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Written Story Sinnoh Mature Gijinka [Mature] The Nozlocks - An X-Men Inspired Platinum Nuzlocke

Thread Description
5#: The State of the Stigmatized in Sinnoh / The Faction Part One

Rocco

Showroom Dummy
Team Delta
Pokédex No.
513
Caught
Jul 15, 2019
Messages
71
Location
Argentinian Empire
Nature
Timid
Pronouns
He/Him
Pokémon Type
  1. Bug
  2. Poison
Pokédex Entry
Scared at first, but the apyr of the group after some drinks.
This year something incredible happened: Hickman retconned the X-Men, after a long time of confusing and dense plots, with Powers of X and Dawn of X, two amazing comic books. I tell you people because it inspired me to make a written story nuzlocke based on the X-Men universe. So this is it. This is the Nozlocks.

Wolverine has claws. Nightcrawler has blue skin, a tail, three fingered hand and double point, well, guess. Beak is, literally, a humanoid bird without feathers (yeah, Plato's man). So this allows me to play with some gijinka-esque vibes.

Secondly, thematically the X-Verse gives a lot of resources to me to write about. Discrimination seems obvious, but also wealth disparity, politics, sexuality, etc. This is, I would say, the main reason.

Besides the violence and the adult lenguage common in the nuzlocke media, this story will touch on real life serious problems such as:
-Racism
-Xenophobia
-Economic Disparity
-State Violence and State Terrorism
-Prostitution
-Cryme and Organized Cryme
-Homophobia
-Transphobia

1. Faint equals death.
2. I must catch only the first pokemon on the route.
2. A. Dupes clause.
2. B. Shiny clause.
3. I can keep playing post wipe (if there's something normal in the X-Men universe is ALL of the members dying in battlefield, so yeah).
4. Rotation rule: after gym battle, three members must go (not die, simply not be in the team) and be replaced by other pokemon until the next gym, where they can come back or not while other three team members must go. This will always be justified by plot, of course.

I hacked my Pokemon Platinum rom in order to be able to catch the pokemons I can't catch because of edition things (You know, those that Diamond and Pearl have and Platinum don't.) and evolve those pesky trade evolution pokemon. But the rest is untouched (levels, pokemons I can't get in Sinnoh, gym leaders, etc). So yeah that, is not Vanilla, but it isn't Drayano either.

1#: The State of the Stigmatized in Sinnoh / Nothing

From the nothing of the black night, Nestor enters the little cafeteria that lies between Twin Leaf Town, from where he comes, and Sandgem Town, from where he goes. The cafeteria is part of a fuel station. He sits in one of the tables next to a window, with his head down. He’s feeling cold, he’s wet from all the rain that keeps falling outside. His warm jacket is, in terms of protecting him from the cold, completely useless. However, in terms of protecting him from the eyes of other people, it works, thanks to the hood. Only the lower part of his squared and big jaw and his sharp nose can be seen.

The waitress walks to his table. She and a fat man who looks like a truck driver are the only ones in the place. She’s black, mid-twenties probably, dressed in blue, with her hair under a little cap. The truck driver is white, wears an orange jacket, and from Nestor’s perspective it looks like he’s getting bald. “Poor guy” he thinks, then remembers he would probably kill him if he knew what he was, and the thought disappears. Katipodis looks straight ahead, to the clock. Eleven at night. He’s dying of sleep. Feels tired, hungry, and cold.

-Hello. What can I get ya?

-Good evening. How much is the black coffee?

-0.50. Would you like something to eat too?

-What can you offer me that costs me 1.30?

-Some toasts with marmalade. Though we are out of marmalade, so, just toasts.

-Toasts will be fine.

“She’s underpaid”, he thinks to himself. Someone who works in a cafeteria in the middle of a route between a town and a little city in the night shift most definitely is underpaid. Suddenly remembers his time as a plumber in Twin Leaf, the time that died early in the morning of that day. Either way, he must not stay there too much. What if she sees his face?

All of his problems, as all of the problems of a stigmatized or mutated as scientists and good-meaning people call them, began at the age of ten, when the stigma appeared. By the age of nine his power manifested, his “sixth” sense, he could sense water in its liquid state. Someone flushed the toilet one time at night and he detected it going down. A water radar. By eleven, the “crown” appeared. It began as pain in his forehead. One day was particularly intense, and in the next morning he woke up painless, but with blood al around his head and pillow and with a narwal-like horn in his forehead, between eyebrow and eyebrow. His fathers were worried, and when they realized that he was one of “those people”, disgusted. They locked him in the basement, stopped calling him by his name, and proceed to act as he never was to begin with. He could hear them, tough, when they explained the neighbors the “situation”, the reason of why he was down there. One day, they left the lock open. He escaped.

He used to be a hobo, no house to call home. Walking from here to there, to A to B. No destiny, as a leaf flying in the winds of autumn. Eating from every trashcan he could find, asking for money to strangers and running from them when they were too much good with him. Feeling lucky when he founded a refuge, but sleeping with one eye open. He couldn’t yet understand how he endured the cold, being so young and living in Snowpoint. He met some of its kind in the process. But never stay with them. When three or more stigmatized were together they could be ransacked, lynched, killed. They weren’t safe, in group they were easy to spot. By the age of eighteen he ended up in Twin Leaf, finding an abandoned toolbox. He learned to use his powers, a little better at least. He learned to concentrate water in his hands, putting pressure in them, turning them in explosive bubbles he usually employed in times of need; but his senses, his ‘water-radar’, became much more intense. But the stigma was present: from the base of the horn, ramifications grew, two over his eyebrows, one going up in his forehead, and two between over his eyebrows and the vertical one; his skin and hair also took a blue kind of color, his skin always looked pale because of this.

With the toolbox, however, he could become a plumber. Manage an objectively better lifestyle than being a hobo. And the cutting pliers would help with that horn of his. . . He became Nestor, the plumber of Twin Leaf, with a weird bandana always on his forehead. Thanks to his hydrokinesis, he could detect the problem in no time, fix it, take the cash, and leave. The only sacrifice? Every morning, at six o clock, grab them pliers, bite a stick, and cut the horn as it grew, clean the tears and the blood after it, and act as if nothing ever happened.

