ACL: 5. A rolling stone gathers no moss; so too, a wandering heart gathers no affections. (Patreon)

Chapter 5: A rolling stone gathers no moss; so too, a wandering heart gathers no affections.

Brockton Bay, NH, USA
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Type: Rock

Saturday morning began bright and early with chores for the orphanage. I took out the trash and watered the garden before heading out on my run. I was finally starting to see results and I didn't want to let a single day go to waste.

After that I headed straight to the Camacho Clinic & Shelter for the morning shift there. I was technically supposed to be here for the full length of a school day to make my hours, but Dr. Camacho and his daughter were kind enough to just sign me out whenever I got through the chores. Either that, or I could laze around and play with the puppies.

"Hola, gringo," Stacy greeted as I walked in. She was dressed in a casual top with a wide collar that hung loose off one shoulder. With her pixie cut, it was a weird mix of alluring and cute. By the smirk on her face, she noticed me staring. "Yo, you want breakfast?"

"Depends what it is. I know you sometimes just have chicharrons. I don't know how you eat that."

"It's good, you dick."

"It's pork skin. That's weird. You may as well eat watermelon rinds."

"Well who asked you, estupido," she huffed before tossing me a pack wrapped in foil. Still toasty. "Maman made breakfast tacos like in those gringo diners for you."

I caught it with a wide smile. "Thanks, Stace, and thank your mom too. She's an angel."

"She has to be to put up with your picky ass."

"You don't need to feed me, you know."

"Really? What'd you eat today?" She saw the sheepish look on my face. "Yeah, s'what I thought. You don't take care of yourself so we adopted your scrawny ass."

"Thanks," I told her with an honest smile. "Really, I appreciate it."

"Yeah, yeah, go stuff your face,” she said with an awkward but pleased smile.

X

As I worked, I thought about what else I'd need to be a hero. In hindsight, approaching Parian in public probably wasn't the best move. I put her on the spot needlessly and without ever proving who I was or that I had no nefarious intentions. Honestly? It was a sign of restraint on her part that all she did was shoo me away.

I chalked this faux pas to my past life. The world I knew was a far more trusting place. No matter how beat up from the road I looked, I could walk up to most houses and knock. Farmers were always eager for a bit of extra muscle in exchange for a bed for the night, never considering for a moment that a stranger shouldn't be trusted.

This world, this Earth-Bet, was a far crueler world. I knew this intellectually, the unwritten rules were proof enough of the unreliability of trust, but it was something I failed to internalize.

Pokemon grew through the power of bonds, through aura that was our spirits made manifest.I wasn't sure I wanted to ever be so untrusting. It just wasn't in my nature.

Still, no matter the reason, Parian was a dud. She was kind enough to point me towards the local university’s fashion department, so I decided to check that out later today.

But first, I had rock.

Rock, the type aura with some of the heaviest hitters in my old world. It had few in the way of metaphysical powerhouses, but on the physical side, there were countless juggernauts.

It was also a type with plenty of diggers. Many, many rock type pokemon went out of their way to modify their environments to suit them, which brought me to my first task after my shift: A secret base.

Perhaps even more important than a costume was a base. I couldn't exactly hide things in the orphanage, privacy was an illusion there, and if the worst should come to pass and I was forced to flee, I wouldn't bring my troubles where they could follow me. I'd rather die than lead Lung to the children.

I brainstormed a few plans while I groomed the bunnies.

The first was to use that old tanker where I practiced as litwick. It had more room than I'd likely ever need and was isolated from casual intrusion. Hell, if I had half a mind to devote some time to it, I could probably make it a true fortress. But it was a small island unto itself. And though every type had a pokemon who could fly or swim, many of them weren't exactly subtle. Unless I planned to swim there under cover of night, it probably wouldn’t stay a secret for long.

The second idea was simply to find an abandoned building somewhere and hole up there. I was pretty sure most lesser villains did something similar. It was technically squatting, but I couldn't find it in me to respect someone else's property if they so clearly didn't care themselves.

The problem was that such a building could be discovered by pure chance or carelessness on my part and it would be much harder to secure than the tanker.

