifes who only wanted to get off System Ground and make a living in the crime scene. But killing? I'd hit the nail on the head when I'd scoffed at Iron Claw wanting to hire me as a murderer.

I made a mental note to book it once we got back to Meta City.

The roads wound through shadowy streets lit up from the fires on the volcano. Each footstep warmed me to the core as heat from the lava seeped through the stone. During daylight it would be a lovely place to bask, but knowing what had just happened on the docks took all the loveliness out of it.

Iron Claw finally stopped beside a factory. Smoke billowed from its chimney, sucked straight up through a vent in the dome and ejected into the atmosphere. Yet the smell of metal and smoke still filled my nostrils.

"It's here," he said, nodding to a door. "Locked tight from the inside."

I stared up at the door, cast iron set in a stone wall. There was a small window allowing us to see inside. It lead into a wide corridor filled with boxes and trolleys.

Iron Claw shooed me aside and my ears twitched at the sound of metal screeching across glass. He ran his claws around the window, slicing the glass like butter. He caught it skillfully and set it aside against the wall.

"All right, boy. Let's see if you can handle this." He turned his eyes on me. "Wiggle in there and let us in, eh?"

I looked between the dragon and the window, my eyes briefly going to his wicked claws. Well, I wasn't willing to find myself on the receiving end of them, so I hopped up to the window and gripped the edge. The remains of the glass cut into my paws between my pads, but I ignored it. Mechanical skeleton creaking and groaning with the weight, I hoisted myself through and landed heavily on the other side. A quick check of my paws showed blood trickling between my toes. I gave them a sympathetic lick then turned to the door.

"It needs a code!" I hissed.

Iron Claw's face appeared where the glass was and frowned down at me, but I was too busy frowning at the code panel beside the door.

"It also needs a paw print," I added.

"Then bash it," Iron Claw's voice rumbled.

"Bash what? The panel?" I scoffed.

I shook my head and sighed. Then launched myself at the panel before Iron Claw could finish giving me a response. I heard something about 'bashing the door, you moron' as I struck the panel a second time. It splintered and cracked, revealing its wires. I grabbed them in my paws and tugged, wrenching them free. The panel went dark and something clicked. A lock. I gave the door a shove and it swung outward on its silent hinges.

A smile tugged at Iron Claw's unimpressed face. "Nice job. Get a little tackle-happy there?"

The dragons shoved past me and left me to follow them down the corridor.

It was dark and dingy, and stunk of oil and grease. Yet the floor felt smooth and dry. Wherever the steel was melded, it was clearly confined elsewhere. The heat grew more and more intense the further we ventured into the building. Not even a sniff of a pokemon was nearby, yet I could hear something. Something heavy, banging, as machines whirred away. Yet it was completely empty. As the corridor turned off into the main part of the building, it became more apparent why. I glanced through a window, noting huge mechanical shapes lumbering back and forth. Mechanical arms hoisted up crates to place on a conveyor belt, and as they moved along yet more mechanical arms and bulky implements sealed them shut with a whole lot of hollow banging. So they had machines doing their work for them. But surely they'd be 'monned? Not left to whir away at their own jurisdiction?

I caught up with Iron Claw, keeping my eye on that door. "I guess we should be wary of a machine uprising, huh?"

He fired me a frowning glance and turned sharply away from the factory. He paused by a door and wagged a claw at it.

"Metal," he said. "Can you handle this, runt?"

I snorted, wanting to retaliate with something along the lines of 'I'm a normal type, not a ground type like you!' but after what I'd already witnessed, I dared not rub him the wrong way. Instead, I set my shoulders and launched myself at the door. My muscles roared as I struck it, bouncing off like a pebble from a metagross' hide. I landed on my paws, claws scraping the tiles as I skidded along them. Then I threw myself at it again. Iron Claw roared with laughter as I was deflected a second time and grabbed me by the tail before I could skid back around the corner. Those metal blades cut into my skin and I tried my best not to grimace.