-Here’s your coffee and your toasts.

-Thanks.

-Can I ask you a favor?

-Sure.

-Please, leave after you finish eating. You smell, and you’re wet, and my boss will probably annoy me later.

-Fine, I’ll go as soon as I end – he answers and begins to eat his toasts and his coffee, as if they were a delicacy and not toasted hard bread and a mediocre quality coffee from the Kantonian archipelago.

Those were the eleven happiest years of his life, the second before his time as a child. Eventually, he got to meet everyone, and to befriend everyone. Need some painkillers? Relax, Allison from the drugstore will sell you them with a twenty percent discount. Nathan, the greengrocer, makes barbecue the next Saturday? Nestor, of course you’re invited. But everything changed that same day, in the morning.

There was picnic in Lake Variety, the city hall made the event in memory of Matt Mespritt, a proclaimed writer of Sinnoh, who was born in Twin Leaf. Everything was calm, peaceful. He brought potato salad with peas, carrots and mayonnaise. And then, out of the sudden, Emily, the seven year old greengrocer’s daughter, falls and drowns in the lake. His brother jumped and took her out of the water, but she seem to look death already. Nestor, in panic, proceeded to use his power: he took the water from her lungs, saving her in the process. And how did they pay him back? Chasing him with sticks, throwing rocks at him, acting as if those eleven years never existed. As he didn’t saw them daily, had fun with them, as if he was their sworn enemy.

He fled, but when he got back to the cabin he rented in Twin Leaf, it was gone. Burned down, being that one of his chasers called the police. Technically, that was a crime. Every bad thing humans did to him, legally speaking, was a crime. His family locking him in the basement was a crime, child abuse. His house being burnt was a crime, arson and property destruction. In Sinnoh, stigmatized people “did not” have different status in front of the law. But the law sometimes is the divine mandate of god, and sometimes it’s just ink in a paper written long ago. His books? Burnt. His clothes? Burnt. The second life he cut his horn with pain weekly to get? Burnt. The only thing he had were some bucks spare in his pocket, and the jacket he brought to the picnic in case it rained. “From nothing you come, to nothing you return”, that was sometimes Mespritt had written, he believed at least. Never truer words indeed.

-Well girl – the truck driver said – I must leave now. Have a goodnight. I surely won’t. I have to drive to Jubilife City all night long.

-Hey sir – Nestor said – could you please take me with you?

“Jubilife is one of the biggest cities of Sinnoh. Four million people live there. I can probably resettle there, though with my tools burnt plumber is not a working option from the moment”, Katipodis thinks to himself.

-Hmm, sure I guess you can son. You don’t mind travelling in a seat for hours, don’t you?

-Not really, no.

-Very well, I will start the truck now. Finish your food and come, yes?

-Of course.

The driver gets out of the cafeteria. Nestor ends his food quickly, takes the mug and the plate to the waitress, pays her, and leaves. He enters the truck, asks the driver if he minds if he sleeps. The driver answers that he doesn’t mind. And so, he disappears in the nothing of the tired sleep.

Well, what do you think? The run is not completed yet, but I am already at Hearthome if you wanted to know. You can ask anything, I don't mind. But for clarification:
-Characters will appear not in game order but instead in plot. So, if, for an example, gym leader X appear in certain moment in-game, they can in fact appear earlier.
And, of course, Nestor Katipodis is a Piplup. See ya next time.
 
Last edited:

Rocco

Showroom Dummy
Team Delta
Pokédex No.
513
Caught
Jul 15, 2019
Messages
71
Location
Argentinian Empire
Nature
Timid
Pronouns
He/Him
Pokémon Type
  1. Bug
  2. Poison
Pokédex Entry
Scared at first, but the apyr of the group after some drinks.
  • Thread Starter Thread Starter
  • #2
Hello people.

I hope you had a wonderful christmas/hannukah/any other thing you celebrated. And I hope you have a good end of the year. Either way, here's chapter two.

-Thanks for the ride.

Nestor says goodbye to the driver who just dropped him in Jubilife. He slept most of the trip. If the truck driver saw the “crown”, he didn’t said anything or did anything. In that case, it was a good guy. Either way, Nestor needed tools in order to work, at least as a plumber.

Jubilife was a big city. Even larger than Eternia, where Nestor spent at least two year as a homeless. Great avenues filled with taxis, buses and cars, large concrete buildings of at least thirty floors. People going and coming in a hurry. Subway stations every six blocks. It was terrifying. It was his first time there, he had surrounded it before. He looked for a map of the city, which he found in a dirty tourist pamphlet in the floor.

“I have to get out of here. There’s too many people and dressed this way I look eerily suspicious. What was the name of the slum? I really can’t remember by now. Slaughterhouses, I think. I shall go there.”

Slaughterhouses, with his scary name, was, in fact, the place where the chicken and bulls of the meat production of the surrounding areas of Jubilife where, well, slaughtered. The working men weren’t pay enough for their jobs and the neighborhood surrounding it rapidly became a place filled with crime and institutional violence. The greatest social and labor leaders of Jubilife (and some from the country itself) came from there, too. It was a dangerous and restless area where a stigmatized fella as Nestor could go unnoticed.

Or that was he thought. Parts of Jubilife were getting gentrified, and one of the largest neighborhoods of the city was, of course, target of this kind of geographical urban reform. Nice buildings, all identical as clones. The rent had to be expensive as hell. Working class neighborhood with slum characteristics? Not anymore. Between salarymen Nestor was a fish in a shoal. Between doctors and middle class professionals, he was completely recognizable. He had to go elsewhere. Somewhere worst. To the real slum of Jubilife. In the map its name did not appeared, but it was painted black. Shantytown 15.

Years ago, twenty at least before Nestor’s birth, the mayor of Jubilife ordered the construction of a housing unit in the southeast area Jubilife for the poor. However, he lost the next election and the project stayed unfinished. But the units where, indeed, populated. It became a nobody’s zone in no time. The cops and the ambulances didn’t enter because of the fear they had of the gangs and the thieves that ruled there. That was Shantytown 15, the name being the result of its misery status and the number of the district it was going to become. The elite of the city wanted that place erased, break in with all of the cops or the army if necessary, take control, clean up, and make a tidy residential area. The middle class didn’t have an exact position on the subject. The unions, the religious groups and labour parties, as opposed, always acted in defense.

