Past M8.5 - Skeleton in the Closet

Red Velvet M8 – Where the Light Dies

5 – Skeleton in the Closet

With one last Air Slash, Eliot eliminated the Zoroark in front of him.

Eight.

That had been the eighth one. Eliot wasn’t sure if he’d hit this record in the past. He’d always told himself he’d keep the numbers in mind, but in the end he’d always forget anyway. It wasn’t one of the more pleasant numbers he kept in his knowledge, but numbers in any form were delightful to him, and so were these sorts of numbers, though in a morbidly fascinating way. Behind him he heard screams as another Zoroark set off a Night Daze; what a troublesome move! Honestly.

Finished with the Zoroark that had tried to return for backup, Eliot turned back to return to the main body of the fighting, where Callahan would be dodging and attacking as nimbly as ever, and PK would be setting off flashes of light that left irritating spots swimming in Eliot’s vision. It was all such a tiring affair, and not one Eliot would forget any time soon, considering the circumstances. Maybe he would stand a better chance of recalling tonight’s numbers, though it was almost physically painful to think about it.

Before he could move even a meter, a rustling sound came from behind him, and he whirled around with a Supersonic aimed at the source. The fancily-dressed Oddish that popped out jumped in surprise, but the wave of confusion missed him by just inches. To be honest, Eliot hated how inaccurate that move was, but at least that inaccuracy came to good use now.

“E…Er…” The flustered Oddish adjusted his bowler hat consciously, aware of the sharp golden gaze piercing through him. It reminded him of the attacking Zoroark, as he had nearly run into one a while ago, and he didn’t intend to repeat the encounter. “Might you be Eliot?”

“…Yes, I am. What is it?” Eliot was getting impatient; this Oddish was acting like he had just escaped an herd of Tauros.Which, admittedly, was not necessarily much worse than the Zoroark attack that night,.

At last, the Oddish found the confidence to speak. “My name is Bradley, of the Sutherland Detective Agency. This isn’t usually in my line of work, but…I was asked to come here to inform you of a certain Nidoran’s condition.”

A Nidoran? “Perdita?” he thought out loud. Bradley had caught his attention now. “What happened?”

“Well, I don’t know the details, and neither does the Stanler who asked this favor of me.” Bradley fidgeted a little, listening to the sounds of battle in the night, but hastily regained his composure. “She was attacked by a Zoroark and was severely injured. She didn’t give her name, but she told the Stanler to call for you before she blacked out. Do you know her? I-I mean, her condition didn't seem very good, and both the Stanler and I were worried that...”

Eliot let his thoughts drown out the rest of the Oddish's chattering. Perdita was out? Good grief! What a troublesome brat, really, and now Eliot was assumed responsible for her? He had already come to regret asking her to accompany him on that Mission for Jasmine all that time ago. Had it been that long ago? She hadn’t become any more mature or less rash since then, it appeared.

Bradley finally caught on Eliot’s exasperated expression and ventured cautiously, “Um…Mister Eliot?”

“Erm, yeah, I know her.” Although I kind of wish I didn’t, he added in his mind with a sigh, but continued before the Oddish could question it. “Where is she? I guess I’ll go see her.”

“Right this way,” invited Bradley, able to breathe easy at last with someone to go with him through the dangerous forests. Eliot, though, had his mind on other things.

Why, oh why did Perdita always have to bother him?

+++

“It’s good you’re here. Oh, and Bradley, you can leave now. Thank you.” Upon entering the medic tent, Eliot found himself face-to-face with the Stanler Bradley had been talking about, who motioned to the Mantine to follow him deeper into the makeshift clinic, weaving around lying bodies and injured Pokémon calling for attention. The doctors and assistants were scurrying around at the speed of light, undermanned despite all the volunteers. Even Bradley ran over to the nearest critical patient the moment he was dismissed. Tonight was a slaughter, and Eliot should have been outside, helping keep the borders, not here, in perfect condition amidst Pokemon who could hardly stand anymore.

“Why is it that you had to call for me?” Eliot dared to ask, hovering right over a wide-eyed Rattata with cuts all over his body. The advantages of being able to float. “Couldn’t it wait for when the battle’s over? Now the force outside is less one, mind you.”

