“’Go to Hunter HQ, head to the back, knock 3 times. That is how you will be identified.’”
Claire read this aloud to her partner, holding the message up with her shadowy claws. The two stood right where the message had specified, facing a plain steel door surrounded by unkempt shrubbery, each vine haphazardly snaking its way around the door and surrounding brick walls.
“Seems like we’re in the right place,” Desmond stated, raising his hand to knock three times, just as the message required. “Here goes nothing,” His three short knocks echoed throughout the space the hollowed space behind the locked door. The two stood there for a short while receiving no response, slowly becoming somewhat nervous, wondering if they knocked the appropriate number of times or even if there was anyone present.
“A lot of people did sign up,” Claire mentioned. “And we did obtain this message, so it wouldn’t make much sense for them to move on without us, right?”
Desmond could tell just how nervous his partner was, and understood perfectly, especially in this case. The first real mission they get in what seems to be ages and it is to guide an ambassador and protect her from ninjas? The more he thought about it, the more it sounded ridiculous, but regardless it was obvious that a pretty penny would be paid to those who were chosen to undertake this task. Desmond turned to Claire, already biting her lip anxiously, the wait taking a toll on her. “Claire, I’m sure that if we got the message we’ve already been chosen. C’mon, if you fill your head with other useless stuff like that you’re not going to be focused on what’s important.”
“S-Sorry…” Claire apologized, looking away from her partner slightly ashamed.
Desmond sighed, and gave his partner a slight scruff of her hair. “Just try not to worry, alright? Besides, if you freak out, just who’s gonna come up with all the plans?”
“Hehe! Give yourself some credit, Desmond. You’re no slouch when it comes to plans yourself.” Claire giggled in response to Desmond’s teasing.
The steel door all of a sudden opened with a creak and shudder, only enough to allow whoever opened to see outside, yet not enough for either Desmond or Claire to see who it was. “Names?” the voice asked, in a somewhat gentlemanly manner.
“Claire.” The Misdreavus answered immediately, startled by the appearance of the man behind the door.
“Desmond.” The Combusken answered quickly as well, hoping to appease the voice.
“Hmm…” the voice behind the door hummed ponderously, the sound flipping paper keeping up pace with his voice. “Alright, come in.”
The door was pushed open even more to reveal, the owner of the voice: one of the Hunter guild leaders, an elderly seeming Pachirisu, who fixed his eye patch while still scanning the clipboard in his hand. He then beckoned them further with a wave of his hand. Though he felt a tad put off with the Pachirisu’s behavior, he understood why. Though he did send out messages to only a few select teams to ensure that there could be little chance of any more assassins, he still had to be careful. Rowanhardt let Desmond and Claire enter in ahead of him, and then he shut the steel door in behind them. For a split second, the entire hallway was shrouded completely in darkness, only to be illuminated by the faint glow all around Rowanhardt’s body.
As he walked down the dark hallway, Desmond and Claire following close behind him, he started by saying, “Well, well, isn’t it your lucky day? It’s not very common that you get to spend a day with an ambassador. Hopefully your gratefulness will be reflected in your behavior.”
“Yes, of course sir,” Claire responded, picking up on his veiled warning. “I promise we won’t disappoint.” Desmond gave a nod in agreement, still rather wary of the Pachirisu.
Rowanhardt turned and gave a sly grin to the two, “Of course you do, just like the rest.” The three finally reached the end of the hallway, which had another, more heavily fortified steel door, a large lock on the front and a small dial to the lower right of the door with a set of numbers set all around it. Rowanhardt swiftly turned the dial back and forth, entering in a combination that Desmond and Claire knew better than to peek upon. As soon as the last number was entered, the lock on the door opened with a deafening clink, pushing outwards to open itself up towards the three. “Thank guild funds for such a posh ‘panic room’,” Rowanhardt commented proudly, letting the Combusken and his partner enter the room as the door shut behind the three of them. When the man said ‘posh’ he really meant it: the room had a carpet, sofa, and chairs covered in red velvet, all of which had an ornate gold pattern across their fringes. At the walls were well stocked book cases, in the corner a record player, and placed in between the sofa and chairs was a table with special designs carved into its legs, all of which seemed to be made of fine wood.
