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The Great (Nerf) War of Plaisir

Act 1

Three Hours Ago

It is a well known fact that words are exceedingly powerful things. They can create happiness and cause strife. They can garner respect from millions, and sow the seeds of mistrust at the very foundation of the mind. Indeed, communication is key to civilisation; the right words in the right place can change the future. This, of course, is indisputable.

So, it will come as no surprise to hear that there are some words that are the mere vanguard of disaster; phrases which, when uttered, herald nothing but catastrophe in the future - and possibly the odd ambulance trip. “I dare you to..." is a typical example. Another is the rather well-known “Hold my beer and watch this" - which is usually a follow up to the first. And then, there is…

“Alright. I've got an idea." Nikki said, breaking the silence. Around the room, eyes looked to her in sudden anticipation, accompanied by the shifting of clothing, fur, and in one case metallic feathers.

It had been a long afternoon. Nikki had only just the previous day arrived back from her week-long trip to Lucidity, a city brothel a few states west. The Scrafty had been trying to improve relations between it and Plaisir, suggesting a few joint business ventures, even entertaining the idea a little employee exchange. Such was the job of Public Relations at Café Plaisir, that Pokémon den of iniquity standing proudly and increasingly conspicuously on the Oklahoman plains. One might snicker and pose the notion that really, everyone at Plaisir was in 'Public Relations', but the actual job involved a little less lying down and - perhaps surprisingly - a little more enticement.

While there, she had in fact run into an old friend, a human man ('gentleman' here would be a bit of a misnomer) who lived up north, near New York. He'd been with a group of friends, and after a round of particularly fruity drinks, she'd learned that they were from all over the Americas - and in a couple of cases, even Europe - and were enjoying a group meetup after becoming friends online. If she were to describe them, Nikki would have put on her best marketing face and said that they were 'full of life'. A more apt term might be 'raucous', and that's what Lucidity had probably thought during cleanup the next day. Not often one has to remove slivers of broken shot glass from the ceiling, after all.

In any case, they'd been good sports, mostly apologetic - and rather importantly, big spenders. As much as Nikki wanted to provide a service to make the customers happy, she couldn't deny that those that threw money at waiters just for walking by wouldn't be a bit of a boon for Plaisir. And anyway… after a couple of events she'd heard recently around here, perhaps the damage they'd do wouldn't be so bad in comparison. It was amazing how little appreciation some clients had, and how much windows cost….

So in the end, she'd invited them down. They said they were passing nearby Oklahoma on the next leg of their trip, and Café Plaisir was close enough for a little diversion. And it wasn't like it was outside their interests, what with what she'd not just heard but seen back at Lucidity.

After dealing with a mountain of paperwork, requests and the required situation report from Jack the moment she'd gotten back, the only rest she'd had between late yesterday and a couple of hours ago had been a single drink at a crowded bar. It had been so full of caffeine that she was still wondering if her left pinkie was going to stop shaking at some point. Her friend and his compatriots had arrived late this morning, and she'd been showing them around ever since.

And so that brought her to here. Nikki's friend, Simon, sat in the function room alongside the rest of his troupe, in the Café's western block. The function rooms were made to be fluid, redesignable, with the ability to fit one to almost any fantasy the customers had. Right now, this one was currently outfitted like a small sports gym, with a few cheap treadmills, exercise bikes, and the like, with upbeat pop music piped in from a set of tinny speakers above. Mid-afternoon sunlight filtered through the skylights, glinting off the varnished, wooden floor; nice and easy to clean. Thankfully.

Everyone was lounging on a collection of benches and chairs, or just sitting on the floor. There were six of the group, four humans and two Pokémon, and a couple of Waiters had tagged along - well, they'd accompanied their clients after an hour-long diversion to relieve the stress of travel. One of them, Ceylon, now reclined on a powered-down treadmill nearby, the messy-furred Luxray draped across the rubber belt.

But for a group like this, the more normal services of the Café were a little… vanilla, would be the best term. Not that they wanted whips and binds, or perhaps a few of the more dangerous waiters (niches had to be filled, and as long as it was all consensual - just be glad for the Sick Room). No, they'd wanted a bit of spice, a bit of challenge. For the past half hour, they'd been trying to figure out how.

Alas, some kind of Poker wasn't adrenaline pumping enough, and outlandish suggestions like a go-kart race around the carpark presented a few obvious problems; lack of go-karts, if nothing else. Now though, they all looked expectantly at Nikki, eight pairs of eyes and eight pairs of ears. She shrugged. “Simon. You said you had a bit of an airsoft streak, yeah?"

Simon shrugged and nodded. He had long hair which ran past his shoulders, a bit of stubble just under his chin, and baggy, casual clothes; dull blue jeans and T-Shirt that was probably once white, but was now a vague grey, with some band logo on it faded into illegibility. In his lap, his fingers idly scritched at the head of Quippie, a typically energetic Linoone who was at this moment perfectly content to recline and enjoy the good life. “Yeah, a little." Simon replied. “Got about a thousand dollars worth of stuff, head out with some guys from work every now and again. Why, got some here?"

Nikki shook her head. “Well, no airsoft, really, but I got the next best thing." She tugged something out of the pocket of her baggy pants, and tossed it over to him. Quippie didn't even flinch as Simon caught it an inch above the Linoone's nose.

It was a small, blue, plastic gun. An orange tipped dart protruded from the muzzle.

“A nerf gun?"

“I got a few." She mentioned, tilting her head with a smile. “Ceylon here's got at least one."