The third was like the second, but I'd dig. I'd dig a cavern for myself and hide the entrance somewhere, possibly in an abandoned building. It had the added benefit of being customizable, but it'd take a bit of effort.

The last option was to head out of the city. New Hampshire boasted plenty of forests and I didn't see why I couldn't just vanish into the woods.

The problem here was distance. Not every pokemon was both subtle enough and swift enough to make such a trip worthwhile.

Decisions… Decisions…

Upon further thought, I decided to dig out some space for myself. Truthfully, the tanker was tempting. It was secluded and had shit-tons of space, more than I could ever want. The part of me used to training powerful pokemon wanted that space, Arceus knows Eos nearly burned down more than one building, but that wasn't me anymore.

The security and anonymity of a hidden underground bunker was more attractive. I could even continue to customize it after all. More than one entrance. Trick Master-style traps.

Besides, nothing said I couldn't visit the tanker if I wanted to do something a bit loud or destructive.

That left the question of where I wanted my base…

X

In the end, I decided that the best place for my first base would be right around the abandoned ferry station. Back in the ye olden times, the Bay boasted two stations that ferried people north and south. It was a tourism thing, and there were even recreational fishers and whale watchers that operated out of those.

Now, only the northern station saw any use, and only just to give guided tours around the Rig, the Protectorate base.

The southern station was left to rot when trade dried up and tourism shifted from the ocean. It wasn't a bad place, I thought. If it hadn't been repurposed by now, it wasn't like to be in the future. And because it was to the south, the only gang I really had to worry about was the Empire.

Decision made, I decided to head out to scope out my new base.

X

The station was surprisingly large, though I should have expected that given it was one of the two that framed the Boardwalk. It boasted three decent-sized docks, a wide lot, and a two-story building, all framed by a chain-link fence. Once upon a time, I could see this being a source of pride for the city.

I flipped through my internal dex of every rock type I knew. Then I felt like an idiot because I wasn't stuck with simple rock types. I could also be a litwick, a ghost.

And what was sneakier than a ghost?

"Shift, litwick," I muttered.

The fence said, "No trespassing."

Infiltrator said, "Fuck you."

I melded into my own shadow, flowed into the shadow of a street pole, then crossed over to the edge of the building. Flowing through shadows was an interesting experience. I didn't need to breathe or anything, so the feeling of being submerged wasn't as uncomfortable as it would have been in my human form.

The inside was… bland.

I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but this wasn't it. One wall was covered with an old bulletin board, with flyers that announced some whale watching expeditions. Another claimed to teach children how to sail a boat the old fashioned way. That and an old anchor, supposedly taken from the original ship of the settlers who landed here, was all that was of any interest.

"If nothing else, I guess I could dismantle the information booth for wood or something," I mused.

Looking around, I concluded that bland was probably good. The fewer reasons people had to visit, the better.

I decided to hold off on beginning my construction until I took a look around the whole building. Upstairs, there were six rooms. Or really, two, with one of them being five office spaces connected by halls. As expected, they'd all been emptied out.

Downstairs, there was a small classroom that hosted some kind of pirate-themed course on rope-tying if the flyer on the wall was right. Other than that, two restrooms, and a kitchenette, I found nothing of worth. There was a plastic oar that someone left behind for some kayak, but I had no idea what I wanted to do with it.

In the end, I decided that the best place to tunnel would be in the far storage space. It was located nearest to the street and so furthest from the water.

"Shift, Alolan graveler," I muttered. I felt my body shift, becoming like a goddamn bowling ball. If that bowling ball had mutton chops and a unibrow made of iron filings.

I grinned. The form was comfortable. I felt like I could curl up into a ball and chill out for a few hours, not that the timer would let me.

My eyebrow twitched as I adjusted the magnetic field around me. The unibrow separated and became a pair of devil horns. Another magnetic flex and they combined with my mutton chops over my lips into a Hitler-stache. My "hair" then changed to mimic Flint's afro and Fantina's… whatever the hell those were.

I then extended the filings from my chin into a fine waterfall that draped along the ground and pretended to stroke it like some ancient kung fu sage.

"Hmm, yes, the dragon veins of the earth are greatest in this locale. An excellent place to plant the first roots of my magnificent sect," I said in a ridiculous voice.

