Categories > Anime/Manga > Pokemon > Stanford
A/N: Can anyone see what the running gag is? If you don’t see it, I’ll tell you anyway. Émile is very sensitive and slightly crazy – he does dumb things (it is his job after all…). Anyway, he tends to vomit a lot… XD Poor guy… lol.
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Chapter 30
“I-I’m sorry for dumping all of this on you…,” he sighed.
“No-no, Dad… don’t worry about it… you dump whatever you want on me,” I hugged him tightly. He hugged me so tightly that I nearly choked. “D-dad…,” I gagged.
“Oh… s-sorry,” he let go and we both sat down.
“It’s all right… just telling me what happened might help me understand better about you.”
“OK then,” he cleared his throat. “It’s not unlike my previous flashback.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Flashback, Émile’s POV, about 1 ½ ago…
It had been a wild day – a fellow friend of mine and me were at a hotel in order to catch illegal prostitutes (which is illegal in the uptown area of Veilstone). You have to be smart and quick-witted, otherwise they’ll know if you’re a cop or not. They were throwing an extremely wild party complete with drugs, smoking and alcohol and sex– not my type of party, but then again, these parties go unnoticed usually. There’s a catch though – you have to go along with what they say, otherwise they will figure out who you are. This one prostitute kept begging me for sex, which was extremely annoying because umm… you already know why.
“Come on… have sex with me!” She begged drunkenly.
“Nah… I can’t,” I chuckled. “It hurts… down there…”
“I’m so-so sorry to hear that…,” she stammered.
“Hey Looker, I bet I can get laid by more than five women in less than an hour!” My good friend, whose codename is ‘Champ’, chuckled. “I bet you $50!”
“You’re on,” I replied jokingly. A bunch of prostitutes and him went back into another hotel room… it was just this one hooker and me.
“What if I injected you with this?” She jabbed me with something and then began to strip both of our clothes. I’m not one that likes hoes, but she was hot… it turned me on like a dog that’s sniffing a bitch in heat. She pushed me onto the bed that we were standing next to…
I WAS LAID. Hell yeah, I was laid for the first time in awhile. I hadn’t had sex in over six years for goodness sake!
“What-what did you inject me with? How come it doesn’t hurt down there…,” I yowled happily.
“It’s morphine…,” she touched my hair.
“This is base to Looker… are you there? You sure have been there awhile… over,” my boss said through my radio. I picked it up.
“Busy… getting laid…, over…,” I replied and turned it off.
“Who was that honey?” She stared into my eyes.
“It was my dad, wondering when I was going to come home,” I lied. “Morphine… it’s a nice… drug…,” I started to fall asleep.
“Looker, Looker wake up!” ‘Champ’ started to shake me. I was still bare…
“Huh? What is it?” I noticed the hooker wasn’t on me anymore.
“You owe me $50!” He grinned. I chuckled, grabbed my wallet, and handed him $50.
“I cannot believe you just got laid… how many times?” I grinned.
“Six times,” he held up six fingers. All of the prostitutes began to collect back in this room and they stared at me… down there. “Oh, Looker, better be careful, they seem to be attracted to groins…,” he sneered.
“Right then…,” I slipped my clothes back on. “Can I have a word with you, just you and me?” I looked at him straight in the eyes. He nodded and we both walked in the bathroom. I locked the door so no one could just barge in. “Rico, come on, we need to catch these hookers and take them to jail, what’s taking us so long?”
“I just wanted to get laid…,” he replied.
“Is that all you ever think about?!” I growled and pushed him into the wall. “Our job is to lock up these bitches, not fuck them!” I growled. “All you think about is getting FUCKED, well; you’re going to lose your job if you keep this up! You got that! Now do your job – I am your FUCKING supervisor you know!” I let go of my grip and he collapsed on his knees.
“Look, Émile… I’m sorry…. I’ll try not to let this happen again…”
“Good… if I catch you getting fucked again, you’re fired,” I sighed forcibly. “You got that?” He nodded weakly. “All right… sorry for yelling… I hope no one heard us…” I started to feel a bit woozy. “Ugh… one of the hookers gave me morphine… you can go if you want… just shut the door…,” I started to feel vertigo. I noticed there was a red spot where the hooker injected me. He nodded, walked out and shut the door. I was just barely able to make it to the door to lock it again. I don’t know why, but in almost all of my police work, I end up vomiting: well this was no different, but I’m used to it. I shakily walked out of the bathroom to see that Rico was staring at me.