"Calm yerself," he purred. "I've got this."

He turned back to the door and threw his right arm into the air. Sand whipped up around him and flew at the door. It looked just like sand, yet it sliced through the metal like his claws did flesh. I couldn't help but wonder if anything could stand in this dragon's way. The door was reduced to scraps in an instant. He stepped over the remains like they were nothing and surveyed the room.

Boxes. Lots and lots of boxes, each one labelled with the weapon parts they contained.

"Grab 'em," he told his crew. "As many as you can. Then, if no one stops us, we'll come back for more."

Winder placed one crate atop another and grabbed both in his chunky arms. Vittles, however, could barely manage one. He staggered after the druddigon, stumbling on the metal scraps. His eyes widened as he steadied the crate then waddled away towards the exit.

Iron Claw narrowed his eyes at me. "Guess I can't expect you to carry one, eh, quadruped?"

I snorted and grabbed one of the crates by its bindings in my teeth. A quick toss hoisted it into the air and I stepped beneath it, letting it fall onto my back. It was heavy. Much heavier than me. I wasn't sure if I was the only one who heard the hissing of my mechanical joints with every strain that seemingly small gesture took, but Iron Claw nodded his approval.

"Not just a small fry, eh?" He chuckled and grabbed two crates in his arms before leading me from the storage room. "I think I could get a lotta use outta you, boy. Even if you are a soft-hearted runt."

The trip back to the docks was about as uneventful as they came. It made me wonder how easy space pirates had it. That was until we reached the docks. The pokemon working there had found their slaughtered companion.

Iron Claw merely tutted and led us a little further along. Yet more cargo crates provided a convenient barrier between us and the dock workers. But it was further along from the ship. Iron Claw tapped the bagon on the shoulder, drawing his eye.

"Drop the box," he whispered, "and go and get the ship. Bring it closer."

The small dragon didn't even complain. I wondered why as I looked between him and the dock workers. Even the police 'mon had shown up now. A typhlosion trailed by a flareon. After witnessing that sand tomb, a confrontation would hardly be anything the gabite couldn't handle.

My eye went back to Vittles as he scampered away from the cargo crate. His hide shifted colour and in an instant he'd vanished from sight. My jaw dropped. What kind of enhancement was that?!

Iron Claw said nothing, keeping his eye on the two police 'mon. Sirens began to sound out over the city as yet more police threatened to show up at the scene. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Winder shaking his head.

It seemed to take forever, but before any more pokemon showed up at the crime scene, Vittle's crate rose into the air and the bagon appeared slowly behind it.

"Follow me," he said.

The little bagon scampered over the docks towards the ship, where he vanished once more behind its cloak. Iron Claw gave me a shove in the tail with his foot and I took off after the small dragon. Winder followed close behind while Iron Claw covered the rear. That was when the voices reached our ears. That flareon was quick.

No. There would me no more casualties. I had this one.

I tossed the box towards the ship then tackled the flareon to the ground. The wind left his lungs in a hiss, then he struck the floor hard on his back. A quick belly flop left him stunned and dazed. I swivelled in the air and returned to the box, tossing it onto the ship. Vittles ducked with a squeak and turned his head towards the box as it crashed into the other... three?

I turned my head back to see Iron Claw standing over the flareon. Blood shimmered on his claws as a flame thrower lit up the sky, flying from the typhlosion's mouth. A small army of fire types rushed the dragon, fists blazing, bodies lit up with flames.

By the time they reached the flareon's corpse, the ship was already in motion. Iron Claw leapt at it and hung from its door as it left the docks, tossing the remaining crate ahead of him. I instinctively moved it to make way for the sand dragon, not getting a single thanks in return. Instead, he stood in the open doorway, watching the docks. Laughing.

