Date: Sun, 31 Oct 1999 02:30:07 -0400 From: "Susan M. Garrett" Subject: Nicholas, I Choose You! (1/2) To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu If you don't have the faintest idea what this crossover is about, you've been off planet, in another dimension, or in a coma for the past few months. And even if you DO know, turn off the machine and back away slowly . . . it's highly addictive. Trust me. Archive it if you dare. *** Nicholas, I Choose You! By Susan M. Garrett Nick stood at the railing just inside the entrance to the Raven. The lowered lights and the bone-deep thrum of the music provided a measure of solace for vampire and mortal alike, but still he searched for the troublemakers and their prey. Danger was a natural consequence of overlapping two such disparate worlds. Nothing caught his eye, but he hesitated a moment longer, turning his attention to the bar. LaCroix was on the phone, oblivious to the patrons or the bartenders who moved to fill the liquid needs and desires of their clientele. He extended his senses slightly, able to catch fragments of LaCroix's conversation over the din. "--I get them all. Variety is essential to this game, having the right piece at hand at the right moment." A pause as he listened, then a low chuckle. "Your strategy is laughable. But, I accept. At your convenience, of course." Another pause, LaCroix's tone becoming silken, but threaded with steel. "I'll always be ready for you. You can't hope to win against me? " LaCroix held the phone from his ear for a moment, the sound of the other phone being slammed into the receiver audible even to Nick's ears. LaCroix stared at it for a moment, his smile grim, then he replaced the receiver carefully in its cradle. Threading his way quickly through the crowd, Nick pushed mentally and physically at the mortals and vampires before him, all of whom gave way easily. He had to reach his master before LaCroix left--this 'game' sounded ominous. The crowd thinned as he approached the bar. One of the bartenders looked up at him then walked away in search of a paying customer. Nicholas stood across from LaCroix, allowing his fingers to rest lightly on the counter. "This is an inconvenient moment for a social call, Nicholas. I'm just on my way out." As he spoke, LaCroix scooped a set of small, marble-like objects into his hand, then tucked them into his trouser pocket. He met Nick's gaze and smiled pleasantly. "Stop by tomorrow evening if you'd like to chat. My schedule's free then." Not to be put off, Nick shook his head. "It's important." The gravity of his tone bought him a reprieve from immediate dismissal. LaCroix placed his hands on the lower portion of the bar, mimicking Nick's position. "Business or . . . personal?" "Business," said Nick quickly . . . perhaps too quickly, as LaCroix's smile grew a bit tighter. "The two murders this past weekend--the victims frequented bars, Goth hangouts." LaCroix sobered, his gaze moving past Nick to the interior of the Raven. "Not one of us." "No." Nick nodded as LaCroix's attention returned to him. "But I thought you'd like to know there are going to be a couple of undercovers mixing with the crowds this weekend. They might turn up here." "Everyone will be on their best behavior. I'll see to it." LaCroix's tone left no doubt in Nick's mind the Raven would be the least likely spot for unexpected trouble this weekend. "Good. Thanks." Nick hesitated, his gaze still locked with LaCroix's. "Walk you out?" "Hmmmn?" LaCroix's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Nick gestured toward the door. "You said you were on your way out." "Momentarily." LaCroix stepped out from behind the bar. "Thank you for your timely warning, detective. I'll keep you advised. Unsolved murders of club clientele are bad for business, after all." "Yeah. I guess so." Nick remained at the bar when LaCroix gave him a brief nod of dismissal then headed for the back room. His warning delivered, Nick prepared to go, but something about the conversation he'd overheard still haunted him. Out of curiosity, he sneaked a peak over the countertop. Even if he found nothing, there was still the possibility of using his police connections to trace the call. A few used wine glasses, an unemptied ashtray, an unmarked pad of paper . . . and tucked between the ashtray and the side of the bar, a small red and white marble. After a quick glance to make certain he was unobserved, Nick picked up the marble, then thrust it into his coat pocket. He strolled casually from the bar to the door leading to the rear offices of the Raven. Again, waiting for a moment when the attention of the staff was otherwise occupied, he slipped through the door and closed it quietly behind him. Barely a second passed before he felt a light touch