Chapter Text
Corbeau broke into a sprint in an attempt to catch up to Scolipede, but his two legs proved no match the Pokémon’s four. He was always surprised at how a creature so large could move so fast.
Pedestrians gasped and jumped out of the way as Scolipede barrelled through the streets of Lumiose. Corbeau followed close behind, deftly darting through the sea of onlookers. Eventually Scolipede rounded a familiar corner, guarded by two young women in white uniforms, who simply watched in shock as the Pokemon darted into the Justice Dojo.
“Of course, it just had to be this place.” Corbeau muttered under his breath. He had no problem with the Fist of Justice as a whole. In fact, he rather resonated with their ideal of self-betterment, and got along with their second-in-command on their brief passings by.
Her brother, on the other hand…
Corbeau cursed to himself as he stormed under the archway into the dojo, praying that the leader wasn’t in so he could retrieve Scolipede and return to headquarters unhindered.
His hopes were dashed as he found his partner Pokémon at ease, sitting with his former opponent’s Falinks in the corner of the dojo. Corbeau stood in shock. This was what Scolipede had dragged him out of his office and halfway across the city for? He let out a groan of frustration as he fetched the Dusk Ball in his pocket. “Scolipede, we have more pressing matters to attend to.”
“Mr Corbeau! A surprise seeing you around here!”
Corbeau flinched at the loud, grating voice emanating from behind him, gripping onto the Dusk Ball for dear life to hide the fact he almost dropped it in shock.
“Ivor,” he said simply, not even turning to acknowledge the dojo leader’s presence, in spite of the fact that he was, quite literally, now standing in his shadow. No man has any business being that tall.
“It’s a good thing you’re here!” Ivor said, a bright smile on his face. “I’ve been dying for a rematch!”
“Have you sustained a blow to the head? Do you not recall how I thrashed you back at the Super-Tournoi de Jacinthe?” Corbeau scoffed. “No, I’m not here to waste my time with a rematch. I’m simply here to retrieve Scolipede.”
Ivor then turned to look at their two Pokemon together. His Falinks had broken file, each of them parading around in a circle around Scolipede. “Aw! They’re friends!” He placed his hands on his hips. “Come to think of it, Falinks had seemed a little off after the tournament. Maybe they missed your Scolipede?”
“Why on earth would they miss the Pokémon that lead to their defeat?” Corbeau asked skeptically.
“Nothing builds a bond like battling! Maybe you could try a round or two here at the dojo!” Ivor exclaimed.
“I’m standing right next to you, you don’t need to shout, and thank you for the offer, but I’m far too busy doing…just about anything else, actually,” Corbeau retorted and shook his head. He held up the ball, watching as Scolipede retreated inside. He went to return the ball to his pocket when the ball began to shake violently, as Scolipede struggled to escape. “What has gotten into you today?” He hissed, holding the ball clamped shut as he stuffed it back into his pocket. He turned around and to made his way out of the dojo.
“Suit yourself, but I’ll be here if you ever change your mind! Later, Mr. Corbeau!” Ivor shouted, waving as the Syndicate leader walked away. He turned around and crouched down to his Falinks, who was watching Corbeau walk away with Scolipede in tow. He gently placed a hand on the brass's, the leader’s, head. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll see Scolipede again soon,” he said, flashing a reassuring smile.
The next day, Corbeau was sitting at his desk, going over the most pressing matters for the day. More Ghost-type Pokémon taking residence in a house near Jaune Plaza, and then there was that trifling matter of some money lent to the owner of Café Kizuna.
scratch scratch scratch
He took a minute to compose himself, shutting out the sounds of his surroundings before returning to the task at hand. Right, he had to send another courier for that old lady on Autumnal Avenue who had trouble leaving her house for grocery runs.
scratch scratch scratch
He sighed and put the pen down, distracted by the sound of Scolipede scratching at the door like a dejected pet who wants nothing more than to go outside. He walked over to it, placing a hand on its carapace. “You’re not going to let this up, are you?” He asked. He dropped his usual tone, his voice now softer, more caring. He only ever dropped the edge around his Pokémon. He couldn’t dream of ever speaking in this manner around his employees, not even Philippe. Not that anyone would have the audacity to say anything about it if he did.
Fifteen minutes later, the two of them sauntered into the Justice Dojo. Scolipede wasted no time reuniting with its new friend, and in a matter of seconds the individual members of Falinks were using Scolipede as a slide, which garnered a collective awww from several members of the dojo.
“I knew you’d be back! Reconsider my offer?” Ivor called out as he ran back over to Corbeau. Despite the sun being blocked out by Ivor’s sheer size, Corbeau couldn’t help but squint through his glasses at the sheer aura that the other radiated. Of all the partner Pokémon Scolipede had to grow attached to, did it have to take a liking to one whose trainer was so…so…
Sickening?
“My answer will always be no, so I suggest you stop asking.” Corbeau said plainly. “I’m simply here because Scolipede has been scratching at the door all day wanting to see your Falinks, and it’s hindering my work. I happen to have some matters to attend to in the area, so I figured I would leave it in your care.”
He phrased it as if it was not a suggestion, but simply as something that was going to happen.
“But what if you get attacked?” Ivor asked.
“I’ve got my other Pokémon, and I’m more than capable of defending myself,” replied Corbeau. “I’ll be back once I’ve tended to my business.”
With that, he made his way back out of the dojo, casting one last look at his Scolipede playing with his rival’s Falinks. Bothersome as coming all the way to this part of the city was, he couldn’t remember the last time Scolipede had looked so at peace. The Pokémon had been through just as much as he had, after all, but he felt something else wrapped tightly under that feeling. Colder, more sour.
He refused to unpack it, he had too much to get on with. A small smile curled at the corner of his mouth as he sauntered down the cobblestone alleyway to his next job.