Then my stomach growled and the ground looked a lot more appetizing.

"Alright, enough dicking around. Let's rock! Stone Edge!"

A cry and a stomp later, a stone needle sprouted from the earth below, sawing a jagged hole through the floorboards. With my newfound strength, I ripped it aside and rolled onto my face, taking a huge bite of the foundation below.

Was… Was it weird that it tasted good? The foundation was concrete. Crunchy, but devoid of any nutritional value. It was the rice crispies of dirt, I felt.

"Wait… Why do I know that…?" I wondered before shrugging and digging in.

I could tell the moment I broke through the foundation because the loamy soil below had a much higher water content. It also came with a dead bug somewhere, but eh, protein.

When I changed back the first time, I opened up my phone and found it was two in the afternoon. I did promise myself I'd check out the university, so I'd start with digging a giant hole for myself then plan out my hideout properly in the future.

X

Three hours later, I had… a pit. Really, that's what it was, a hole in the ground that widened into a large chamber with a low ceiling. It made me kind of sad that this place I made in a few hours of snacking was somehow bigger than the room in my orphanage.

It was time to visit the university. Although, looking around my new room, I felt that I could use this space. my type would change at midnight, which meant I'd lose some of the forms I had. I wanted the fashion department people to maybe make me a costume out of pokemon parts…

What could I leave in storage?

"Shift, dusk mane lycranroc," I called. I felt myself grow sharp, obsidian stones around my neck even as I fell to four limbs. Giving myself a once-over, I grinned when I saw the razor sharp claws.

A lycanroc wasn't the most durable rock type, which meant it wouldn't provide the most defensive materials, but it was also one of the few rock types that could readily groom itself, namely with some very Tough Claws.

Piece by piece, starting with my tail, I began to shave, depositing the fur into a shallow stone bowl I carved for myself.

The fur, besides being a wonderful cream and sunset-orange color, wasn't known for possessing any special properties, but I thought it would be much tougher than any equivalent material. After all, these same pokemon often battled for territory or simply to test themselves. If nothing else, it'd make for a stylish trim on whatever costume I got.

I spent another hour shaving myself bald, mostly because a lycanroc wasn't designed to be able to cut itself, at least not like this.

"I think I know why humans were still the dominant species," I grumbled, "Opposable thumbs…"

I shifted back before dumping everything but a small fistful into the stone bowl. I had enough that I could trim a dozen jackets in wolf fur, or maybe completely finish the inside coating to act as cushion or something. I didn't know, I wasn't a professional.

I grunted as I climbed out of the hole I'd dug for myself in the storage room. Thankfully, I'd had the foresight to install ladder-like protrusions out of hardened stone. I also found out that shaving as a pokemon didn't mean I'd suddenly go bald or anything. I didn't know if injuries would carry over though. Hopefully, I wouldn't need to find out for a long time.

"H-Hello? Anyone there?" A soft, feminine voice called gingerly. She sounded young and unsure of herself.

'Now what the hell is someone doing here?' I wondered.

"Shift, litwick," I whispered before shrinking down into my own shadow. Now confident in my own invisibility, I took a peak around the corner.

She was cute, with curly brown hair and a line of freckles across the bridge of her nose. She also looked very much like a homeless person. Her clothes were as filthy as mine and I'd voluntarily spent the last few hours eating dirt. The white sweater was smudged with what I hoped was dirt and her jeans were torn in ways that definitely weren't meant to be a fashion statement.

"I thought I heard someone… I'm not crazy, right?" she muttered.

As she passed, I sank into her shadow. If I intended harm, this would be the perfect place to strike from, but beating up homeless girls wasn't exactly something I did for fun.

She kept walking down the hall until she came across the storage room, the same room with a giant, graveler-sized hole and the very prominent stone ladder in it.

"Okay… creepy hole… creepy building… I can look for somewhere else to sleep."

I heard that and felt awful. She was clearly homeless and she couldn't be older than me. Hell, she looked like she might be a year or two younger. It was getting near sunset so it made sense that she'd look for a place to crash. And… And I'd just scared her off of a safe space.

I'd traveled for literal decades of my life. I knew what it was like to find at the end of the day that you could have a roof over your head. Sure, tents, but there was something innately comforting about four sturdy walls and a roof you could stand under.