Ceylon had lifted his head, and was watching her expectantly. “Two, actually. What are you thinking-"

“There we go, enough to arm two teams of six, with at least one gun apiece. Hey - It's a hell of a laugh. And ya don't need a license or anything. Perfect, I'd say." She smirked as he turned the tiny derringer over thoughtfully.

“A nerf fight?" Said another of the males there, a larger guy called Joe, who looked skeptically at her. He was rather heavily built, a fair bit of fat on what was probably strong muscles. Active, indulgent; rather a staple among the other customers, Nikki had noted. Here he sat with a stained T-Shirt under a thin, crumpled overshirt, and peered out at the surroundings from under a rather odd bowler hat, faded with use. “We're not kids any more, Scraf."

“Duh. Welcome to Café Plaisir. Anyway, if you've seen some of the guns I have, you can tell they ain't for kids. Not these babies. A couple would probably be taller than the brats."

“Nice idea, but…" Simon cut in, twirling the gun around one finger. “How the hell are you gonna mix guns with Pokémon fuckin'?"

“Simple. 'Prisoners of War'." She smiled. “Always wanted to try this."

Ceylon straightened up. “Gordon Bennett, I've heard of this…"

“So you two gonna tell us?" Simon asked finally, eyes darting between the two.

“Oi, calm down." She unfolded her arms, stretching and cracking her fingers. “Mmmm… right. Two teams - let's make it nice and fun, and say waiters versus customers. Six a side - Quippie, you wanna run around and rustle up four more when we're done here? I have some ideas of those that'd be willing."

Quippie raised his head enough to nod an affirmative, but not enough that he'd have to give up the scritching.

“Good. Rules are this - if one of you guys gets shot by a waiter, you're a prisoner. Time out for half an hour. If you want, you can pay the standard rates… but the waiter is then in charge of you for that whole half hour. Within reason…"

“What? What about when we shoot them?" Said one of the other customers in a quick French accent. He was a thin, wild-eyed guy, with a scraggly beard and unkempt, short hair, a tight tank top and ill-fitting shorts. He was idly stroking a Houndoom that fidgeted in front of him, who flicked his gaze around the area like he was on more Caffeine than Nikki was. The two of them were a testament to the idea that pokémon start to look like their trainers after a while, or more likely, vice versa.

“That's the fun part." Nikki smirked. “If one of you guys manages to shoot a waiter, that's your prisoner for half an hour. You pay oh… half price, and you even get to choose what you wanna do with 'em. And 'long as they agree, that can be anything...."

“Half price for half an hour of fun?"

“All at your whim." Ceylon added with a smile.

Nikki surveyed their faces. They seemed to range from thoughtful to interested. Hm, perhaps they needed-

“We're in."

The voice belonged to the final human, a woman lounging on an exercise bike. She had short hair, and a pointed, young face, but with the impression of wrinkles that indictated her usual serious expression. She wore a tight shirt stretched over her figure, about a size on the small side, while her cargo pants were long and baggy. She was holding a small dildo in her hands, a slightly fantastical representation of some legendary Pokémon, with a few too many ridges for realism. She twirled it this way and that thoughtfully

Crouched on the exercise bike's handlebars, and looming ominously over her, perched a Skarmory. The polished metal reflected the room's light easily, and even a few reflections of the other customers and waiters. He had been silent the whole time; mostly, he had been staring at Nikki with an unsettling, yellow gaze.

Simon frowned, turning to look. “Sam, we-" The dildo landed on his face.

Sam stretched, the Skarmory leaping from the bike's handlebars. Metal claws scraped harshly on the floor as he landed on the dildo, grasping it tightly, in a position that bespoke deadly agility. He then turned and lifted off with two slices of his wings, dropping the dildo in Sam's outstretched hand without a word. He landed again, glaring at Simon.

Sam continued unabated. “Half an hour, anything we want, and at half price? C'mon, shard, you don't wanna pass that up. And really… do you think you're not good enough?"

Still rubbing his face where a blunted silicone spine had slapped him, Simon raised an eyebrow at her. Quippie looked up from the lack of scritching and made a half-whine of protest. “...I do have my eye on a few of the big dogs…" He said, that smirk travelling to his face now, creeping across his lips. “Alright. Alright, I'm in."

“And you two, thin and thin. I know what you're wanting."

The wild-eyed frenchman and the Houndoom looked over at her in tandem.

“Yeah… yeaaah, I can think of a few!" the guy admitted with an unfocused stare.

“That Jolteon…!" The Houndoom growled excitedly.

“So we do it, right?" Sam said, not even looking at them.

There was a clamour of agreement.

“Good." Nikki said. Oh, it was all coming together. She wandered over, and retrieved her gun from Simon's grasp - she had to tug, too. “Nu-uh. Mine." She smiled, turning, to face the now attentive audience - well, apart from Sam, who still lounged on the bike, now giving the dildo a vaguely interested taste. Nikki watched for a few moments before continuing.

“Alright then. Here are the rules. I'm not gonna put in bullshit ones like no running or climbing or lying down, because we're not whining pussies. Shots to the face are bad manners, but not necessarily illegal. Shots to the balls, however, are strictly forbidden. Penalty at the whim of the victim."

