After a few more minutes of riding her bike, Eliana finally came upon the entrance of the Underground Path. It was a decrepit looking thing, a large concrete building with a sign that was barely holding on. The whole building was covered in graffiti, a colorful mosaic of tags and symbols from countless gangs and artists. The entrance itself was a dark, gaping maw, the air around it thick with the smell of damp concrete and something else, something vaguely sweet and cloying. Opening the door revealed a set of stairs heading down that seemed unending.
Eliana got off of her bike and stared at it for a bit, while she could take it down the stairs using her telekinesis it would be an annoying process. Kirlia hopped out of the basket and looked up at his trainer before looking back towards the bike. He closed his eyes and a soft blue light surrounded his body as the bike also began to glow. Eliana raised an eyebrow wondering what her Pokémon was doing when the bike suddenly vanished.
<…Kirlia…> The mentioned Pokémon looked towards Eliana,
Kirlia pointed out that he simply manipulated space itself to slip it between the fabric of reality. He'd call it back out whenever she wanted it. Eliana stared in disbelief before just assuming that of course he can do something like that. It's how Mew travels between worlds, and how I got killed.
She took a deep breath, the scent of the place already dry filling her lungs before she even took a step in. It was the smell of a thousand lives crammed into a small space, a potent cocktail of ambition, despair, and raw, untamed energy.
She looked at the graffiti-covered building, a small, predatory smile on her face.
The inside of the entrance was as dilapidated as the outside. The walls were cracked and peeling, the floor littered with trash and broken glass. The only light came from a few flickering fluorescent tubes that hummed and buzzed overhead, casting long, distorted shadows. Eliana descended the stairs at a consistent pace, wanting to see the actual underground. After a few minutes of walking, while thinking that these stars were stupidly long. Like seriously people actually used these all the time? Eliana finally came to the bottom which opened to a dirty space filled with people scattered around.
The air was thick and humid, a swamp of recycled oxygen, cheap perfume, and the metallic tang of too much electricity. The ceiling was low, a claustrophobic canopy of tangled wires and pipes, some leaking a sluggish, dark fluid. The walls were a canvas of grime and layered graffiti, a chaotic history of the place's underbelly written in spray paint. The floor was a sticky mosaic of discarded wrappers, spilled drinks, and god-knows-what-else, illuminated by the harsh, inconsistent glow of neon signs from makeshift stalls.
Stalls lined the main walkway, a haphazard collection of card tables, rusted metal shelves, and upended crates. Stalls sold everything from black market TM discs and modified Poké Balls to suspicious-looking foodstuffs and weapons that were strictly illegal on the surface. Even Pokémon were available to buy, although from what Eliana could sense most of them were sickly and would die soon. Women offering themselves up to any passerby who seemed like they had money. Men drunk carelessly in the middle of the walkway. The air thrummed with the low hum of illicit material and the hushed whispers of countless transactions.
In one corner, a man with a big sunglasses was showing off a case of round colored glass looking things. He was calling them Rare Candies, it would give an instant boost to your Pokémon once eaten. In another, a woman with intricate, silver-chased tattoos on her arms was demonstrating a stun baton to a prospective buyer. Eliana walked deeper into the tunnel, looking around curiously as Kirlia floated closer to her. He was not happy to be in a place like this, it stunk immensely and the people here were some of the worst they've come across so far.
People noticed Eliana, of course they did, a young girl walking confidently in a place like this was sure to gain attention. One old man surrounded by a drove of scantily dressed young women walked right up to her.
"Well look at what we have here," the old man said, an almost predatory look on his face, "What is a little girl like you doing in a place like this?"
Eliana didn't bother to turn her head, her gaze fixed on a stall selling intricate-looking knives. "Minding my business," she said, her voice flat and devoid of emotion. "It's a popular hobby, you should try it."
The old man's women, who had been giggling and preening, went silent. The old man himself blinked, a flicker of surprise in his eyes before it was replaced by a cold amusement. "Feisty. I like that." He stepped closer, the smell of stale cologne and something vaguely medicinal wafting off him. "But this isn't a place for games, people get hurt down here. Little girls should be with their mothers, not exploring the sewers."
The women around him swooned, their presence seemed to be the man's personal cheerleaders.
"I'm not lost," Eliana said, finally turning to face him. Her eyes, in the dim light, seemed to hold a depth that didn't belong to a teenager. "And I'm not a little girl."
He chuckled, a wet, rasping sound. "Is that so?" He reached out an old wrinkly hand, intending to pat her cheek.
Before his fingers could make contact, Kirlia moved. It was a subtle shift, a mere straightening of his posture, but the air around him grew heavy, charged with a palpable psychic pressure. The old man's hand stopped mid-air, as if it had hit an invisible wall of solid ice then suddenly snapped backwards. A wave of vertigo washed over him, the tunnel tilting and spinning. He stumbled back, his face paled as a choked scream got stuck in his throat. The predatory smirk wiped clean away.
"Not interested," Eliana said, her voice a low whisper that cut through the ambient noise of the tunnel. She turned away from him as if he were already gone, her attention returning to the stall.
The old man, shaken and humiliated, didn't need to be told twice. He shot a venomous glare at the back of her head, but he and his flock of women retreated quickly, melting back into the shifting crowd. The vendor at the knife stall, who had watched the whole exchange with amused eyes, now looked at Eliana with a mixture of fear and respect.
"Good moves little lady," the vendor grunted, a burly man with a scar that split one eyebrow. He gestured to his wares, "Interested in buying?"
Having psychic abilities is nice but a physical weapon could be useful too, Eliana stared at the knives before asking, "You have anything that can be easily hidden?"
The man's grin widened, revealing a gold tooth. "I have just the thing." He reached under the table and brought out a slim, black box. He opened it, revealing a knife with a matte black handle and a short, double-edged blade. The metal was non-reflective, designed to be invisible in the dark.
"Carbon steel, ceramic coating," he said, running a thumb along the edge. "Holds a sharper edge than most steel, and it's light. Perfect for... close work."
Eliana picked them up. The balance was perfect, the handles cool and smooth in her palm. She had seen countless knives in her time in this world, but they were all so... boring. This was different.
"I'll take them," she said, pulling out the wad of bills she'd taken from the boys from earlier and handing them to the vendor.
"Pleasure doing business little lady," he said, pocketing the money without counting it. "Come back if you need more or a repair."
Eliana nodded, slipping the knives into the hiddens sheath she found inside the box and attached one onto the back of each thigh, under her skirt. It was a comforting weight against her skin. Eliana decided she had done enough shopping for the day and started making her way to the other exit.
But as she moved through the crowd, she felt a familiar prickle against her mind. Not the chaotic, aggressive thoughts of the regular people, but something more disciplined, more focused. A psychic probe, light and inquisitive, was brushing against her consciousness. It was a quick scan, the kind a she usually used to get a general reading of a crowd. As soon as the probe touched her, it recoiled as if burned.
Eliana stopped, her head tilting slightly. She knew that the were close to Saffron, it made sense that some of the psychics from there would come here too.
(¬⤙¬ ), Kirlia looked annoyed, he still though they could have met one of these people in the actual city, not a dirty place like this.
She turned her head slowly, scanning the faces in the crowd. She saw nothing but the usual assortment of criminals, low-lifes, and desperate souls. But she knew what she had felt. The probe had been expertly done, almost unnoticeable to anyone without her specific sensitivity. And the recoil... that was what intrigued her most. Whoever it was, they had been surprised.