“Are you OK… I heard you vomiting – it sounds like a million elephants stampeding!”
“I don’t have time for your sarcasm right now…,” I dizzily replied, my voice slurred. I nearly collapsed. “What is going on…,” I thought. “I wonder if morphine causes dizziness…”
“Bad news…,” he gave me something that came from his pocket. I read what it said: Temazepam. My face went white as snow.
“Th-this is i-illegal here…,” I slurred. I was starting to become confused. “And it-it used to be an OTC drug…”
The next thing I knew, several men with guns came in one by one. I couldn’t see their faces except the fact that they were wearing black facemasks.
“How dare you steal our hookers!” One of them growled.
“These are ours!”
“Exactly…,” the largest one (presumably the boss) popped his knuckles and back. “You move and you’re dead. GET ON THE GROUND, everyone, if you stupid bitches!” I had never been so scared in my life – we all did what he said. He walked past us to make sure we weren’t moving. I got a glimpse of his boots: I had seen them before – he was one of the most wanted criminals in all of Veilstone! We never knew his real name, so we just called him ‘New York Minute’, because he would do his work so quickly that we could never catch him. “Pat down everyone and take their weapons…” I froze when he said that. Without anyone looking, I was able to pop my radio into my mouth. They patted all of us down and took both Rico’s and my guns (both .45 calibre Glock pistols.) “They’re loaded,” he opened up the barrels of guns and dumped all the bullets out of them. What a waste!
“This is ‘New York Minute’… we’ve tried years to catch him… I mustn’t slip up…,” I thought. I was a bit surprised I could actually see, judging the fact that that hooker gave me temazepam. I still didn’t feel very good, though. “I must not blow my cover…” Ugh… I seriously still did not feel good – it felt as if I had to heave still. “Must not… vomit…”
“OK, we’re going to go for awhile, if anyone moves, they’re dead!” ‘New York Minute’ said gruffly. They were testing us – most terrorists do this. I sighed in relief because they had left, but I still didn’t feel that great. I spat the radio out of my mouth. Somehow, despite having expectorate and smelling vaguely like vomit (ugh, I hate saying that); it still worked.
“This is Looker t-to base… re-requesting backup, o-over…,” I slurred through the radio.
“Hey! I told you not to move!” One of NYM’s men hollered. The next thing I knew, this person had shot me, in back and arm. I could feel and see blood just creating small pools around me. I never realised this, but I had forgotten he had shot me again in the back…
“Officer… down…,” I just barely managed to say via radio before he shot me for the fourth time. Apparently, he shot Rico, too. I coughed up blood. I thought I was going to die… I could barely move, I was in so much pain. I stared at my blood that was pooling around my chin. I wasn’t fond of blood, but after staring at mine, I started to get used to it. “R-Rico… are you still t-ther... e…,” I collapsed.
The next thing I felt, was someone using the Heimlich manoeuvre on me… but that was all I felt…
“Émile… Émile… wake up… please?” I heard Rico call my name. I opened my eyes slowly. I moaned.
“Ugh…,” I looked around to see I was in a hospital of all places. “W-what happened… why did someone use the Heimlich on me…”
“When the other officers found you, they saw that you were choking on your own blood and vomit… but they brought you here because you were unconscious.”
I noticed that I had an arm brace on my right arm. “Hmm…?” I mumbled to myself.
“Oh… I don’t know why they do that, I think because one of the bullets hit a muscle in your arm. I noticed the he had one, too. “Yeah… I have one too, but it wasn’t as bad as yours though…”
“I’m used to breaking my arm, it’s no problem at all to me,” I nodded. “Excuse me a second,” I got up and realised I was connected to an IV drip. “Humph,” I grabbed the pole and brought it with me to the bathroom. I noticed something peculiar…
“Huh…?” I blinked. Why does it hurt…? For nearly 22 years, it’s not hurting…. “Why doesn’t it hurt to urinate…,” I blinked again. “It always hurts…”
I walked back to my bed and sighed. I looked over to see that Rico had fallen asleep in one of those chairs that people put next to hospital beds. Whatever was in my IV drip, started to relax my muscles. “Ahh…,” I sighed in relief. I’m not one that likes hospitals, but this was more relaxing than my stupid office. A doctor woke me up a few hours later, and told me that I could be released… but there was something peculiar: he gave me a bottle of Vicodin.