of fresh air and heard the echoing thump of the service door being closed, the dead bolt being slipped into place. He ran to the metal door, the darkness of the hallway proving to be no obstacle, and placed his ear and hands against it. Outside there was a whoosh of displaced air as a vampire took to the sky. LaCroix. Nick's fingers moved to the dead bolt, but he paused before turning it. A tentative touch across the link that bound him to his master faltered, then died to nothingness--LaCroix had no intention of being followed or found. He found his thoughts echoing his master's earlier question, business or personal? Nick knew his question would go unanswered . . . but only for the moment. *** His return to the Caddie occurred simultaneously with a call to a body discovered along the lake shore. Nick spent the evening investigating the murder of a jogger who'd been killed sometime that morning, the corpse pushed out of sight and hidden in the bushes until an innocent dog walker had come upon the gruesome find. By the time his shift was over, there'd been no break in the case and that added frustration had done little to ease his worry about LaCroix's pressing engagement. It wasn't until he returned to the loft and was stepping out of the elevator that he gave another thought to the clue he'd discovered behind the bar. Nick fished the red and white ball from his coat pocket. He slipped out of his coat and tossed it to the couch, then seated himself on a chair. A child's toy, solid, with a metallic feel to it. He might not have given it a second look had LaCroix not swept a handful of these things into his pocket surreptitiously. And though it would have eased his mind greatly, Nick very much doubted LaCroix's haste was to avoid being late in competing in the international marble championships. Rolling the marble back and forth between his fingers, Nick smiled, remembering a game of his youth played with stones ground to a round shape. Thus had children always played with such things, but LaCroix had little interest in childish games. There must be something about it--Nick tossed it up into the air and caught it in his fist--something unique-- He nearly dropped it when the marble pushed against his hand, growing in size to something a little larger than an egg; he could just about grasp it comfortably. Staring at it in amazement, he found the change in size had brought more detail; the red and white sections were exact halves of a whole, a seam running along the joining that seemed to indicate it could open. There was also a small white button on one side. It was a toy, nothing more. What could happen? Nick pressed the button. The blaze of light startled him--this time he did drop the ball and it rolled onto the carpet. There was no heat to the light, just a hum and an intense flash which nearly blinded him. Nick pushed himself up from the chair, trying to shade his eyes with the flat of his hand. As his vision returned, he found he was no longer alone in the loft. There was a small, orange creature with big blue eyes standing on the carpet before the fireplace. If anything, it reminded him of the pictures of dragons he'd seen drawn in bestiaries or in the margins of old church documents. The creature was barely taller than his knees, standing upright on its hind legs. Its front paws were stubby, hands and feet ending in yellow claws, and its skin was smooth and very, very orange from the tip of its tail to the smooth, bald head. It sniffed for a moment, nostrils flaring in the stubby snout. "Char?" it asked, showing a row of tiny white teeth. He'd never seen anything like it before. Was it an illusion? Some sort of holographic display? Nick reached out to touch the creature's snout and it backed away a step, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Chaaaaaar--" it warned. "It's all right, little fella," said Nick soothingly, using a little of his vampire persuasion. "I'm not going to hurt--" "Charmander! Char!" squealed the creature. Then it opened its mouth and let loose a blast of flame. Vampire instincts were the only thing that saved Nick's hide--he dove to the carpet behind the chair, hands over his head. An instant later, the smell of smoking leather filled the loft. Nick raised his eyes over the charred top of the leather chair cautiously. The creature stood glaring at him, hands on its hips. "Char-char!" it stated emphatically. "Yeah. Okay. Why don't you stay there?" offered Nick. Noting the stuffing inside the chair was smoldering, he abandoned the creature and dashed to the kitchen. A glass of water down the inside of the chair would ruin it, but letting it smolder would set off the smoke alarms . . . and the sprinkler system could do a lot more damage over a wider area. The sound of tiny