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Café Plaisir: October's Jaunt part 1; A High-Spirited Visit by October Flixard

The Flixard lounged upon a bed within the Tower of Tragedy, his home, (such as it was,) in trans-planar space. It wasn't much to look at; a thin but impossibly tall tower mostly made up of ancient grey stone blocks held together with mysterious forces. There was a winding staircase on the inside of the outer wall which lead to the uncounted floors above and below and on this broad and open floor he had taken as bedroom; there was a great profusion of seemingly meaningless junk piled all around. In boxes, on shelves, on couches, on clothes piled carelessly upon the grey stone floor. At least he kept it clear of dishes.

Some of the junk was technological, such as the laptop computer he typed idly upon or the many peripherals, many seeming incompatible with any knowable standard of technology or physiology. All stuff he planned to make use of, in some nebulous plan or other.

An equal portion looked historic... or distinctly arcane in nature. It was piled up and around with an equal lack of care and representing an equal amount of unfocused future ambitions.

He really ought to know better, just leaving stuff lying around like that; After all, wasn't there just a chance that was exactly how he was created? A chance meeting of dangerous items in some terrible experiment that gave him life, whilst taking the life of his creator?

For the Flixard himself was an unusual beast in his most typical configuration; A five foot six bipedal creature, slim, yet toned, black scaled and furless for the most part, with a bright red underside running from his chin right around to his behind. He had a long muzzle and big, pointed ears below a grand a shocking mane of jagged fur that ran right down his back. A mix of vulpine and lizard-like features that had earned him the nickname he'd taken as a surname, "Flixard."

Of course, this form just happened to be the one his corporeal form had created in response to his first encountered entity (who was now also his mate.) Before he had taken this form and first gained consciousness, he was allegedly nothing but chaotic energies defying all subsequent attempts at identification through description. As far as he could tell, he was nothing but a chance happenstance, a random coalescence of energies, there were no others quite like him and that suited him just fine. He was just one more random and (especially) chaotic element in a grand multiverse given to bizarre forms of entropy.

He ceased tapping at the laptop and sighed. It was all very well chronicling these tales, but as the the final words of the scene fell into place and he found himself with most of a chapter, he couldn't help but feel as grim as he was satisfied, like a voyeur of death and tragedy. He'd actually rather liked some of the latest casualties of the piece. Detailing their demise as it happened couldn't help but feel a little... oh... what was the word... sad?

Yes, as the Nidorina cried for her lost mate, he couldn't help but feel just a tad terrible about it. As if he were really responsible. Was he not after all, just a dramatic chronicler of his multiversal experiences and observations..? Why did he have to feel so annoyingly... bad, about it?

He sighed again, this time with more drama.

Next to him on the bed, a shrouded form groaned and rolled.

He poked at it once, for entertainment's sake.

Silver moaned again. He couldn't help but smile in delight.

It was Silver's turn to sigh, then turn to him, poking a silver-scaled muzzle out from under the duvet.

Half of a frilled draconic head appeared, revealing one sad eye, looking appealingly to him to make it not so, to take away the not-being-asleep-right now. It was adorable, beautiful and he regretted his teasing not in the slightest.

"Flixy," said the humanoid-shaped, silver-scaled Dragon, sadly, "What is it..?"

He flung himself back and lay next to his fiancee, putting his pointed muzzle to the Dragon's own with what he hoped was an appealing look in his eyes.

"Oh no," said Silver, wrestling free a muscular arm to grasp the Flixard by the muzzle and push it down and away, "You're full of mischief, I can tell."

The game was on, it seemed! He easily slipped free of the clumsy, sleepy grasp and pounced the sleepy dragon. Both of his paws found that ample behind and squeezed.

"Nooo..." whinged Silver, "Flixy..."

The Flixard chuckled, then spoke, "I like it when you tell me no..." his fingers danced around the contours of that ample behind with every word.

The Dragon groaned in frustration and rolled over, hiding his rump as quickly as he could, "Nooo... I need to sleep..."

The Flixard rolled his eyes, "That could be for days, my sweet... and I need solace now... you really must read the newest scenes, by the way..."

Silver flailed at him lazily and uselessly. It was at least some fun to dodge. Eventually he gave up with a grunt.

"Flixy my darling," said Silver, "I'm too tired, go do something else."

He rolled his eyes, "...but I need a distraction now!" he said with melodrama.

"Well go..." said Silver desperately, "Go play with... that mean Sylveon friend."

"Nooo..." said the Flixard, "No, not after last time. It's not safe, anymore. Not until I've figured out how to beat him, at least."

"Mmmmmm," whined the Dragon, "Well, go and see Verrin and Waxell."

The Flixard sighed this time, shaking his head, though the Dragon could not see, "There's only so long I can spy on them without feeling at least a little bad. Besides, the way things are going, I'll only go and find that they've somehow teleported themselves to bloody Blackstone Prison too... Anyway, what's with all the Pokémon suggestions?"

"The new game," mumbled the sleepy Dragon, "Sleeping 'till it comes out."

The Flixard rolled his eyes again, "I could get it for you, super-special-Flixy-import... It'll be a steal."

"Noo..." said the Dragon, "I want a shiny box version. Going to that planet again. Buying it."

"How perverse," muttered the Flixard, quietly.

"October Flixard," addressed the Dragon grumpily, starting to wake up a bit, his sleep apparently almost ruined, "Just you go somewhere and entertain yourself... or I'm not going to cook for you, ever again!"