"Another job well done!" he said, turning back towards me. "Glad to see you took initiative there, boy! Get some rest. You're gonna need your strength once we reach Pulse City."

Pulse City? Well, I should have expected that. Guess I wasn't escaping any time soon. I nodded and turned towards the rear of the ship.

"Take the third room along!" Iron Claw told me. "If I want you, I'll holler!"

He laughed again, marching towards the ship's cockpit. I gave a glance back at it, not spotting any of the dragons. Then I trudged along towards the room. It wasn't until I was inside that I finally let my ears droop and my tail fall between my legs. I slumped to the floor, landing nose-first in dust. The only thing that could pass as a bed was an old mattress thrown into the corner of the room, right next to a pile of dirty sheets in desperate need of a laundrette.

I didn't touch any of them. Instead I took the opportunity to examine my paws and tail. Both needed a good clean up before they got infected. Not that they could get infected. All those enhancements to my body filtered that out, but still... I sat grooming them while I ran over the events in my head.

Iron Claw's ruthless slaughters, the whole raid on that factory, his careless grabbing of my tail in his bladed claws... did he even have a moral compass? If I hadn't tackled that flareon... would he still be alive? We'd have probably been on the ship before he even reached us. Why did I do that?

I spat out a clump of dusty fur and turned my eyes to the window. Dark. We'd left Magenta City and were back in System Sky's vast blackness of night. I clambered to my feet and looked out. In the far distance I could see the twinkling lights of another city, unknown to me. I didn't even know which way was north from this height. Was it Pulse City? No... surely the nose of the rayquaza ship would be pointing towards it by now.

Pulse City...

I could only imagine such a place. Hopefully once we were out of it, we'd head back to System Ground. I didn't even care where. I just wanted to get away from these space pirates. No pokemon should have to die for the sake of credits. I wasn't even too sure I wanted the dragon's blood money.

Little did I know that was all set to change before we left Pulse City.

...

Pulsing music reached my ears as the ship pulled into the docks. I'd been sleeping, and somehow was really grateful I was even waking up. I'd been fighting off sleep, but thankfully the dragons had left me well alone. I scrambled to my paws and looked from the window. Huge neon signs lit up shop and club fronts, some flickering erratically as their bulbs struggled to stay lit. The music wasn't so much a melody as a concoction of various themes and rock music blaring from the various bars and colourful entertainment billboards.

I scrambled from the room, following Iron Claw's bellowing voice towards the cockpit. He stood by the exit hatch, muzzle creased into a frown as I approached him.

"Grab a crate," he said. "We're already late."

"Late for what?" I asked around the crate's bindings.

Iron Claw watched as I tossed it onto my back. Again. It hurt a lot more this time, I think I'd pulled something.

"Late to meet Worm," Iron Claw spat. "He's messaged me three times since we left Magenta. Pulse City is gagging for weapons and we're supplyin'! Get a move on, runt. Follow Winder and make it fast. All of ya!"

I staggered off the ship beneath the weight of the crate, desperate not to drop it. The space pirates gathered around the docks watched us curiously, claws twitching as some considered interjecting. As I strolled by with one on my back, balanced like a spinning plate, they seemed to reconsider. Wary looks passed between them as they watched the tiny eevee and his big box. I could almost hear their brains whirring as they tried to process whether what they saw was true or a facade, but not one wanted to find out.

Good. I was in no mood to fight.

I caught up with Winder and Vittles, then cast a glance back to the ship. Iron Claw was still making sure it was secure before grabbing his own crates off the docks.

"Why do you put up with someone like that?" I asked the two dragons.

Winder cast me a wary glance while Vittles glanced back and cleared his throat.

"Simple," he said. "You seen those things on his claws, right?"

I nodded.

"Well... we don't wanna get on the receivin' end o' them."

"Besides," said Winder, "it pays. Now shut up talkin' and keep on walkin'."

He nudged me with his foot and I had to teeter to keep the crate from toppling to the ground.