She leaned back against the wall, waving the gun as a sort of conductor's baton to illustrate each point. “To win, you have to take the opponent's base - for now, we'll say they're at opposite corners of this room, though we can change that if we want. I'm assuming you folks will be honest, and on that note, Pokémon powers are not allowed beyond being used to operate the guns normally. No telekinesis, incinerating darts, ghastly illusions or anything, just what you'll need to get over any lack of opposable thumbs. In general-" She paused, priming the gun. “Don't be a dick. If you're a dick, you won't get to ride one. Now! I will be the referee. Anyone shooting me will not get dick or pussy, merely getting to sit out for half an hour in the naughty corner like the bad boy that you are, so lucky you if that's your kink."

She looked from the gun to the surrounding audience. An odd little bunch elsewhere - the wild and enthusiastic Simon, the heavyset Joe, the fidgeting French duo, the brooding Sam and the ominous Skarmory that loomed over them. She idly wondered how this little game would play out….

“Oh," Nikki said finally, "and one more rule I wanna be clear. This little game of ours doesn't leave this room."

* * *

Quippie crested the side of an overturned armchair, twisting in mid-flight as a dart screeched past him. His paws hit the wallpaper, and he jumped off, sailing back across the corridor, the same happening on the wood lower down the wall on the opposite side. He jumped down onto the carpet, rolled, and then span around with a crazed smile. “Try aiming at me next time! The wall ain't gonna suck your dick!" He sidestepped another dart, snickering, He turned to continue running down the corridor, leaving the Main Bar and a series of annoyed shouts behind him.

A couple of turns later, the corridor opened out into the large expanse of Plaisir's Main Lounge. It was a wide-open, well lit area; a combination of vast ceiling-to-floor windows and long skylights let in plenty of natural light, which was enjoyed a collection of armchairs, small couches and beanbags. The soft blues of the corridor's carpet and that furniture nicely complimented the patterned tans and browns of the carpet here, and everywhere he looked, the setting sun's fiery colours bathed the scene and cast long, accentuated shadows across the floor and walls.

Thrown into stark contrast by that light, a quartet of waiters stood around a low table, deep in concentration. Shadows etched their various features as Quippie bounded up to them.

“Commander!" The word was shouted so quickly it was barely understood. “I've got news!"

From the group, the dark form of Ceylon rose his head, interrupting a conversation with a Mightyena. “What?"

“The Customers are making an offensive. I counted twelve of them pushing the Main Bar and six in the kitchens, and I could see more coming!"

“And our forces?" The large bulk of Prometheus cast the biggest shadow across proceedings, the sun's light playing through the Arcanine's mane.

“We're holding. They're not through yet." He pressed his claws together with a sly grin and a sideways glance. “And that barricade of theirs will need to be rebuilt a little…."

“Good." Ceylon replied. “The Main Bar is a nigh-stalemate, and even if they get through, the south end of Captivate and those corridors give advantage to the defenders. Mariana, you and Typhoon go and resupply the defenders there and in the kitchen's stores and report back when you're done."

“Right." The Dewott nodded, paws grasping an oversized white pistol and turning to run.

“What else?" Ceylon asked, turning back to Quippie.

“Frontiers still holding at the South-East Stairwell, Upper Captivate and Captivate East. No movements. South-East Stairwell thinks they can make a push if we take the Main Bar."

Ceylon's eyes went back to the table as the report continued. Peering over the edge, Quippie could see a map of Plaisir's ground floor. It had been taken from a nearby wall, and someone had found some plastic to put over it. Black pen markings covered the surface, including a thick, solid line running right down the middle of the Café.

“What about the Lobby?"

Quippie paused. “Well, I… I tried to go up there from the basement, but Minka just… looked at me." He could still see those sharp, purple-edged eyes from the top of the stairs. His tail lay still. He had to suppress a shiver.

“Mmm. Don't worry." Ceylon nodded slowly. “I suppose that as long as she's there, that's a no-go zone. Though, if the Siegfried line's still there past ten o'clock, we might be able to capture it. Assuming she goes off shift..."

“We'd have to move fast." Prometheus leaned over, putting an oversized paw on the map. A claw thunked at a staircase. “The customers could swarm from the middle floor above. They have the high ground."

“We can deal with that when it comes. Right now, it's only just gone eight." He breathed out slowly. “Casualties?"

Quippie paused. “Well. Three. Terü and Decibel from Captivate East, and I saw Dextus on my way back going off with one of the customers."

“Dex!?" The voice carried across the Lounge. They looked to the source.

Against one wall was a small bar made of dark, varnished wood; nothing big, just enough to serve a few needed drinks to anyone who wanted to relax. Normally, it would be manned, but now, even the shelves were empty for fear of errant nerf darts knocking over something expensive. Bounding up from where she'd been sitting was Sinister, a Mightyena.

“Dex has been captured?" She asked, eyes wide as she came to a stop by the makeshift war committee.

“Seems that way." Ceylon replied. “Dammit… I suppose we need to move waiters around to compensate."

“We need to fight back, Ceylon!" Sinister retorted, her gaze firm. “Who knows what they've got him doing?"

“It was actually that Simon guy from before…" Quippie replied, the voice lost in the shouting.

“Best thing we can do now is hunker down and wait for the attack."

“But I thought the attack is at the Main Bar…." Quippie jumped up onto the table, staring down at the map. “You know where it is."

“Yes, but the Main Bar is tough to take and, when you get it, it'll be tough to defend. There are four ways out of there, not including the lobby. Why risk it?" He narrowed his eyes at the map. “No. There's a surprise attack coming somewhere. This Main Bar offensive is meant to just distract us." He paused, a soft purring sound of thoughtfulness coming from his muzzle. “Hmmmmrrrrrr… what about their base? Did you get it?"

