From the Vast

Interlude III: Nameless

*click, click, click*

There we go.

The old man took a deep breath through his freshly lit cigarette, the choking, reeking smoke calming. Moments later, a drawn out exhale; the light gray plume immediately destroyed by the constant downpour.

He shouldn't be doing this, not anymore, at least.

He knew that well, but the habit always got the better of him when he had to visit the city. The people, the smells, the noises, the fucking noises. He was supposed to take some pills to keep him from going bonkers in here. They kept making him lethargic, unable to function.

After nearly pancaking a pedestrian and ending up only totaling his car, he chose the easier option of moving out of Mistralton.

Wasn't a problem all those years ago when he left the army, was even less so nowadays. Guess that whole 'internet' thing that cost him an arm and a leg to get installed was good for something, after all. Dealing with paperwork nonsense remotely was just his favorite kind of efficiency. Can't handle everything like that, though.

Especially not what he was in there for right now.

It was more than worth it. He knew that well, too.

But fucking hell if it wasn't nerve-wracking.

Even more than the city, the man was deeply unused to having to stress about anything. Stress was something reserved for people who didn't plan enough. Something to be dealt with through drills, practice, lists, charts.

Criticality incident, do this. Feral mon attack, do that. Hell, they even had a step-by-step plan in the event of a terrorist operation. None of these possibilities phased him in the slightest, but what he was here for today did.

Because of just how badly he could hurt someone if he messed it up.

Because there weren't drills for this.

Because there couldn't have been drills for this.

The last of the cig was gone with a shaky inhale; the butt joined the six others before it and swiftly crushed under his work boot. He'd stalled enough; he'd have to get moving soon. And yet, he wavered, arms and breaths alike shaking like twigs. Maybe one more?

...

Fuck's sake, that was the last one.

The bus ride back home was going to be hellish, but that was then.

And now, it was time to repay for all the hurt he'd caused. To pass the little good he could forward.

With the shakiest breath of his life, the man corrected the cap on his bald head and stepped out from underneath the grocery store's awning. The frigid rain immediately hit him with all its intensity, almost making him buckle there and then. But he had to keep going.

One glance to the side, another, the steady beat of thick boots splashing in the water as they crossed the street. Straight to his destination, in all its colorful, friendly intimidation.

HEART STAMP POKÉMON SHELTER

The melodic chime took him off guard as he walked in, almost as much as the rain did. A couple moments later, the din of rain finally faded with a click of a door. At least, a moment to soothe his nerves and prepare for what was about to happen next.

...or just stand there like a dummy.

All the pastels on the walls and floors contrasted greatly with the mon in the corner. Their mostly black body stood out like a sore thumb, and the white, bow-like... growths on their front didn't help with that impression either. Name was 'Goth-something, something', he didn't remember how it ended.