Chapter 28: Briv's 4th Pokemon
The Undercity swallowed them whole.
Minnie led the group through a service entrance behind a shuttered bakery, down a spiral staircase that seemed to descend forever, and into a labyrinth of maintenance tunnels that ran beneath Aethelburg's pristine streets. The walls were damp with condensation, and the air smelled of rust and old electricity. Rotom's glow provided the only light, casting dancing shadows that made the tunnels feel alive.
"Stay close," Minnie called back. "It's easy to get turned around down here."
Briv walked near the rear of the group, Chimchar perched on his shoulder. The little Fire-type's flame tail cast a warm orange glow, and its eyes darted nervously at every sound. Piplup walked beside Briv's legs, its small feet splashing through the shallow water that coated the tunnel floor. The Water-type had insisted on walking rather than retreating to its ball—a small victory that Briv had learned to recognize as progress.
"You okay?" Patricia asked, falling into step beside him.
"Yeah." He wasn't, not really. The tunnels felt like a trap, and every echo made his muscles tense. But Patricia's hand found his, and her fingers interlocked with his, and suddenly the darkness didn't feel quite so heavy.
"Liar," she said softly.
"Maybe a little."
They walked in silence for a while, the group strung out in a loose line. Axel was at the front with Minnie, his Rotom scanning for threats. Nicola walked behind them, her Starly perched on her shoulder, its sharp eyes watching every shadow. Dariana was somewhere in the middle, Gallade's ball in her hand, her expression distant.
Briv couldn't blame her. They'd all seen things in the factory that would haunt them for years.
The tunnel opened suddenly into a wider chamber—an old maintenance hub, maybe, or a junction point for the city's underground infrastructure. Pipes ran along the ceiling in thick bundles, dripping water into shallow pools. A single flickering light hung from the ceiling, casting everything in sickly yellow.
"We can rest here," Minnie said, stopping in the center of the chamber. "Ten minutes. Then we keep moving."
Briv found a relatively dry corner and sat down, his back against the wall. Chimchar hopped off his shoulder and stretched, its flame tail brightening now that they weren't moving. Piplup settled beside Briv's leg, its head resting against his knee.
Turtwig's ball was cold against his belt. He'd barely used the Grass-type since the factory—a decision that gnawed at him every time he thought about it. Turtwig was a fighter, fierce and determined, and Briv had been benching it in favor of Chimchar's speed and Piplup's developing trust. It wasn't fair.
He released Turtwig from its ball.
The little Grass-type materialized with a flash of light, blinking in confusion. Then it saw Briv, and its expression shifted—not anger, exactly, but something close. Hurt, maybe. A silent accusation that cut deeper than words.
"Hey, buddy," Briv said softly. "I know. I'm sorry."
Turtwig stared at him for a long moment. Then it walked over, slowly, and bumped its head against Briv's hand. Forgiveness, or something like it. Briv stroked the rough texture of its shell, feeling the tension in his chest ease just a fraction.
"We've got a long road ahead," he said. "All of us. And I need you. Not just for battles—for everything. You're not a backup. You're my partner."
Turtwig made a soft sound—almost a grunt, almost a purr—and settled down beside Chimchar. The Fire-type chirped a greeting, and Turtwig responded with a lazy headbutt that made Chimchar giggle.
Piplup watched the exchange with cautious eyes. It was still learning how to be part of a team, still figuring out where it fit. Briv reached down and scratched the Water-type behind its ear, and Piplup leaned into the touch almost despite itself.
"You too," Briv said. "All three of you. We're in this together."
---
They moved out ten minutes later, deeper into the Undercity.
The tunnels grew narrower, then wider again, branching and forking in ways that made Briv's head spin. Minnie navigated them with the confidence of someone who'd memorized every turn, and Axel's Rotom marked their path with faint electrical pulses—a trail of breadcrumbs in case they needed to retreat.
Briv was about to ask how much farther when he heard it.
A crackle. Sharp and sudden, like static discharge.
He stopped walking. Chimchar's tail flared, and Piplup pressed closer to his leg. Ahead of them, the group had also paused, every head turning toward the sound.
"What was that?" Patricia whispered.
Minnie frowned. "We're not alone down here."
