Chapter 3: Vivian Wyght-Lilcamp-Kozlovski

The interior of the Courier Club was dimly lit in comparison to the sharp brightness of the Sun's rays that morning, being lit solely by strategically placed, low watt light bulbs, and the occasional candle. Near the front of the Club, the owner had placed a collection of wide round tables with comfortable, if not rickety wooden chairs.

Over the years, however, the five generations of couriers who'd frequented the place since its inception had left their names and other graffiti scrawled across the surface of all of them. This hardly bothered the current owner, however. Daniel'd inherited the job from his Father, and he could still identify many of the marks as his own.

Along the East wall, terminating in a small, but adequate dance floor, the chairs were high-backed, made comfortable by aging, over-stuffed dark leather, and the rectangular tables between them showed many scars as well.

Along the North wall, ran the length of the bar, terminating before it took up too much of the already cramped dance floor. Only its dark oaken surface was free of name and comment scrawling, instead it had its own catalogue of scars. Mostly small claw marks and evidence of drink stains left for too long. Just beyond it was a large ornate mirror that had apparently once resided within in the Tower.

It was an eerie thing, bordered by a twisting silver frame that depicted the three stages of ghost development, but the truly unnerving thing about it was that the mirror did not reflect the living, or anything their auras directly interfered with. It still reflected the inanimate objects in the room, the tables, the chairs and the gently flickering candles. But it also reflected ghosts. Even those that had chosen to remain invisible.

Daniel had no real answer as to where it had come from. All he knew was that his great-great grandfather had been adventurous in his youth and had managed to return alive from the Tower after two hours with only a cracked rib and a huge, ornate mirror that the ghosts seemed rather reverent of.

As the door swung open, and the eyes of the club's many patrons adjusted to the sudden burst of natural light, an immediate cheer rang out in unison. "Miranda!" everyone yelled at the top of their lungs as the courier stopped in her tracks and tried to hide her face while laughing.

The first person to run to her side was Zack. The red haired courier laughed as he pulled her hands away and stared up at Miranda, his huge green eyes full of wonder. "You made it!" he exclaimed in absolute amazement, "You're actually here!"

"I'm here every year, Zachary," Miranda replied with a bit of a smirk as her old friend cringed at the use of the name.

"And she's not alone," commented Misty, peering from behind Miranda and giving Zack a short wave before looking about room.

"I didn't think she'd let you go," the psychic said with a chuckle as he looped his arm through Miranda's and dragged her over to his table, "Come on, kid, I'll buy ya drink!"

"Kid?" questioned Miranda, quickly snatching Misty's hand to drag her along as well, "I'm not the one who's going around messing with Joy's pokemon."

"What?!" laughed Zack as they sat down at a table along the East-facing wall, "It was just a joke! Besides, I was bored."

"I don't even want to know how you did it," sighed Miranda, leaning back in her seat and shaking her head in dismay, "Just promise me you won't get bored at my expense."

"Again..." the other courier said under his breath, suddenly whistling innocently.

"Again?"

Zack smiled, his teeth visible as he chuckled to himself. "Most of us have been sitting around bored this morning," he explained, motioning to the odd assortment of couriers around them, "So I had everyone scream your name when you walked in. But... That's not the only thing we arranged."

Miranda gave Zack a serious look that reminded him of her mother. "Well, it's not really 'you', exactly," he explained sheepishly as Misty watched the two old friends with amusement, "it involves your mom, actually."

A smile crossed Miranda's face as she looked into Zack's eyes a little smugly. "It's your funeral, 'kid'," she teased, "Now then. About that drink you promised?"

Zack nodded as he slid out of his seat. "Trust me!" he assured, waving his hands dramatically, "You'll love it!"

"He's even more hyper than last time," commented Misty with amusement as Zack wandered off to the long, dark wooden counter at the end of the room, "Does he ever even sleep?"

"Nope," chuckled Miranda, grinning as a tall, dark figure stepped up to their table. "Joshua," she said simply, her tone becoming serious, her eyes gleaming with a certain reverence as the haggard figure removed his dark, wide brimmed hat and smiled down at her grimly.