feet crossing the tile floor of his kitchen didn't register until he turned and found his kneecaps faced with the little orange dragon. "Char?" it asked questioningly, tail wagging. Then it pointed up at the glass of water in his hand. "Char! Char!" He hadn't noticed until that moment that the tip of its tail was afire, and yet the creature didn't seem to be in any pain. Perhaps it was supposed to be that way? The dragon clutched at his pantleg, tugging insistently, then pointed up toward the water. "Char?" Nick reached down and handed the glass to the dragon. It took the glass delicately between its claws and then tilted back its head. The lack of lips and the wide maw made drinking more of a throwing and swallowing motion and his kitchen floor was sprinkled with at least half the water from the glass. The dragon, however, was very careful to lift its tail high to prevent the flame from being dowsed. The creature held up the empty glass. "Char?" it asked again. Nick ran another glass of water from the tap and the dragon drank again, this time stopping before the glass was empty. It stood, watching him. Cautiously, Nick reached for the glass and the dragon surrendered it to him without a qualm. "I guess you're done, then," he decided. Dropping a dishrag to the floor, he used his foot to wipe up a majority of the spilled water. The dragon followed him around, at one point tugging at the dishrag. Nick moved his foot and the creature picked up the cloth, examining it. "That's dirty," said Nick. "Better give it to me." The creature looked up as he bent down to retrieve the cloth and its eyes narrowed. "Chaaaar?" Nick straightened quickly. "Why don't I give you a clean one, instead?" Opening a drawer, he withdrew a fresh dishtowel, holding it within the dragon's reach. It traded cloths with him, then rubbed the clean dishtowel on the side of its chubby face. "Charrrrrrrrrr," it said, in a sort of purring sound. "I'm glad your happy." Remembering the chair, Nick filled the glass of water again, then returned to the leather chair. Pouring the water through the back sent up a thin trail of smoke but after a second he sensed the fire was out--he couldn't feel any more heat. Kneeling by the chair, he was startled when he felt something brush against him--the dragon ducked under his arm and rubbed its head against his ribs. "Charrrrrr," it purred again. He rubbed the ridge over its eyes hesitantly and felt a slight tap against his leg as its tail waved. He sat down on the floor, and the creature settled into his lap, head resting against his chest. "Charrrrrr," it murmured. "Char. Charrrrrrrr." Its eyes were beginning to close. This wasn't a hologram. This wasn't a toy. This wasn't even a delusion--the smell of burned leather from the chair was enough to convince him of that. Nick was sitting on the floor of his loft with a tiny orange dragon snuggling against his chest, the dishtowel clutched between its paws like a security blanket. He felt the vampiric presence even before the scent of fresh air reached him. LaCroix dropped silently from the skylight, the heels of his boots thudding across the floor until he towered over Nick and the little dragon. "Ah, so that's where you went," said LaCroix, almost fondly. He met Nick's gaze. "I somehow misplaced it in the Raven. Thank you for taking such care of it, Nicholas." "Sssh!" Nick placed a finger to his lips, indicating the sleeping dragon. "If I were you, I'd keep track of this thing--it's a menace." He saw LaCroix's lips tighten in a suppressed smile and cleared his throat. "By the way, what is it?" "It's a charmander, a fire pokemon." When Nick stared at him blankly, LaCroix chuckled. "Surely even know what a pokemon is, Nicholas?" "Of course I do," answered Nick defiantly. The dragon--charmander--snuggled closer to him and Nick lowered his voice again. "It's . . . a fire-breathing dragon." LaCroix chuckled beneath his breath and walked to the fireplace mantle. "That's only one of a hundred and fifty known pokemon. There are countless more yet to be identified and catalogued. I'm determined to catch and train them all. It's an interesting pastime when one has eternity on one's hands, wouldn't you say?" Nick looked down when he heard a sleepy purr from the charmander--he'd been absently scratching the ridge over its eyes. "Train them? As housepets?" "Don't be absurd! To battle, of course." The phone conversation was starting to make sense, particularly in light of the fiery attack the charmander had made against his leather chair. It stirred again and rubbed its clawed paws against its eyelids, then blinked. Turning, it smiled up at Nick with a wide, sharp-toothed grin. "Charmander?" it asked sleepily. "Char!" Grinning, Nick rubbed his hand over the creature's bald