Breaking the Ice Chapter 8

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Action and Adventure  |  House: Booksie Classic

Don't forget to read the other chapters.

Submitted: June 05, 2018

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Submitted: June 05, 2018



Breccia was expelled from the infirmary the following morning after an uneventful night. Having turned away any food offered, she ignored the gurgling in her gut as she struggled down the steps and out into Aurora.

The island was nothing more than a frigid, tiny ball of ice. (Much like the rest of Birtan). Aside from the Windguls floating on the frozen sea breeze, their droppings peppering what few cars there were, the place was rather quiet. Most of the minuscule population belonged to the 'organization'. Those that weren't ran the local shops, which consisted of a small mom and pop grocery and a ramshackle thrift shop. The “roads” were trodden paths of dirt with very few sidewalks to be seen.

Walking past a couple grunts patrolling near the infirmary, Breccia tugged her collar around her throat.

“Look who's up and running.” Morice was outside in wait, holding a small plastic bag at his side.

“More like up and limping.” Breccia accepted the package when it was offered. “What's this?”

“They found some of your things in the wreckage. Thought I'd swing them by.”

Of the meager belongings Breccia brought along, a few shirts and water damaged notebook remained. She figured it was better than nothing.

Morice took her on a small tour of the island, showing her the shops and the apartment complex many of the grunts called home. By the end of it, Breccia's lungs were sore and her legs were numb. Morice must've noticed because they took a detour to

the local pub shortly there after.

If Breccia had her way, she'd be at Nessa's place. She'd be in bed with the world shut from view.

Instead she let Morice drag her to the bar and regretted it immediately when she was bombarded with very little walk space and a room full of drunken bodies.

With all that had occurred in the short two months since her release from the penitentiary, she felt worn and weary. There wasn't enough liquor in this tiny, one roomed shack to give her the relaxation she needed.

She'd like to say her stint behind bars gave her perspective, but it did little to calm her. For the entire sentence, all she could think of was her father. At the time he was still alive, but gravely ill. He was also upset that his pride and joy was dumb enough to get herself locked away.

She wasn't alone in her cell. She had roommates, though there wasn't much about them that intrigued her.

One was in for a couple weeks due to a domestic violence dispute. She kept ranting about how her mother would regret not paying her bail.

Last Breccia heard of her, she was back in for the 'long haul' at another prison. Turns out her mother did in fact regret not supporting her delinquent child. Said child put a bullet in mommy dearests' skull and was facing manslaughter because of it.

Breccia did right in keeping her head down while serving her time. The place was minimum security and the guards did little to chorale any fights that started. Her days were spent in the library. She'd often skip lunch and snitch whatever was left after the cafeteria cleared out.

After eight weeks she was a free woman. They set her free with a handful of belongings and a class C felony. Because of her record, no one would hire her and if it hadn't been for Vanessa catching wind and putting in a good word for her, there was no telling where she'd be.

“So, where are you staying?” Morice pulled the chair out for her after picking a rickety table in the corner. The place was in shambles with mismatched stools, a tattered rug across the splintered floor and the bartender was an old, crotchety fellow with an eyepatch and a hook hand.

The yellow, cracking walls were devoid of pictures and there were few beers on draft. If it wasn't for the body heat given by the crowd, the place would've been bitter cold due to the complete lack of heating.

“Vanessa and Cale-” Breccia caught herself. “Vanessa's.”

Morice shook his head, asking for his usual when the bartender's Gallade came around to take their order. “From what I've heard Nessa's inland. Birtan city. They had to break her leg... well, it's already broken. They have to repair the bone.”

Not much of a drinker, Breccia ordered the same as her friend, lacing her fingers on the table top and sighing. “She's doing better than I thought....”

“She slipped a disk in her back, messed up her neck.” Morice took a large drink from his beer when it arrived. “She'll be lucky if she walks again.” He added. “Not to mention the stitches. They had to seal up the crevasse in her head. She'll be out of commission for a while.”

Taking a sniff from her glass, Breccia cringed, crinkling her nose. Holding her breath, she took in a gulp and fought her gag reflex. Morice was buying, the least she could do was finish her drink. “What about Lars?”

“What about him?” Morice snapped. “It was his stupid idea that got us in this mess to begin with.” His glass already empty, he called over the crowd and blaring noise for another.

Despite Lars' cold reception of her, Breccia defended him...partially. “Last I checked, Caleb was on board with it too.”