Well, that was it, he supposed. He bade his mate a fine goodnight, sprang off the bed and strode on down to the Planar Room.

It was a terrifying floor to look at; All sliding brass floor sections and perpetually-lit arcane runes all over the place with all kinds of floating, glowing lights. However, it was wonderfully simple to operate. You just had to think of where you were going and repeat a command word to return. Not even he had messed it up. Yet.

He supposed he had recently heard of a destination that might be His Kind of Fun, so to speak, though he didn't know too much about it. On the other hand... he DID remember something about a dare... and that was just irresistible.

Well, this was an unplanned trip, so he supposed a poorly specified and little known location suited. At least it seemed that way to him. He was a chaotic creature by nature, after all. Perhaps it was too much chaotic, untamed arcane energies in his creation. Perhaps it was just too much Fox in his unstable makeup.

Either way, he set himself to thinking, "Café Plaisir..."

The imagine resolved in his mind as the arcane machinery set to working. Things started to spin around him, but he concentrated upon that imagery as it found first the correct intercosmic flow of the correct yggdrasil branch, then the leaf-like universe group, then the universe in question, then the local cluster, the galaxy, the system, then the planet upon which he was concentrating. Fantastically powerful arcano-technological machinery making the very complex very easy through practise as the Flixard put his mind to work finding the time and place he had scryed out and memorised via an unremembered recommendation.

In late Summer at the north-eastern edge of the grand plains of what was generally known as the North American continent of the planet generally known as Earth, near a small town, sat within a lightly wooded area nearish a creek and just off a main road in the midst of expansive park-like gardens; was a sloped, stepped, three story, architectural cacophony of modern glass and concrete, quaint brick and wooden balconies, with rooftop gardens and utilities. It looked a bit like a modern hotel that had crashed into a convention centre and sort of collapsed into each other with an old fashioned hotel caught and crushed in-between, hinting at a complex internal layout. He looked down on the small complex from above, noting at once the stacks and stands that might prove a good hiding place upon its roof. Especially behind that huge solar mirror that stood over the rim of the inner courtyard concealed within its highest section.

That wouldn't do, though. He didn't know enough about the place yet. More than one disaster had nearly befell him upon overly enthusiastic teleportations to one of the many, many places where his appearance would be remarkable to say the least.

He could probably scout like this, but it required a great deal of concentration and the span of the Flixard's was fickle at best.

So he chose a spot within the forest and focussed his mind on making it a reality. Around him, the room ground and glowed and span.

...then the room wasn't there and the grinding of metal rings became the sighing of trees and the sweet songs of birds.

A warm sun shone above from a blue sky. Soft grass wound between his claws.

Well, at least the weather was nice, he supposed.

He looked around. Not much to see except trees.

He wondered, hoped, idly, now that he was already here that this was some kind of advanced technological or arcane magocratic society where his physical form might fit in nicely, without his innate and utterly uncontrolled shape-shifting camouflage abilities kicking in.

Then, through the trees, some distance away, he saw an Absol go skipping past, looking happy, care-free and fortunately, paying him no attention.

A Pokémon world. Of course it was a Pokémon world. Now what could have possibly made him think of a Pokémon world? He grimaced, knowing exactly what was about to happen. He nearly barked out the command word; He fretted in indecision for exactly fifteen seconds too long.

He jolted forwards as his bones began to rearrange themselves and he tried to take a deep breath before his internal organs followed suit, to no avail. No matter how many times he experienced it, there was a unique and special displeasure to feeling your insides move around.

Why did it have to be a Pokémon world? This transformation had to be the worst, he thought with dread. It could have been somewhere where he'd have a bipedal configuration, at least...

He groaned as his bones shifted; shrinking some parts and elongating others, everything warping around them. He dropped forwards onto all fours with an unnatural wheeze and groan as he struggled to breathe.

He began to sprout crimson fur all over his body. It tingled at first, then the tingle became an ache as the volume increased, seeming to feed from his warping torso.

His lizard-like tail shot out, ramrod-straight and seemed to vibrate in place for a second.

"Oh... Ffff..ffFFf Fortuna..!" he managed to wheeze.

There was an awful cracking sound as one tail tore itself into nine parts. There was a very special pain that defied all reason and he half-swooned onto the ground.

He was in a gratefully-received daze of shock for most of the rest of it, but he still didn't get to miss the part where his heart and lungs stopped, but briefly... then restarted as the elemental internal combustion engine of a Fire-type Pokémon.

At around that point, the pain subsided and he began to feel a lot better indeed.

He rose unsteadily on four long, graceful legs, nearly stumbling as he struggled to remember digitigrade, quadrupedal posture. It caught him out every damn time.

It didn't bother him though. He pushed himself right back on his hindlegs, almost touching his rump to the ground, then right the way forwards, up onto his clawtips, enjoying a full and proper vulpine stretch.

He felt wonderful, powerful, graceful and gorgeous. Perhaps it was the extra dose of Fox hormones. Perhaps it was his lovely and soft crimson fur (he found he often had fur-envy.) Perhaps it was the elemental Fire energy that coursed through his body or perhaps it was the nine, black-tipped gorgeous crimson tails that seemed to move of their own accord behind him, each part of a pick-n-mix of wondrous powers that unlike the powers of his 'natural' form had absolutely no chance whatsoever of turning him into a black hole or something if he dared to try to use them.

Yes, this form was perhaps the most painful and awkward to assume, but when one got there, it was wonderful in the extreme.

