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rhnuzlocke · 5 years

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Extra One: Jumpin’ Jack Flash

Zinnia was going to tear this incompetent twit a new asshole when she found him. How did he manage to screw up a simple task not once, but twice? As if she didn’t have enough to do, now she had to clean up this idiot’s mess.

And really, that was the least of it. She could see right where this was headed. Mr. Stone wasn’t an idiot. If the old man were only a little less perceptive, they would have had what they needed two months ago. The only sensible thing for him to do now would be to get the prototype to someone who couldn’t be compromised—his son. Once Maximus put two and two together, he’d send a squad to ambush the Giratina-damned League Champion like the arrogant dick he was. And Courtney—who Steven knew and would recognize—would lead it because no one else had the chance of a Bergmite in a volcano of overpowering him, superior numbers be damned. Maximus wouldn’t care. He was already impatient for the next phase. So he’d take the risk regardless and expose them weeks ahead of schedule. Why did she even bother planning when they’d all just chuck her hard work right out the window at the first little bump in the road? Well, it wasn’t really fair to blame them for what they couldn’t see. But she wasn’t about to explain it to them. They couldn’t be trusted. Not if they tripped over every hurdle. Zinnia didn’t even want to contemplate how they’d fall apart if they knew she was pulling the strings. She couldn’t say anything about it. She just had to nod her head yes as if she were none the wiser and let it happen. And that was why this peon was dead. He wasn’t in his room because why should anything in her life be easy? “The rec room at the end of the hall,” said Aster. Zinnia looked down at her daughter—always keen, always listening, always helpful—and just like that, half the anger melted off her. She held onto the rest for the job she still had to do. “They’re watching TV.” The Whismur hopped towards it, and Zinnia followed. The door was open and there sat three men on a couch, two watching and one sketching on a large work pad. She was in their peripheral vision, but none of them looked. Almost no one did. Zinnia had seen the artist and the one slouched on the other end together several times before, which meant they were a unit and didn’t run solo missions. That left the gangly teen in the middle. Now she understood. He was a child. Who the hell assigned him to her division in the first place? Zinnia stayed still in the doorway and watched him. He hunched over, arms resting on his knees and ass barely perched on the edge of the couch cushion. A copy of White Fang lay discarded on the coffee table, and a dull brown Poochyena went ignored at his feet as he stared intently at a news report, face tight. “Mr. Stone, owner and president of Devon Corporation, held a press conference this morning in conjunction with the Rustboro police chief, Hine Honda, reassuring anxious business owners and workers of his intention to support the repair of Rusturf Tunnel.” Even in the accompanying footage, he did indeed look kind and reassuring, far more so than the chief of police and her dour Hariyama. “The tunnel collapsed yesterday after being damaged by the combined Uproar attack of a stampede of wild Whismur and Loudred, setting the nearly completed project back for the fifth time this year alone. Thankfully, emergency responders report that no one was injured, but there is no word yet on how much longer it will take to repair the damage.” The other man rose from his slump to scoop the remote off the coffee table, and switched the channel. “You shouldn’t be watching that stuff, bro.” “You heard Terra at mess,” said the other without looking up from his drawing. “Probably would have happened anyway.” “Not your fault!” the first said with a clap on the back that made the kid jump. “The press is going to get a lot worse soon. It’s best to just ignore it.” “And don’t worry about Tabitha. I’m sure she doesn’t blame you.” “It was m-m-my fuck-up, Hart,” the kid finally responded with a pronounced stutter. “I’m p-pretty sure she b-b-blames me.” The other one elbowed the kid. “She thinks everyone is incompetent. You’re not special. That’s why she gets to boss people around while we have to do all the actual legwork.” “Th-thanks, Brent.” He sounded sincere, but not particularly heartened. “It was a shitty assignment and you had some pretty rotten luck, that’s all.” Hart slid back down again and put his feet up on the coffee table. “You were doing your job. Shit just goes south sometimes. You haven’t been a trainer that long and your Poochyena isn’t exactly a seasoned battler. Have you thought about maybe—” “Fang d-did fine! That t-trainer just pulled a d-dirty trick, having her Shroomish St-st-stun Spore me like that.” Now that part Zinnia hadn’t heard. Hardly a trick, just smart. Smart in a way most people weren’t. She rather liked the sound of this trainer. “See?” said Hart, as if that solved everything. “You just got dealt a shit hand as usual. Nothing to beat yourself up about.” “I know,” the kid mumbled. He sure was beating himself about it though. Seemed excessive to march in and chew him out now. But she had a reputation to uphold here and she didn’t know when she’d get another chance like this. Time to play her part. “JOSH!” she thundered, and Aster boosted it enough to make the furniture rattle. The kid damn near jumped out of his skin and threw an arm up to protect his face. Dragon’s teeth! But she couldn’t stop now. “How the fuck did you fail the same job twice!” This time, his stutter was so thick that nothing got past it, and the others were too stunned to move their tongues. “You had better get your fucking act together because this is the last time I clean up after you! Next time, it’ll be whoever’s on maintenance duty,” she spat, and he withered away from her glare. Then she turned on her heel and left. But she didn’t go far, just enough to make them think she was gone. “That nearly gave me a heart attack,” Hart groaned. Brent let out a big sigh, probably at the dark line he’d slashed across his drawing in fright. “I’m s-s-s-such a fuck-up,” the kid sniffled. “Naw, bro, that’s just Azalea,” Hart soothed, patting him more gently this time. “She’s always like that. She nearly bit my head off last week for nothing.” Zinnia didn’t even remember it. “Look, we all knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but it’s worth it, you know? We’ve just gotta focus on our goals, that’s what’s important. There’s gonna be some ugly press about us soon, but they’ll come back around when this is all over. People are fickle, but it’s up to us to help them out.” “Just keep working hard and things will get better,” said Brent. “They’ll get better for all of us.” “Y-you’re right.” Ah, there it was. Final question answered. He believed in it, what Maximus was trying to do. She could hear it in his voice. It wasn’t fear, but guilt, that was making the kid agonize over his failure. That was why he was in her division. That was why he was assigned the mission and would probably still be given more like it. Because it was simple and should have been easy, but should the worst have happened—should he ever be captured and questioned—he wouldn’t give them up. Because he was loyal and Maximus understood the value of it—probably held it in higher regard than she did. Zinnia stowed that away for safekeeping. More knowledge gained. One job accomplished. Now on to the next. “Yeah, don’t let that crazy bitch get to you.” That was her, even with Courtney for competition. Azalea was the crazy bitch. Zinnia had to smile. These clowns didn’t know the half of it.

#ORAS #Nuzlocke #storylocke #Zinnia #Aster #Josh #Fang #Hartmann #Brenton #lgbtq #chapter #extra

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