A bit of kindness went a long way…

"Fuck," I muttered, guilt eating at me.

"What? Who's there?" a hand went into her butt pocket, pulling out an X-Acto knife. "I-I have a knife!"

It was over. Nothing for it but to introduce myself.

"Hi," I began. She whirled to look behind her. "Down here, in your shadow."

"What?"

"I'm going to come out now. Please don't freak out?"

"O-Okay, come on out slowly and I won't stab you."

It would almost have been cute if she wasn't so obviously terrified at the thought of meeting a strange parahuman. Slowly, I allowed my candle flame to light the room, bathing it in an eerie violet glow. I felt her life force for a moment and stamped down on my instinct to feed.

No. Not her. Not now.

As my candle-like body came into view, she gasped. "You're… a candle?"

"Hi, I'm Casper the friendly ghost type," I said as cheerily as I could. My wick swept the air, leaving haunting will-o-wisps. "Ta-da!"

"Oh… hello. How did you get in my shadow?"

"I was actually down in the hole and you came by. You heard me so I changed forms and hid."

"Hid?"

I stepped out of her shadow fully. "Yeah, I'm a changer who can transform into different monsters. The name's Menagerie. You are?"

"I'm… I'm Emily," she said quietly. "And this is your base."

"Yup. Now what are you doing here?"

"I… I was… nothing. I'll get going now."

I released my grip on my transformation. "Nah, stick around if you want. The more the merrier, I always say!"

She looked at me with thinly veiled caution. There were a lot of people who'd be willing to take advantage of a young girl, especially if she was homeless. "Umm…"

"Look, I'm an independent hero who's been working to dig out a base. I'm not exactly rolling in cash, but I can at least let you crash here. It's not like I own this place."

"You're not going to chase me out?"

"Nope. Way I see it, you already know about this base. You staying here gives you a reason to keep it secret, you know? I doubt you'd want people to drop in without you knowing either."

She backed away a step. "I'm not… I don't mean to offend, but… I don't really want a random guy to know where I sleep. I won't tell anyone about your base, but I think I should go."

Which… was totally fair. It wasn't as though I was blind to her situation. The way she backed off was a little strange though. She had a knife in her hand, but she hid it behind her thigh, almost as if she was afraid of having to use it. Or as if she wouldn't be relying on the knife if push came to shove.

It hit me. Her behavior struck me as strange. I'd seen plenty of scared pokemon ready to lash out. People too. They clung to their weapons, holding it aloft like a shield or a torch against the night.

That wasn't her. She hid the knife. No, she knew that that box cutter wouldn't be good for more than annoying a dedicated attacker.

But I saw it in her eyes. She wasn't afraid of me, not really. There was hesitation, but not fear. Was… Was she a cape?

Was it worth asking? Potentially starting a fight?

The only way I could see myself reassuring her was if I took off my helmet. If I unmasked, she'd know something vital about my cape identity, potentially earning her trust.

A friend. A teammate.

Was this worth the risk? I’d need to make the first move.

I swallowed. Yes. Yes it was worth it. I refused to believe that holding out a hand to someone in need was wrong, even if it got me burned at times. This girl needed money. Food. A safe space to lay her head at night. But most of all, she needed a friend.

And what were pokemon if not friends?

I reached up and removed my helmet.

"Blake," I said. "Call me Blake."

"I… But your mask…"

"Look, I get it. Believe it or not, you're not the only one who's ever had to find a roof to sleep under for a few nights." I reached into my pocket. She froze and began to take a breath, as if taking in as much oxygen as possible. A breath weapon of some sort then? Like a magmar perhaps. Dangerous. Gently, slowly so as to not spook her, I pulled out my wallet and held a hundred dollars out to her. "Emily, you said, right? Well here. Go on, take it."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"I'm not that kind of girl. I won't turn tricks or whatever you think is going to happen."

I realized what she meant and felt my face burn. "No! I just want you to have something to eat for dinner!"

"No strings attached?" she asked with guarded hope.

"None. I even unmasked! Seriously, is it that weird to want to help someone?"

"When they're homeless, yes. So why? Why are you helping me?"