The long road ended at a huge building with 'market' in neon letters above it. As we sidled in, a throh barrelled past with his own crew in tow. A rather rag-tag group of misfits trailed by a small, runty mawile in a scarf much too big for him. He caught it under his feet and tripped into me, almost causing me to drop the crate. Winder stopped beside me, catching it on his flank. He shot the mawile a filthy look to the back of the head as he returned to the large fighting type, and nudged the crate back in place until it was balanced.

"Watch where you're goin'," Winder hissed.

"He bumped me!" I squeaked.

"I don't care. You break the contents, it'll be your hide!"

I deeply hoped he wasn't speaking from experience. I tried my best not to cower and instead put on a brave face, following the two dragon types through the market's crowds. A low table spread before us 'monned by a sewaddle I could only assume was Worm.

Winder dropped his two crates onto the sewaddle's somewhat bare table, drawing the bug pokemon's confident stare.

"We rustled six crates," said Winder. "Iron Claw's on his way."

"No he ain't, he's here." Iron Claw dropped his own crates beside Winder's and peered at the bug pokemon over the top of them. "I think you'll be satisfied."

"Go on then," said Worm. "Bust 'em open, let's see what's inside."

The arrival of the crates had already drawn quite the audience. Iron Claw brandished his claws and sliced the bindings open. The crates took a bit of prying to loosen the nails, but once one was open, Worm clambered up the side and poked his tiny head over the rim.

"Oh ho ho!" he crooned. "Laser modules! Now we don't get too many of them!"

There was cheering from the surrounding pokemon, along with clapping paws. I found myself shoved aside as larger pokemon scrambled to the table. It all became quite a blur and I stepped back, away from the table and out of the crowd.

Once Iron Claw's exchange was done, he returned to me and gave me a nod.

"All sold," he said. "Couldn't have done it without ya."

"Really?" I growled, ears drooped, shoulders slumped.

"What's that look for?" Iron Claw flashed his sharp teeth. "You climbed through that window, boy! None of us coulda fit through that!"

I snorted and looked away from him. Fully aware of his claws. Part of me waited for him to slice away, but instead he just laughed.

"Wanna see what we earned today?" He slammed something onto my head.

I flinched, body locking up. But instead, a visor flashed before my eye. A large number appeared on it, and my eyes slowly widened as I realised what I was looking at.

Seven thousand and five hundred credits.

"That's your share," said Iron Claw. "Bet ya wouldn't have made that sellin' perfumes in Meta City's underbelly, eh?"

I shook my head, stiffly at first, then more energetically as I turned to look back up at him.

"No! I would not!" I said. "I... this is really from grabbing those weapons?"

"Aye." Iron Claw curled his fists into his hips and smirked down at me. "And a little extra for nailin' that flareon. We coulda got a lot more than that if we'd grabbed more crates. This is the life we lead, boy. You in?"

The images of that bloodied heatmor and the poor flareon crossed my mind once more, but I shook it away, letting it fade into nothingness. My mother came back to the front of my mind. More than seven thousand credits. Just ten more errands and we could afford a place back in Meta City. We could afford to get her well again.

I nodded as a grin split my muzzle. "I'm in."

...

More than a month passed by. Some errands fetched far less than the raid we'd performed in Magenta City. Iron Claw steered well away from that area of System Sky, and for good reason. It would be heavily defended for a while as the fire types kept a look out for his trademark ship. Instead, we visited Meta City's underbelly for the chance of the odd weapon popping up. We'd do weapons raids in other areas such as Boolean City, or visit Binary's entertainment district for a gambling session (or a stroll around, in my case). We'd drop in on Raster City to raid metal scraps and ore - some pokemon in Pulse City used them to make their own weapons and doohickeys (although admittedly they were a bit shoddy...) All odd jobs that very rarely brushed seven thousand credits.