Present
“This is something I usually don’t tell anyone… but I fast got addicted to it… I almost couldn’t withdraw from it – I constantly vomited, I shook like crazy, I was drowsy, hungry, sleepy, constant night sweats… confused. I don’t even know how I coped; it took me months to get back to normal. Also, when I was on it, it never even hurt to urinate – it was weird…”
“Dad…,” he patted my back. “Don’t be afraid to say penis, we’re adults here. I understand… it’s awkward saying it in front of a son…”
“Right then…,” I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry… Anyway, it helped deal with my pain in my arm, back and penis… except when I withdrew from the Vicodin, it started to hurt again…”
Flashback, 1 ½ years ago…
“Need… Vicodin…,” I clumsily walked through my house. I had just withdrawn from it – I think it was the worst thing I had ever done. Why did they give me Vicodin when they know I would get addicted to it and have bad withdrawals? I collapsed on the couch, shaking. I woke up at around three AM to night sweats and convulsions. I thought I was going to die, even though I doubted it. Apparently, I was late for work because I woke up again to see that someone was shaking me (to wake me up).
“Émile… Émile… Émile…,” it was Rico. “Émile wake up…”
“Rico, shut up, I’m awake!” I looked at him straight in the eyes. “Is there something wrong?”
“You’re late for work – the boss is wondering where you are! We’ve been trying to call you but you never answered…,” he blinked. “Hey you look sweaty and you’re really shaking…”
“That’s because I’m going through a drug withdrawal!” I snapped, I didn’t mean to. “S-sorry… I didn’t mean to snap… I’m just really stressed going through this withdrawal…”
“Well… the boss is waiting for you… I’ll see you later…”
“Bye Rico…,” I sighed and walked off and shut my front door. I yawned and got up. I walked to the bathroom and stared at my wanly face – it was pale white – probably due to the obvious. “Ugh… I don’t even know if I can make it to work…,” I groaned.
Despite feeling like crap, I was somehow able to make it to work. I wobbly walked through the parking lot, and the front door. I traipsed to my desk and nearly slammed my head on my desk. “Ugh…,” I moaned. “I don’t feel very good…,” I felt nauseous.
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Present…
“Ugh… this is so embarrassing… it’s something I’ll regret my whole life…”
“W-what is it?” He looked at me funny.
“I’ll just tell you…,” I blushed brightly.
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Back to flashback
“Émile… are you OK?” My boss walked up to me.
“Yeah… I’m fine…,” I groaned.
“You sure?”
“No, I’m not really sure…,” I tried not to snap. “I don’t really feel very good…”
“OK… well you’re welcome to go to the bathroom anytime you want…” It was too late – I had accidentally thrown up on my own boss’s shirt. I was so embarrassed. I was in pure shock; it was as if I couldn’t move my mouth. My eyes rolled to the back of my head and I fainted. I woke up to my boss shaking me. I flushed the deepest red that anyone had ever seen.
“S-sorry…,” was all I could muster. I stared at the ground.
“Émile…,” Boss (he prefers being called that, so that’s why I call him that) sighed. “It-it’s OK… it was a mistake…,” he looked at my face. “Your-your face is so pale…”
“That’s because I’m going through a drug withdrawal… and I feel like crap… no joke,” I sighed and shrugged. “Oh… did I mention that I almost crashed my car getting here?”
“You what…?” He looked at me funny.
“Yeah…,” I sighed. “I’m really tired…”
“You’re dismissed for now, but you don’t need you to drive home.”
“No… I want to work – because I don’t ever give up – no matter how I feel.”
“OK… I’m going to change shirt, I guess…,” he walked off. I was so drowsy that I feel asleep at my desk…
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Present
“So… that ends my flashback… of my worst month I’ve ever lived…”
“Dad… are you all right?”
“Y-yeah… I’m fine…”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah…,” I looked down to see that my cell phone was ringing. I answered. “Hallo? Das ist ‘Looker’. Was…?! Sie machen richtig Spass? Oh mein Gott ... nein! Ich werde dort bald sein,” I hung up. “Stan… bad news… Apollo is destroying Saffron City…”
(Translation: You're kidding, right? Oh my God... no! I'll be there soon.)