"I see that you have a new friend," Joshua said simply, his tone sounding heavy, as thought he weight of many years were upon it. And judging by his thinning gray hair, the long scar down the right side of his face, and of course his one glass eye, it was entirely possible.

"Y-yes," Miranda replied, seeming a little nervous, "Please, have a seat, we'll talk."

As the dark clothed man sat down in front of them, taking Zack's seat, he set his hat down on the table with a hand that was missing a finger. "Misty," said Miranda, "This is Joshua. He's been a courier for... What is it now? Forty-five years?"

"Forty-seven," he corrected, flexing his remaining bony fingers as though to make certain that they still functioned, "I was a courier when you're grandparents were still alive, and let me tell ya, they're gonna have to pry the last package I deliver out of my cold dead hand before I'll retire."

Misty gulped, feeling a little unnerved by the inky blackness of the man's deep set remaining eye and the way his skin seemed stretched almost unwillingly across his weather-beaten face.

"Um, hi..." she stammered reaching out her hand politely, somehow expecting the worst.

The old courier glanced at her hand for a moment before chuckling quietly as though at some private joke. When he did reach out to take it, his grip was firm but not confining, although his skin seemed dry as bone. "Mighty pleased to meet you, ma'am," replied Joshua with a half a smile that made it apparent that he was hiding several missing teeth.

"Um, if you don't mind me asking, sir," stammered Misty impulsively, causing the old man to eye her curiously, "How... What happened to your finger?"

Joshua leaned back in his seat, a tight smile crossing his haggard face as his old bones creaked a little. "Ah," he said in nearly a whisper, but it seemed as though everyone in the club had heard it, for as the old courier began to speak the quiet sounds of other conversations died almost instantly, as all eyes focused upon him, "She wants to hear 'the liver story'."

Miranda pursed her lips as Joshua glanced at her and gave a dry chuckle. "Very well, then, miss," the dark courier replied as he linked his fingers together on the scarred table, "It was about forty-five years ago. Heck, that's before all of ya were even born!" Joshua took a moment to chuckle to himself "Back when we had the worst snowstorm in last hundred. Why, the drifts alone could burry a man! It was also the year that nearly every city on the continent was paralyzed by the Winter's harshness, and the frozen wilderness between them were filled with nothing but pokemon driven half mad with hunger. Even the one's who normally would have avoided humans weren't too picky about attackin' that year. Food was so scarce that a courier with a paper cut would have a pack of wild growlithe on his trail before ya could blink. And they weren't the worst of it."

Joshua accepted the steaming mug of something that smelled of cinnamon from Zack before the younger courier backed away respectfully and the old man continued his story. "So there I was," he said dramatically, lifting his empty hand as though to indicate the storm all around him, "four days outside of Saffron City. I was young, brash, and foolish back then. I thought I was indestructible. So when I was asked to deliver a fresh liver to some sick girl in Saffron, I jumped at the chance. I guess I thought of myself as some kinda knight in shining armor or somethin'.

"But anyway, as I was sayin', there I was, the middle of the night, the storm raging all around me, when suddenly, I could hear it..." compete silence fell over the room at this point, no one daring to even breath. The rapt fascination of even those who'd heard the story a thousand times before was evidence enough of the Courier Crew's respect for their oldest living member.

"It wasn't just hungry. It had gone beyond starving. No, the creature that now stalked me had been driven mad by hunger. Some of you might say that a single, lone houndour pup, barely two years old is hardly much of a challenge, even in the dead of Winter. Well, let me tell ya all that it was so cold that year, that the loss of feeling in my fingers was nothing compared to the fact that all my poke balls were frozen shut. The mechanisms just wouldn't fire, and I couldn't get any help from Nikademus, my raticate. I was on my own, days from civilization, and I had a dark canine on my trail that'd nearly been eaten by his other surviving pack mates in desperation a week before."