"It's common sense to help others," I said resolutely. Maybe not Earth-Bet’s common sense, but I refused to conform to this world if it meant leaving some child cold and hungry. She studied my face for a long minute. When she saw what she wanted, she reached out and took the bills.

"Thanks," she said quietly.

"Emily, I'm not going to be here. That hole down there? It's just an emergency base I started digging out today. Storage. Safehouse. Somewhere private I can go to bang my head against the wall. I'm not going to be here all the time and definitely not tonight. So, tell you what. I'm going to walk out that door. If you want to stay the night? Go ahead. Just know that if you ever need help, you can call Menagerie, alright?"

"Okay…"

I walked away. As much as I wanted to do more for her, she needed to feel safe first. And that meant letting her approach me first. As I neared the lobby door, I called. "Em?"

"Y-Yeah?"

"Don't go villain, okay?"

X

Brockton Bay University was a mid-sized university that boasted an unusually large number of available majors, something attributed to the generous philanthropic efforts of Stansfield REIT and Medhall. Hell, the science building was literally named the Anders Hall after Medhall’s CEO.

The university was shockingly green for something located in the middle of a city and I wondered how much it took to upkeep the manicured lawns.

I took off my jacket and wrapped it around my waist before tucking my helmet into my backpack. Civvie outfit, everyone. Clearly my disguise is impeccable and none but the alpaca above himself could pierce my deception.

I walked into the student union building. From the pamphlet, it housed the cafeteria, student council, a few club rooms, and the offices of the on-site doctor and athletics director. Generally everything a student is likely to need.

I walked up to the information desk and greeted the middle-aged woman manning it. "Hello, ma'am. I was wondering if you could help me with something."

She looked at her computer for a minute and exited out of something with a small sigh before plastering a customer service smile on her face. "Of course, hun. What can I do for you?"

"I've been checking out universities and I was wondering where the arts building was."

"Oh, sweetheart, the tour for the day is over."

"I know, and I'm sorry I couldn't make it, but I figured that since I live in the city anyway, I could just show up and take a look around."

"Hmm… I don't see the harm. You do understand that most people will be gone for the day? I do think a few clubs are meeting if you want to ask to sit in. What department were you interested in?"

I rubbed my head sheepishly. "You're going to laugh, but… fashion…? I know it's not typical of a guy, but it's interesting, you know?"

"Oh, don't you start. College is about exploring your passions, even if they're a bit unusual." She pulled out a paper map from beneath her desk before taking a pen to mark a building. "Try this one, room 203-B."

"Thank you, ma'am," I said politely.

I grinned as I walked away. And Titania said I had zero tact.

The building was honestly pretty neat. It was a full, red brick affair that looked old-timey yet with a modern feel to it. I heard some of the students at Arcadia say that the university looked a bit like Hogwarts when the ocean mist rolled in. I could see the comparison.

The door was open and I could see some of the lights still on so there were clearly people still around, though I doubted there were any ongoing lectures.

"Let's see… 203… should be upstairs, right? Right." I decided to show up in style. After all, this was fashion. Style was the name of the game. "Shift, dusk mane lycanroc!"

I gave myself a quick once-over to make sure my fur had grown back before heading for the stairs in loping strides.

Rock-doggo was cute, right? Cute was good, right?

Outside their room, I came to a problem: I lacked opposable thumbs.

"I… should maybe have thought this through…"

"Bark. Bark bark," I said as I nudged the closed door. "Woof."

"Rachel, stop making dog noises," I heard someone say from inside.

"I'm not," another voice protested.

"Bow wow," I replied. This was getting kind of fun.

"Rachel, that got old the first six times."

"I'm not!" "Yip. Bark. Woof. Bow wow." We spoke at the same time.

"See?"

I heard chairs scraping. "Oh, for god's sake. This better not be the guys from ceramics messing with us."

The door swung open and I came near snout-to-throat with a cute, dusky-skinned girl.

She was shorter than most, probably five-one, two if she was feeling particularly feisty that day. She had full lips and large, almond-shaped eyes. Her hair flared out around her head a bit in a way that reminded me of tail feathers but was otherwise kept short. She was pretty, but I didn't get a chance to appreciate the sight.

