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Honestly, Louie thought this whole Hocotate Freight thing would be a very small part of his life. A way to make cash and beef up his résumé before leaving for a better job. Unfortunately, he learned the lesson that many other employees learned shortly after they were employed: Hocotate Freight bit hard and never let go. The hours were long, the work was hard, and any hope of getting authorities involved was quickly snuffed out due to their draconian lawyers.
Louie figured that he might as well get fired if they weren’t going to let him quit. Any minor offenses he could commit wouldn’t be enough, and any major offenses would get him jailed for life. So when life presented him a golden opportunity in the form of a shipment of equally gold Pikpik Carrots, he seized it for all it was worth. Those things were expensive. He was probably never going to get the opportunity to eat one ever again! Besides, if he was going to go out then he might as well go out deliciously.
So yeah. He ate them. The ravenous space bunny thing was a complete and utter lie he cooked up so he wouldn’t get fined; he figured they would just make him quit due to negligence or something like that. It wasn’t as if Louie knew that it would bankrupt Hocotate Freight. Anyway, the world was probably better off without the company if it was so easily destroyed. His end goal of getting to leave was accomplished, even if he threw a big chunk of Hocotate’s workforce into unemployment as well. Can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs!
Then Olimar came down in a hastily welded together ship, haggard and a tad bit manic. Louie had heard rumors of some senior employee disappearing on a routine shipment (the President had called it a “vacation”, but they all knew that it was a slightly more pleasant shipping route), but nothing too substantial. Seemed like a classic case of hazing the new guy or a story blown out of proportion. Apparently not. He was holding some sort of disk thing before one of the not sold Ship’s A.I. snatched it up, proclaiming it to be one hundred Pokos. For a good five seconds, Louie was convinced that he was about to watch Olimar maul the President to death, but then he just gave a sad little sigh and walked into the new ship with him in tow.
Honestly, it wasn’t the worst way things could have ended. Louie could have been tossed into the Hocotate swamps by the President instead of being made to get other weird little trinkets. He was even a little excited when Olimar mentioned that there were edible life forms on PNF-404 (then he mumbled something about how he should take that last bit with a grain of salt, as he hadn’t spent enough time to determine if Roast Bulborb could be hazardous to Hocotatian consumption).
And so they spent weeks toiling about, excavating treasures of a civilization long gone like archeologists, all while being aided by little carrot people. Sure, danger nipped at their heels in the form of creatures as frightening as they were ridiculous, but this could be a positive. Olimar didn’t mind how silent he could be or if he cooked up any of the wildlife as long as he came back relatively healthy with most of his squad intact. The Ship was scathing in it’s words, but most of that was born out of a fear of getting scrapped. He was even taking notes on what creatures paired best with what. Maybe he could use that for something; start up a T.V. show as an intergalactic chef or run an exotic diner for those looking to spice up their palates with something off the menu.
When Olimar said that there was one last cave to do before the President’s debt was repaid, he almost felt a little disappointed. There was still so much of the planet left to see, but he couldn’t deny the slow feeling of exhaustion starting to creep up on him. Louie was starting to miss his home, his Nana, his safety. One last cave. So what if they had been avoiding it due to it being entirely underwater? The still-unnamed place had treasures; the Ship had checked. The Blue Pikmin were hardy creatures. They could do it.
So they waded their way down to the cave’s yawning mouth, and Louie’s early bravado began to weaken. Jumping into the other caves had been unsettling enough, but old horror stories of people going caving and getting trapped mixed with drowned sailors were starting to nag at his mind. They could do it, he reminded himself. The Ship’s tractor beam could always drag them back if things got too dire, and if this cave really was horrible he was sure that they could sniff out a safer one.
The water swallowed then whole, Pikmin squads and all. They splashed through rocky tunnels until they came back up for air, and then the looting began. Sure, the place was eerie with it’s strange rumbles and occasional grinding sound, but they cleared the first floor as quickly as they could.
It was stupid. The way they had been caught, he meant. They had split up, Olimar taking a small squadron of twenty to find the exit and take care of any creatures on the way and Louie transporting the last treasure. The Chocolate Cushion was halfway across the sublevel when a Fiery Dweevil snuck underneath it, forcing him into an irritating game of tug-of-war until one of his Pikmin eventually squashed the thing flat. Then came the whistling.
At first he thought it was Olimar. The twisting tunnels in caves had distorted sounds before and he was far away; what else could make such a distinct sound? Then it got louder and sharper. Then he heard the thud. Then he heard the gurgling.
Despite their various distinctions from other animals, Hocotations still kept the fight-or-flight instincts. Louie took off at a breakneck sprint towards the rusty tunnel, Pikmin in hot pursuit. A few unbloomed souls met a shrieking end at what he would soon recognize as giant stone cylinders.