Just by going there you could see the transformation of Jubilife from “world city” to “poor area”. The two sides of the coin. The ones who ate a lot, and the owners of the plate from where they took their surplus food. First, the high quality buildings and residential homes started to become normal houses, normal buildings. Then, some of bad looks and poor management started to appear. Finally, cement houses with sheet metal roofs. The transformation was complete: Nestor was in Shantytown 15.

-You should work with us, you know?

Nestor heard to his right. A black and a white guy were talking to a blonde girl and a brown skinned one. He did not like the tone of them, and at least one of the girls looked scared. He moved with his mind the water of a puddle, walking up to them, turning his hand in a water fist: his specialty, the bubble punch. He realized something by being closer to the girls. One had massive incisors that came out of her mouth. The other was eerily thin and her skin was a bit green. They were stigmatized. Just like him.

-No thanks. We work alone. We don’t need any. . . – the short one answered.

-Common. You need protection and. . . .

-Why do you talk only to me? – The blond said.

-Cause our boss only wants you, not the fat one. As we were saying – the white one takes a knife out of his pocket – we can give you protection and . . .

-Protection is what they already have – a black guy appeared from an alley. He had a dark blue hair, and showed his really pointy teeth. His eyes were filled with yellow electricity and he waved an electric charged hand with sharp claws – and I will recommend you to leave.

-Hear the gentleman – Nestor said, also showing his fist. Fists in a knife fight didn’t sound as a good option, until you applied elemental powers to the equation – unless you want some broken bones.

The henchmen look themselves for a second, and went away.

-They know from where we enter the sewers – The blonde immediately said.

-Really? I didn’t realize. Thanks – the blue haired one sarcastically answered–, it doesn’t matter, we will enter from the other one.

-Either way, thanks – the short thanked Nestor.

-We never saw you in here before – the blonde said.

-Because I’m not from here. My name is Nestor.

-Hello Nestor. I am Daria but you can call me Lope, the blonde one is Maxine but you can call her Mexie and our friend thunderbolt in here is Trevor but those who look for trouble in here and with us know him as “Shock”.

-So, do you want to eat something Nestor? – Trevor politely asked.

-We have rice down there – Mexie bounded.

-Of course, but why do you suddenly trust me that much?

-Dude, you directly came to help us without knowing a single thing from us. You are nozlock material – Mexie answered, smiling.

-Am I what?

-We will explain you later. Follow us – Trevor answered.

They began walking into Shantytown 15. They entered an ally and entered a sewer. The smell was awful and it was dark, but luckily they weren’t walking in the water and that was a relatively safe place.

-So you are mutated just as us – Lope said –, water control is your power. That’s cool. But what is your, you know, stigma?

Nestor lift his hood, showing the “crown”.

-Fancy – Lope said. She talked with a lisp because of the incisors.

-Beats my antennas – Mexie said, as two antennas raised from her parietals, from inside her hair.

-And what can you girls do.

-I scream very, very loud. I’m a bit cicada you see. Lope here is very smart.

-She fixes things with very much ease – Trevor bounded.

-And what’s your business here, Nestor? – Lope asked.

-Hiding. Surviving. The same as you I guess.

-Well. In here you are with your own kind at least.

They took a turn and there was a big blind from where a light appeared.

-Welcome to the subterranean stigmatized community, Nestor. Or as we call it, the Nozlocks – Trevor said as he opened the blind, showing a bunch of tents illuminated with candles. It was an underground camp, a ghetto inside the slumiest slum inside the richest city in Sinnoh. And damn, Nestor already felt as home. The people he could saw seem happy, living not in the best state but free of fear. And most of them were as him, mutated.

This took a while.
Either way. There's real life references in this chapter.
-Slaughterhouses is a neighborhood in Buenos Aires, Argentina. It's called Mataderos (slaughterhouses in spanish).
-Shantytown is based in a real life slum called Villa 31 in Buenos Aires, though there are more like 11-14. We call them Villa miseria in here, Mysery Village.
Finally, why Nozlocks? And what the hell does this have to do with X-Men? Well, there's a mutant agrupation in the X-Verse called the Morlocks who are a group of mutants who live in the sewers of New York. That's it.

See ya next time.
 
Last edited:

Rocco

Showroom Dummy
Team Delta
Pokédex No.
513
Caught
Jul 15, 2019
Messages
71
Location
Argentinian Empire
Nature
Timid
Pronouns
He/Him
Pokémon Type
  1. Bug
  2. Poison
Pokédex Entry
Scared at first, but the apyr of the group after some drinks.
  • Thread Starter Thread Starter
  • #3
Howdy.

-There’s a science fiction book called “The Time Vehicle”, by Damian Deoxys-Trevor answered-, a father of science fiction literature in general.

-Aha-Nestor nodded.

-In his book, a race of descendants of humanity lived underground in the future. They were deemed a monstrous race because of their looks-Lope continued.

-And these race where named the Nozlocks, I guess.

-Exactly. Here, let’s get you some food-Mexie grabbed by the hand and took him.

She took him between tents and tents, walking over a big set of colorful carpets. There where old and rusty light fixtures with yellow light installed in the “roof” of the sewer. He could hear the sound of wood cracking under his feet.

-Why there’s wood in here?

-Oh, it’s a sewer baby. There’s water flowing in here. Under those planks.

-Okay, and how long have you people been living here?

-Bea and Jen founded this place like five years ago with Trevor. Since then mutated and other disadvantage people of this society have come here in search of protection and refuge.

She grabbed a bowl from a wood table and spoon. Over the concrete part of the sewer, there was big cooking pot, being heated over a grill. A woman was cooking it. Pale skinned, with hazelnut colored eyes, black haired, with a prominent jaw and forehead, and as tall as Lope, this meaning that her head seemed basically floating over the stew and Nestor couldn’t see the rest of her body.

-This Jen. Bea’s girlfriend, and the local cook. Jen meet Nestor, he saved us up there.