Axel's hand went to Rotom's ball. "Could be feral. Could be Eclipse."
"Could be neither," Dariana said. She was looking at something in the darkness ahead—a shape, small and quadrupedal, crouched low to the ground.
Briv squinted. The shape shifted, and the flickering light caught it—blue fur, black markings, a tail tipped with a yellow star. Large, rounded ears that swiveled toward them with alert precision.
A Shinx.
It was smaller than he'd expected, maybe two feet tall, with the kind of lean, muscular build that spoke of survival in harsh conditions. Its fur was matted and scarred in places, and one of its ears had a notch missing from the edge. But its eyes—those eyes were sharp and pale, crackling with electricity that danced across its body in tiny arcs of light.
"A wild Shinx," Nicola said. Her voice had gone quiet, almost reverent. "In the Undercity. That's rare."
Briv felt his heart hammer against his ribs. He'd seen Shinx before—in League battles, in trainer schools, in the hands of other competitors. But he'd never seen one wild. Never seen one that looked like this, fierce and untamed and utterly, breathtakingly alive.
The Shinx stared at them. Its tail flicked once, twice, and the electricity around its body intensified.
Then it turned and bolted.
"Wait—" Briv was moving before he could think, before he could plan, before he could do anything but run. Chimchar leaped off his shoulder and ran beside him, and Turtwig lumbered after, and Piplup—
Piplup hesitated, then followed.
Behind him, Patricia shouted something, but Briv couldn't hear the words. The tunnels blurred past, a maze of pipes and shadows, and the Shinx was always just ahead, its blue fur catching the light like a beacon.
He was going to catch it. He was going to catch this Pokémon, and he was going to add it to his team, and he was going to—
The Shinx stopped.
Briv nearly ran into it. He skidded to a halt, his boots squeaking on the wet floor, and found himself in a wide chamber that reminded him of the hub they'd rested in earlier. But this one was different—larger, with a ceiling that disappeared into darkness and walls covered in old graffiti.
The Shinx stood in the center of the chamber, facing him. Its ears were flat against its skull, its tail lashing, and the electricity around its body had grown into a visible aura that crackled and sparked.
It wasn't running anymore. It was defending.
"Okay," Briv breathed. "Okay, buddy. Let's do this."
He reached for Chimchar's ball, but the Fire-type was already beside him, its flame tail burning bright. No need for the ball—Chimchar was ready.
"Chimchar, use Ember!"
The Fire-type opened its mouth and released a stream of small flames. The Shinx dodged—faster than Briv had expected, faster than anything its size should have been able to move—and the Ember splashed against the tunnel wall.
"Again! Lead the target!"
Chimchar adjusted, firing a wider spread of Embers that forced the Shinx to keep moving. But the Electric-type wasn't just dodging—it was circling, looking for an opening, its eyes tracking Chimchar's movements with calculating precision.
Briv recognized that look. He'd seen it in League battles, in the eyes of trainers who'd been fighting for years. This Shinx wasn't random. It was strategic.
"Chimchar, use Flame Wheel!"
Chimchar curled into a ball and rolled forward, its body wreathed in fire. The Shinx waited until the last possible second—then leaped, soaring over the Flame Wheel with a grace that bordered on impossible. Its body twisted in mid-air, and electricity gathered around its fangs.
It landed behind Chimchar and bit down.
Chimchar screamed.
The Thunder Fang sent electricity coursing through Chimchar's small body, and the Fire-type convulsed, its flame tail flickering wildly. Briv felt the panic hit him—raw and immediate and overwhelming—but he forced it down, forced himself to think.
"Chimchar, retreat! Turtwig, you're up!"
Chimchar scrambled back, limping, and Briv recalled it to its ball in a flash of red light. Turtwig stepped forward, its eyes fixed on the Shinx with the kind of calm determination that Briv had always admired.
The Shinx turned to face this new opponent. Its electricity had dimmed slightly—using Thunder Fang had cost it energy—but it was still dangerous. Still fast. Still watching.
"Turtwig, use Razor Leaf!"
Turtwig's sprout glowed, and a flurry of sharp leaves shot toward the Shinx. This time, the Electric-type couldn't dodge completely—the leaves were too numerous, too spread out. Several sliced across its flank, and the Shinx yelped, stumbling sideways.
