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PMDE M803: 'What's your name, fella?'

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Team Bollocks App
Cameos Black Bullet and Team ASDF

“You know, the more I think about it, the more I can’t decide whether or not I’m offended I got this task and not the important one with that stuffy Eevee,” Vincent bemoaned, not expecting an answer from the ball of feather perched neatly on his head. “Am I not reliable enough? I’ve been training regularly with Master Foo since the incident with Sorbet… Am I not strong enough yet, do you think?”

The feel of cold water on his toes drew the Shroomish out of his complaining and forced his gaze downwards to look at his own reflection in a puddle. The reminder of his short stature and delicate not-at-all-made-for-fighting body (not to mention his lack of arms) quickly affirmed his worries.

“Definitely not strong enough.” Tristan dipped forward as Vincent sighed heavily, and was forced to flap his underdeveloped wings to try and balance himself again. Vincent caught the Natu’s gaze in the mirror surface of the puddle, wide and unending as usual, and the pools of deep blue seemed to ease him. “…No point worrying about it now, I suppose. I’ll just have to do a good job of this mission. That’s what Dec would do.”

Vincent was surprised at his own reflection. An expression stared back at him, one that was rarely there; determination, with some degree of annoyance and just a touch of resolve. “Let’s not take any crap today, Tristan. I’m far too tired to be meek…”

Tristan offered a tiny chirp, drawing Vincent’s gaze up and forwards. The silken bridges connecting the overgrown, mossy trees ahead left him in no doubt they had reached their mission’s start.

“And there he is,” Vincent whispered softly as he entered a mossy hut, eyes keened on a Heracross negotiating fiercely with the local Pokemon over a small bundle in his arms.

“I ain’t going any lower than that!! This golden silk doesn’t grow on trees, anythin’ less than a hundred Poke a yard is tantamount to robbery!” the Heracross screamed, holding the bundle up over his head to avoid it being manhandled by the growing crowd.

“I can tell you’re a shrewd businessman,” Vincent drawled, quite surprised at his own nerve, as he easily slipped through the legs of the gathering crowd. The Shroomish’s tone of voice wasn’t missed by the Heracross, who grunted a ‘hmph’ and folded his arms. The golden Silcoon now rested in the curve of his horns, quite safe from the reach of the shorter forest creatures.

“When you got a daughter who spins golden thread, you can’t be anything less. I take it you’re here for a share of it? I’d turn you away, but you’re the only person today who hasn’t attempted to simply snatch Mulberry away from me.”

“Well, my lack of arms makes that quite a challenge.”

Vincent’s well-hidden nervousness was eased somewhat at the amused smile that flickered across the Heracross’s face. “What’s your name, fella?”

“Vincent.”

“You don’t say! Well, this could get confusing real fast,” the Heracross chuckled, holding out a hand for Vincent to shake on impulse. He quickly saved face by offering it to Tristan instead, who held out a clawed foot to shake one of the Heracross’s fingers. “I’m Vince, Mulberry’s dad. Seems our mothers had good taste in names.”

Resisting the urge to launch into the story of how he actually got his name, Vincent simply smiled. “Indeed they did. Ah, I hate to skip the pleasantries, but…”

“Yes, yes, bargaining for silk. What’s your offer?”

“I’ve been given ninety Poke per yard—“

“Forget it,” Vince said quickly as he stood up straight and folded his arms. “Anythin’ less than a hundred Poke per yard ain’t worth my time.”

It took all of Vincent’s skill to hide the slight disgust he could feel creeping in. The thought of this man milking his daughter (almost literally, he thought with a great degree of nausea) for profit did not sit well with him.

“Perhaps not, but… maybe I could offer something else to make up for the ten Poke loss. Word of mouth advertising about the beautiful golden Silcoon in Mossy Forest with silk for purchase.”

“Perhaps… if it weren’t for the fact that near enough all the villages know by now.”

“Ah,” Vincent said, taking a tentative step towards the Heracross. “But do they know of her doting father, the loving bodyguard who would keep all those who harm her at bay, who devotes all of his time and resources into keeping his beloved child safe? And how his tireless care of her has left him in something of a financial strait, and any and all monetary donations would be more than welcome?”

Vince pondered this, one clawed hand raised to his chin, before a flash of a grin spread across his face. “That they don’t. So your final offer would be…”

“Ninety Poke per yard, and an excellent character reference. And I’d be after a fair few yards, for our own clothesmaker, you see.”
“Hmm. It’s a done deal, sir!” The Heracross agreed, holding out a finger for Tristan to shake once more. Lifting Mulberry up from her perch atop Vince’s horn, the Heracross smiled wickedly. “Mulberry, my dear, do what you do best!”

With a disturbing lack of any emotion, Mulberry made the most subtle of flexes. Golden thread- silk, Vincent mentally corrected himself- spilled from her mouth in perfectly straight tendrils. They tied themselves into neat little spools the second they touched the ground, curling in on themselves until Mulberry’s reserves seemingly ran dry.

“That’ll do for now, dear. You never know when another savvy businessman is gonna come along!” the Heracross cooed, forcing Vincent to swallow down another wave of nausea. His smile wavering, the Shroomish bowed his thanks and quickly excused himself, waiting until he was out of Vince’s earshot before relaying his thoughts to Tristan.

“What a frigging creep.”
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atc412's avatar
How this is great I love itHeart