-Oh really, well that deserves a bit of stew. I hope you like rice with tomato, lentils and what he hope is chicken in good state – Jen served the stew in the bowl, and gave it to Nestor.

-You kidding? Doubtful state chicken is best chicken when you are a hobo. It’s a better kind of chicken than dead cat or worse, dead rat - Nestor replied, chuckling a little bit.

-See Mexie, this fella gets the meta. Take of the hood, you are between your kin here –Nestor followed the order and showed the “crown”-. Well, aren’t you seeing that Mexie? Metal as fuck baby.

-Girls, who’s this guy? - A quiet and serious voice sounded from the inside of a tent.

Nestor had saw a lot of stigmatized subject, but she probably was the most surprising. Instead of a nose, she had big orange beak with a black point, and big grey wings in her back. There also were to scars in her face, one in her right jawbone and the other crossing her left eye. She was Nestor with dead serious eyes, as if she could read his mind and discover his secrets.

-Well, my dear, this is Nestor. He save Mexie, Lope and Trevor up there, in the street. And I was just serving him some stew.

-Saving is an exaggerated verb really. I only helped them with some dudes who I thought were creating them some problems. Nothing more.

-Good. Come with me.

Nestor handed the bowl to Mexie and followed Bea through the sewerage. He could notice she didn’t trust him at all, something he thought was completely justified.

-So you, Jen and that Trevor guy founded this place.

-Yes. The idea of community came from both of them, they used to read some politically obscure books at that time. I came out with the name.

-Wow. That’s cool. And, what’s Jen abilities.

-Cooking. None, she is a regular human, not a mutated one – she said as she crossed right to a tunnel.

-Oh really? Cool, I thought the jaw and the forehead where stigmaAAA.

Bea grabbed him and crashed him in the sewer wall. Nestor was highly surprised. Not by the action, but more by the actor: Bea didn’t look strong and yet she completely overpower him in seconds.

-First question: what’s your power?

-I can control water.

-Second question: have you ever killed someone?

-What? No.

-If you lie, I can tell.

-I never killed anyone.

-Fine, if you say so. Third question: do you know who is commissar Albret?

-What? Bea this is my first day in the city. I only know some places by name, and you ask me about police off-he tried to talk but Bea press him on the wall. Next thing he knew was Bea’s grey eyes in front of him and her nose pressed in his cheek.

-Yes or no?

-No, I don’t know who Albret is.

-Okay. Last question: what do you think about Jen?

-She is cool, I guess.

-That’s not what I am asking. You realize what she is, don’t ya? What is your opinion on the matter?

Nestor realized what Bea meant and why Jen’s forehead and jawbone surprised him. He met people like her. A boy in Eternia, years ago. A friend of his.

-She is a she. She passes, as you could tell by my confusion. But if she didn’t, I wouldn’t care either. Now, could you please just chill a little? I am a little bit hungry.

She let him go, and said, with a tone that was a mix of guilt, friendliness, and seriousness: sorry for that. As you can see, I am quite of a protective girlfriend. Once there were two guys in here who used to dead name her, and I had to personally kick them out for the damage they caused upon her. But you seem like a cool dude Nestor.

-Yeah, you too, mainly when you don’t seem like you are about to stab me in the belly.

-Yeah, talking about bellies. You weight, what, ninety kilograms? Fifty more than me, and twenty more than Trevor. How did you manage that as another stigmatized hobo? Because the only other mutated I met who wasn’t skinny or directly famished or didn’t weight more than 70 was stone skinned and doesn’t count.

-I used to live as a plumber in Twin Leaf. I gain weight in the process.

-And they didn’t care about those horns you have in your forehead? That sounds like a dream.

-They can’t care about something they can’t see. I used to cut it with cutting pliers often and I would cover the scar with a bandana.

-And that hurt, right?

-Like hell IT DID. This thing is like bone or something.

-Well, that’s one of the most metal things I heard in my life. Welcome to the underground community. You are officially a Nozlock. If you can manage to do that and still kick around, that means you are tough and we need that around here – Bea said as she shake his hand.

-Hey Bea – a guy said.

Nestor and Bea turned over and saw a guy. Dressed in red, with duck feet and hands.

-Oh, hi Clancy – Bea said. – This is Nestor, the new guy.

-That doesn’t matter Bea –Clancy interrupted her-. There’s a detective in here.

-A what?

A powerful screech shut them. “So those are Mexie’s powers, huh?”, Nestor said to himself, as he felt his ears soring.

-The hell is going on? – Bea said as she run to the entrance of their secret base, with her wings deployed and ready for a fight, followed by both Clancy and Nestor.

A detective with a brown jacket, a hat in one hand and a flask in the other was surrounded by Mexie, Trevor, Lope, and, eventually, Nestor, Clancy and Bea. He looked over fifty and really tired.

-Who’s this guy? – Bea asked in an inquisitorial tone.

-Damian, a regular client of mine – Mexie answered.

“Did she just say “client”?” Nestor thought.

-I am here to offer you people a job.

That was the moment things started to get dangerous.

So. New chapter. Important things:
-'Cept for Jen and Damian. They all are pokemon from the team. Nestor is Piplup, Mexie's Kricketot, Lope's Bidoof, Trevor's Shinx, Bea's Starly and Clancy's Psyduck.
-This chapter main objectives were developing the idea of the community, develop Nestor and Bea.
-But what about the action, and the rival? Where the hell is Barry? Wait to the next chapter my boys.

See ya next time.
 

JavierE64

Masks are so 2016!!! But don´t forget to wear one
Writer
Team Alpha
Pokédex No.
310
Caught
Jul 1, 2019
Messages
760
Location
Perú
Nature
Modest
Pronouns
He/Him
Pokémon Type
  1. Grass
  2. Water
Pokédex Entry
The Master of both Light and Darkness; who loves the Violent and Dramatic, and the Fun and Adorable.
This is quite the story. Gijinjkas and superheroes go well together, and the idea of making the plot of the X-Men into a Nuzlocke Story is just brilliant.

But What I like about this story in particular, is it´s cynical depiction of society; It does a good job of showing how unfair life is to the middle and lower class, and how cruel discrimination can truly be. And the fact that some aspects are based on real life, makes it even more grounded and relatable.
 