But instead of retreating, it charged.
It was a reckless move, the kind of thing Briv would have expected from a desperate Pokémon. But there was nothing desperate about the way the Shinx moved. Its body was low to the ground, its ears back, its tail streaming behind it like a banner. It was a missile—pure, focused, unstoppable.
It hit Turtwig before Briv could call a dodge.
The Tackle sent the Grass-type sliding backward, its shell scraping against the tunnel floor. Turtwig dug its feet in, trying to stop the momentum, but the Shinx kept pushing—kept driving—its body crackling with electricity that seeped into Turtwig's shell.
"Turtwig, use Withdraw!"
Turtwig pulled its head and legs into its shell, and the electricity dissipated against the hardened surface. The Shinx, suddenly without resistance, stumbled forward—off-balance, exposed.
"Now! Use Bite!"
Turtwig's head shot out of the shell, jaws closing around the Shinx's foreleg. The Electric-type shrieked, electricity flaring wildly, but Turtwig held on—stubborn, relentless, exactly as Briv knew it would.
"Good! Now, Synthesis!"
Turtwig's shell glowed with soft green light as it absorbed the moisture from the air, healing the damage from the Shinx's attacks. The Electric-type struggled, trying to break free, but Turtwig's grip held firm.
For a moment, Briv thought it was over. The Shinx was caught, Turtwig was recovering, and all he needed was one more good hit to—
The Shinx stopped struggling.
It went completely still, its body limp, its eyes closed. Turtwig loosened its grip, confused, and that was when the Shinx struck.
It twisted, breaking free of Turtwig's jaws, and released a discharge of electricity at point-blank range. The blast caught Turtwig full in the face, and the Grass-type cried out—a sound that cut through Briv like a blade.
"Turtwig!"
The Grass-type collapsed, its eyes rolling back, and didn't move.
The Shinx stood over it, panting. Its fur was singed in places, its flank marked with cuts, but it was still standing. Still fighting. Still looking at Briv with those pale, crackling eyes.
"Fuck," Briv whispered.
He recalled Turtwig to its ball, his hands trembling. Two down. One to go.
Piplup stepped forward.
The little Water-type had been hanging back during the fight, watching with those sad, cautious eyes. But now, as Briv's hand reached for its ball, Piplup shook its head. It didn't want to go back. It wanted to fight.
"Piplup, you don't have to—"
Piplup chirped sharply, cutting him off. It waddled forward, positioning itself between Briv and the Shinx, and spread its flippers wide.
The Shinx tilted its head. For a moment, it almost looked curious.
Then it attacked.
The Thunder Shock was faster this time—more precise, more focused. Piplup dodged it, but barely. The edge of the bolt grazed its wing, and the Water-type stumbled, pain flashing across its small face.
"Piplup, use Bubble!"
Piplup opened its beak and released a stream of shimmering bubbles. The Shinx tried to dodge, but the bubbles were too widespread—they popped against its fur, releasing tiny bursts of energy that made the Electric-type flinch.
"Now, Pound!"
Piplup surged forward, its small body moving with surprising speed. It slammed into the Shinx's side, and the Electric-type yelped, stumbling sideways.
But it didn't fall.
Instead, it turned, jaws crackling with electricity, and lunged.
The Thunder Fang caught Piplup on the shoulder. The Water-type screamed—a sound that was raw and terrified and heartbreakingly human—and collapsed onto the wet floor, twitching.
"No—no, no, no—"
Briv was running before he realized it, his boots splashing through the water, his heart pounding in his throat. He scooped Piplup into his arms, and the little Pokémon looked up at him with glassy eyes, its body still convulsing from the electricity.
"Stay with me," Briv whispered. "Stay with me, buddy, please—"
Both of his Pokéballs glowed red at his belt, and then Turtwig and Chimchar appeared beside him—both of them moving, both of them alive, both of them looking at Piplup with expressions of concern.
They had broken out of their balls. They had chosen to come to their teammate's side.
The Shinx stood across the chamber, watching. Its tail flicked once, twice. Its electricity had dimmed to a faint crackle, and its breathing was heavy, labored. It was exhausted. It was hurt. It was on its last legs.