scalp, then down its snout. "Yeah, I'm still here." Then he sobered and pointed toward the fireplace. "Somebody came looking for you." "Char?" LaCroix walked toward them, leaning down to scoop up the ball from the carpet. He straightened, then crooked a finger toward the creature. "Charmander, come." Nick felt the charmander shudder. It looked up at him sadly and clutched at his shirtfront with its claws. "Char?" "Charmander--" repeated LaCroix. Now it was Nick's turn to shiver--he'd heard LaCroix use that tone when calling him to heel time and again over the centuries. He knew what it was to be owned. Worse yet, he knew what it was to be owned by LaCroix. The charmander moved to one side as Nick rose to his feet, then it hid behind his legs. It shook its head and muttered, "Char! Char-Char! Char!" Nick didn't require a translation--he knew refusal when he saw it. Crossing his arms, he shrugged in LaCroix's direction. "I don't think he wants to go." "It doesn't have a choice." LaCroix hefted the red and white ball in his hand. "Charmander, return!" he commanded, holding out the open ball. A beam of light shot from it, heading toward the charmander. The creature slid to the other side of Nick, avoiding the beam, then shook its head again vehemently. "Cha-charmander-cha-char!" Nick could feel the charmander's claws digging into his flesh through his pantleg. He dropped a hand to the creature's head and said softly, "It's all right. If you don't want to go, I won't let him have you." LaCroix stared at Nick in surprise, then broke into a laugh. "You've never been able to stand against a master vampire; now you stand against a pokemon master as well? You're out of your league, Nicholas. Admit defeat and return the pokemon. Unless . . . ," LaCroix tossed the ball into the air and caught it again, "you want a match?" Not quite certain what LaCroix's offer entailed, Nick looked down at the charmander whose claws were making short work of his tailored trousers. "How about it?" he asked the creature. "Are you willing to fight for your freedom?" The charmander looked up at him, big blue eyes wide. It nodded gravely and uttered a determined, "Char." Nick patted it on the head again, then raised his gaze to LaCroix with a grim smile. "I think you have your answer." Go to part 2 for the thrilling Poke-conclusion (insert gratuitous WB crossover commercial here, but only if it's funny.) susang@vitinc.com -- http://www.vitinc.com/~susang EVER Faithful Ravenette. http://www.geocities.com/Vienna/2167/fiction.htm "Friends help you move. Real friends help you move bodies." Nicholas, I Choose You! (2/2) By Susan M. Garrett "Very well." LaCroix tossed him the red and white ball, then reached behind his jacket--Nick saw him withdraw another red and white marble, which grew to full size by the time he extended his hand. "This is hardly a regulation size field, but since it's an unofficial match that's to be expected. I'll warn you--the repairs will cost you a pretty penny." "Just get on with it," pressed Nick. Holding the ball, he glanced down at charmander, then back at LaCroix. "What do we do?" "Command your pokemon." LaCroix walked to the far end of the loft. As he turned, he threw the ball into the air, calling, "Wartortle, I choose you!" The light flashed again, the ball opening in mid-air. Before Nick could blink there was another creature standing on his carpet--something that looked a bit like a bipedal turtle, with pointy webbed ears and a bushy tail. The creature croaked, "Wartortle!" and glowered. "Charmander, I--uh, choose you," declared Nick, placing his hand behind the little dragon's head. The charmander didn't require much prompting. Its maw set firmly, it nodded and waddled to stand before Nick. "Charmander!" it squeaked. "Char! Char!" "Wartortle, water cannon attack," called LaCroix. "War!" announced the turtle-like creature. Nick jumped back as a steady stream of water with the pressure of a fire hose erupted from the creature's mouth. Charmander ducked, flaming tail caught between its paws, and the water doused the baby grand in the corner. "Now wait a minute!" called Nick. "Too late!" answered LaCroix. "I gave you ample warning. Unless you want to concede the match?" Charmander looked back at Nick, panic in its eyes. "Never!" cried Nick. He pointed toward the wartortle and called, "Charmander, do that flame thing. The flame-thrower thing. The way you burned my couch. Do it, now!" The charmander didn't pause to speak or nod, but wheeled around and fired a burst of flame at the Wartortle, who countered instantly with a squirt of water. The two forces combined to create a fog-like vapor which quickly began to fill the loft. "Charmander?" called Nick. Almost instantly, he spotted the flame on the end of its tail--the