Rocco

Showroom Dummy
Team Delta
Pokédex No.
513
Caught
Jul 15, 2019
Messages
71
Location
Argentinian Empire
Nature
Timid
Pronouns
He/Him
Pokémon Type
  1. Bug
  2. Poison
Pokédex Entry
Scared at first, but the apyr of the group after some drinks.
  • Thread Starter Thread Starter
  • #5
Here's a hungry hello my boys.

@JavierE64 : yeah, it all came in a raging shock in which I had an intense hype for the x-people, and well, the idea showed up.

I try to make somewhat politically charged stories (I mean, all stories have inside them some sort of politics in it, bia absence or presence, even tough it sounds contradictory), and the mutants present a new intersection that allows me to touch the themes of class, race, sexual identity or religion and explore them, something strongly present in the X-Men. They originated in the wake of the U.S. Civil Rights movement, with Magneto and Xavier being fictional representation of the struggles between Malcolm X or the Black Panthers and Martin Luther King Jr. Even if they are simplistic or even wrong, to jump straight into the main public discussion just like is something respectable. That's why decided to take a step further and make my mutants NATURALLY marked. They all have the "stigma" that doesn't let them pass, or they have to go to extreme methods to hide them. Something that those in the margin have to deal with.

Damian Barth was a man in his fifties, looking rather unhealthy in general. He was a little fat, he was balding and the blond hair he had left had a doughy appearance. Nestor noticed that he was a man who took advantage of situations, a rogue.

-Well, a job. What job do you want us to do? - Bea asked very seriously.

-Are you really going to listen to what he has to say? He found our base, who knows what he will do next - Mexie argued, annoying.

-Damian, if you wanted something with Mexie, you could have waited at night, in the street - Lope continued.

- Excuse me, but I feel out of context here. In what sense is Damian a customer? - Nestor asked.

Mexie and Lope saw him uncomfortably, trying to make him understand the weight of the issues. Beatriz quickly noticed the explanation that was required at the time and ordered:


-Mexie, explain to Nestor how things are here, because I forgot some details. Me while I ask the policeman what he wants.

-The detectives are not the same thing as a patrol car.

-In my view, yes- Trevor said aggressively.

Mexie separated Nestor to the side, while Beatriz went on to hear about the plan that mediocre subject but of considerable hound talents wanted to offer them.

-Well, Barth, talk- Beatriz ordered.

-Well, at the police station we are having a problem. A trio of mutates, like you, is raiding the route between Jubilife and Oreburgh. Also nearby towns.

-Interesting police chronicle but, how do I know they are mutated and not thieves with shotguns?

-If you let me finish, you would know,- Damian said disgustedly, as he took a swig from his flask. -The shotguns don't shoot black arrows, don't they?

-Good and? No Hunters on the payroll? - Bea asked.

-I see several in the streets, compa - Trevor said.

-The question is that we send two groups after them. They broke the legs of the first one and sent them with a sign that said "bite me." "Well," said the commissioner, "we send a better duo of Hunters, maybe they will get 'em" They killed one and left the other in a coma.

-What a tragedy. Now let me guess: you want us to go for them, don't you?

-Yes. If it's not too much trouble, of course.

-Go away from here.

-Give me the order, Bea, and this one floats roasted down the sewer - Trevor murmured angrily.

The Hunters were simply bounty hunters who over the years ended up specializing in chasing mutates. In turn, it was common for them to make "mistakes" and leave with little punishment. Those mistakes ranged from murky personal matters to more racial issues. The original inhabitants of the tropics, such as those of the Sevii or Alola archipelago, who were going to live in search of work in richer regions were not treated fairly in all places and the issue of their darker skin tone was constantly used to assault them Thus, a hunter could "mistake" a mutated criminal with a dark-skinned man or narrowed eyes one taking care of his affairs and "display an exaggerated use of force." Both Trevor and Lope, children of migrants from the Alola and Sevii respectively,, longed to beat him up for even raising it. But Beatriz asked a completely different question.

-How much is the reward?

-A thousand. But you guys will see a half of it.

-Why?

-It will never be accepted the police station, much less by Albret, that a group of mutated tramps bring him the mutated criminals. I have to do the stationery, and I will take out my slice. You know that five hundred is a good amount of money, right?

-Not enough to put the lives of my people at risk.

-It's true, but you don't have much choice either. What do you think, that I wouldn't give up this criminal shelter?

-You asshole- Trevor insulted him.

-Quiet Trevor. Well, you are basically forcing us.

-Exactly. But calm, I can think of something that will give you a “bonus” of wanting to do this job.

-What? - Bea asked in a threatening tone.

-One of the three suspects was described as having a layer of wood on part of the skin. Rings a bell,, doesn't it?

Ezra Twig. Ezra fucking Twig. Trevor and Bea shared a look.

- Consider the work done, detective. We will do it today, at night we will leave for the route and we will break their teeth. We leave them at the Crenshaw cafe near Marcus Jennings Street. Do you know where is it?

-Yes. Now if it doesn't bother you, I will leave because this site stinks.

While Beatriz made the deal that served as the first piece of a titanic odissey, Clancy and Mexie explained the details of how the Nozlocks made a living.

-With Trevor we go out every so often to look for food or objects to fix and sell. Whether in landfills or on the street, in our condition we are not very judicious. Then, monthly and thanks to the fact that Trevor goes to a Saradic temple we have always been friends with some nuns who always reserve a box of clothes and charity food - Clancy said.

-If a lot of money is missing, every once in a while Bea and Trevor dare to go and steal the shelter of a local gang, but they stopped when they once went wrong and got Elias, one of ours, killed - Mexie continued.

-Okey, but what is that about customers? - Nestor asked.

Clancy looked at the floor and Mexie at his side.

- Do I really have to explain to you what women are forced to do in situations of extreme poverty in which formal work is not an option?

In his time in Eternia, Nestor and the one who had been his best friend met Martha in a shelter. Martha was a street worker, whose boyfriend but mostly dealer forced her to work in exchange for drugs. Martha stuck a disease in one of the coldest weeks of the year. Between the fact that her health was very poor to begin with, Martha ended up dying in the street of a coughing attack made worse by the snow and cold. Nestor and his friend were with her in her last minutes, trying to take her to a hospital only for her to die a few blocks away. That marked him a lot, especially his mind, hallucinating her every so often. When he realized what they were doing to get food, he burst into rage.