He had been hiding in there for what felt like hours, listening to the giant creature patrolling outside. Louie had croaked out a reply when Olimar asked if he was safe, but had spent the rest of his time with his mouth firmly shut as if that would somehow deter the creature.
“I will try and run more scans. I advise you both stay where you are as I do so. It would be unwise to try and engage that… thing.” The Ship broke the silence, probably still hovering where it had last been. The occasional clink of stone told him that it was as close to the ceiling as it possibly could be.
“Waterwraith. That’s it’s name.” Olimar whispered into the radio. No one contests him. For a while there is nothing more than the sound of cylinders rolling on wet stone and the ship scanning again and again and again as the same results appear every single time.
Nothing.
“It’s waiting for me.” Louie breathed out, watching those massive wheels circle in and then steer away only to come back into view a few moments later. A vulture circling a carcass, but vultures weren’t malicious creatures. “It knows I’m here.”
“Olimar,” Louie calls futility, voice echoing down the pipe as well as into their communicators and the creature’s liquid body. Not creature , some part of his mind that hasn’t been consumed by panic spouts, Waterwraith . “I’m scared.”
He waits for his captain, his superior, to let out that soft huffing laugh of his and tell him that he’s faced these things many times before and is on his way to teach Louie how to deal with them right now. Olimar’s tired sigh crackles through the radio. “Me too.”
“I think we should flee. We don’t know anything about the Waterwraith aside from the fact that it’s immaterial.” This was certainly new. The Ship usually balked at the thought of cutting an early break or retreating when there were still treasures left to be found.
“All in favor say aye.” Olimar joked, tremor in his voice giving away how he really felt.
“Aye.” The Ship whispered, still scanning.
“Aye.” Louie mumbled back.
The three of them are silent spectators to the Waterwraith’s mere existence. The Pikmin warble nervously like how they usually do whenever he or Olimar have them in an active group. One of the two Bulbmin they’ve met noses into Louie’s hand, sniffing at it. It’s quaking slightly and he reluctantly pats it on the back as the Blue Pikmin sense that comfort’s being given and practically dogpile him. Olimar was always better with these things, giving them little names and playing games with them when sunset’s rare moments of downtime set in. Still, it gives him something to do aside from wait for something to change as the Waterwraith just keeps circling outside of his pipe.
One time his helmet cracked. They had split up, Olimar trying to unbury a treasure on a little island in the back half of the Perplexing Pool and Louie watching a squad of Yellow Pikmin break down an electrical fence. He had twiddled his thumbs before a Yellow Wollyhop took note of the attempted demolition and decided to attack. Louie had been curious if these creatures tasted different than their cave-dwelling counterparts but he didn’t want to call the Pikmin from their work. Both the President and Olimar were beginning to get antsy about how much debt they were still in even after a couple of caves, so time was a valuable commodity.
Olimar had engaged in hand-to-hand combat with a few of PNF-404’s native creatures before. Louie still remembers the shock of seeing Hocotate Freight’s model employee send his troops to carry back corpses and a few treasures before turning to the Dwarf Bulbears behind them and clobbering them with his fists. A trick I had learned on my first trip here , he had laughed. It was a good way to save time when the Pikmin were taking parts of my ship back. I’ve taken on a couple bigger like Wollyhops, but those are best handled with Pikmin if you wanted maximum efficiency.
If middle-aged, sore-backed Olimar could kill one of these, surely Louie could too. What he had failed to consider was that the creature’s opening leaps would knock him over, and by the time he began to push himself up it was too late. The Wollyhop came crashing down atop him, thankfully landing on only a small part of his head and arm. It was still enough to cause a tiny crack to slither up his helmet, and due to his position of lying supine water begin creeping in.
He had rolled to avoid the Wollyhop’s next attack, staggering to his feet and running out of range once he had got back on dry land and whistling his Pikmin. Olimar had contacted him on the radio shortly afterwards, asking about the sudden spike of damage that appeared on the monitor showing their suit’s durability. When Louie mentioned the crack, he went deathly silent before commanding him to return to the ship. To this date, it’s still the only time Olimar’s pulled rank on him (and, Louie’s pretty sure, anyone else).
The ship’s AI was almost as bad, radio turning into a staticky screech shortly afterwards he relayed what had happened. It had demanded that he stay inside for the rest of the day and spent half of its time buzzing around him as it checked for scans of oxygen poisoning. Three hours later, even once it had finished, the ship’s AI declared that he was still on house arrest until tomorrow. The Purple and White Pikmin had come skittering out of the hold to inspect what he was doing inside so early in the day, curiously watching as he patched up his helmet. He was a lot more careful when attacking creatures by himself after that.