He sat down and set to grooming the shaggy, jagged black mane that that ran from his head on down to his upper back; The part of him that changed the least in this form.

Well, he reflected, as long as this isn't the kind of Pokémon world where he'd be hunted down for his unusual fur-colouration, at least he would fit in relatively well, now.

Grooming his mane turned into grooming his tails and that began to take some time. After a while, he realised he was perhaps just enjoying the sensation of fur a little too much. Then again, perhaps it was this form. He was sure it came pre-packed with extra vanity, but then, he couldn't help but think, why would it not?

Smiling, he picked himself up and took a deep breath of fresh, clean air, pointing himself in the general direction of the building he had been assured he would enjoy visiting. He only wished he could remember who had recommended it... and when.

Oh well, details, details, details. You could only plan ahead so far, after all.

With his head held high, he set off walking and fell over.

He sighed again, with great melodrama... accidentally setting fire to the grass in front of his muzzle and then rushing to stamp it out.

Well, that didn't bode well.

* * *

There was a path, he was sure he had seen it, it had to be around here somewhere. Damn it all. He was getting sick of these woods. Nature and fresh air was getting itself all over him. He was getting tempted to start letting out some fire and letting nature know who here was king! He was just full of the stuff! Nature would rue the day!

Fortunately, he thought better of it. That plan NEVER ended well.

The sun was going down by the time he found the path. Covered in leaves, twigs and insects, he took the time to groom himself once more.

Perhaps the detritus could have been a talking point, but he just couldn't bear to be seen with his tails in such a state.

It was getting dark by the time he made it to the entrance.

He was displeased to note that they had a door slave, though not one unappealing to the eye. The female Lopunny was pretty and she wore a bright smile. She certainly brought a hungry thrill to his predatory vulpine senses.

None the less, as with all such greeters and their shilling ways, he resolved on a 'do-not-engage,' course of action.

"Welcome to Café Plaisir!" she said, her voice bright and almost offensively chirpy, the regional accent becoming at once tiresome upon his first hearing of it, "Would you like-"

"Thanks!" said October, with as much false enthusiasm and the biggest, toothiest grin he could manage as he pushed on through the doors and on inside.

Well, the unattended Lopunny was a good sign. Hopefully he wasn't expected to have a human slavemaster here. Hopefully...

Ugh. The carpet felt very fine after the forest and the path, but the very colourfulness of this hallway horrified and offended him.

Then quite suddenly, the offensive smell of humans hit his keen vulpine nose. He wrinkled it and growled to himself, "Oh, Fortuna," he muttered.

Humans, humans, filthy human pigmonkeys. Well at least he hadn't become one of THEM. Well, humans nearly always boded poorly. If he hadn't gone to so much trouble he would turn back, right now. In some of his previous, occasional adventures as a Ninetales, He'd had trouble with humans in Pokemon worlds before. He did not enjoy being hunted. Though he had almost enjoyed being the cause of a riot.

What to do, what to do though? He had to think-

If he had fingers, he would have snapped them as a realisation hit him. He tried to do it with a pair of tails, but only succeeded in messing them up. He took a moment to groom.

He had a whole goodie bag of supposedly reliable powers in this form. He hadn't actually bothered to practise any of them or learn any attacks or anything, but he had toyed with them a bit. Admittedly, in less than savoury manners. Still, he was sure he could pull this off!

Calling upon his powers of illusion, one of his tails, the third from the left, waggled oddly, as if seeking a radio signal.

Next to him, his human formed. He wasn't great at humans, so he gave it his usual build, pale skin, a big coat and lots and lots of hair and facial hair. He wasn't sure if he had the face right, so he put hair in front of the face. His was a subtle, reinvented human.

Perfect, he thought, marvelling at his creation. Only then did he dare pass through the door at the end of the hallway.

The Café was revealed... and he couldn't help but find it dingy and depressing, compared to the outside size of the place. It was like they weren't even trying!

He looked in horror at the Pokémon servants, wearing twee colour-matching aprons as they served their human masters. He sighed; Such inequality! He hoped at once he wouldn't be discovered by the lack of the glazed, adoring look of the prison-ball-possessed battle-thrall slave Pokémon. The mutant-cleansing thing sprung to mind as well.

So, hoping for the best on the eugenics front, he made his way towards the bar, making sure to look upwards at his human's face as he did, as if he were but waiting for its godlike word.

Something hit him hard enough to knock him over, forcing an 'oof!' from him. Stumbling as the sound of crashing was heard, he looked around at the angry face of a fairly large and quite genuinely scary Mightyena. A de-drinked tray sat upon its back.

"Eugh! You stupid... Wolf... thing!" he said, quite without thinking, reflexively starting to groom the disruption out of his fur.

The Mightyena's eyes narrowed, he snarled, "What did you just say to me?" he said, showing a massive set of fangs.

October paused, considering his next words very carefully. Naturally, he didn't much respect the Wolf-Mightyena-thing (this one seemed to favour Wolf, a bit,) in super-Fox mode as he was, but nor did he actually want any trouble at this point. This was meant to be a relaxing evening, after all. From the look of those admittedly awe-inspiring teeth, the galling brute might actually injure him. That wouldn't be relaxing at all.

He cleared his throat, "Ahem, well, many apologies, fellow Pokémon," he said with as much humility as he could muster, "I was just adulating my magnificent human here and simply forgot to check for lesser presences. Surely you understand; Is he not magnificent?"