-What?! - He said loudly, drawing Jen's attention as she approached to see what was happening, then he saw Clancy in his eyes and asked: do you think this is good?

-No, obviously not.

-It was an idea of us, Nestor. There was no money and it was winter and we feared we could not get food or shelter.

-But Mexie, do you understand the danger of your work? Do you girls have security or condoms?

-The condoms were obtained by someone from the Saradicos, a large lot at least to last for a while. And Nestor, I am the prostitute, not you, I know the dangers of this job more than you. We have security, Trevor watches us from an alley and Bea from the roofs of the abandoned building we use. If someone treats us badly we just have to scream and the second they enter.

-Ah, so they are basically your pimps, huh? - Nestor said annoyed.

The slap was quite loud, making a noise that ran through the entire sewer. Néstor's left cheek turned pink a couple of days after receiving such a blow from Jen, who then proceeded to tell him, red with rage and indignation.

-Listen to me, water cuckold. If you dare to suggest that Bea is a pimp again I will tear your eyes away. She was the first to refuse to accept this, this mediocre attempt to get money. But when the temperature down here became so cold that the water began to freeze and our skin began to turn so pale that they looked almost blue we ended up convincing her. We needed the money, we needed it for coal and blankets and divers and jackets, we needed to survive. And I see how that tears her apart, because she lives in fear for me and the girls. In war one kills to live, does whatever. And for us, this is a war with fewer bursts and shots. Understood?

Nestor had understood, by the changes of her voice, that everything Jen said had a strong conviction and was full of sorrow but above all love and resolve. Martha didn't talk like that about her dealer and pimp. She always spoke in a depressing tone, of self-deception, of having to swallow the illusion that he really loved her and protected her. To strive to believe that and not die in sadness. With Jen that didn't happen. Jen spoke with absolute certainty, and the sadness he perceived in her tone was resignation. He believed her.

-Nestor, do you know how to fight? - Beatriz asked him, who had approached him suddenly.

-Once I had to fight with two tramps for a hamburger that I found in the floor and then with the three policemen that the noise attracted. If I didn't know how to fight I would be dead. Why? - He answered seriously.

-In exchange for fighting with some motherfuckers, we will get payed.

-How much?

-Five hundred. It is enough for them not to have to go out at night for the next three weeks. Maybe there are more jobs than this.

Without hesitating a second, he replied: We are going to do this matter now, it's getting late.

***

The route connecting Jubilife and Oreburgh, 203, had a path that crossed the forest and another that was a tunnel that passed through an abandoned mine. Nestor and Beatriz walked silently through the route, right in the middle.

-Do you know that I haven't eaten in a long time? - Beatriz asked.

-No what?

-Pizza. Every so often Clancy find some boxes with half or a quarter or even a whole pizza inside. Sometimes he brought so many boxes that we could all eat enough. It's been like three months since I eat one.

-The last time I ate was about three weeks ago.

-Lucky one.

-I lived among people from a nowhere town until recently, Bea. And they liked having me around, even if they didn't know who I really was. So sometimes there was a pizza. Or cinema night. Or a roast.

-Son aquellas pequeñas cosas, que nos dejó un tiempo, de rosas. . .

-Was that unovan?

-It's a song that Lope sings every so often. Her mother taught her. It is very pretty. It's those little things, that's the name of the song.

-It is true. It's those little details. That makes life.

-Nestor.

-Yes?

-I want us to live with small details.

Nestor ran his arm over Beatrice's shoulders and wings.

-Relax, we will manage that.
-What happened bird? Did you leave John for a real man? - said a cruel voice.

A muscular, thick, short and green-haired man suddenly appeared a few meters in front of them. He had tree bark growing on his skin, brown in several places but yellow on his shoulders and knees. Ezra Motherfucking Twig

-You are lucky Ezra. If it weren't because they payed me to take you alive, now you would be dead for saying that.

-The name is now Magloth -said the short douchebag.

-And the only dead ones are going to be you, stupid - said a voice above them.

A winged man, just like Beatriz, came down from the sky, except that his wings were black and not gray and that unlike her he had no beak on his nose. Above all, attractive. He descended on Bea with the speed of a missile, forcing her to start flight. While the two angels furrowed the sky, chasing each other and throwing their feathered arrows at each other, Nestor tried to harm Ezra with a clean fist, without success. Although it was chipped, the bark endured.

-Have you ever hit a tree, cuckold? Because you're doing that.

-Well, why don't you cool down a bit and shut up, huh?

He loaded his fists with the humidity of the environment and with the right launched a bubble missile directly to Ezra's face. But the other imposed his yellow shoulder, which directly absorbed the water as if nothing.

-She didn't tell you, right? The yellow bark of my body absorbs water. Plant-related mutates are very good at what plants do, you know?

-This fist is not for you, idiot- said Nestor, who upon hearing Beatriz shout "Now", threw a bubble of the left arm about ninety degrees, giving directly on the face of the other winged warrior.

The ally collapsed on the ground, completely knocked out. Up close you could see how his beautiful and vain face now had a broken and bleeding nose. Ezra was completely surprised, not realizing that Beatriz fell with a two-legged kick aimed at his stomach, smashing him against the floor. The two criminals were unconscious.

-It was a good idea to go and ask the detective what powers they had - commented Nestor.

-Yes. I knew how Ezra's skills were, but we were going blind against the other two.

-Only the third one remains, right?

-Yes. Trevor! - Beatriz yelled - Did you electrocute the ugly one!?

-Not so much - Trevor answered coming out of the woods-. I rather named it. Can you believe that those two morons were calling him "Monster"? Anyway, I introduce you to Colin.

"Ugly," as the detective had described, was short. The skin of the third criminal was violet, he was thin with very sharp features, where his eyes should be there was only skin and the holes covered with, leaving an eerie vacuum and two sharp fangs like daggers came out of his mouth, he had very pronounced claws and ears. Colin caused an immediate scare on Nestor and Bea, who looked at him with some shock until they got used to him.