The Waterwraith gurgles again, snapping him out of his musings. The Pikmin press closer. It would be a painful way to go; crushed by stone that would result in you being flat as a pancake once it was over. Pancakes. No, this thing wouldn’t lend itself to a batter well. It’s one of the things bothering him as well as the fact that the Waterwraith could kill him easily.
This stupid immaterial steamroller spits in the face of every single cycle of life and death that exists on this planet and all others. The living feed on the dead and the dead feed on the living. More advanced species will eventually slot other things into their needs such as shelter, community, achievement, and a thousand other little things but it all comes down to food in the end. Every creature has to eat, and they will often kill to do so.
He cannot fault the Bulbears or Burrowing Snagrets that guzzle down their troops by the numbers; all they want is to feed themselves and it’s not like the Pikmin are exempt from this fact as well. There is a reason why they carry the corpses of their enemies back to their Onions and it is to remain alive. He, Olimar, even the ship must eat to continue going. Despite the difference in makeup, motor fuel and food all have the same purpose to those who consume, and that is to make sure that they keep going.
There is a balance. No one kills more than they need to and there are always new creatures being born, new fruit being grown, new air cycling though the sky. Fungi break down the bodies that are left behind and the cycle begins anew. The dead feast on the living as much as the living feast on the death.
The Waterwraith does not need to feast. It kills because it can and there is no way to fight back against it. Even the lowliest prey has something they can do to combat their predators, but not here. Not in the caves where the time stretches so long it doesn’t pass and remnants of a strange civilization leave their handprints.
There is no spot in the food chain for a creature that serves no purpose. The realization makes him quake with anger this time. If the three of them are going to die on PNF-404 it will be after biting off more than they can chew against a creature they can wound, one that will return them to the cycle. They will not die to the unfeeling stone rollers of the Waterwraith in an unnatural rusted pipeway so they can make their boss a few Pokos.
“The Waterwraith makes slow turns. It’s not good at making circles either.” Louie reports, determination and spite starting to creep slowly through his system.
“I’m going to try and get it to follow me. Check if it can see things.” Olimar’s voice comes back a few moments later. It’s turned steely and Louie remembers the family that waits for him back home, the family he yearns to see again.
There's a massive thud that sends bits of sand and flecks of rust drifting down from the ceiling followed up by another one of the Waterwraith's reverberating gurgles.
"Could it be sensing the vibrations of our footsteps?" Olimar's voice crackled across the radio shortly after, much to their relief. "Or doing some kind of echolocation?"
"It could be triangulating our positions with supercomputers for all I care. Point is, it can't focus on both of you at once. If one of you distracts it while the other brings the Pikmin to my tractor beam, it'll be easier when you both have to escape." The Ship said.
“I’ll go first. My squad is the smallest and I’m closer. Louie, could you try going to the far end of the pipe and make some noise?"
"Mhm." Louie did not want to go to the far end of the pipe and make some noise. He wanted to stay here and keep an eye on the Waterwraith, make sure that it didn't try anything or go to chase Olimar. That was the thing about being in a team, he supposed. They all had their role to play. So he sucked it up, slipped down the pipe with the rest of his Pikmin, and started whistling as loud as he possibly could.
And there it was, trundling in an almost leisurely fashion towards him. The ledge created enough distance between them for Louie to be slightly taller. He didn’t want to figure out if it could climb up here. Great rings, don’t think about that! Louie whistled some more to distract himself, confused squad of Pikmin getting the memo and shrieking alongside him. They trusted him to get them out, even the flighty little Bulbmin. Alright, fine. Maybe he wouldn’t eat that one after all.
Just as soon as his lungs start to tire, Olimar’s deeper whistle echos through the cavern, causing the Waterwraith to skid back up the ramp. Louie’s softer whistle calls his squadron to action as he sprinted for the Ship’s beam. It’s almost like he’s the one chasing the Waterwraith. The creature thankfully doesn’t notice him; it’s faster than him by a long shot and dead set on getting Olimar, who’s remarkably spry for his age. Louie barely had enough time to push his smattering of Pikmin into the beam before it howls and U-turns towards him.
He practically hurls himself up the strange, blocky shapes and ledges of the sublevel, gunning it for the pipe. He zigzags like a champion, forcing the Waterwraith to match him as he dashed up a slope. The sound of footsteps greet him; Olimar stands in the Ship’s tractor beam with a hand outstretched.
The Waterwraith barrels down upon them, and Louie says one last thing before the Ship carries them away.
“One of these days, I’m going to come back and eat you.”