charmander waddled over to him. "If I can find you, so can--" "Agility attack!" called LaCroix, from the deepest part of the vapor mist. The wartortle barreled out of the mist as if it had been shot by a cannon, knocking both Nick and the charmander aside as if they'd been ten pins in a bowling lane. Nick landed easily, then glanced around worriedly, unable to find the charmander. Through the fog he could see the wartortle hold a hand up to its eyes, as if it were searching as well. A door opened--Nick smelled the chill air from the garage, tainted by the unleaded fuel fumes from the caddie. Almost instantly, he realized that Natalie was there; he could sense her perfume and heartbeat easily. "LaCroix! How dare you!" she called. "You stand me up and then I find you fighting ?" "I'm afraid I had to answer a challenge from Nicholas," said LaCroix, lost somewhere in the mist. "I'll defeat you in good time, Dr. Lambert." Nick spotted Natalie feeling her way to the table. He caught hold of her hand. "Nat, I'm at a loss here. What can a charmander do? And how do you find it?" "They're good at hiding," explained Natalie. "It's a tactic." Then she smiled at Nick. "I'd no idea you were a trainer." "I'm not. I'm just a sucker for freeing things LaCroix's intent on owning." His night vision wasn't much use, the water vapor interfering. "Charmander?" "Let me guess, the rain forest effect happened because LaCroix used a water pokemon versus a fire pokemon?" said Natalie softly. Nick squeezed her hand in response. "I thought so." "Do you concede the match, Nicholas?" asked LaCroix. "Um, no." Nick ducked under the table and spotted a flicker of flame. "Here it is." Natalie ducked with him, nodding sagely as the little dragon waddled toward them beneath the table. "Kind of a puny charmander, isn't it?" The charmander's eyes narrowed in an expression Nick warily remembered. "None of that!" he warned, sternly shaking his finger at the creature. "Nat's a friend. Save it for LaCroix and his wartortle." "LaCroix's got a wartortle?" asked Nat, impressed. She straightened and craned her neck, peering through the mist. "Damn! I haven't even captured a squirtle yet and he's gotten his to evolve." Just then, a small blue shape waddled toward them out of the vapor fog. "Wartortle!" it crowed, waving its arms. Natalie pulled on Nick's collar and whispered, "Leer!" "There's no time for that now--" "Tell your charmander to use a leer attack!" she instructed. Nick dropped to his knees beside the orange dragon. "Charmander, leer attack, now!" "Char!" squeaked the creature emphatically. It then peered intently at the wartortle, catching its gaze and holding it. "And this is going to work?" asked Nick anxiously. Natalie patted his shoulder. "Trust me. In close proximity, it's one of charmander's best attacks. You should study your pokedex more often." "My poke-what?" She patted his shoulder again. "Never mind. Just watch." Wartortle appeared stunned, caught by charmander's intense stare. It wobbled on its feet unsteadily. "Agility attack!" called LaCroix. But it was too late. The wartortle groaned and fell over backwards onto its shell, eyes crossed. "Char!" called charmander triumphantly, whirling toward Nick and holding up two tiny claws in a 'v' shape. "Charmander-char!" Nick held his arms open and the charmander ran toward him, hugging him fiercely. He looked over its head toward Natalie. "Did we just win?" "Yep. And I take it LaCroix is short a charmander?" "You're correct, Dr. Lambert," noted LaCroix sharply as he appeared from the mist. Pointing a white and red ball toward the wartortle, he clicked the button and the creature disappeared in a flash of light. With a sigh, he gestured toward the charmander. "It belongs to you now, Nicholas, and much good will it do you. It's been nothing but trouble for me since the moment I captured it. Good riddance." "Maybe you just didn't understand it," said Nick, keeping a firm grip on charmander, who seemed ready to bolt toward LaCroix and damage the pantlegs of his trousers. "Or maybe you just aren't up enough on your fire pokemon." Natalie reached into her pocket and withdrew a red and white marble. "Care for a demonstration?" "Another time, perhaps," said LaCroix, lips drawing into a tight line. " I'm afraid we'll have to postpone our match. But I'd like to leave you with a small sample of my abilities--" Nick tried to rise to his feet, but LaCroix was too fast--the red and white ball fell and light flashed. When it cleared, Nick found himself staring down at a very pink, very round, very blue-eyed little creature holding a small pen or marker in its hand. "Jigglypuff!" the creature squeaked. Natalie fell to her hands and knees before it. "Oh, you have a Jigglypuff, too? It's so cute!" "Slumber