The Mightyena snarled and looked for a second as if he might attack right there and then. October wondered urgently as to what his own awesome plan might be.

However, the Mightyena seemed to see something across the room and frowned. "Fuck you," he muttered, then wandered off.

October breathed a hefty sigh of relief. Thank goodness for short attention spans, he thought.

Looking around to check that no-one was looking at him, he turned his attention to the spilled drinks. Swiftly and deftly, he barely lifted each glass with his muzzle to sneak the remaining dregs of each one. That made him feel better.

He reconsidered his course for the bar. There was a fairly massive Typhlosion there that had given him the evil eye. He didn't like the look of that. Plus, this place seemed incredibly classist; It was probably a faux pas to go to the bar oneself like a peasant.

He directed himself and his human-illusion to a vacant table and leapt up onto one of the uncomfortable (in his current form, at least) seats. No, he didn't want to make a faux pas. He already had four lovely Fox paws. He wasn't much one for feet, but Fox paws seemed the prettiest by far. He gazed at his paw. Then stoked it at the other one. It was such a pretty shape and it felt so nice.

He idly wondered then at the strength of the drinks here and looked around desperately for a waiter.

Only the Mightyena was nearby.

The need was sufficient.

"Waiter!" he called, "I say, serving-hound!"

Baleful, wrath-filled eyes were turned upon him. The Mightyena walked on. October cursed under his breath.

"Can I help you, sir?" said a rich a refreshingly cultured accent. He supposed it would be a British accent on this plane rather than Albionite or anything else, but then you never did know until you picked up a local encyclopedia... and who had the time?

October looked around with a smile, to see a pleasantly smiling Luxray who was just a tad too much on the physically powerful side for October's tastes. None the less, this seemed like a civilised creature.

"Why yes!" said October, with a toothy and exaggerated grin, "Why I seek some of your finest and most potent beverages for myself and my human here."

"But of course," said the Luxray, "Also, do I detect some of the green and pleasant land in your accent?"

"Why yes," said October with a smile, "but I do play it down a bit and go for standard. No-one really gets the 'Why aye, howay the lads,' stuff, you know?"

The Luxray chuckled. October smiled, perhaps over-hard. Still he was pleased with himself. He considered himself a decent carouser.

"It'd be met with mostly blank stares, yes." said the Luxray, "But then, someone's got to bring some culture to the colonies, haven't they?" He added with a grin gilded with pompousness.

"Yes," said October, chuckling as much as he felt he could until he felt the weight of conversational prompting, "The good old homeland. So far away through time and space, another accent in another place." Caught in the midst of what was admittedly a panic-maneuver, he took a breath, then considered the alternatives and continued, "Comprehension quite a disgrace, they all expect it on a plate, no understanding cross-cultural, a hard job getting one's glass made full."

The Luxray looked at him blankly for a moment, then laughed again, along with him. "Of course, of course. Well, I can get a northerner a drink indeed, but is there... anything else that you might need?" The grin returned now, casual; playful, almost.

October tilted his head, caught out by the question. He had been rather focussed upon the beverages. He briefly considered victuals, but he had stopped by a bush of berries earlier and somewhat helped himself. He smiled broadly, "A simple drink is all I need, I would be grateful, if you please?"

He coupled that last line with what he hoped was his most charming smile. He dipped his muzzle, made his eyes wide. It wasn't dignified, but he was becoming desperate.

Fortunately the Luxray smiled and nodded with only a slight hesitation, "Good good, you'll find our prices for all services are quite reasonable."

Time briefly froze for October as the horrible realisation dawned on him. CURRENCY. He knew he had forgotten something.

He laughed awkwardly and made a waving gesture with his paw, trying to hide the sudden stiffness of his posture, "Oh, no problem," he said, "I have plenty of the local currency, of course."

"Well, poems are all fine and dandy." said the Luxray with a smirk, "but it's dollars for drinks, I'm afraid."

Dollars! That was a start. "Hahah, of course," said October, feeling about himself with his forepaws, "Now I know I keep them here somewhere..." He looked frantically about the room.... weren't dollars usually paper slips?

"Even something with dear ol' Liz on it, I could probably work something out." The Luxray continued, and then nodded to October's minion. "Doesn't this gentleman carry the money?"

October grinned awkwardly, "What, my human? Carry things? Are we not a classist society?"

The Luxray continued to chuckle, apparently still humouring him.

'Oh Fortuna,' he thought to himself, still searching the room with his eyes. He thought he spotted a note and hoped for the best. Now if he could just find some way grab some, maybe go to the toilet - his paw stopped amidst his oversized mane.

A couple of leaves he'd missed. Oh that was just classic. Classic nine-tailed Fox stuff. He just couldn't resist. Oh Fortuna, indeed...

He pulled the two leaves from his mane between four unsheathed claws, laying what seemed to all appearances to be hundred-dollar bills upon the table.

He grinned brightly, "Just keep them coming," he said with musical glee.

* * *

By now, he was rather drunk indeed. Even had had to admit that he'd probably had enough. Any more and mobility would start to become a serious issue, even for a quadruped.

It was only to be expected, he was drinking for two, after all.

He wasn't just drunk, though he was certainly as think as he drunk he was (ha!) he was starting to suspect that there was something else in the booze here, because he was feeling just lovely. Well, he was flushed and feely. He had to stop grooming himself innumerable times. He (especially his wonderful tails!) was just so lovely.