Most days were spent idly flying around System Sky, or gambling in Pulse City. Well... the dragons gambled. I'd either sit with them or skulk in a corner with a drink Iron Claw had cheerfully bought me before returning to his games. Even if I'd been offered to join in, I wouldn't be risking my hard earned credits. They were for my mother, not throwing away.

At night I'd check my balance, watching it slowly creep up. It didn't help that on the quieter days - which were often - Iron Claw didn't even pay me the five hundred he'd promised (and there was no way I was confronting him about it...) We needed a plan. A big plan. I'd not spoken to my mother in weeks, and I was growing anxious. Twenty thousand credits wasn't going to get us a home. It was barely enough to get her well. Another ten thousand, maybe. At least I could give her that but... she'd still be living in the outskirts. She'd just get sick again.

I sighed and let my paw flop to my side. A small stream of dust rose from the mattress and I rolled over to face the empty room. Less dusty. No luxuries. Every credit I earned was set aside for my mother. For some reason, Iron Claw kept feeding me. He fed us all. Part of me wondered if he set a little savings aside for keeping his crew.

Since that stunt in Magenta City, he hadn't killed anyone again. That was a plus. Maybe space pirates weren't all that bad?

The ship came to a halt and I heard the gabite bellow for us all to get a move on. I cast a quick glance from the window and felt my stomach do a turn.

In the distance was Socket's mansion, the System flag waving high above the rooftops. Mechanical trees stood tall along the streets just beyond the docks, silent sentinels in a night-shrouded city.

But just as one would expect, Meta City was not quiet. Pokemon bustled back and forth, oblivious to the cloaked ship. What on earth were we doing back here? Even if we visited the underbelly, Meta's docks was not the place to park.

I left the room, a million questions forming in my mind, but they all retreated back into forgotten files as I stared up at the gabite. A huge grin split his face and he tapped his arm with his wicked claws.

"Got a little job for you, boy," he purred. "Nice and easy, like."

I glanced out of the open hatch then shrugged. "Go on."

"Hospital raid," he said. "Get in there, grab some medicines, and meet us back here."

"What do you need medicines for?" I asked, meeting his eyes.

"Pulse City," he said. "They pay out the nose for medicine, boy! Dunno if you've realised, but weapons have been a little dry lately. So I thought why not raid some medicines? Could easily land you, oh... I dunno... fifteen thousand credits per run?"

My jaw almost hit the floor.

That was it. I left the ship, keeping my wits about me. Iron Claw had his head screwed on straight. He might stand out like a sore paw pad, but me? A normal type in Meta City? So long as the dock workers didn't see me suddenly appear out of thin air, then they wouldn't suspect a thing.

It weren't far to Central Meta Hospital. The huge, white, sterile building was exactly where it's name said it should be. The centre of Meta City. A fair trek from the docks, but without pokemon casting suspicious glances my way it didn't take long to get there. What did take a while was finding a way in. Sure, I could walk through the A&E reception, but to stroll into wards? Into locked storage cupboards? Now that part wasn't going to be easy.

One would think.

I managed to get into the wards with all the ease of a haunter through a brick wall. I'd only been a space pirate for like, a month, but I had pick pocketing down to a fine art. I'd snagged guns, pocket computers, credit pouches and all sorts from space pirates and commoners alike. I'd been caught once. By a machoke who'd taken an extreme dislike to me taking his computer. I'd received a black eye that day, made a whole lot more sore by the tattoo I'd had done two days prior. Courtesy of Iron Claw in order to make me look tougher. He had a friend do it 'for free'. Coupled with a bruise it smarted my paws off, but I learned a valuable lesson. Be more careful.

So as a janitor passed me by, I craned my head back to spot a set of keys hanging by his tail. The little minccino didn't feel a thing as I grabbed the keys from his belt, snipping through the leather loop with my sharp teeth. Perfect. Keys was what I'd need to get into the storage cupboards.