“Oh… no…,” he nearly collapsed. “Come on… we’re going to need everyone’s help in this…”
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TBC…
A/N: Yep, you’ll definitely hate me for this cliffhanger… sorry!
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Chapter 30
“I-I’m sorry for dumping all of this on you…,” he sighed.
“No-no, Dad… don’t worry about it… you dump whatever you want on me,” I hugged him tightly. He hugged me so tightly that I nearly choked. “D-dad…,” I gagged.
“Oh… s-sorry,” he let go and we both sat down.
“It’s all right… just telling me what happened might help me understand better about you.”
“OK then,” he cleared his throat. “It’s not unlike my previous flashback.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Flashback, Émile’s POV, about 1 ½ ago…
It had been a wild day – a fellow friend of mine and me were at a hotel in order to catch illegal prostitutes (which is illegal in the uptown area of Veilstone). You have to be smart and quick-witted, otherwise they’ll know if you’re a cop or not. They were throwing an extremely wild party complete with drugs, smoking and alcohol and sex– not my type of party, but then again, these parties go unnoticed usually. There’s a catch though – you have to go along with what they say, otherwise they will figure out who you are. This one prostitute kept begging me for sex, which was extremely annoying because umm… you already know why.
“Come on… have sex with me!” She begged drunkenly.
“Nah… I can’t,” I chuckled. “It hurts… down there…”
“I’m so-so sorry to hear that…,” she stammered.
“Hey Looker, I bet I can get laid by more than five women in less than an hour!” My good friend, whose codename is ‘Champ’, chuckled. “I bet you $50!”
“You’re on,” I replied jokingly. A bunch of prostitutes and him went back into another hotel room… it was just this one hooker and me.
“What if I injected you with this?” She jabbed me with something and then began to strip both of our clothes. I’m not one that likes hoes, but she was hot… it turned me on like a dog that’s sniffing a bitch in heat. She pushed me onto the bed that we were standing next to…
I WAS LAID. Hell yeah, I was laid for the first time in awhile. I hadn’t had sex in over six years for goodness sake!
“What-what did you inject me with? How come it doesn’t hurt down there…,” I yowled happily.
“It’s morphine…,” she touched my hair.
“This is base to Looker… are you there? You sure have been there awhile… over,” my boss said through my radio. I picked it up.
“Busy… getting laid…, over…,” I replied and turned it off.
“Who was that honey?” She stared into my eyes.
“It was my dad, wondering when I was going to come home,” I lied. “Morphine… it’s a nice… drug…,” I started to fall asleep.
“Looker, Looker wake up!” ‘Champ’ started to shake me. I was still bare…
“Huh? What is it?” I noticed the hooker wasn’t on me anymore.
“You owe me $50!” He grinned. I chuckled, grabbed my wallet, and handed him $50.
“I cannot believe you just got laid… how many times?” I grinned.
“Six times,” he held up six fingers. All of the prostitutes began to collect back in this room and they stared at me… down there. “Oh, Looker, better be careful, they seem to be attracted to groins…,” he sneered.
“Right then…,” I slipped my clothes back on. “Can I have a word with you, just you and me?” I looked at him straight in the eyes. He nodded and we both walked in the bathroom. I locked the door so no one could just barge in. “Rico, come on, we need to catch these hookers and take them to jail, what’s taking us so long?”
“I just wanted to get laid…,” he replied.
“Is that all you ever think about?!” I growled and pushed him into the wall. “Our job is to lock up these bitches, not fuck them!” I growled. “All you think about is getting FUCKED, well; you’re going to lose your job if you keep this up! You got that! Now do your job – I am your FUCKING supervisor you know!” I let go of my grip and he collapsed on his knees.
“Look, Émile… I’m sorry…. I’ll try not to let this happen again…”
“Good… if I catch you getting fucked again, you’re fired,” I sighed forcibly. “You got that?” He nodded weakly. “All right… sorry for yelling… I hope no one heard us…” I started to feel a bit woozy. “Ugh… one of the hookers gave me morphine… you can go if you want… just shut the door…,” I started to feel vertigo. I noticed there was a red spot where the hooker injected me. He nodded, walked out and shut the door. I was just barely able to make it to the door to lock it again. I don’t know why, but in almost all of my police work, I end up vomiting: well this was no different, but I’m used to it. I shakily walked out of the bathroom to see that Rico was staring at me.