He drunkenly chuckled, enjoying the feel of his fine Fox fur. So greatly did he enjoy the caress of his own paws that he found himself leaning on his seat. When it overbalanced, he had to correct quickly with his tails, bringing the seat thumping back to the floor. He guffawed to himself.

A diminutive Vaporeon had then walked past him, tutting and shaking her head. He wasn't too pleased with that and he found his thoughts hungrily took a darker turn...

She was a sweet little thing and it was a joy to see her go. Such a pretty, sleek blue form... and she was cheeky. She had dared offend a Ninetales. He felt at once an appetite forming.

He imagined himself chasing her, a terrified look upon her face. He would bite down, but not to kill. Just to taste sweet blood and screams. Oh, how he should have his way with her for such an offense! He chuckled to himself, considering how he would stretch the ordeal. Such teeth as these and the fine control of flame... oh the possibilities indeed.

The small size of her... he would have to take care with his teeth... letting way to a lack of care below. He imagined himself pounding her fiercely, without mercy, a Fox in full, a vulpine filled with lust and bloodlust... lustfully lusting (hahah!)

Quite without noticing, he was leaning towards the departing Vaporeon, a viciously toothy and lewd grin upon his face, a hungry light in his eyes, overbalancing the chair again...

That was about when he sensed another presence behind him. An impressive one. A sense of forceful heat, a powerful aura, even for a Ninetales.

The chair fell back with another thump... He craned his neck around slowly. His jaw fell open.

Standing there in front of him, upside down, was simply the most magnificent creature he'd ever seen. The Ninetales met his eye level, despite the chair he was curled back over. On even ground, it would tower over him, a grand specimen indeed. Huge, long tails of perfect gold tipped in autumn bronze. A pointed muzzle of such handsomely Fox-like proportions, surely housing mighty fangs. Such perfect form and posture! Such powerful, glowing red eyes! Such... displeasure in that frown. Oh dear.

"I think you've had too much," said the magnificent Ninetales, "I think you're getting a bit... off-colour."

October laughed awkwardly, "Why? Whatever do you mean?" he said as pleasantly as he could, awe-stricken as he was.

The Ninetales' frown increased, "Such intentions are as forbidden here as anywhere. If you'd like something on the menu, you can start by sobering up."

The Ninetales was a mind-reader, oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. Oh, crap, he could probably read that. Don't think about the leaves, don't think about the-

It was more or less at that very moment that someone across the room said, "Hey, there's leaves in the cash register!"

The illusions had worn off. The human image next to him had vanished. If this form had muscular lips, he would have bitten his. Bigger, more powerful Foxes. What a damnably arbitrary weakness for a creature of chaos to have... there really was no justice.

Well, his concentration might have lapsed, but his body still worked. Flinging himself forwards, he sprang from the chair and over the table in a picture-perfect vulpine pounce. Well, it would have been, had he not had to hit the ground rolling.

He bolted for the nearest door and only thought after bashing it open with a head-jarring impact that it was in the complete wrong direction. The way out was back thataway. Behind the Ninetales.

Oh well.

He ran along at a loping gait that completely belied how drunk and uncoordinated he thought he must be right now. He put it down to how awesome this form had to be.

He crashed into someone at the foot of the stairs. He and the human - a real human - went tumbling. By chance, something fell out of the human's palm, a key!

"Oh, Fortuna!" he muttered, snatching up the key with his tongue and starting up the stairs.

He heard heavy pawfalls thundering after him and glanced to see a trio of Mightyena tearing after him, the big dolt who'd crashed into him earlier at their head. Well, that was an instinctively terrifying sight for any Fox.

He briefly considered his powers of flame and fire - but he sadly realised he wasn't so drunk that he didn't realise that was out of order. So he ran up the stairs and briefly held out his tongue to glance at the key. It was marked, 'G1.'

He turned off onto the first floor and concentrated as hard as his addled mind would allow.

Images were a tall order right now, but he was sure he could produce auditory illusions well enough. He tucked against the wall and made it sound like he was still running upstairs.

He made the illusion shout, "Fuck, the hounds! They've released the hounds! Hahah! Fuck the hounds!"

It apparently worked well enough. The Mightyena trio went tearing up after the insulting illusion.

He smiled broadly. Tricking the Wolves. More classic Fox stuff. He was definitely classing it up today. Appropriate for the classist world. He had to suppress a drunken chortle.

It occurred to him that he could leave right now. With the Ninetales far enough away, he could use the command word and be home in less than a minute.

No chance, he was having FAR too much fun. He wanted to see where this adventure would lead next!

He set off in search of this room... G1. Perhaps it was some terrible laboratory... or a nexus of evil human wizards that held the Pokémon here in thrall! He could be a liberator!

...or perhaps it was a broom closet. He wondered how long it would take for them to find him if he just hid in a broom closet.

He had to find out!

Racing up and around the stairways and corridors, past layers of rooms, common, strange and opulent, over, up and down balconies, through a large lounge full of surprised people, away from a bathhouse, back into the corridors, around and around, up and down before discovering that this section was a ring... and realising, through a It took him almost five minutes to remember, that he was in the Americas and that they called the ground floor the first floor. Some of the time... or something. He snarled, blaming the Luxray, but then dashed off, chuckling at his own foolishness.

He knew he took a chance by risking the stairs again they could be waiting for him there, he had no doubt left multiple scent trails for the hounds. It would practically be mocking them to try that, again - but who wouldn't? He sent another jeering, cursing illusion up the stairs ahead of him for good measure.