“I think they can manage,” insisted the Stanler reluctantly. “I thought you might say that, judging from your expression, but I thought you might like to know in advance. You seem to be her only contact, and if something were to happen to her…”

Had it really shown so well on his face? Eliot felt a bit guilty now; Perdita was a bit too headstrong, but she meant well, he was sure. She just didn’t know how to put all that good intention in her brain and left it all in her muscle. “Is it that bad?”

“Well she was conscious when I found her, and she seems okay, but…As for her leg…”

“Can she walk?” Eliot pressed.

“She wasn’t awake yet the last time I checked, and the only ‘mon able to check on her so far was only an assistant. No one with a medical degree has told me anything yet. Thought they should tell you instead, anyway. I don’t like to meddle.”

“Oh.” For some reason, that didn’t sound very good. It was vague and could easily go either way, but Eliot didn’t like it. He regretted thinking badly of her already, in case…Well, Eliot had been bred to expect the worst, and in the worst case scenario, Eliot wouldn’t want to meddle, either. They barely knew each other, after all, although Perdita seemed comfortable enough around him. He shouldn’t have been so friendly.

“Here she is.” The Stanler stopped in front of yet another cot in the sea of injured Pokemon. Perdita was lying on it, facing her back to them, and Eliot couldn’t really see anything from where he was. The Mantine nodded to the Stanler, and the latter lowered his horns in acknowledgement. “Well, if you have any questions, just look for me. I’ll be defending here on the inner side; just watch out for this green bandanna if you have a hard time looking.” He motioned to the cloth around his neck. “My name is Paulie, by the way.”

“I’ll remember that; thanks.” Eliot watched as Paulie the Stanler slowly maneuvered back to the entrance of the tent, pushing his way past panicked Pokémon and through the flaps at the doorway. He seemed like an honest Pokémon. Eliot didn’t work with honest Pokémon often.

Letting go of the Stanler for a moment, Eliot turned back to Perdita. Her breathing was shallow, but regular enough; Eliot didn’t need a doctor to tell him that. He hovered a bit closer, and that’s when he saw the blood. It had matted her shiny fur at the base of her hind leg, going down all the way to the paw. There was a lot of it, but Eliot had seen worse. Much worse. Besides, this was just one deep claw mark, and Eliot concluded that the most horrible thing that was going to happen was amputation. She wasn’t going to die anytime soon.

Oh. Had Eliot considered death?

Perdita stirred, and, startled, Eliot slid sideways until he faced her head-on. Her large eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at him groggily. “E…Eliot?”

“Yeah, it’s me. What happened?” Eliot waited patiently for her response, but, noting her struggle with words, interrupted, “Never mind. If you’re having a hard time—“

“N-No. I’m…okay. I just…” She groaned, scrambling up to an awkward sitting position, and Eliot lunged forward, alarmed. What the hell was she thinking? Did she think she could get up so quickly? “That puppet…She’s…Strong.”

No shit, Sherlock. Wasn’t it her fault for probably charging straight in? Eliot was aware of Perdita shrinking away from his glare; he looked away, embarrassed. He supposed he had to be careful with how he was staring at people now that his gold eyes betrayed everything he was thinking. “Yeah…Yeah, I guessed she would be. How’s your leg?”

“I’m…not sure. Don’t think I can stand.” It was obvious that it took her effort to speak. Seemingly exhausted by the endeavor, she shakily laid back down on her cot.

“Do you need attention?” Eliot began to search around for a free doctor, anything to keep her from seeing the blank indifference in his eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to feel sorry for her. He supposed it was only natural.

“No, I…I’ll make it. Eliot…”

“…What?” He didn’t want to let her down, but the reluctance in his voice was obvious.

“Can you…stay?”

Exactly what he was hoping not to hear, but a few weeks of observing Perdita told him that she would only keep insisting if he argued. Perhaps she saw him as a friend now. He wished he had escaped from her after the whole search for Jasmine, and he wouldn’t have gotten so deep into this mess.

Besides, Eliot didn’t want a friend.

“Alright,” he whispered, succumbing to fate. “I will, for now. Just until you say so.”

“Good…” said Perdita, and fell back asleep.