I paused by a map, tucking the keys into my belt pouch. Muttering under my breath 'storage, storage' I managed to find a promising area between Intensive Care and MRI. I adjusted the rucksack over my shoulders and followed the orange corridor around until it spat me out in the red area. Intensive Care. Computers beeped in the distance, monitoring heart rates. A young meowstic stopped me on the way, glancing between myself and her Clipboard.

"Who are you here to see?" she asked. "I don't recognise you."

"I just arrived," I said. "I'm here to see my dad."

Lies. She narrowed her eyes at me then looked back at her Clipboard.

"I don't believe we have any eevee here," she said. "Or any of your eevolutions."

"That's because he's a meowstic."

The look on her face was one of disbelief. I simply shrugged.

"What is his name?" She stared intensely down at her Clipboard, scrolling with an index claw.

"I don't know it," I lied.

She looked back up with a start and opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off.

"He never let me call him by his name. I don't even remember my mother using it. We all had to call him 'Dad'. It's a habit, see. It was to get me, and my little brother, saying 'Dad' first. You know what dads are like, right?"

The look on her face was unreadable. It wasn't working. I'd have to do something, and fast. I glanced down the corridor behind her, into the waiting room. Bustling nurses. This wasn't going to be easy.

"I can't let you in," she said. "I'll have to call security."

I muttered under my breath, 'Oh jack.' She reached for the microphone on her scarf but before she could do anything, I leapt at her, fastening my jaws around her throat. I cut off any yelp she intended to let out, and we tumbled down an empty corridor. When I let go, she'd fallen unconscious. I scooped up the Clipboard, noting the male meowstic's name. It definitely wasn't Dad. I scooted it aside and sat her up, then looked around.

A grin split my face. The storage closet!

I grabbed the keys and leafed through for the card that would open the door. Every janitor would need to get in at some point, surely? Each one failed. Well, I wasn't busting it open this time. Not in a hospital full of pokemon who might hear or see me, or both. I spat the keys back out and turned to the meowstic. Still unconscious.

Around her neck was her name badge, hidden under all that fur. I snipped it free, getting some of her fur in the process. Then I flashed it at the storage closet's card panel. It clicked open and I stifled a cheer. The card key found its new home in my pouch, just in case I needed it to get back out. Sure, I wasn't a meowstic, but it looked official at first glance.

The storage closet was full of medicine. I removed the rucksack Iron Claw had given me and began stuffing it with all sorts from saline solution to needles. Concentrated berry concoctions, pain killers... it was all here. Once I was done, I left the cupboard and kicked the door shut. I considered giving the meowstic her badge back and changed my mind. The less evidence I left, the better. At least the minccino's keys looked just like dropped keys, and took the suspicion from me.

I sauntered back the way I came, retracing my footsteps back to the docks.

Iron Claw laughed jovially as he went through the medicine bag. "Well done, boy!"

I puffed out my chest. "All in a day's work, Captain!"

He snorted. "I told you to cut that out."

I shrugged, watching as he tossed the bag back into the cockpit.

"So," I said. "With that, I'm closer to saving my mother. Reckon we can pay her a visit and transfer it?"

"I thought you were waitin' until you got seventy thousand." The dragon didn't even look at me.

"I was, but... I've been thinking..." I cleared my throat. "If we can get things started, at least she'll be in a hospital. Then... I might make enough to get her a small apartment at least-"

"No."

"No?" I raised an eyebrow. "But I've earned it! I can do what I want with my wages."

"Really?" Iron Claw stood up and frowned down at me. "What makes you think I'm even payin' you?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You were sellin' perfumes back in the underbelly, right? Floral. Berry. Had 'sylveon' written all over it." He chuckled. "You really think I'm payin' you to take care of some fairy?"

My jaw went slack. I didn't know what to say.

"Hit a nerve, eh?" Iron Claw asked.