It took him a while to find G1. He ran past it twice before realising with some disappointment that the key didn't fit into some big imposing armoured door. In fact, there was a sliding door in front of a pleasant little seating area that opened automatically at his approach, under the highly discouraging sign, 'Garden, G1.' He'd ran right past it at least three times previously, too.

He didn't even need to use the key! How utterly thoughtless of the architect! He had wanted to open a big scary door, dash blast it!

He ran into the Garden anyway, with a rolling, groaning sigh.

As if he hadn't had enough of leaves and nature today. By all the heavens and their... clouds..!

Well, he supposed, at least it was a lovely garden. Four tall walls crowned by corner balconies and light from the lounge and a large balcony above framed a dark little yard, filled with bushes and flowers and a big, hanging tree. Above it all, the glittering night sky was reflected by the tall, L-shape of a grand solar mirror for extending the daylight. It was actually quite impressive... and at least it was warmer than outside-outside. It was probably a LOT better than a broom cupboard, even if it wasn't a secret wizard robot human Pokeslave laboratory, after all.

He slunk into the bushes, realising too late the danger. He closed his eyes and grunted in displeasure as fresh leaves caught in his mane and tails. There really was no justice.

Still, the cover was good and the garden was well-maintained. Detritus was at a minimum and it was easy to move quietly.

He was feeling pretty good about himself until he realised he wasn't alone.

Perhaps he wasn't as stealthy as he thought. He strode around a tree and came face to face with a slight and finely-curved Lucario.

The Lucario looked at him, somewhat taken aback, "You were taking your time... hiding in there for a reason?" he said in a soft voice, a smile on the corners of his mouth.

October shook a little blood into his rump and pounced with all his strength! His powerful vulpine rump and long legs propelled him into the air in an exhilarating leap, his tails acting as perfect rudders as he unerringly struck the Lucario even as he began to turn away, reacting reflexively.

He came down atop the Pokémon with all his weight and pinned it, belly down, eliciting a high-pitched yelp for his efforts. He spread himself out to immobilise the Fighting-type. No point taking chances. He quickly slapped a paw on the end of his muzzle and another atop the bridge to silence him.

It was about then that he recalled the Lucario's relaxed demeanour and realised that he'd actually succeeded in immobilising himself. He bristled at his own stupidity and growled at himself.

"Oh, Fortuna," he muttered.

Still, it wasn't the worst way to hide out, he reflected. He had a warm and very comfortable perch. Those fine, appealingly feminine curves that he had first seen were all the more pleasant when he felt them below him.

In fact, the rump was (in?)opportunistically located around his hips... and it was very fine indeed. Big, soft, girly and very, very fluffy. Quite a shape, indeed...

He grimaced, realising at once how this might seem. The Lucario made a few muffled noises beneath him, his gleaming eyes wide.

"Look, ah," October began awkwardly, "So, this looks fairly bad, but would you believe it's all down to a misunderstanding?" he chuckled lightly, "The thing is, I'm totally not planning on doing what it seems like I'm planning on doing," he involuntarily growled at himself a little, thinking he probably should have said that downstairs (having already forgotten about the first-floor-ground-floor thing...)

"Anyway," he said pleasantly, "I'll let go of your muzzle if you promise not to make a fuss, deal?"

The Lucario made a noise that might have been yes. October sighed, it was the best that he could hope for. He took his paws away.

Fortuitously, the Lucario did not cry out, but he did look up; his cheeks were tinged with hints of red.

"Are you sure you're not planning what I think you're planning?" he asked after hesitation, "Because, I, well... it kind of... feels like you are...."

October's expression went a bit blank for a second when he realised his body seemed to be planning what the Lucario thought it was planning. Hot Fire-type blood was building up within a hefty vulpine sheath.

Then the Lucario was smirking, "Well, something's heating up, anyway..."

"I, uh," stumbled October, flushing with embarrassment, only adding to the thermal problem, "I'm still getting used to regulating my body temperature and-" he coughed, "Look, you're quite beautiful and my body is planning what you thought-" he growled, "Look, imagination is not intention and certainly not enaction... argh! I should have said THAT downstairs!"

The Lucario's blush was much more intense, but his eyes had narrowed as he peered up at the Ninetales, "I don't think downstairs is listening..." he said quietly.

October grimaced, feeling his sheath fill with want. "I'm quite sorry..." he said with a sigh and the honesty only of his higher brain. The lower portions were flooding with pleasure at the delightful feel of the shapely Pokémon, which would have been quite enough without being amplified by whatever was in those drinks.

"It's okay," said the Lucario in a sing-song voice, the insides of its ears the colour of beetroot, "You know, you paid and all, but if you're into this sort of thing, it's... usually best to mention it, and it's not usually my-"

October realised at once that the Lucario had mistaken him for whomever it was that he'd taken the key off of during his flight. He began to wonder as to the true purpose of this... 'Café.'

It was right then that thundering pawsteps came charging into the Garden.

October sat up bolt upright, his blush exploding. "Oh crap," he said aloud, realising at once how this must all look.

The pawsteps came running up to a nearby stop just as he stood up, looking around - to see three very, VERY angry Mightyena.

"You've fucked up big, Ninetales," growled the big one, "Oh, I'm going to LOVE making you regret-"

"Eclipse?" said the Lucario in surprise, rolling onto an elbow, "What are you-"

Panic rose within him and October reacted on instinct. Suddenly, the Ninetales felt his aura surging as his tails rose in a fan behind him. He had no idea what he was doing, having never trained for even a day of Pokemon techniques in his life, but somehow his tails knew what to do.

