Chapter Six: Phone Home



The Cubone that used to be Bill stared at the Abra in confusion. "Um... HELP?"



"Yes. That is my name, because that is what I do."



Bill paused a moment. "Yeah... hey, I'm Bill. That doesn't mean I'm going to charge you money, although a little cash could come in handy."



"I can provide you with whatever amount of cash you require. Within reasonable limitations, of course."



"Of course," Bill answered, wondering what happened to other-Bill's nest egg. He should hope that other-Rea, wherever she was, had inherited the funds and was living well off of them. "Um... which way is the bathroom?"



"The litter box is inside the garage. I can teleport you there if you wish it."



Bill winced. "Litter box?!" That wasn't at all what he had in mind. "No, I mean... well, to tell the truth, I kind of need a bath."



"In your weakened condition, as a Ground-type Pokemon?" HELP seemed surprised.



Bill sighed. "How about a basin of water, a few Hyper Potions, and a stiff drink? It's been a long day."



HELP nodded and, via teleportation, provided the necessary liquids. "I'll leave you to wash up. I must contact the others. They've been awaiting you."



"Th-thank you... ma'am? Or miss?"



"Doesn't matter. Either's fine. Most people call me 'COME BACK HERE TROLL,' but that's common to my kind." As if demonstrating, HELP snapped her fingers and vanished instantly.



Bill shrugged and turned towards the arrangement of fluids in front of him. The obvious question hung in his mind, unasked and unanswered.



Others?



---



The water HELP had provided was warm, but not scalding. The Abra had even provided washcloths and soap, despite Bill not asking for either. Soaking one cloth in water and applying the tiniest amount of soap, Bill was able to cleanse his wounds without polluting the basin itself, instead using fresh water wrung from a second, clean cloth to rinse his aching body. A couple of spray potions later, and he was feeling almost his old self again... if by 'old self' one meant a Cubone whose skull was still held by a crazed psychic traitor Gatekeeper Misty.



And he had other reasons for keeping the basin as pure as possible.



"My Lady," Bill said courteously to his own reflection in the water, "I require your assistance."



Normally he'd have brought a Poke Puff along with him as an offering, but being a foot high and with no real telekinetic powers to speak of, opening the refrigerator door would be, while most likely possible, a disproportional amount of effort that could end in the door slamming shut on him and death by asphyxiation. But, if all went well, Lady Griseous, the Giratina Empress of the Shadowlands, would appear, and hopefully he could explain a few things, such as why he was currently brown and fuzzy.



Lady Griseous did not appear in the water's reflection. But someone else did.



"WHAT THE FRELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOI--"



Bill pulled back in shock at the loud yelling. Instead of his reflection, he saw a young human male with stringy blue hair and a face that said that whatever he'd been expecting that day, this wasn't it.



"Um. Sorry," the young man in the reflection said. "Who are you?"



The Cubone rolled his eyes. "Cress, it's me. Bill. MacKenzie. I'm sort of trapped like thi--"



"WHAT THE FRELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!"



Bill winced. Yelling and swearing both, or at least almost swearing. Either Cress had missed his meds, or something very, very unpleasant had happened. Possibly both. And if Cress's ire was focused on him...



"Let me guess. Our other-Bill thought he could circumvent whatever coding their other-Bill had installed to protect his files on those ninja-star discs." Interacting with all these different universes, it was like balancing a budget, trying to keep track of all these Bills. "It failed, triggering the trap, and you now have all of Team Z33K's medical professionals working to extract a ninja-star CD-rom from a fossilized semi-corpse. More or less?"



"...yes." Cress looked somewhat calmer, but was still breathing hard.



"Did you take your Lorazepram, Cress?"



"...no."



Cress didn't take Lorazepram on a regular basis because it made him sluggish and drowsy. He had other daily medications for his anxiety, mood swings, and various other psychoses he'd picked up after a series of deeply traumatic incidents, mostly involving murders, attempted murders, and Eldritch abominations. Cress's Lorazepram was prescribed for use on occasions when things got to be more than a little much for him, times when he stopped making lemonade and started flinging lemons back. Which was normally out of character, but had been happening surprisingly often recently.



Bill cleared his throat. "Find my Lady and tell her I need to speak to her. Then take your Lorazepram." He paused. "Actually, take it first, then find her."



"Yes. Will do." Cress couldn't bring himself to meet Bill's gaze. "I'm... sorry. About that. My outbur--"



Bill cleared his throat again, a little more loudly than necessary. "Meds. Lady Griseous. Then apology. I don't have all day here, and I have no idea when--"



He was going to say when my current host, whom I only met eight minutes ago and am not entirely sure is trustworthy, is coming back with her friends that I've probably never even heard of, but by that time Cress was already out of range of the reflection.



Which meant Cress didn't see when, moments later, HELP poofed back into the room.



And she'd brought company.



To be continued...