But it was still standing.
And Briv realized, with a sudden clarity that cut through the panic, that this wasn't about winning anymore. It was about respect.
Slowly, carefully, he laid Piplup down on a relatively dry patch of ground. The Water-type was still breathing—shallow, but steady. Chimchar and Turtwig flanked him, their eyes fixed on the Shinx.
"All of you," Briv said quietly. "Together."
Chimchar's flame tail burned bright. Turtwig's sprout glowed with green light. And somehow—impossibly, beautifully—Piplup's eyes opened, and the little Water-type pushed itself to its feet.
It wobbled. It almost fell. But it stood.
The Shinx stared at the three of them—fire, grass, water—standing together, battered but unbroken. And for a moment, Briv saw something flicker in those pale eyes. Something that might have been respect.
"Chimchar, Ember," he said. "Turtwig, Razor Leaf. Piplup, Bubble."
The attacks came together—a storm of fire and leaves and water that filled the chamber with light and sound. The Shinx tried to dodge, tried to counter, but there was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. The attacks converged, and the Electric-type was caught in the middle.
When the light faded, the Shinx lay on its side, its fur smoking, its breathing shallow. It tried to stand—tried to rise—but its legs gave out, and it collapsed back onto the ground.
Briv reached for an empty Pokéball at his belt.
He walked forward slowly, his feet splashing through the water. The Shinx watched him approach with those pale, exhausted eyes, and Briv saw fear in them now. Real fear. The kind that came from being cornered, being beaten, being forced to accept that the fight was over.
"It's okay," Briv whispered. He knelt beside the Shinx and pressed the ball against its side. "It's okay. You're safe now."
The ball clicked.
The Shinx was caught.
---
Briv sat back on his heels, staring at the Pokéball in his hand. It was warm—warmer than it should have been—and the central button pulsed with a faint blue light.
"Did you—" Patricia's voice came from behind him, breathless and disbelieving. "Did you actually catch it?"
Briv turned. The rest of the group had caught up during the fight—he hadn't noticed them, too focused on the battle—and they were standing at the edge of the chamber, watching him with expressions that ranged from shock to admiration.
"I think so," he said. His voice came out hoarse. "I think I did."
Dariana walked over and knelt beside him. "That was incredible. I've never seen a wild Shinx fight like that."
"It was protecting something," Briv said. The words came out without thinking, and he realized as he said them that they were true. "It could have run. It could have let us chase it through the tunnels. But it stopped. It chose to fight."
"Because it wanted to be caught," Nicola said. She was leaning against the tunnel wall, her arms crossed, but there was no mockery in her voice. "Some Pokémon are like that. They won't go with you unless you prove yourself."
"Makes sense," Samuel said. He'd been quiet during the run, but now he smiled, slow and warm. "The strongest bonds come from struggle. Shinx knows that better than anyone."
Briv looked down at the Pokéball in his hand. The pulsing light had faded, replaced by a steady, gentle glow. He could feel the Shinx inside—not quite asleep, not quite awake. A presence. A heartbeat.
"Welcome to the team," he whispered.
He clipped the ball to his belt, then turned to check on his other Pokémon. Chimchar was sitting beside Piplup, its flame tail wrapped around the exhausted Water-type. Turtwig stood guard nearby, its eyes fixed on the tunnels.
They were all still standing. Battered and bruised, but alive.
"Let's rest here for a while," Minnie said. She'd been watching from the side, her expression unreadable, but now she walked forward and sat down on a relatively dry patch of ground. "You've earned it."
Briv nodded. He sat down, and Patricia immediately sat beside him, her hand finding his. Dariana joined them, and then Samuel, and then—surprisingly—Nicola, who sat just close enough to be part of the group without admitting she wanted to be.
Axel remained standing, his Rotom hovering at his shoulder, keeping watch. But even he seemed to relax, just a fraction.
The Undercity was dark and cold and dangerous. But for this moment, in this chamber, surrounded by his friends and his Pokémon, Briv felt something he hadn't felt since the factory.
He felt hope.
The Shinx's ball warmed against his hip, and Briv closed his eyes.
They had a long way to go. But they were going together.