It was a moment of drunken inspiration. October instantly created eight visual illusions of the most visualisable creature in the universe - his own crimson nine-tailed form. He sent them dashing off in all directions and quickly exhaled a concentrated ball of furious green Foxfire. Later, he would wonder how he had managed any of it. He sent the fireball off hidden inside the illusion headed for the window as he himself dashed for the back wall!

He realised with quick embarrassment that four of the eight illusions were of the Lucario. Four illusory Ninetales blushed with him.

The window blew out spectacularly, erupting around the focussed blast of the concentrated little fireball. He had the illusion flying through the rain of spinning shards cry, "HaHa!" boisterously, as a pièce de résistance.

It seemed to work. The Mightyena went charging after the illusion the moment that glass stopped dropping, growling and cursing all the way, out into the night.

He smiled at his tails and kissed the illusion one. He wondered just how much mileage he could get out of this stuff.

As soon as the Mightyena were gone out of the window, he dashed for the automatic door. He give the Lucario one last, apologetic look.

* * *

It had been a fast flight up to the roof and he'd had to soften a lock. He was a bit embarrassed about having to resort to fire a second time. He hadn't planned on any damages and thought that window must have been expensive.

However, the game was still on; He had a bit of stamina yet!

As he crept out amongst the utility spaces he felt a great sense of relief. This was a perfect place to rest and recuperate. He needed some air after all of the drink and excitement.

Up here, it was dark, peaceful and there was no sign of the Mightyena. Even were they here, he could no doubt lead them on a merry chase through all this cover, with the option of punching out for home whenever he felt like it.

He was glad he'd glimpsed the layout earlier. He had the perfect hiding spot in mind, behind that gigantic solar mirror, amidst a cluster of radiators, tanks and ventilators. Well covered from all angles, with plenty of escape routes. Even a big vent that might lead back into the building.

He slunk over there with stealth and grace and without the slightest sign of any pursuit - or leaves!

Safe in the enclosed area, he slunk back in the shadows to lean against the an aluminium wall and breathe deeply.

"Well," he said to himself cheerily, heady with a sense of victory and relief, "This was obviously a great place to hide, after all."

"A little too obvious," said a polite voice, from behind him.

A heavy paw landed on his back and sent him crashing to the floor, followed through expertly in a pounce that was barely a movement, but left him pinned and nigh unable to breathe.

He was able to crane his head back just enough to see the massive form of the Ninetales from earlier, looking even yet more formidable and impressive in the shadow and the moonlight, which made his red eyes glow and his golden fur gleam... October was rendered literally and metaphorically breathless.

"Oh, Fortuna," he managed to croak.

The Ninetales frowned down at him.

He keened once in submission, but quickly caught the noise and strangled it short. 'Fuck!' he thought, 'that was embarrassing...'

"You've caused a lot of trouble," said the Ninetales, his polite voice edged with just a hint of a threatening, shiver-casting growl, "We're currently debating whether or not we'll be kind enough to call the police. We take a dim view on those who assault our staff..."

October gave a strangled whine. He could offer no other comment. He couldn't say the command word even if it would have worked.

He tried to force his mind to keep blank.

It really was a stupid weakness, but at least it meant he had been defeated by something he could respect. It wasn't the worst ending to the game. Once out of this mighty creature's paws, he would be fine.

His distress was rich indeed when the three Mightyena arrived, faster than he could have believed.

He heard growling laughter. He saw heavy paws come into view. He looked up into the cruel face and vicious grin of a very predatory-looking Mightyena. He looked a lot bigger in the moonlight too. In fact, this perspective offered a fresh view of another way in which the Mightyena could be considered big. He gulped, unconsciously.

The Mightyena noticed him noticing and chuckled cruelly.

"Nice job, Firenze," said another of them.

Well, this couldn't get much worse, he thought.

"Let him go," said Eclipse, "I'd like to see him try and get away now."

"I think not," said Firenze, his voice grave as it was authoritative, "Not until we've decided what we're going to do with him."

"I've already decided," snarled the Mightyena ominously.

"It's not your decision," said Firenze, firmly.

"But you know it's the right decision," growled Eclipse, "You heard what he did. To Nature, no less. So even you wanna teach him a lesson for that, don't you Firenze..?"

Firenze's claws tightened. He was about to speak.

October tried to call out in protest, but he could barely wheeze. Abused by a Mightyena, by THAT Mightyena? He admitted to a bit of tunnel vision, but he couldn't think of anything worse! He tried to wriggle! Heavy paws and sharp claws held him down all the harder...

"He can't breathe," said the other Mightyena.

"He can breathe, just enough," said Firenze.

'No, I can't,' thought October, starting to fade out. He thought then that the pressure might have eased by a millimeter, but he could have just been desperately hoping.

He was quite dizzy. They were talking about him, but he couldn't hear what they were saying. It was quite disconcerting.

Suddenly he realised the Lucario was there. He seemed to sway back into consciousness.

"What are you doing to him? What's going on?" he heard the Lucario say.

Half-suffocating, he dropped in and out of clarity, most of the conversation was going on was passing by in a blur.

"...didn't see how he was looking at Rain Flower..!" he heard Firenze say.

"...gination is not intention, is not..." he thought, perhaps just hoped, he heard the Lucario say.