Quippie nodded hurriedly. “Oh yes! From the basement! We interrogated one of the prisoners!"

Prometheus frowned, his large face creasing. “I thought we weren't meant to do that…."

Quippie bit his lip. “Ummmmm… well, he wasn't… mistreated…" It was quite intriguing, the fetishes some people had. “So much mess…"

Prometheus chuckled deeply, the table shaking from it. Ceylon just smirked. “Well good to see some people getting into the spirit of the thing. That's a commendation for sure. What's the intel?"

Quippie cleared his throat, settling onto his haunches. “The woman from before, in the gym, Sam, and the Skarmory. They're in it together. They're the leaders!"

“Base?"

“Inner Garden!"

Ceylon looked across the Lounge, to the east. Against the far doors were two armchairs, leaving only a thin gap between them, and two guards stood with rifles at the ready. Quippie leaned to see around them; beyond was the outer walkway, an idyllic corridor open to the outside for a relaxing walk during summertime, and covered with thick glass to maintain such a luxury, even during a fair amount of rain. It was another frontier; the thin pillars holding the glass up offered almost no cover, leaving both sides to in a stare-down across the almost forty-metre gap.

“We need to attack now, Ceylon!" Sinister interjected. “We can't just leave our people!"

“Patience, Sinister, we can get your brother back." Ceylon looked back to the map, searching. “Right, grab the-"

“Sir!" The shout made all of them look up sharply. A Lucario was at another set of doors, these to the dressing rooms behind Captivate's stage. “Movement! The Customers are attacking!"

* * *

The mechanical thunk-thunk-thunk of the machine gun pierced the air. The moment it was over, Joe swung his heavy body over the dressing table and set off down the corridor at a dead run. He was flanked by two others as they rushed the waiter's barricade leaping past a full clothing rack. Behind him, a Krokorok grabbed the gun from a Mienfoo waiter; a shower of darts splattered the wall, but one yank disarmed her opponent. She pointed the gun at him, sighting down the short barrel. Joe slammed into the doors set into one wall, yielding only a loud thunk and the scraping of a lock against metal.

“Dammit! They've closed the doors to the Lounge!" He growled, glaring through the frosted glass. On the other side, he could see the vague, fuzzy outline of a Lucario. “Can't get through. Seem to have locked it from the other side." He grunted, popping out the clip of his gun to check the ammo in it.

Behind him, the Krokorok was holding the Mienfoo at gunpoint, glancing over to see one of her allies do the same - a Machamp dual-wielding pistols, both barrels pressed against the chest of a very still Pachirisu. Behind them, three more customers joined up, pushing the useless barricade aside. One was a Leafeon making a rather dexterous use of her tail to hold onto her shotgun.

The Krokorok held her gun up again as the Meinfoo's eyes darted for an escape route. “Don't make me shoot. No offense, but you're not my type."

“Want to swap?" The Machamp said, raising one large eyebrow.

“Focus, both of you." Joe stood against the wall, turning eying further down the corridor. Those other doors...

“Hey, I wouldn't mind a little Pachirisu." The Krokorok replied with a smirk in her voice. “I'm sure she'd keep me company for a good half hour…"

Joe sighed. “Look, we can't get through the doors. But we should be able to get down there." he jerked his head towards the end of the corridor, where a couple of doors stood ajar.

“Hang on." The Krokorok said. “On three… three!" In unison, her and the Machamp switched targets. Darts pattered against fur, and the two waiters let out a sigh of defeat. “There. Scamper back down to the bedrooms, we'll meet you there shortly. I'm Jainy, he's Fracky. Tally up the charge to our accounts."

After they'd left, the Krokorok set about grabbing clawfuls of dart and shoving them back into the end of the blaster. “So what's down there?" She asked, watching Joe.

“Well, now you're quite finished…" Griped Joe. “It's Captivate. Don't you know it?"

“Vaguely. Heard of it."

“That's the special bar, yeah?" The Leafeon asked, wandering between them. What had she been called? Lily?

“That's the one." Joe craned his neck to try and see through the gap in the doors. It was just darkness beyond. “It's got a stage at the head of it, right? It's not just the poles and the catwalk. Anyway, this looks like the backstage entrance."

“The waiters hold Captivate." The Krokorok muttered to herself. “...but…"

“But we have them at two fronts already." Joe said, giddy with heroism. “This was their barricade for the northern entrance!"

She paused. “If that's the case, why did they only have two waiters here?"

“I don't know, I guess they figured we'd only try and take the Lounge, and they can just shut the doors for that. But that doesn't matter! If we set up by the stage, we could take the whole of Captivate. It's right next to their base! We could win this thing in minutes, but we gotta move now!"

The Krokorok snarled a grin, which was about as good as a smile could get for one of her species. “Yeah… I like it!" She cocked her gun, glancing at the Machamp. “You in, Fracky?"

The Machamp primed his own pistols. “Those poles will come in handy for our prisoners."

“And the rest of you?"

Behind them, the three other customers murmured their approval, accentuating it with the clacking of more priming guns.

“Good…" Joe replied, turning around. At this news, all wore the expressions of thieves that had just come across a Dragonite's hoard, which turned out to conveniently contain a limo, chauffeur, and well-signposted route down the mountainside.