I looked at her.

She looked at me.

I saw her pupils dilate as her lizard brain kicked in, hammering down the doors and screaming that she was about to have her throat ripped out.

I hadn't accounted for just how big a lycanroc would seem to someone who'd only ever seen city dogs. Hell, I was pretty sure I was significantly bigger than most wolves. I didn't want that. Lycanroc were friends. Loyal. Strong. Protective. They guarded their packmates and trainers with their lives.

I had to do something. Say something.

"Found you, little piggy,” my stupid-ass said, and immediately felt like an asshole.

"AIEEEE!!!!" she shrieked, sending throbbing pains in my sensitive ears.

My mind caught up with my mouth and I slumped on my belly, paws over my eyes. The obsidian blades around my neck scraped ominously against the floor. "Fuck… I said… Fuck, I'm so stupid…"

"What? Sabah?" More chairs scraped against the tiles and I heard three other footsteps.

All sorts of scents assaulted my hyper-sensitive nose. That's how the other students found us: This Sabah girl scared out of her mind with maybe a bit of urine trickling down her legs and a wolf with a mane of stone spikes whining pitiably on the ground.

One of the girls picked up a chair and hurled it at us, narrowly missing Sabah with a leg. I felt it bounce off me, doing all of jack shit. I didn't know if this made her incredibly brave or incredibly stupid.

When I saw her reach for another chair, I shouted, "Yo hold on! I'm a hero!"

The whole room froze. "D-Did that wolf just… talk?" a redhead asked gingerly.

"Yeah, I did. Hi, I'm Menagerie, an independent hero." I transformed back, giving them a thumbs up and a smile they couldn't see. "See? Normal person."

"W-Why are you here?" I heard Sabah stammer. She was fidgeting a little beneath that dress. It couldn't have been comfortable trying to hide that she'd wet herself. I decided to be polite and not point it out.

"Well, this is my current costume and… It's lame. I wanted to see if I could commission something from that Parian cape down at the Boardwalk, but she kind of blew me off. She told me that there might be someone at the fashion department willing to make something for a cape, just to say they did. So… how 'bout it?"

Sabah looked at my garish orange helmet and sighed, slapping a hand to her forehead. "And you thought scaring me to death would be a good idea?"

"I thought you'd like dogs! Who doesn't like dogs!"

"Me! Not when they're big enough to ride!"

"Sorry," I apologized, holding out a hand for her to shake. "I should have turned into something smaller. Look, can we talk about this?"

"You just want a costume? What, did you think they're free?" she asked, a dainty brow arched. She wasn’t exactly my biggest fan at the moment. It looked like she'd come to the conclusion that I wasn't here to eat her so fear had become indignation. "How are you even planning to pay for it?"

I reached into my pocket, presenting her with some of the lycanroc fur I'd shaved. I passed it out, first to Sabah, then to the other three girls in the room.

"For starters, I'm looking to supply my own materials. Ethically sourced fur trim and all that. I also have reptiles that can shed scales, birds for feathers, things like that. And I do have a few grand I'm willing to blow for a really good costume. All I need is skilled labor." I gave them my most winning smile before I remembered they couldn't see. "So, what do you say?"

"How do we know you're a hero at all?" a heavily freckled blonde asked.

"Besides that you chucked a chair at me and you're not my chew toy?"

"You were about to eat Sabah!"

"I was not," I crossed my arms and let out an exaggerated sniff. "I'm sure she'd taste awful."

"Geez, thanks," the girl in question said wryly. "Fine. Come inside. We can talk about what kind of outfit you want. Then the price. No promises. This is just a consultation, got it?"

"If it helps, I'll let you dress up one of my forms and take pictures?"

"I mean, riding a giant wolf would be pretty cool," the redhead said. "I'm Alice by the way."

"Menagerie."

A quick round of introductions followed. The blonde girl who tried to bean me with a chair was called Megan.

The room was honestly what I'd expected. There was a table with tons of paper, grid and blank, scissors, and some rolls of fabric. Along one wall was a row of sewing machines, though I could tell they were well-worn. A closet had been repurposed to store bolts of fabric as well as needles and other equipment. Some mannequins stood in one corner, with fabrics loosely draped over their shoulders.