-Hello - Colin said shyly.

-They found him in a cave and they had him as a slave. They used it as a decoy. He scared the people who passed by and the they attacked. When I approached him, he was scared, he had heard my arrival and yours meters away, but that he gave bad information to those two idiots. He told them you were the only one because he wanted to leave them.

Colin was scared. He walked up to Beatriz, knelt down and asked, in the voice of a crying child:

- Take me with you, please. His friend gave me a name that I like, and I trust you must be good people.

While Nestor was carrying the winged man in his shoulder and Trevor did the same with Ezra, Beatriz said in a very sweet and unexpected tone in her, almost maternal:

- Did you ever eat pizza Colin?

-Pi what?

-I thought so. Let's go eat one, shall we?

DEAR GOD THIS TOOK MORE THAN THREE HOURS. DAMN.
Either way, this chapter touched really serious subjects that must not be dealt with ease and I put all my effort and reorganize my ideas while writing it.
So, the racism stuff. Originally I was going to deal with a post slavery like situation but then I would have to explain a lot of things that are not really that important so instead I went it a xenophobic kind of racism.
And the prostitution thing. . . . I almost backed the hell away from it. I was really worried while writing it, but I fell that if this was going to be a story that dealt with real life issues, especially those related with those who live in the margins, be it mainly in the economic terms or intersection related matters, prostitution is, sadly, related with it.
With the more nuzlocke-ish side of the events, Ezra Twig basically represents Barry and his teams. He will have a more defined background later. Finally, Damian Barth is obviously, Looker. And Colin is a Zubat.
If this chapter is too much, please, just tell me. I will put a big Content Warning in the first one where I will put all the delicate things I will touch one. I promised the next written story will not touch such modern and sad issues.
 

Rocco

Showroom Dummy
Team Delta
Pokédex No.
513
Caught
Jul 15, 2019
Messages
71
Location
Argentinian Empire
Nature
Timid
Pronouns
He/Him
Pokémon Type
  1. Bug
  2. Poison
Pokédex Entry
Scared at first, but the apyr of the group after some drinks.
  • Thread Starter Thread Starter
  • #6
Howdie cowboys. New chapter.

Detective Barth was waiting outside the Crenshaw cafeteria, where he had agreed to meet Bea. It was half past two at night and it was quite cold. The flask was half empty, the cigarettes had run out about twenty minutes ago. He was going to buy others, but that group of mutated tramps could appear at any time, with the reward. Two policemen were waiting for him inside a red infiltrate car. His wife must had been quite angry with him by that time. Three hundred dollars was three hundred dollars. This was what was left of him after paying the two officers who were going to take Twig and his raven friend. The coffee that he had taken long ago, had already cooled in his stomach and was giving him a strong desire to go to the bathroom.

Beatrice and Nestor appeared with the two criminals. She carried the winged arm, dragging him across the floor. He carried the bark man leaning on his back. Barth approached them annoyed:

-Hey. Wasn't there a third party?

-Third? - Nestor asked showing perplexity.

-It was just these two, Dick.

-Seriously?

-Yes.

-Good. Here are your five hundred, beforehand. Fresh out of the bank.

Bea grabbed the bundle and counted the ten fifty bills with an abysmal seriousness. She said calmly "It's all here," and asked:

- Do you want us to take them to the police station?

-No, I have some mates waiting around the corner.

-We know. In a red car. One is a redhead who is balding and the other is a very short boy with brown hair - Nestor said, freezing Barth's blood, while his control of the water made the puddles of the street surround the feet of the Detective and hug his shoes.

-If my socks get wet, I'm going to get sick, you know?

-I flew over the block before appearing detective. How dumb do you think we are?

-I should have told you.

-Yes, you should have told us. But calm, now things are clear - Bea reassured him.

-Yes, they are clear. A question.

-Yes, Detective? - Nestor inquired.

-Do you want a bigger job?

-Bigger how? - Bea asked.

-Big. Quite big. How much do you know about Oreburgh?

That there are coal mines - answered Nestor.

-And a museum - Bea said.

-And we have to go under a tunnel to be there - Nestor spoke again.

-That they make delicious pancakes - Bea said.

-Seriously? - Nestor asked.

-Yes - Bea replied.

-Well, listen - Barth tried to interrupt them.

-How do you know that? Are you from there?

-What? No, but I have a friend who lived there and they say it is a specialty of the place.

-Really?

- Enough! The point is that, the Oreburgh miners are protesting right now- shouted Barth.

-Good for them - Bea commented.

-Why? Salary increase, insurance, working conditions, the patrons will close the mine? - asked Barth.

-Working conditions. But the job is that Drake Warnes went with his people there to support them.

Nestor and Bea looked into each other's eyes with much surprise. There were three stigmatized persons who where known across the country: Commissioner Teodia from Veilstone, and the Warnes. Father and son. Wertner Warnes was the leader of the Sinnoh Mutated Freedom campaign, an international reference for the issue so ignored of mutated civil rights. The "Man with Will and Skin of Steel", became popular both for his activism and for his support for the port and industrial unions in Canalave. He and his people were the main shock force of the unions: a group of metal or rock mutants who served as legionaries in front of the riot police. In addition, they took care of the dirty affairs of the unions. But that didn't matter: the working neighborhoods of Canalave were the safest place for Sinnoh's mutated, and the Warnes surname weighed heavily on local politics.

- And you want us to defeat the son of the hero of all the mutated of the continent? Assuming that he and his big boys don't crush us, of course.

-Rock Head, as you know that hard-headed brat, figuratively and literally speaking is called, was serving as a representative of his father's will, so to speak, touring the region and supporting important union protests. The problem is that he does other things with his two companions. Theft, fight with the police, start fights with civilians. There is a great reward.

-That's so? How much?

-For her green friend, eight thousand dollars. For his giant friend, thirteen thousand. And for the boy, twenty thousand.

- And what is our part for taking head on this mortal enterprise?

-Half. Twenty thousand five hundred. It's a lot for the way you live, right?

-Rather, but we put ourselves at risk. Too much risk.

-Well, it's a lot of money - Nestor told her.

-I know Nestor. But those guys are strong.

-We can with them.

-How do you know?