The rest was muffled, unclear to his senses. He briefly dropped back into unconsciousness.

He wasn't sure what happened, but he felt himself being rolled out onto the middle of the floor. The pressure was released, he wheezed hungrily for air.

Consciousness steadily returned. The five Pokémon were staring at him, surrounding him. They probably quite rationally thought that there was no way he was going anywhere now. The Ninetales was at least five feet away.

"You have one chance to explain yourse-" began Firenze.

"FUCKTOPOLIS!" cried October, at the very (if somewhat diminished) top of his lungs.

He began to see the Planar Room almost immediately, very faintly, as though it was just behind everything. Everyone around him began to fade.

He grinned toothily, knowing that he would be beginning to do the same. Drawing a deep breath, he managed to call out, "Remember! If you try and track me down, the name is JAKE!"

The Mightyena called Eclipse tried to rush him, but passed harmlessly through.

'Victory is mine!' he thought, thoroughly satisfied with a wonderful game. He did feel a bit bad about the window, though.

* * *

He went scrambling up to Silver and landed on him with all four paws.

The Dragon woke up with a fairly unpleasant sentence, which October didn't even hear.

"Darling!" cried the Ninetales, "I need you to become a Pokémon RIGHT NOW, I really can't be bothered to transform at this moment!"

Silver groaned, "Have you been to see Jake?"

"No!" he gasped, exasperated, "I'm not ready to turn the tables- look! I need you to be a Pokémon so I don't have the really painful transformation, can you do that my love?"

Silver groaned dramatically and began to shrink underneath the Ninetales.

He shrank until he became a silver-coloured Glaceon, smaller than October and now seemingly entombed in an over-large duvet. "There," he muttered, pulling the thick, fluffy coverings about him, effectively disappearing in a visual facsimile of a snowdrift.

Thanking the semi-control of his unconscious shapeshifting given by Silver's deliberate shapeshifting, October breathed a sigh of relief. A feeling of relief that suddenly exploded into that wonderful, lingering sense of exuberant exultation in experience earned he got in victory at the end of an adventure. This had been a thoroughly satisfying day!

'Of course,' he thought, looking down at the already snoozing Silver Glaceon and thinking immediately of ripping off that duvet to see those graceful silver curves and ever-undisguisably full behind... 'it could always get... MORE satisfying...'

Grinning lecherously and warming below (and oh! How an Ice-type would squeal with even his lowest temperature!) he had just resolved to rip the blanket off for certain when he was suddenly yanked on the scruff of his neck.

Unceremoniously, he was lifted from the bed and dumped upon the hard stone floor. A familiar pair of heavy, yet elegant paws with a worryingly and recently familiar level of pressure were put upon him.

He could see well enough as a large Mightyena leapt upon the bed, leaning over and snarling at the snoozing Silver. Who at first reacted not at all. "Go away, doggy," muttered the sleepy Glaceon, feebly pushing out with a paw.

"Don't underestimate Café Plaisir, Mister Flixard," said the Ninetales firmly, "We have a full staff of psychics on hand. You're not the first troublemaker we've had. Just the one who's given us the longest runaround."

"At your service," wheezed October.

Silver seemed to wake up then, rolling to a sitting position and seemingly completely ignoring the snarling Mightyena, "Flixy?" he cried out in surprise, "What's going on?"

He grinned sheepishly, with a pleading look in his eyes.

Firenze let up enough pressure to let him speak. He groaned reluctantly.

"Ah, well," he said breathlessly, "It just so happens that there was a bit of a misunderstanding on my trip... and..."

"FLIX!" shouted Silver, loudly enough to make them all jump, "What have you done!?" he looked between the Ninetales and Mightyena, "What did he do?" he said, with an angry pout that looked as though could it could cut glass.

Firenze sighed, "Your mate here has defrauded our business, vandalised our property and... debatably, assaulted a member of our staff," he said in a no-nonsense fashion.

"We're going to take it out of his hide," snarled the Mightyena.

"Silveeeerr, sweeetieeee," began October, looking as piteous as he possibly could, "You have money don't you? Can you ehh... make this go away?"

"Flix!" spat Silver, "Money doesn't transfer between planes! You know that!"

October sighed, "Well can't you maybe be your true form and fill the room and maybe scare these two a bit, perhaps, maybeeeee...?"

"No!" shouted the silver Glaceon, before either of the other Pokémon could say another word, he shouted at the two Café Plaisir Pokémon, "Make him work it off!"

"Silveeeerrr..." October whined, inspired to new heights of piteousness. Wide eyes, flat ears, flattened tails, limp paws, crinkled muzzle.

"By the way," added Silver, "He's got a weakness to bigger Foxes, stick around him and he'll be no trouble."

"Silver!" October cried angrily, "That's not on! Blast it!" he pointed at the Glaceon with a tail, "Well, his weakness is FIRE!" he declared indignantly.

"Well duh," said Eclipse, mockingly, looking contemptuously down at him.

October tried whining at Silver again, doing his very best to ignore the Mightyena.

Silver wasn't paying attention though. Silver suddenly had his attention on the chuckling Eclipse.

The paw reached out from the duvet again, but this time not to push away the Mightyena, but rub at its solid chest. Silver grinned, "You can stay a while though..."

"Sweetie!" gasped October in protest, "You can't let them drag me away..!"

Eclipse bared his teeth uncertainly at the Glaceon. Silver giggled sweetly, paying October no attention at all.