"Okay," Sabah turned to me, a hand on her elbow and the other hand raised in the universal pose all lecturers seemed to adopt subconsciously. "What were you thinking about? Cape fashion is a course at this university, believe it or not. Ever since capes became the next big thing, the fashion world split into three.

"There's high fashion, with the traditional walkways, impractical outfits, and concepts that no one would ever wear in real life, commercial fast-fashion which is mostly geared towards cheap but appealing designs meant to have quick shelf-lives, and cape fashion. Cape fashion is the study of outfits heroes and villains have worn throughout the years. What worked. What didn't. Why. For both practical and imaging purposes. Any questions?"

I stared at her, mouth ajar. "No, I just… You really like fashion, huh?"

"It's my passion. Now, let's talk about what you're expecting. You said you can provide all the materials, right?"

"I might need a leather jacket or something as a base, but mostly yeah. I can even make silk."

"I am not pulling silk out of your butt," the blonde joked.

"No need. Usually comes from the mouth in sprays I can use to catch people. Anyway, you were talking about expectations?"

"Right," Sabah nodded. "The first thing you should remember is that you can't have everything. Some costumes are made to be appealing to the public, others to be as durable as possible, and still others to allow for freedom of movement. You're going to compromise eventually so tell me, what's a priority for you?"

I thought about it. What did I need with my powers? What did I want to accomplish as a hero?

Image was the first thing thrown out the window. It was important and I could see the need for it, but I didn't see why it should be the thing I prioritized most. Even when I traveled the regions, I never cared much about looking good, just getting my work done. Besides, a lot of my forms were adorable anyway. I had a feeling appealing to the public wouldn’t be a struggle for me.

"I favor good armor," I told her. "Maneuverability is great too, but I think my first priority is having something that could actually protect me, you know? Besides, I don't think I have the butt to pull off spandex."

"Right. You did say you could offer scales of some of your monsters. Those would be a good first step. Scale armor has been used for centuries as the middle ground between plate and chainmail so I think a good set will keep you protected without encumbering you."

"That sounds good. Let's go outside then."

"Outside?"

I glanced at the ceiling searchingly. "I can turn into a t-rex but better. We're going to need a bigger ceiling.”

"R-right…"

X

Sabah, who'd apparently taken point on this project, had come outside with me, camera in hand. She also brought out a tape measure, though I wasn't sure why.

I briefly realized I'd be missing dinner at the orphanage, but couldn't find it in me to care too much. This was too important.

"Ready?"

"Go for it."

I took several steps back before stamping my feet aggressively. "Shift, tyrantrum!" I roared to the sky. Around the quad, I could see a few students perk up curiously.

Then I grew. And grew. And grew some more.

When I stopped, I was a bit over twelve feet tall and nearly forty feet long. My upper body was clad in blood-red scales, some of them wide enough to fit my palm. A crest of hardened orange scales wrapped around my brow like a crown and a collar of feathers encircled my neck. The most intimidating thing about me was my jaws, thick and strong with the longest fangs longer than Sabah's forearm.

It was intoxicating, this feeling of indestructible power. I was the tyrant of the ancient world, the pokemon who was said to be the direct kin of tyranitar. I’d raised one of these, Regis, and the familiarity put me at ease.

"Eep!" Sabah squeaked, stumbling back and landing on her butt.

"Heh. So, I'm going to try and loosen some scales on my back. Mind trying to scrape them off?"

"Err… right. I just… didn't expect you to be so big."

"What part of 't-rex' didn't you hear?"

She huffed, stamping her little feet. "It's very different when you're standing in front of one, alright?"

"I know, I'm kidding." I laid down on my front, presenting my tail to her. "Go on."

"With what?"

"Try your scissors."

"You won't get hurt if I stab you?"

I snorted. "That's unlikely. Trust me, this form is super durable."

"Fine, don't get mad and eat me or something."

"Deal."

As she dug around in her pocket for her fabric shears, I looked inward. A tyrantrum couldn't naturally learn to shed, but it could be taught. Scale Shot, a move that fired loose scales like bullets, was common to many dragons, this one included.