Desmond and Claire soaked up the contents of their surroundings quickly before turning their attention to the occupants of the room, all of whom they were, for the most part familiar with. Sitting the chair to their left, a Vulpix was munching upon some nuts and fruit in a bowl, sharing happily with his partner, a small Spritzee that sat beside him. Looking up from his snack, the Vulpix greeted the Combusken with a smirk, “Long time, no see chicken legs! How’s it hanging?”
Desmond smiled back, remembering the Vulpix’s open and welcoming attitude fondly from when they met during the giant’s attack. “Hey yourself, Michael,” he responded. “Never thought you would be picked for an important job like this.”
“Yep, me and big bro were super lucky!” the Spritzee, Sharity cheered. “I’m so glad fwu were, too, Miss Claire!”
Claire giggled in response, “So am I! Hopefully all goes well.”
“Of course it will, Cici!” the owner of this voice, a Furfrou whose fur danced about his body in a wild and untamed fashion, interjected. “Things’ll turn out perfectly, that is, if chicken legs can hold his own weight.”
“Tch, try worry about yourself,” Desmond snapped right back. “The last thing any of us need is for you to be the one that messes everything up.” Desmond never knew why precisely the Furfrou didn’t like him, neither did he care. He was not one to put up with his constant snide behavior, especially if there was no particular reason for it.
“Please, Vincenzo dear, don’t be so vulgar,” a soft, sickeningly sweet voice from their right advised the Furfrou. Desmond and Claire turned their attention over to the sofa to their right, where the owner of the voice, a Raichu, gave a wry smirk while sitting pleasantly and self-assured. “You too, Desi. After all, we would not want to offend Your Grace with any petty arguments.” She pointed to the Frosslass sitting to her side, whose accessories had a rather ornate design that both Desmond and Claire identified right away as from Iapon, designating the Frosslass as the Ambassador that they were designated to protect.
Desmond looked away from her uncomfortably, not out of immediate embarrassment but from a deeper shame. Felicity; to say that Desmond was surprised that the Pikachu girl from his childhood had evolved, followed him to Andaluust and joined the Hunters at the same time as he did was an understatement. He felt it all to be too much coincidence for it not to be apart of her goal, to find a way make him repent for abandoning her so long ago. For now, it seemed she was happy seeing the Combusken squirm, something that, to his frustration he allowed, only because he really did feel that he deserved it. But he realized that could all wait until later, now he should be more focused on the Ambassador, raising his head up to regard her with respect.
“Sorry, madam,” Desmond apologized, giving a slight bow.
“It’s fine, really,” the Ambassador dismissed with a chuckle. “I understand you are quite stressed out, given everything that has happened. Please, try not to worry about me all too much. The worst thing a guest can be is a bother.”
“You’re not one at all,” Desmond replied. “With what you had to go through to get here, we should be waiting on you hand and foot. Though, hopefully the other amenities in town can suit your taste.” The Ambassador chuckled some more, her amusement from Desmond’s words eliciting an eye-roll from Felicity.
Another laugh came from the side of the Ambassador, the Medicham who made it chiming in with “Still proving yourself to be quite the gentle man, aren’t you Desmond?”
Desmond gave a smile to Medicham. “I try my best, Tenma.”
“Well, then, I see that we are all acquainted with each other.” Rowanhardt finally spoke up. “Now we can get down to business, specifically regarding Your Grace. As you all know by now, it is your duty to ensure that Your Grace’s time here in Andaluust involves more enjoyable activities then being attacked by ruffians. Show her the joys that we offer in our fair city, particularly this,” He pulled out a flyer and showed it to the others. It depicted a series of Furfrou, all of which wore various stylish clothing that complimented their extravagant hairstyles, with text saying ‘Extravagant, Elite, Elegant: Chantelle’s Fashion Show’. “I took the liberty of setting an appointment for you to be present, Your Grace, if you do mind me doing so.”
“Not at all, Sir Rowanhardt.” The Ambassador replied. “I have always wanted to see what Andaluust had to offer in terms of fashion, especially since this city-state has imported so much of our silk and dye.”
“I submitted a few designs myself to the fashion show, so I hope that Your Grace will find them up to her standards.” Felicity stated with flitted eyelashes. Desmond scoffed a little for her sycophancy, but knew that she was more than likely telling the truth. He would always remember her experimenting with the different designs and linen that she could get her hands on back when the two lived in opulence; now all that seemed like a lifetime ago.
“This all sounds quite nice, but I’m still worried about one thing,” Vincenzo commented. “Those assassins that are, ya’know, still after your head, Highness? Shouldn’t we be worrying about getting rid of them first?”