The doors weren't locked as they burst through into the backstage. The dusty, unvarnished plank floor was speckled with paint and hard to see in the near darkness, with looming shapes of crates, coils of rope and ladders littering the pale walls. The air was musty, heavy, and smelt heavily of paint and old wood. All six swivelled as they walked out into the centre, guns at the ready, fingers (or claws, as was the case for some) on triggers.

Silence abounded, aside from the muted sound of muttering and whirring motors from the other side of a large wooden backdrop. Beyond it must be the stage, Joe thought, and beside it were a series of large wooden panels for the wings….

Still silence. Tentatively, they started lowering their weapons.

“Alright…" The Krokorok muttered, appropriately, in a stage whisper. “We should take these crates and set up defenses along the wings. Fracky, you do the lifting. Someone should go back and-"

“No." Joe said. His gun was still aloft, and he was eying the crates. “No. There's someone - THERE!" A pull on the trigger, sending a dart arcing towards a flicker of movement against the back wall. Several of the other customers followed suit, sending more darts into the darkness.

Two bright spotlights sparked into life from somewhere above, illuminating them in an instant. Joe flinched at the sudden brightness and the dull roar of motors.

“Oh, I would just love to say that it was a good try!" The deep voice dripped with added dramatic effect as it boomed from somewhere behind one of those lights. “But really, really! A swaying rope? Oldest trick in the book, and believe me…"

Looking up, they saw the stage spotlights illuminating the head of a Ninetales from underneath. The shadow of a hefty automatic gun played over his crimson fur. “...I know all the tricks." He grinned to himself in an annoyingly pleased fashion.

“I knew something wasn't right!" Joe shouted. The Machamp went to raise his guns - but a shower of darts spiralled from the spotlight behind them, catching all of the customers in the rain of foam.

Behind the second spotlight, yellow rings on black fur. The red gaze of an Umbreon peered down at them as he crossed his paws casually on his own rifle. “Hey. I shot you. Now fuckin' drop 'em, all of you."

Joe hesitated, then spat out a profanity, dropping his gun in annoyance. The Krokorok growled next to him, her own gun clattering away across the unvarnished wooden floor. He watched her snarl, he could even feel her dark aura growing. The energy was being stored in her jaws, tendrils slipping from her teeth as her chest rose and fell. Joe stepped back as she raised a clawed hand at the Umbreon, and-

“Alright, let's not go there."

Joe turned as a Scrafty walked out from the corridor they'd come from. The rifle she held was slung over her shoulders, a behemoth of red and orange plastic. Her hands were in the pockets of her baggy yellow pants, the hemline of which hung almost too low for decency.

Behind her, a trio of waiters tumbled out from the now-open doors to the Lounge. A pattering of darts and a series of whoops was all that was needed to announce the moving of the front line further into Customer territory. A Luxray also trotted out from the doors, and now lurked behind the Scrafty, watching with curiosity.

Even in the darkness, Joe could see the Scrafty's stern face, the ambient light from the spotlight's glare giving her a soft glow. Pah. Joe had already wished she was a combatant. The things he would do to that pretty face…

Nikki rolled her shoulders back. “You gonna start trouble? 'Cause I'd love to finish it if you do…"

Joe was almost tempted to. But he'd already heard of what happened the last time a customer had fired at this Scrafty. Oh, Nikki hadn't done anything to them… but that had been the whole point, really.

Oh, he loved a girl that could tease…

The Krokorok sighed, folding her arms and staring at her. “Fine." She peered up into the darkness. “Come on then, Umbreon. Six new prisoners..."

“Fuck that. None of you are my type." The Umbreon parroted the earlier line with glee. “You guys are sitting out for half an hour!"

“Oh, you can pay if you like..." The Ninetales said, his tails dimly visible in the gloom. They splayed in victory as he trotted along the walkway near the roof. “But you'll be quick to find that my fetish is having you, sitting in a room, while I explain every little thing you did wrong."

“Or just sitting there and thinking about how we got ya!" The Umbreon jumped in.

“Oh, except that Leafeon." the Ninetales shouted down, now leaning over the side of the walkway, his gun dangling from one of his tails. “Never hurts to indulge…."

Joe grumbled in annoyance.

* * *

“Fine work, funnelling them into that trap. I think you got a chance." Nikki mused, wandering casually down the corridor. Ceylon kept in step, watching as the odd waiter ran past.

“You know as well as I do, Nix. We have some fine waiters here."

“Most of which can't even hold a gun."

“And you should know of the tenaciousness of them regardless." He smiled, sidestepping as a parade of cleaning mice scampered past with darts in their mouths.

“Can it hold up though? You've seen the customers. They came here to fuck. And if you tell 'em that to get 'em half price, all they gotta do is capture one of you, well…" She cracked her knuckles, humming to herself briefly. “Be glad I ain't on the battlefield against ya…"

“Down, girl, down…" Ceylon smirked, nudging her with one shoulder. “I already know how good the prizes are."

“Yeah, yeah. Your long term goal is still taking out their base though; that's what you gotta do to win."

“Oh, trust me." Ceylon's voice became a little distant. “I have a few ideas…."

“I'll bet. So anyway, why are you headed here?"

They rounded the corner, heading back to the Main Bar. “Meeting the troops. Maybe spread a couple of ideas." Ceylon replied.

Through the wide-open double doors, they could see that the landscape had changed little, and both barricades had only grown instead of moved. More darts clattered against overturned furniture, and as they wandered up, they could see the odd cleaning mouse dashing out to retrieve spent ammo, before running back into cover at a dead sprint. Every species was someone's fetish, so everyone was a target, it seemed.