“Are you OK… I heard you vomiting – it sounds like a million elephants stampeding!”
“I don’t have time for your sarcasm right now…,” I dizzily replied, my voice slurred. I nearly collapsed. “What is going on…,” I thought. “I wonder if morphine causes dizziness…”
“Bad news…,” he gave me something that came from his pocket. I read what it said: Temazepam. My face went white as snow.
“Th-this is i-illegal here…,” I slurred. I was starting to become confused. “And it-it used to be an OTC drug…”
The next thing I knew, several men with guns came in one by one. I couldn’t see their faces except the fact that they were wearing black facemasks.
“How dare you steal our hookers!” One of them growled.
“These are ours!”
“Exactly…,” the largest one (presumably the boss) popped his knuckles and back. “You move and you’re dead. GET ON THE GROUND, everyone, if you stupid bitches!” I had never been so scared in my life – we all did what he said. He walked past us to make sure we weren’t moving. I got a glimpse of his boots: I had seen them before – he was one of the most wanted criminals in all of Veilstone! We never knew his real name, so we just called him ‘New York Minute’, because he would do his work so quickly that we could never catch him. “Pat down everyone and take their weapons…” I froze when he said that. Without anyone looking, I was able to pop my radio into my mouth. They patted all of us down and took both Rico’s and my guns (both .45 calibre Glock pistols.) “They’re loaded,” he opened up the barrels of guns and dumped all the bullets out of them. What a waste!
“This is ‘New York Minute’… we’ve tried years to catch him… I mustn’t slip up…,” I thought. I was a bit surprised I could actually see, judging the fact that that hooker gave me temazepam. I still didn’t feel very good, though. “I must not blow my cover…” Ugh… I seriously still did not feel good – it felt as if I had to heave still. “Must not… vomit…”
“OK, we’re going to go for awhile, if anyone moves, they’re dead!” ‘New York Minute’ said gruffly. They were testing us – most terrorists do this. I sighed in relief because they had left, but I still didn’t feel that great. I spat the radio out of my mouth. Somehow, despite having expectorate and smelling vaguely like vomit (ugh, I hate saying that); it still worked.
“This is Looker t-to base… re-requesting backup, o-over…,” I slurred through the radio.
“Hey! I told you not to move!” One of NYM’s men hollered. The next thing I knew, this person had shot me, in back and arm. I could feel and see blood just creating small pools around me. I never realised this, but I had forgotten he had shot me again in the back…
“Officer… down…,” I just barely managed to say via radio before he shot me for the fourth time. Apparently, he shot Rico, too. I coughed up blood. I thought I was going to die… I could barely move, I was in so much pain. I stared at my blood that was pooling around my chin. I wasn’t fond of blood, but after staring at mine, I started to get used to it. “R-Rico… are you still t-ther... e…,” I collapsed.
The next thing I felt, was someone using the Heimlich manoeuvre on me… but that was all I felt…
“Émile… Émile… wake up… please?” I heard Rico call my name. I opened my eyes slowly. I moaned.
“Ugh…,” I looked around to see I was in a hospital of all places. “W-what happened… why did someone use the Heimlich on me…”
“When the other officers found you, they saw that you were choking on your own blood and vomit… but they brought you here because you were unconscious.”
I noticed that I had an arm brace on my right arm. “Hmm…?” I mumbled to myself.
“Oh… I don’t know why they do that, I think because one of the bullets hit a muscle in your arm. I noticed the he had one, too. “Yeah… I have one too, but it wasn’t as bad as yours though…”
“I’m used to breaking my arm, it’s no problem at all to me,” I nodded. “Excuse me a second,” I got up and realised I was connected to an IV drip. “Humph,” I grabbed the pole and brought it with me to the bathroom. I noticed something peculiar…
“Huh…?” I blinked. Why does it hurt…? For nearly 22 years, it’s not hurting…. “Why doesn’t it hurt to urinate…,” I blinked again. “It always hurts…”
I walked back to my bed and sighed. I looked over to see that Rico had fallen asleep in one of those chairs that people put next to hospital beds. Whatever was in my IV drip, started to relax my muscles. “Ahh…,” I sighed in relief. I’m not one that likes hospitals, but this was more relaxing than my stupid office. A doctor woke me up a few hours later, and told me that I could be released… but there was something peculiar: he gave me a bottle of Vicodin.