-We just beat Ezra and her friend.

-Is not the same.

-Bea, please. This work will do us a lot of good.

Bea sighed, and said: Well, we will.

***

Drake Warnes always wore a metallic orange tone wig. A very large and long one that sometimes covered his eyes a little. With it he covered his huge stone skull. Two orange-colored plates covered his parietals, his neck and the top of his skull. The skewers, however, did not cover them. Young Wertner didn't like to be called Rock Head, he preferred The Train. Unlike his father, he was fast, and as he had heard, if he hit you it was as if a train did. He had powerful legs, plus parts of his chest, torso and forearms were also covered in stone.

He sat in the office of the former patron of the miners, who was in a hospital recovering from his broken knee. Neither Emerald nor Sabre were there at the time. Esmeralda slept in the car they arrived in and Sabre was in an Oreburgh bar. He pulled a cigar from a desk drawer and listened to the knock on the door.

-Go ahead - responded by lighting and bringing the cigar to his mouth.

The two union representatives entered seriously. The two represented coal miners, although from two different mines.

-Comrades - he exclaimed, with open arms - what brings you to my humble abode at this time, may I ask?

-We come to ask you when you and your friends will leave.

-Go away? But we just arrived. And our goals are the same as those of the working people.

-It's not true,- said the other unionist -. We know about your actions in other cities. You force the unions to accept your “help,” it causes property damage, lives off the union, steals even and then leaves.

-Well, you have a lot of courage for what you say. Those are strong accusations. But I will tell you something: you ask for forgiveness and I pretend you said nothing.

-Not at all. The union is willing to pay you to leave with your friends. We are afraid that if you stay longer they will send us the army.

-Army? Relax mate, I don't think they will. And besides, my stay is final.

-Definitive?

-Yes, because - he exhaled the cigar smoke - why should only my father have the luxury of governing an entire city?

***

Bea and Jen lay in the tent. The blankets slowed the cold a little and the drops that fell along the wide dark tunnels did not cause so much noise. Everyone slept peacefully, especially after the feast of pizzas brought by Trevor and Collin at twelve o'clock, and which Nestor and Bea were able to taste at three o'clock when they returned from the encounter with the detective. With a full belly and everything, she couldn't sleep. Like when she was anxious, she kept looking at her beak.

-B?

-Yes Jen?

-Why are you awake?

-I'm anxious. And worried.

-Why?

-Because tomorrow we will do an even bigger job.

-How bigger?

-A lot. We will capture Warnes's son.

-What? Well, he doesn't know what is expected.

Cardboard optimism was the main means by which Jen covered her fears and insecurities so as not to worry others. Her super power. Bea was always relaxed by that.

-Talk about something else. What do you think of our new friends?

-What do I think? Nestor is a good guy, maybe a little stubborn. Colin made a strong impression on me at first, but he was more afraid of us than we were of him.

-That is good. Nor did Colin seem dangerous to me. I think it's a boy.

-B?

-Yes, Jen?

-You know I love you?

-Of course.

-Well, come back after doing your job. I don't want to love a corpse and be left alone in the world.

-I will - Bea replied with the weight of such an order.

***

-I did not have you as someone religious - Nestor said when he saw Trevor praying in the morning, separated from the commune of tents in a corridor of the sewer.

-It is a mixture of habit, nostalgia and a hint of faith - Trevor answered still on his knees.

-I thought you were an atheist. With all that particular reading material Bea told me about.

-I'm not quite sure what I am sincerely. I agree on certain things with my anarchist readings and on others with my religious readings. We must not be inflexible, it is impractical. I was raised in a Saradic orphanage after the death of my parents.

-That bad. What did they die of?

-Traffic accident. But I was a baby, you know? In the orphanage I lived relatively well until my stigmas appeared. I had to escape because I didn't know what could happen. Pancarta already existed at that time and although the orphanage in which I lived was of the order of Saint Rita, I lived with the fear that something dangerous would happen to me or that my presence bothered the Montresores, so I escaped.

-You miss there?

-Yes. Especially montresor Marcus. He was a man who took care of us all there.

Elsewhere, Mexie enters Colin's tent with a plate of cold pizza.

-Hello Mexie.

-How did you know it was me?

-You are the second to have the lightest footprints, so you produce less noise when walking than Jen or Daria but more than Bea. And the noise from the bottom of the pipes allowed me to detect your antennae.

-Well, that's amazing.

Mexie was surprised, like everyone else, about Colin's bizarrely scary appearance. That and how he communicated as a small child. “It should be uncomfortable to eat with needle teeth. Splitting and crushing things and not cutting yourself in the process must be a feat, ” she thought to himself.

- What do you think of our humble abode?

-It's hotter than the cave I lived in, I grant it to you. Or in the field where Ezra and Damon made me sleep.

- They treated you badly?

-Yes. They always bothered me about my appearance.

-Well, nobody will do it here. Can I ask you a question?

-Yes.

-How old are you?

-No idea. It took me a lot to learn how long the days last and when they start and end from the songs of certain birds, and I don't know how old I was when I did it.

-And how did you learn to speak?

-There is a town called Springtown near the abandoned mine. I used to hide and listen to the noises they made, and what things they meant by those noises. That's how I learned to speak. I think it took me a long time, and it was a long time ago.

-What did you eat?

-Well, that's another song. I generally hunted small animals - he suddenly opened his big mouth and showed his sharp teeth, making a slight impression on Mexie -, the advantage of these teeth is that they are easily inserted and that, the ones at the bottom, they are directed to a another side so small animals find it difficult to escape, cause they get impaled. With the big animals I did it with the poison of my fangs: I just had to follow them for a few days until they died and then ate their meat. Finally, one can always subsist on dried fruits and berries.

-Well, you're an expert in wild survival.

-You could say, yes.

-Meeting! - Bea shouted.

Everyone gathered around the pot. Bea started talking.

-Nestor, Trevor and I will do an even bigger job in Oreburgh. We will be back tomorrow, hopefully. The place is in charge of Lope and Jen. They still have money from yesterday, so in case of any specific need, Jen will go shopping. Guys, do you have everything?

-Yes - Trevor and Nestor replied.

-Well, let's go.
 

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