“What in the underworld are you doing…?" The thick, Greek voice carried through the doors as they approached.

“No, don't pull back, just - stay there! I'll just… let me…"

Ceylon ducked down and slunk inside, crouching behind a table. Nikki kept standing, and merely eyed the opposing side. Ceylon watched as the darts conveniently missed her as she leaned against the wall. It would seem that news travels quickly.

To the side, he watched Prometheus crouching beneath another upturned table. Well, he was attempting to. The rear half of a Ninetales-Mightyena hybrid protruded from beneath his back legs.

“Lyzerof, my friend, you must-"

“No, I mean, hear me out here. You can now look over the barricade, and I can suck you off, right?"

“Ly-"

“Just… stay still and don't get hit, I can deal with things down here."

Prometheus rolled his eyes, and sat down heavily, the hybrid giving a quickly silenced yelp. He glanced over at Ceylon, cocking an eyebrow.

Ceylon smirked to himself. “How're we doing here?" he asked, looked to his other side. A collection of Pokémon were refilling spent clips with darts, the Dewott Mariana among them.

“Their offensive didn't last long." She said, stuffing another dart into a clip. “Pansies got tired of whining and slunk back to their holes."

A mechanical pattering was followed by a trio of darts bouncing off the opposite wall, all three rolling to a halt just near Mariana's feet. She barely twitched, just staring at them.

“Jeez. Close. Do rebounds even count…?"

Ceylon shrugged.

Mariana did the same back. “Anyhoo, I hear October caught a sneak attack at Captivate?"

“That's right. He and Chai got all six."

She laughed loudly, popping a clip back into a gun lying next to her. “Hahhah, sounds like he's finally pulling his slut-damned weight around here!"

“Now now, be nice." Ceylon said, softly. “We have a new frontier halfway along the service corridor. I moved the forces at Captivate East up to there. I'd like to have a couple of people in the kitchen stores, just in case. We have another set of stairs down to the basement, so if you could pass the word to them?"

She smirked, pulling another gun towards her. “Haah, we've got 'em by the hooters now, Ceylon! What's the next plan?"

“I'll tell you in a moment. First… hm. Where'd Petier go?"

“Get him!"

“What on Earth…?"

The two of them paused at the sudden new commotion. Ceylon shuffled forwards to look through the barricade. There was sudden revving of motors from the Customer's side; Mariana scrabbled up a chair leg and peered over to to see. “Ah… crap…"

The large, golden behemoth of Firenze stood at the curtains which led to the lobby. The Ninetales surveyed the scene with wide red eyes, mouth just hanging open in a half-formed word, expression solidified in a picture of horror. An errant nerf dart dangled from his mane. His fur was almost perfectly groomed, but here and there were patches where it had been messed up recently. His tails filled the doorway, held high in surprise.

He took in a deep breath, padding out slowly into the middle of No-Man's Land. By now, it seemed that the customers sensed it was better to perhaps hold their fire. Several pairs of eyes on each side watched as his gaze swept the room. As it passed, each one seemed to shy back.

“What… on Earth… happened here?"

“Some amazing fun, that's what!" Nikki said from her place, still leaning on the wall. A couple of customers let out a cry of support, but with a sweep of a ruby gaze, they seemed to lose the impetus.

“Come ooon, Firenze. Live a little." She continued as the Ninetales turned back to her. She held his gaze, her own bright eyes not even blinking as she stared at him.

Ceylon bit his lip, still hiding behind the table, turning from his little window out by an old bar-hatch someone had found. He raised an eyebrow at her.

“I take it you have an explanation?" Firenze asked, slowly and carefully.

“More than that, I suggested this damn thing." Nikki countered, not even moving except to raise her head. “Pretty sweet, right?"

There was silence. Both sides held their breath.

Firenze peered at her for another few moments. “Well…" he said, breaking the moment. “I suppose you'd better come tell me what's going on, then…"

Nikki shrugged in response, and went to climb over the barricades.

“Oh," continued Firenze, “and Ceylon, next time you hide, watch where your tail is."

Ceylon paused, and then slowly retracted his tail from where it had been resting over the edge of the table. His ears glowed with a mild blush of embarrassment. He watched as Mariana was just able to stop herself from cracking up.

He poked his head around the side of the table again to see Firenze walk back into the Lobby with Nikki following. At the threshold she stopped and turned. “Well?" She asked, spreading her hands. “You calling a cease-fire…?"

“Never!" Shouted someone from the customer's side, with a growl following. Ceylon watched the waiters suddenly scrabble for guns, and the next thing he knew, the table was once again banging with a renewed flurry of darts.

“Alright…" He said, leaning over Mariana. “You, stick here, and hold the customers at bay. I'm planning an offensive. Can you spare anyone?"

She shrugged. “Take Mach. You'll need someone fast. I expect you'll want the fire dog too for the Lounge. The rest of us can take 'em easy…."

Ceylon nodded, turning round. “Alright. Prometheus, come on back to the Lounge with me.."

Prometheus nodded. “Yes sir, Commander" he rumbled, standing up. There was a renewed whine from around the location of his hips. “Oh, be quiet…."

* * *

“It got out of hand." Firenze repeated, deadpan. He sat in the middle of the lobby, tails resting low, facing Nikki. She'd crossed her arms, and smiled at him brightly. She could see, beyond him, Plaisir's Lopunny Doorkeeper hunched over her work, large eyes wide as she eavesdropped with absolutely no subtlety.