"Hmm… Let's see… It's a dragon type move so draconic aura would be good. Try to loosen my scales… I don't need to shoot them, just loosen them so Sabah can pull them out," I muttered.

"What are you mumbling about?"

"Nothing, don't worry about-Ow!"

I glared behind me to find Sabah had somehow gotten her hands on a scale, one of the smaller ones from my tail. She’d jabbed the shears like a dagger into the roots, twisting and loosening the scale until she could rip it out. She eyed me with a smug smirk. "What happened to being super tough?"

"Didn't hurt," I grouched. "More surprise than pain."

"Well get used to it."

We worked like that, me trying to force draconic aura into my scales and Sabah treating her shears like a dagger or icepick. By now, rumors of what was happening spread like wildfire and there were a few people gathered outside Wyatt Hall. One, a frat boy by the looks of it, tried to approach. A curled lip and a display of my pearly whites made him decide whatever dare he'd have won wasn't worth it.

Then, ten minutes later, the sky began to lighten as a woman dressed in white and red tights descended to the ground. She was young, probably around Sabah's age, and surrounded in a halo of crimson light. Blonde bombshell. Red light. No mask. That made her easy to identify as Crystal Pelham, Laserdream.

She looked at me. Then at Sabah. "Evening,” she said carefully. “Sabah. Mr… Dinosaur…"

“Help, she’s skinning me alive,” I moaned as unenthusiastically as possible. ‘You’re a hero, right? Save me. Vanquish this evil witch.”

“Umm…”

Sabah snorted and jabbed her shears extra hard. “You told me to, jerk.”

"Mhmm. I received a text saying there was a dino on the quad who took some girl hostage."

"You've got the wrong idea. I'm the one being held captive. Do you not see her skinning me alive? Help. Save me from this violent monster."

"So, Sabah, what's going on?"

"I'm collecting scales so I can make armor for him in his human form."

"Human form.. Oh, are you Menagerie?"

"Been talking to your cousins, hmm?" I hummed, though in my current form, I sounded a bit like a tractor with a cold.

"Yup. Amy's sad that she hasn't seen you around in the hospital. She'll never admit it, but she liked working with you."

Sabah looked at me judgingly. "Wait, you're really a hero?"

"You've just realized that?"

"Hey, I just thought you were some weirdo."

"Then why're you helping me?"

"I figured you should give crazy people what they want," she snarked, but I could tell she was teasing. Mostly.

"Whatever. Get to peeling, woman," I grouched back, jabbing her a little with my tail.

"Well, I'm glad I didn't open fire on you," the heroine said. "So… Do you want help?"

"You really have nothing better to do on a Saturday evening than to skin a dinosaur?"

"Hey, in my defense, when else am I ever going to get the chance to skin a dino?"

"Point…"

Sabah laughed. "I think there are more scissors in the room upstairs. Or find a knife. Just jam it into the root and the scales just pop out like a kernel of corn."

Laserdream smirked before creating a small shield beneath a scale to lift it slightly. She then fired into the root, making me lash my tail against the ground.

"Ow, woman that one actually hurt!"

"Oh, sorry, let me tone it down." I felt another thump, though this one burned less and was more like a sharp poke. "Tada, one popped scale, no knife necessary."

We progressed like this for another two hours, though held up by me having to switch back once in a while to "restock." Eventually, we had a neat pile of scales, about a hundred of varying sizes. Sabah could only work loose a scale every three minutes or so, even with my draconic aura helping out, but Laserdream was able to singe the roots enough to yank them out with ease. By the end, it was a bit like pulling hair.

"So costume, huh? This is definitely the most unique approach to one I've ever seen," she said.

"Yeah, well, I'm very proud of my pokemon forms' durability and I figured this would look cool."

"Pokemon?"

"Pocket monster," I said with a grin. I still couldn't believe my old world collectively agreed to call monsters capable of rearranging mountain ranges such a juvenile name.

"So when can I expect you again?" Sabah asked. "No actually, never mind. I'm going to give you my number and you're going to text me well in advance of when you show up."

"Fair enough. No more scaring you."

"No more scaring me."

"Even if it's funny."

"Even if it's-Hey!"

I helped them store the scales in Sabah's desk and headed home for the night, stopping by a food truck to pick up dessert.