Joshua took a long sip of the steaming liquid, but didn't seem to notice that it was scalding hot as those listening to his tale shivered involuntarily in the imagined cold. "So, so what happened?" inquired Misty, her fingers tightening as she held Miranda's hand, causing the old man to give a short, distant sigh.

"Well, since you asked, ma'am," he continued with smile and a short laugh that revealed that he indeed was missing three of his worn looking teeth, "That houndour followed me for days. I recon it was the scent of the liver I was carrin', 'cause back in them days, we didn't have all them fancy medical advances and all that. Anyway, I traveled non-stop for three days and three nights without sleep, backtracking now and then, hoping the storm would throw him off. But nothin' I did worked. He was a persistent mutt, let me tell ya!"

"But then, just a day out of Saffron, it happened," he paused, noting to his amusement that Misty hadn't blinked in some time, "we met face to face just as the storm was beginning to let up. I reached for my sword, and those days, we had fewer laws. We couriers were aloud to carry actual, metal bladed swords! But anyway, I couldn't even feel it in my hand as I drew it. Couldn't feel much of anything at that point, except I knew some little lady was gonna die if I just laid down and became lunch for a hungry houndour. So, I did the only thing I could do..."

Joshua put his empty mug down and leaned back again, an amused, thin smile crossing his face as he held up his injured hand. Between his index and middle fingers, he held a minimized pokeball. The last finger on that hand, however, were missing at the knuckle. "We came to an arrangement," he finished, his tone sounding proud as a quiet chuckle that was echoed by several of the other couriers escaped his lips.

"So, what happened to the girl who needed the transplant?" inquired Misty after exhaling loudly and falling back into her seat, feeling mentally exhausted by the experience.

Joshua smirked a bit before raising his other hand. "We came to an arrangement," he replied, showing off the ornate band of silver on his ring finger, "I told ya I thought of myself as a knight in shining armor."

Miranda chuckled as the old man slid back out of the seat and picked up his hat. "Thanks, Joshua," she said in a respectful, but still amused tone.

"Wow," muttered Misty, leaning her head on Miranda's shoulder as she assimilated the courier's tale, "He's something else."

Miranda nodded in agreement. "Yeah, he was mentor when I first became a courier," she explained a bit pridefully, "But I struck out on my own after a few weeks. I guess I just wanted to be alone back then. Unlike now."

Misty smiled happily, her quiet sigh full of contentment. "Good," she said softly, closing her eyes for a moment before someone at near the door suddenly exclaimed in a hushed tone that was full of panic and amusement, "She's here!"

Miranda glanced suspiciously over at Zack, who was waving frantically at Daniel behind the bar before rushing to the front of the room. "We'd better not miss this," commented Miranda ruefully, suddenly regretting that she had her back to the door.

The two slid out of the booth and went to sit upon two of the barstools in time to see the dozen or so other couriers, even old Joshua, line-up in two parallel lines on either side of the door. Then, as the proprietor grinned broadly and flipped a switch under the counter, music blared through hidden speakers.

Above the noise, Zack could be heard, desperately trying to unsuccessfully contain his laughter as the soft music changed, and became the distinctive blare of "The Imperial March" as white smoke rolled in from beneath two strategically placed tables.

"Oh dear," chuckled Miranda, finding herself caught up in the moment.

"Is this 'normal' for this place?" inquired Misty with a bemused grin.

"No," assured Miranda, shaking her head with a bit of a chuckle, "Usually it's worse."

A moment later, someone's haunter materialized long enough to grab the door handle and yank it open dramatically before fading from view as the assembled couriers drew their surprising array of wooden swords.

Misty made a quick observation that each courier's weapon seemed to suit his or her personality in some small way. Joshua's was longer than anyone else's, which was unsurprising as he was at least half a head taller than everyone else. His blade had been carved in such a way that it had two distinct edges to it, which abruptly ended before coming into the lethal range. The weapon also flared out near the end, and two sharp looking spines jutted out from either side near the hilt that which designed to be held two handed.