“Well, yeah. I mean, I figured that keeping it to the room might be difficult, these guys have a tendency to…" She paused. “Well… they're full of life."

“You know them?" Uttered Clarice. The other voice was so harsh, it seemed that the words themselves had frozen in the air along with most of her breath. The Glaceon, who sat at a decent distance from Firenze (enough to have her own frontier of air to protect from his warmth) had somehow managed to pack vast quantities of disdain into those words.

“Met them at Lucidity." Nikki mentioned, flashing her a smile. “You'd be surprised at their variation of Spin the Bottle, by the way…"

“Focus, Veronica." Firenze interjected.

“Okay, okay…" She tapped her foot, tilting her head to think. “Well, I think it was Simon who first opened the door. Next thing I knew they were doing a raid around the other side of the room via the corridors, which got a few more customers interested. They seemed to gain two fighters on their trip. Then a few darts hit Elegance, and of course that outburst attracted a bit of attention. I think that was about the time we first spilled into Captivate, too…"

“How did you do all this with enough guns for twelve people!?" Firenze asked, aghast.

“Ah, you see, that's what I'm still trying to figure out fully. I believe someone got on the horn, don't know who, wasn't me, kinda wish it had been, and contacted the shopping mall in the nearby town. One big order later, we… kinda have their entire supply of nerf guns."

“A whole shop's worth!?" Clarice hissed. “Do you know how much that costs!?"

Of course. Clarice of HR. When she's not bitching about the heat or the employees or the employees' heat, she's poring over the books. A bit of heat is what she needed, in Nikki's opinion….

“Oh, relax. We probably got them wholesale. Anyway, if it comes back, I can pay for them." She grinned. “That's what, three, four hours at premium rates? Or just one insemination fee. Speaking of which, your hips look a bit mussed up, Firenze. How have you been so oblivious all evening…?" She grinned lewdly at him. His gaze narrowed.

“It's not just the toys!" Clarice said, putting a paw forwards. Her tail lashed, and her ugly red glasses twitching on her short muzzle. “Have you any idea how much business we've missed out on!?" She was visibly shaking. Nikki could even feel tiny specks of ice on her belly.

“Nope." Nikki said. The Glaceon seethed, and a vision of melting passed the Scrafty's mind. However, as much fun a futile little outburst would have been, she gave in and explained the rules of the game. The entire time, Firenze sat in silence, just watching.

“And with that in mind…" Nikki said after the explanation, “You'll probably be happy to hear that the corridors seem rather empty for what is usually a bustling evening. Same can't be said of Dark Pulse or the Dungeon, by the way; both now seem to be little havens for the waiter's prizes. As for the Bedroom block, well… I'm surprised. I thought we didn't skimp on soundproofing the bedrooms."

“We didn't." Firenze said, quietly. His expression hadn't changed.

“Well, let's just say you may have to raise your voice to be heard." She rubbed her hands together. “Oh, and we may need to get a few new hedges for the Inner Garden. And while we're at it, some armchairs will need some significant cleaning, if what I saw on the second floor was any indication.

Clarice glared at her. It seemed that even she could see the point that was coming.

“My point is, even if a complete recarpeting of some areas may be required…" She said, letting that image hang for a moment, “...I wouldn't worry one bit about coming out in the black."

There was a pause. From the front desk, the Lopunny had crossed her legs, and was staring at the trio with a mixed look of aghast shock and rapt wonder.

Clarice watched her. Her dark eyes were just visible through a small cloud of condensation. Around the ceiling above them, the cold and warm fronts of her and Firenze seemed to be causing a minor weather disturbance.

“...raise your voice to be heard...?" She repeated.

Nikki smiled. “You'd be amazed at some of the sounds."

There was another pause.

“Mister Firenze." Clarice said, not taking her eyes off Nikki. She lifted a paw, pushing those red glasses back up her muzzle. “I believe we have no further problem here. If you need me, I'll be in my office." Shrugging, she turned and trotted purposefully off around the corner to the staircase.

Firenze regarded her with raised eyebrows.

“Whaaat?" Nikki said, grinning her head off and leaning against a nearby wall with arms folded. “So I enjoyed that. And?"

“No… no, I think I understand." He said, before a gentle smile curled at the corners of his mouth. “This is a place of pleasure, and while the methods are unorthodox…"

“So is a Pokémon whorehouse in north-eastern Oklahoma."

Firenze nodded. “This is understandable, I will admit. I can accept this. Just be glad that Jack has the day off today."

“Yeah, shame about that." Nikki muttered. “I think he'd have liked to lead a few of the charges himself."

Firenze stood up, his tails brandishing behind him as he took in breath. “However, I do feel like a number of amendments to the rules should be put in place. To best serve the situation."

Nikki raised her eyebrow. “What're they, then?"

“First, the top and middle floors should be considered neutral ground, as should this Lobby and the Kitchen. No guns, no ammunition, no fighting. I suppose the same should go for the grounds around the Café - no-one in the tall grass, alright?"

Nikki straightened up. “Now wait a minute. The top and middle floors almost entirely belong to the customers. That's a significant loss of their territory."

“I understand, but we need this for those that do not wish to partake. Don't worry, I am prepared to give advantages to both sides. For example, the stairwell and passage outside the dungeon, leading to the basement, is not to be used by anyone participating. That's a closed scene, and the last thing we need is a group rushing past with enough plastic to arm a small nation."

“The waiters currently control that passage to the basement. They already control one of the two others, and the third is part of the border. This is hardly going to help the customers."