Present
“This is something I usually don’t tell anyone… but I fast got addicted to it… I almost couldn’t withdraw from it – I constantly vomited, I shook like crazy, I was drowsy, hungry, sleepy, constant night sweats… confused. I don’t even know how I coped; it took me months to get back to normal. Also, when I was on it, it never even hurt to urinate – it was weird…”
“Dad…,” he patted my back. “Don’t be afraid to say penis, we’re adults here. I understand… it’s awkward saying it in front of a son…”
“Right then…,” I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry… Anyway, it helped deal with my pain in my arm, back and penis… except when I withdrew from the Vicodin, it started to hurt again…”
Flashback, 1 ½ years ago…
“Need… Vicodin…,” I clumsily walked through my house. I had just withdrawn from it – I think it was the worst thing I had ever done. Why did they give me Vicodin when they know I would get addicted to it and have bad withdrawals? I collapsed on the couch, shaking. I woke up at around three AM to night sweats and convulsions. I thought I was going to die, even though I doubted it. Apparently, I was late for work because I woke up again to see that someone was shaking me (to wake me up).
“Émile… Émile… Émile…,” it was Rico. “Émile wake up…”
“Rico, shut up, I’m awake!” I looked at him straight in the eyes. “Is there something wrong?”
“You’re late for work – the boss is wondering where you are! We’ve been trying to call you but you never answered…,” he blinked. “Hey you look sweaty and you’re really shaking…”
“That’s because I’m going through a drug withdrawal!” I snapped, I didn’t mean to. “S-sorry… I didn’t mean to snap… I’m just really stressed going through this withdrawal…”
“Well… the boss is waiting for you… I’ll see you later…”
“Bye Rico…,” I sighed and walked off and shut my front door. I yawned and got up. I walked to the bathroom and stared at my wanly face – it was pale white – probably due to the obvious. “Ugh… I don’t even know if I can make it to work…,” I groaned.
Despite feeling like crap, I was somehow able to make it to work. I wobbly walked through the parking lot, and the front door. I traipsed to my desk and nearly slammed my head on my desk. “Ugh…,” I moaned. “I don’t feel very good…,” I felt nauseous.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Present…
“Ugh… this is so embarrassing… it’s something I’ll regret my whole life…”
“W-what is it?” He looked at me funny.
“I’ll just tell you…,” I blushed brightly.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Back to flashback
“Émile… are you OK?” My boss walked up to me.
“Yeah… I’m fine…,” I groaned.
“You sure?”
“No, I’m not really sure…,” I tried not to snap. “I don’t really feel very good…”
“OK… well you’re welcome to go to the bathroom anytime you want…” It was too late – I had accidentally thrown up on my own boss’s shirt. I was so embarrassed. I was in pure shock; it was as if I couldn’t move my mouth. My eyes rolled to the back of my head and I fainted. I woke up to my boss shaking me. I flushed the deepest red that anyone had ever seen.
“S-sorry…,” was all I could muster. I stared at the ground.
“Émile…,” Boss (he prefers being called that, so that’s why I call him that) sighed. “It-it’s OK… it was a mistake…,” he looked at my face. “Your-your face is so pale…”
“That’s because I’m going through a drug withdrawal… and I feel like crap… no joke,” I sighed and shrugged. “Oh… did I mention that I almost crashed my car getting here?”
“You what…?” He looked at me funny.
“Yeah…,” I sighed. “I’m really tired…”
“You’re dismissed for now, but you don’t need you to drive home.”
“No… I want to work – because I don’t ever give up – no matter how I feel.”
“OK… I’m going to change shirt, I guess…,” he walked off. I was so drowsy that I feel asleep at my desk…
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Present
“So… that ends my flashback… of my worst month I’ve ever lived…”
“Dad… are you all right?”
“Y-yeah… I’m fine…”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah…,” I looked down to see that my cell phone was ringing. I answered. “Hallo? Das ist ‘Looker’. Was…?! Sie machen richtig Spass? Oh mein Gott ... nein! Ich werde dort bald sein,” I hung up. “Stan… bad news… Apollo is destroying Saffron City…”
(Translation: You're kidding, right? Oh my God... no! I'll be there soon.)
“Oh… no…,” he nearly collapsed. “Come on… we’re going to need everyone’s help in this…”
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
TBC…
A/N: Yep, you’ll definitely hate me for this cliffhanger… sorry!
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