"My mother isn't just some fairy," I said slowly. "She's my mother, and she saved my life! It's my job to save hers."

"I ain't payin' you to take care of some fairy, boy." He chuckled and kicked the bag further into the cockpit.

"Yes you are, and you know it." I rose to my own feet, leering up at the gabite. "You told me I'd make more money here than I would selling perfumes. Now let me rescue my mother!"

Iron Claw spread his blades and took a step back. "Then transfer it. You've got your visor, use it."

"You never told me how..."

I brought up the visor, keeping one eye on the sand dragon. A sinking feeling spread through my gut. Blank screen, just numbers, no option to transfer. I searched it frantically, but it was just the amount, and the bank's name 'PCB'.

"How?" I growled.

Iron Claw chuckled and folded his arms. "You can't, boy. Restrictin' your use stopped you accessin' it and sendin' it off to some fairy."

I flashed my canines and lowered my head, an uncharacteristic snarl rising in my throat. "Then what have you been paying me for?!"

"I haven't been paying you!" Iron Claw roared back. "It were a lie! Keep you keen, use your size and that strength you've got! You're a tiny runt who fits places we can't, and a normal type?" He waved out at Meta City. "Blends right in. And, if in the process there's one less fairy in System? Bonus!"

A huge, childlike roar left my throat and I flew at him, knocking him backwards. He rolled head over tail before launching me from the door. Claws sliced my flesh, but I didn't care. I stood back up to throw myself back onto the ship, but he leapt out like a dart. His huge frame barrelled into me, sending me across the docks. Pokemon scattered. Screams filled the air. Mine joined them as sharp claws cut into me, raking over my body.

Vittles and Winder joined him on the docks and a little hope filled my chest. But it was expunged when I saw their faces. Their leers. Their snarling teeth as Iron Claw stood back up and waved towards me.

"Go on," he said. "Finish him off. I'm done."

They were on me like rabid mutts, fists striking my ribs and jaws snapping over my ruff to throw me across the docks. I tried to fight back. I got in a few tackles, even a take down. But those heavy wounds to my body bled freely, painfully, draining me of my strength. Eventually, I had to flee. Flee before the police showed up. They did. They tried to stop me, but not with accusations. I didn't want to speak to them. With what little energy I had left, I fled, leaving bloody paw prints on the streets.

The two dragons didn't chase after me. I didn't look back. I've no idea if they were even apprehended. They probably fled.

I've no idea how I even left the city. I managed to get out into the outskirts, somehow, where I finally collapsed in Spool City on some filthy back street.

Sore. Beaten. Bleeding. I could feel the warmth pooling from my nostrils as I let my eyes close, letting my breathing slowly level out. Then I heard footsteps. Slow. Approaching. Whoever it was could finish me off for all I cared.

They stopped close to my muzzle, and I could feel whoever it was staring down at me. When they didn't speak, or move, I finally cracked an eye open. The blurred features of a delphox stared back at me, briefly coming into focus before I finally let it close again. A dry chuckle left my throat, but I couldn't think of any words.

He spoke first. "Scourge of the skies." His voice was wrought with disappointment. "Oh, what your mother would think of you."

I chuckled again. "I was doin' it for her."

"I know."

I took in a deep, trembling breath. "So what are you gonna do to me? Turn me over to Socket?"

I heard him take a deep drag of his cigar. "No."

I was rapidly losing strength. Every single word I tried was becoming a chore.

"I deserve it," I said.

"Oh, I know. But what kind of friend would I be if I did that?"

Friend? I laughed bitterly.

"Then what?" I asked. "Turn me into my mother?"

He stubbed his cigar out on a damp wall then scooped me into his arms. I remember thinking 'typical' before everything finally went black.

...

I woke up in the same bed my mother had occupied. It smelled like her. The whole room did. Even a few perfume pots still stood on the table, waiting for the son who never showed up to collect them. It tasted bitter. I buried my face into the pillow, trying to lose myself in pleasant memories of games and bedtime stories back in a clean, Meta City house. I even thought I smelled her baking.