song," ordered LaCroix. There was a faint rush of wind at LaCroix's departure, the mist following him out the skylight like the tail of a kite. Before Nick could move, he heard the notes of a song begin from the tiny creature's mouth. "Jiggely-puff, jiggleeee-puff. Jiggelypuff, jiggleleeeeeeee--" He heard Natalie yawn and found himself yawning in sympathy . . . or so he thought. "Nat? What's-?" Yawn. "What's--?" Another yawn. "But I'm not--" His eyes closed before he hit the floor and he was only vaguely aware of charmander curling beneath his arm, snoring faintly. *** Nick yawned, then yawned again. His senses told him without a doubt the sun had just set and he opened his eyes, expecting to see his bedroom. Instead, a pair of large blue dragon eyes peered at him from the side of his bed. "Char?" Nick sat straight up in bed, barely refraining from levitating to the ceiling in surprise. Hearing a knock at the bedroom door, he looked up and saw Natalie carrying a tray, on which was set an open bottle and a wine glass. "Good--he got you up. I was afraid you were going to sleep all night." Natalie set the tray on the night stand and patted charmander on the head. The little dragon crowed happily and rubbed his snout against her skirt. "He's been up for hours, pacing. He probably thought you were dead. Pokemon don't know much about vampires, I guess." "Well this vampire doesn't know much about pokemon," said Nick, "so the feeling's mutual." He poured a glass of cow blood and sipped at it. "Can I count on you to fill me in?" "I'll do more than that--you've called in sick to work for tonight and I've got you an appointment at the Toronto pokemon preserve." She stuck her tongue out nervously for an instant. "I sort of hinted that you'd be making a donation, so you might want to bring your checkbook. I told them you already have your first pokemon and they said they'd be happy to set up your pokedex and get you started." "My . . . pokedex. Started." Nick let the words sink in, then shook his head. "I'm sorry, Nat, but I have no idea what you're talking about." "I'm talking about this being the first night of the rest of your life as a pokemon trainer." Natalie cleared her throat noisily, then pointed down at charmander. "Otherwise, why did you battle LaCroix for charmander?" "Because he didn't want to go with LaCroix, that's all." Nick patted the creature's head and wasn't unhappy to see its tail wag happily, flame swishing back and forth. "I was going to set him free." "Set him free?" Natalie's foot tapped expectantly. When Nick didn't answer, she said, "If you let him loose in downtown Toronto, he'll get hit by a car or get beaten up or stolen by unscrupulous pokemon thieves. Pokemon need love and attention, Nick. Would you want LaCroix to catch him again?" Nick looked down at charmander, whose eyes were wide and frightened, then back up at Natalie. "No! I mean, I don't want that to happen, but I can't keep him." "And why not?" "Um, fire . . . vampire--" Nick made an x sign with his hands. "Mutually exclusive concepts." "He'll be fine once you train him not to set the furniture on fire--getting that chair fixed is going to be expensive, by the way. Besides, look how you've bonded with him. You can't abandon him now. Charmander are very loyal, you know." Natalie patted charmander on the head again. "Why don't we let you dress in peace. We can go out to the preserve after I feed charmander. I'd like to pick up some literature, too. Another battle or two like last night and your charmander will evolve into a chameleon in no time. when you'll have to worry about the fire problems. I'd consider asbestos seat covers for the Caddie, if I were you." She grinned, as if expecting him to follow her line of thought. "Come on, charmander. Let's see what Nick's got in the kitchen." "But--? But--?" Natalie closed the bedroom door after charmander waddled out of the room. Overwhelmed, Nick picked up the bottle of blood, fully intending to fill his wineglass, but distantly aware of Natalie's running commentary to charmander about the nocturnal habits of vampires as they headed downstairs. What charmander's eat, anyway? Asbestos seat covers? Tossing aside the wineglass, Nick upended the bottle of cow's blood and gulped it hurriedly, figuring he'd need it before the night was over. When he was finished, he found himself desperately wishing for another. And that's how Nicholas B. Knight, vampire and Toronto homicide detective, joined the ranks of pokemon trainers. The End *** Comments and bulbasaurs can be directed to susang@vitinc.com, God help me. Pika-pika! susang@vitinc.com -- http://www.vitinc.com/~susang EVER Faithful Ravenette. http://www.geocities.com/Vienna/2167/fiction.htm "Friends help you move. Real friends help you move bodies."