Chapter 63: Still Not Talking

"Run!"

"Why aren't you running anymore?!"

The skinny poacher yelled as he closed in step by step, finally driving Caleb into a dead-end alley.

Towering walls surrounded them on all sides. Even a Hollywood action star wouldn't be able to climb out of this trap.

The skinny poacher grinned wickedly—his long chase was finally paying off.

The chubby poacher couldn't hold back his excitement and leaned in, whispering, "Boss, why waste words with him? Let's just..."

As he spoke, he made a slicing motion across his neck.

"You idiot! You think I need you to tell me that?!" the skinny one snapped, giving him a hard karate chop to the head.

Then he turned back to Caleb, eyes gleaming with malice.

"Kid, don't blame me for what's about to happen. Blame your bad luck... Zangoose, Quick Attack!"

Behind him, a large feline with red markings darted forward in a silver flash, racing straight at Caleb.

Just as its sharp claws were about to graze Caleb's shirt—

A giant pink egg dropped from the sky.

It landed between them, towering over the underdeveloped Zangoose below.

"Lucky~"

And what exactly were you planning to do with that paw, hmm?

"Meow... meow..."

Zangoose glanced at the solemn-looking Chansey, then down at its own deadly claws, breaking into a cold sweat.

Thankfully, it quickly switched tactics and turned its claws—on itself.

"Lucky~"

Good boy.

Chansey nodded in approval, then raised its eyes to the remaining seven Pokémon.

Just one glare from Chansey had them all trembling, suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to surrender on the spot.

Seeing all his Pokémon backing away, the skinny poacher roared in frustration:

"Useless bunch! Scared of a single Chansey? I wasted all that food on you!"

"It's just a Chansey! What can it possibly do?!"

With that, he kicked the hiding Arbok onto the field.

"You go—use Iron Head on it!"

"Charba?"

Me?

Arbok looked up at the dignified Chansey, who blinked in surprise—someone actually dared step up?

But just as Arbok hesitated, Chansey struck, grabbing it by the throat.

Muscles bulged in her arms—just a little pressure, and Arbok nearly passed out from suffocation.

As Chansey looked at the now-unconscious Arbok's long, thick body, her imagination wandered.

I wonder how it compares to my little whip...

The thought got her excited. She stretched out Arbok's body like a giant elastic band...

"Charba! Charbaaa!"

Screams echoed through the alley.

The remaining six Pokémon glanced at one another—

Then threw themselves to the ground and played dead on the spot.

If not now, then when?!

"You... you all..." the skinny poacher sputtered, unable to form full sentences as he stared at his collapsing team.

His chubby partner nudged him and whispered, "Boss... maybe we should run?"

For once, the skinny poacher felt his sidekick actually made sense. But pride wouldn't let him back down just yet.

He turned to Caleb and snarled, "Consider yourself lucky, punk. We're letting you off this time."

But just as they took a step to leave, a horde of Pokémon flooded into the alley's entrance.

Nacli, Naclstack, Gligar, Drifloon, Snorlax, Greavard, Dusclops, Misdreavus, Mismagius...

Pretty much every Pokémon in the gym's backyard had shown up.

There were hundreds, completely blocking the nearby roads.

And it happened to be morning rush hour.

One frustrated office worker, stuck in traffic, called Officer Jenny in a rage.

"B-boss... I think we're surrounded," the chubby poacher stammered, legs shaking.

"You don't say!" snapped the skinny one, trembling even harder but still refusing to admit defeat.

"They just look like a lot! We'll bust through 'em!"

Chubby: ?

Just then, the sea of Pokémon parted, forming a path.

Down that path came four figures.

In the lead, center stage, was Pachirisu—wearing black sunglasses and holding a pommel berry like a lollipop.

Behind it walked Gliscor, Garganacl, and Dusknoir.

Especially Dusknoir—its arrival brought an oppressive aura that crashed down like a wave.

Litten, still cradled in Caleb's arms, stared in awe.

Black shades. Lollipop. Surrounded by loyal underlings...

This is straight out of a mobster movie—so cool!

"Gua~sī?w?"

Haunter's eyes lit up too. Of course Dusknoir-boss would be this slick!

It floated over and started showering Dusknoir with compliments.

Dusknoir, a little flustered by the praise, decided to show off some new moves it had learned.

"Gua~sī?w?!"

Yes please! Show me!

At Haunter's eager request, Dusknoir floated toward the two poachers, its crimson eye glowing cold.

"Walu."

Sink into an eternal dream...

...

Dreamscape

A dim interrogation room.

The skinny poacher awoke to find his hands cuffed to a cold metal table.

Bright lights shone in his face. He squinted—and saw Dusknoir's crimson eye staring back.

"Walu~"

???

"Walu."

???

"WALU!"

When his silent stare got no reaction, Dusknoir slammed a hand on the table in frustration.

Fine. If you won't talk, we'll do it the hard way.

Dusknoir waved its hand.

The door to the interrogation room creaked open.

Two more Pokémon stepped in—Garganacl and Chansey.

Oh, and Haunter, who'd snuck in behind them.

"Walu~" (Appreciate the help.)

"Lucky~" (My pleasure.)

Chansey reached into the pouch on her belly... and pulled out a pink leather whip.

Danger!

Somehow, the poacher felt a glowing red kanji appear above his head: 危 (danger).

And then...

With Chansey's gentle smile...

Crack!

Crack-crack-crack-crack-crack-crack-crack!!

...

Ten minutes.

Twenty minutes.

Thirty minutes of non-stop screaming—yet the poacher never said a single word.

Every Pokémon present silently saluted him as a true tough guy.

Even though dream damage doesn't affect the body physically, if the brain believes the dream is real, it'll simulate mental trauma on its own.

This self-generated psychological damage can be just as devastating—if not worse—than actual pain.

"Lucky~" (Salt-boy, come help. He's about to pass out.)

"Doh~" (Got it, boss-lady.)

When mental trauma gets too intense, shock sets in. That's where Garganacl comes in.

Its salt can heal any wound...

...but the process might sting a bit.

"AAAAAAAH!"

A single grain of salt seared into his mental wounds—and he howled in pain.

Dusknoir frowned. Even now? He should've cracked by now!

Haunter scratched its chin thoughtfully. "Wait... what if he just can't understand what we're saying?"

Just because Caleb could understand them didn't mean all humans could.

...

Back in the real world—

Because of the traffic jam, Officer Jenny arrived to restore order—and unexpectedly apprehended the two poachers.

One surrendered immediately.

The other... somehow fell asleep.

Officer Jenny, a seasoned officer, had never seen anything like it.

"Caught and still managed to doze off? What a punk. Take 'em away!"