The door opened and I looked back, expecting to see her, but all I saw was Tracer with a cigar between his teeth. His eyes widened with surprise and he removed it, the smoke curling from his claws as he flicked ash into the hallway.

"You're awake," he finally said. "It's been two days."

My claws dug into the duvet. The last time I'd seen my mother she could barely get off the bed. Where was she? Tracer seemed to read my question before I could bring myself to ask it. His muzzle turned into a frown and he sighed, glancing to the dingy window.

"I'm afraid... you're mother passed away," he said slowly. "Two weeks ago."

Tears pricked my eyes and I screwed them shut, shaking my head. "No. No, I won't believe-"

"Widget..." His voice cracked and he took another deep breath. Then a drag on his cigar, more to calm himself down. "I'm sorry. I did all I could to help her."

I took a deep breath myself, which shuddered with the threat of sobs. "I believe you."

Surprise crossed his features again and he folded his arms, eyeing me up. "Good. Because... I was very fond of both you and your mother."

Past tense? Of course. I sobbed into my paws, body shaking. Still sore and bound with bloody bandages.

"What happened, Widget?" his voice was soft.

I looked up again, blinking back tears. "I... I wanted to help her. So badly. These pirates, they..." My voice trailed off and I wiped tears from my eyes with a paw. "They tricked me. Lied to me. Used me."

"They're space pirates," Tracer said flatly. "What on earth were you doing trusting space pirates?"

"I was desperate," I said. "I saw the money we made in the first raid, and I guess... I found hope."

"In the wrong place."

I grimaced. "I'm aware of that. They wouldn't give me so much as a single credit."

He took another long drag of his cigar. I finally cracked an eye open and looked at him. He was staring straight back at me.

"Then why not help me round them up?" he asked. "I'll pay you. You can turn your life around rounding up space pirates and criminals."

"Are you serious?" I asked. "What about Socket?"

"Let me deal with Socket." He placed his cigar back between his teeth and turned from the room. "Get some rest. I'll bring you some lunch."

...

The entire cockpit fell silent as Widget finished his story. The laser module he'd been batting back and forth rested under one paw. He could feel N0ize looking at him over the back of his chair, but it wasn't a leer. Wasn't a glare. Not even a look of amusement.

The incineroar sighed and brushed his ears back. "What were you doin' trustin' old Iron Claw?"

Widget shrugged his shoulders. "Like I said. I thought there was some hope there, to save my mother."

"He's all lies." N0ize turned back to the cracked windscreen. "Even space pirates can't stand him. There were a little celebration when that fancy bounty hunter Waveform finally turned him in, and all his crew with him."

Widget chuckled. "Yeah, Tracer was sore about that. He'd wanted to turn him in himself."

"And you?"

"Didn't care." Widget shrugged again.

N0ize craned his neck around to look at him. "So... I guess that tattoo of yours ain't so much a fancy look than it is a painful reminder?"

"Oh, it's a reminder." Widget swatted the module to his other paw and met the incineroar's eyes. "That someone can turn their life around for the better."

The space pirate's eyes widened and he turned away so quick his seat squeaked. Widget thought he saw him wipe a paw across his face.

"Well, thanks for the story, pup," he said. "Let's focus on gettin' to the Analogue Isles, eh?"

Tracer stepped back into the cockpit and looked between the three pokemon. The smell of cigar smoke clung to his fur, but if N0ize noticed he didn't say anything.

Tracer looked back down at the eevee. "Did I miss something?"

"Not really. Just some old boy talk." Widget grinned from ear to ear and swatted the module into the air towards the delphox. "Catch!"

...

A/N - For those who remember Iron Claw's name, he did evolve into a garchomp post-Widget. And yes, he's the very garchomp Macro had a run-in with where he almost lost his eye.