“Yeah, well....” Morice exhaled, his breath sharp and quick. “Look, I've never liked the whiny little pipsqueak okay? I've been going on research trips with him for the last year and he's insufferable. All he does is complain about how he should be in charge of the lab because he's been with the organization longer.”

Breccia wondered if this meant she'd be taking orders from Lars once she settled into her duties.

She hoped not.

As her mind wondered, she took note when the loud, ear numbing chatter dulled to a quiet murmur when the front door opened.

Morice put a stay on his unrelenting rage towards Lars, darting his vision from Breccia's face to the newest patron that came in.

From where she sat, Breccia's view was obscured by the standing bodies of others. All she could see was the stranger from the neck up. Judging by the obvious red of his roots, his black hair was dyed. He was unremarkable otherwise.

She was more focused on the body guards standing around him. The two human's were similar in build, both muscular with one sporting a long, puckered scar running the full length of his left cheek.

The other pulled his sunglasses from his eyes, folding in the arms and clipping them on the pocket of his blazer. The final body guard wasn't a person at all. It was a Blaziken and it stood taller than any other Breccia had ever seen. From a distance, she guessed the creature to be female due to her head crest being smaller than most. Her fur was a deep, blood red. Through what stood out the most were her almond shaped eyes, glowing an pungent golden hue. She was both beautiful and terrifying.

“Must've been a rough day if he's here.” Morice stopped, letting his glass tease his lips. “I don't blame him.”

“Who?” Breccia was impressed how the very presence of this man was enough to silence even the rowdiest of bar patrons.

“That's Riker.” Morice appeared put off that his friend didn't recognize him. “He's an executive. He runs the operations in this frozen hellhole.” He murmured at a near whisper. “You would've been a lowly grunt in Kanto if it wasn't for him. He lobbied pretty hard for you.”

“How do you know all this?” Feeling a light buzz, Breccia allowed her muscles to fall lax. “You have an ear to the wall?”

“Nessa wouldn't shut up about you coming over. If she could have, she'd have told the entire island.” Leaning in, Morice lowered his voice further. “Lemme give you some advice. You do what Riker tells you, when he tells you. He's in good with the boss. You don't wanna piss him off.”

“Piss who off?” Riker appeared at their table, his guards in tow. Both Breccia and Morice jumped with Morice hoping to his feet.

“N-nothing sir.” He chuckled nervously. “Just taking the new girl out for a drink. Trying to get her use to the town.”

“She didn't have the best introduction.” Riker studied Breccia for a second before speaking once more. “Relax soldier.” He said to Morice. “If you strain yourself any more, Cliff will have a mess to clean up.” The Bartender perked up upon hearing his name. Riker looked to him over his shoulder. “I'll have a number three Cliff.” After which he addressed his guards. “You're free to wander. Don't leave the premises.” His two human guards were more than happy to escape for a drink. His Blaziken, however, was not taken with the idea. Arms folded, she scanned the two bodies at the table, finally settling her scathing eyes on Breccia. Riker attempted, once more, to grant her leave, but she responded with a quick stream of air expelled through her beak. The air came out as a tuft of hot, searing smoke.

Finally managing to polish off her first beer, Breccia was trying her damnedest to be inconspicuous as Riker removed his jacket and slung it over his shoulder. “Sorry we have to meet on such strange terms.” He said. “The nurse said you were released and I was heading to Vanessa Carter's apartment to speak with you. Lucky for me, I stopped off here first.”

“It's-” Breccia swallowed to try and alleviate the strange aftertaste on her tongue. “No problem, sir.”

“Yes, well, while I have you, I'd like to change our meeting to earlier in the day. Around nine tomorrow. I have plans that I can't change.”

Breccia nodded once more. “Yes sir.”

“Good.” Waving his Pokemon to follow him, Riker gave both of them a quick goodbye before vanishing into the crowd.

“You handled that better than I thought.” Morice gave a shaky compliment.

“You made it sound like he could shoot lasers out of his eyes.” Breccia received an unstable laugh.

“I figured Nessa would've told you.” Cliff's Gallade was making a second round past their table. Morice ordered an plate of wings, taking a moment to peer over at the bar where Riker stood. “He doesn't like to talk about it, just in case someone screams nepotism.” Finishing his final drink, he slid the glass to the middle of the able. “The Boss treats him no differently. He gets bitched at just like all the other Executives.”

Breccia caught the Blaziken's eye once more and broke contact. “Considering his entourage, I'm guessing he and the Boss are close.”

“Try related.” Morice said finally. “He's the Boss' grandson.”


Chapter 7:

Chapter 9:

© Copyright 2019 Richard Mapes. All rights reserved.

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