“I agree with Mr. Vincenzo, Your Grace.” Claire said. “I know it would not be so fitting, but would Your Grace not feel better staying within this panic room while we apprehend those ninjas?”
“You do not seem to give Your Grace much credit, Ms. Amsel,” Rowanhardt responded. “This is not just a mere tour. Why, you should consider this be more of a hunting expedition.”
“Hunting?” Micheal asked. “For what, all the places that are ‘in vogue’, or whatever?”
“No, Sir Micheal,” the Ambassador stated, more authority coming from her voice. “The ninjas sent to kill me shall be your quarry, and I their bait.”
“B-Bait?!” Tenma exclaimed in shock. “But, Your Grace, we can easily locate the assassins with the information the police have released to the guilds! There is no reason for you to-”
“On the contrary, Lady Tenma,” the Ambassador began. “I fear that these ninjas will use the time I take to hide as an opportunity to find refuge in Andaluust. They may also harm others, and that is the last thing I want to happen.”
“So to that end, Your Grace has decided to lure out these intruders by merely being out in the open.” Rowanhardt added. “Once they make the mistake of attacking what they believe to be a defenseless girl with weak bodyguards, and that is when you will ensnare them, and teach them not to trifle with us Hunters.”
Vincenzo gave an amused whistle. “Being quite bold, aren’t we Your Grace?”
“Hehe, no offense to Your Grace,” Felicity began with an awkward laugh. “But would you not prefer doing something somewhat more peaceful, such as attending that fashion show. I doubt they would attack you in such a crowded area, especially with the authorities being on high alert.”
“I apologize for this, Lady Felicity, but I cannot allow these ninjas to continue to run free.” The Ambassador responded. “I need to find out from them why he wants me gone…” Everyone stood somberly for a moment, taking in just how much this affected the Ambassador. Her own brother being out for her life left scars on her heart that could be seen in the dark visage on her face.
“Bold, huh? I kinda like it.” Everyone turned their attention to Desmond, who stood, ready and proud, with a sly grin on his face. “A bold plan like this requires all other pieces to be working in perfect unison. If we are all pieces of this plan, then we should do our best to ensure that everything goes as Your Grace needs it to be. Don’t worry; they’ll never see their capture coming.”
Claire nodded in agreement. “Right! Everything will go just fine, Your Grace! We’ll catch them in a jiffy.”
“We’ll make sure that no one hurts fwu, Miss Ambwassador!” Sharity cheered.
“You’ve got that right!” Micheal agreed with fervor.
Tenma sighed, before commenting with, “Well, if everyone is so pumped, then I have no reason to slouch, then. I promise, Your Grace, that no harm will come to you.”
“Damn chicken legs, stealing my thunder,” Vincenzo cursed under his breath, but still had a wide grin on his face, exposing his numerous sharp fangs. Seeing that Felicity had somewhat of a despondent look on her face, Vincenzo went over to his partner, and remarked with “What’s the matter afraid of a little hard work?”
Felicity sighed heavily, her dreams of spending a decadent day with an ambassador, no less, swiftly dashed. But even so, she in a way thanked Desmond: if all went well, the Ambassador would be more than thankful to her saviors. Thankful enough, even to shower her saviors in even more rewards. “No, not really,” Felicity replied with a crafty look in her emerald eyes. “Your Grace needs our help, so I am in her service.” Vincenzo knew almost right away that his partner had a plan in mind, but he did not care to interfere. After all, whatever strife she had with anyone was her problem: the girl had a bad habit of trying to cheat everyone. It would be the end of her one day.
“Good, nice and spirited,” Rowanhardt started. “If you are to head out, then be careful: these ninjas can be quite the tricky bunch. I would hate to see such plucky youths like you cut down for foolish mistakes.”
“No point in waiting around here, let’s move!” With a spring in his step, Micheal raced over to the steel door, Sharity quick to follow behind him. As everyone else mobilized right behind him, Claire stopped and turns to Desmond and said, “This will be way more difficult then the errands we’ve been through so far. Make sure to be careful.”
“Same to you: everything will be alright, just so long as we think of something.” Desmond remarked.
With swiftness and efficiency, Rowanhardt opened up the steel door again, the lock opened with what seemed to be earth-shaking motions, the sound echoing throughout the room as the rookie hunters braced themselves for an uncertain day.