“I am aware." Firenze said, glancing back at the Lopunny. By now, she was sitting facing them, chin in her paws, legs jiggling in place as she watched with intense excitement. He turned back, and looked her dead in the eyes. “That is why I have one more amendment."

* * *

“Ready?" Ceylon asked, holding onto the large drum-fed disc launcher.

Beside him sat a Pidgeotto, who had one clawed foot wrapped around a gun's handle and trigger. The bird nodded. “Right behind ya, commander."

Behind him, Quippie nodded, holding his own little six-shooter.

“Good." Ceylon turned, rested his gun over the cardboard packing box, and unleashed a hail of foam discs down the service corridor. It was a good twenty metres or so, but the discs cleared them far better than the darts could, sending several humans and Pokémon alike scampering for cover.

“Horn Drill! Go!" He shouted. From their positions in corridors and alcoves, waiters whirled around corners and rushed forwards, under the cover of the disc barrage. Even Quippie and the Pidgeotto launched himself over, and Ceylon ceased fire as the crowd bored down on the defenders. Before the customers could retaliate, they found barrels shoved against their heads, or caught in a sudden hail of foam. A number of waiters laughed as their new prizes stumbled into the open.

Ceylon grinned, pulling himself to his feet and walking out from behind the box. There were a good seven customers that had been captured. They looked at him with a mixture of defeat to… well, almost glee at being caught. Most of the latter were more eying their captors, of course. Oh, Plaisir. “Splendid. We can't stop here. Continue with the plan - I'll lead the first group."

“Alright!" shouted the Pidgeotto, who, turned with a large grin on his beak.

There was a pop from further down the corridor behind him. Before the Pidgeotto's expression had even changed, the dart had already bounced firmly off his fluffed chest. Ceylon stopped dead, mouth hanging open.

Slowly, he turned, looking back down the corridor.

Firenze stood tall, tails wrapped firmly around three guns. Two of them were levelled at the waiters, the other at the door to Captivate, which had been closed, and most likely locked.

“Now now. I wouldn't want anyone to do anything hasty. One of these has a hair trigger, and I must admit I've quite forgotten which. I am eager to rediscover this fact, if you all will let me." Firenze didn't move. He stood firmly, eyes boring deep into the gaze of the assembled waiters. None of them so much as turned their head. “Good. Now, I'm here to announce that I support this little exercise, with the addition of a number of amendments to the rules to make this fair for all." He paused again, his eyes resting on Ceylon. The Luxray could feel them pierce into him, the fur of his mane standing on end.

“One of which is my involvement…" Firenze continued, his face expressionless, his eyes fixed on his assembled audience, “...on the side of the customers."

The air felt electric. Ceylon could feel the tension. Well… that happened when you had two guns pointed at you.

As he thought that, there was a shuffle of movement. He turned just enough to see a collection of customers jog around the corner at the other end of the corridor, guns raised and ready.

“Ah, my backup is here. Wonderful. The rest of the new rules will be explained to you shortly, and we'll send envoys to your side with them as well. Oh, and apologies, by the way, but you'll find that a couple of your group from the supply room back there are already waiting to meet you in the customer's bedrooms."

The darts began to fly. Before he could raise his gun, Ceylon felt one thump into his back. The feeling made his paws jerk, claws digging into the floor, static sparking at his teeth in surprise and sudden realisation.

Turning, he watched as one by one, a hail of blue and orange darts bounced off the assembled waiters. It had been almost half his current group, and now he could do naught but watch as they dropped their weapons in resignation.

“Alright, that's enough." Firenze's voice cut in again. Such a Ninetales didn't need a loudspeaker; he already sounded like he had one.

Ceylon dropped his gun to the ground with the others as he turned. “Firenze…"

“Now now." Firenze smoothly, advancing with both guns still pointed ready. “These are the rules. And I'll have you remember that I am your boss, after all. Now, if you'll all like to follow your clients, I'm positive you'll be well treated…"

There was a chorus of snickering and a few lewd comments. Ceylon sighed, walking past his abandoned gun and down the corridor.

Something caught his eye. It was in one of the other large cardboard boxes from storage, something that probably had carried in it some flatpacked furniture. Inside, a pair of cyan blue Linoone eyes shined, staring out at him.

Ceylon glanced at Firenze, sidestepping in front of the box's opening as Firenze walked past, the large Ninetales giving him a long look with those ruby eyes. “Come on now, Ceylon. Fair is fair, after all…"

“Captivate." Ceylon said loudly, suddenly.

Firenze turned, looking at him quizzically. “Hm?"

“Oh… you'll never take it." Ceylon continued conversationally, with a smile.

Firenze raised his eyebrow. “So sure of it. Ceylon, you must know by now that the customers are my first priority in the Café…" He leaned in, a tail brushing over the Luxray's chin. Ceylon couldn't stop his eyes from being drawn to Firenze's ruby gaze.

It was like his whole form tensed up and turned to jelly at the same time. His claws dug deeply into the short carpet.

“The customers want Captivate. And thus… it is my duty to take it."

Ceylon gritted his teeth, blinking and looking away from that gaze. Firenze chuckled, giving him a tap. “Come. Let's find out who shot you. I must admit, I am curious as to your captor, and what they have in mind…."

As the two departed, Quippie fidgeted incessantly inside the box. His little heart was racing, and he took in several quick, hasty breaths. That had been close.

But at least he had gotten the message.

~ ~ ~ End of Act 1 ~ ~ ~