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Avoiding Info-Dumps and Boring Exposition

Exposition can be many things in a story: character backstory, definitions, history, etc., and it’s a necessary part of any narrative. Yes, it’s “telling” instead of “showing”, but there are times when you have to “tell” to aid with pacing, detail, and most important of all, reader comprehension.  

Your readers don’t know what’s in your head; they know what’s on the paper. 

So you have to give exposition (though some stories will be heavier than others) and you have to do it well or your readers won’t care enough to pay attention. Exposition is not something to just shove aside or box away with an “icky” label on it because it affects the quality of the story as a whole. If you write it well, it can enhance the story rather than detract from it– which should be the goal of any element of writing. 

Learning to write better exposition makes you a better writer in general, and part of writing better exposition means understanding the main problems and the solutions.

What is an “info-dump?”

Simply put, “large amounts of information that don’t directly matter to the moment of the scene”. They can be seen as reflections on backstory or facts about the characters or world, specifically in large quantities. 

Three commonly seen methods of info-dumping are the chapter-start block, the monologuing narrator, and the rambling narrator. (Note: the names are not official, just what I personally call them.)

The chapter-start block is when the writer starts each new scene or chapter by giving all the backstory and relevant information at the very beginning, then running off and writing the scene while hoping the reader can remember everything. That kind of writing is often the result of “I want to get to the interesting story so I’ll take care of the boring setup first”. Guess what, your readers agree. They don’t care about your exposition because you’re presenting it in a boring way, and now they may not be able to get into the actual story because they don’t understand it as well as they could. While starting a new chapter or scene with exposition isn’t necessarily bad, large qualities of information are.

The monologuing narrator is exactly what it sounds like: the narrator talks at the reader for an extended amount of time. This info-dump can be found at any point of a scene, but it still gives way too much information at once. It also sometimes presents its own problem of timing, because the narrators shouldn’t be “zoning out to think about things” in the middle of a scene unless that detail weighs very heavily on them. Narration shows train of thought and the monologuing narrator usually needs to chill. (There are times when monologues are acceptable, but writing one primarily to deliver background information is not acceptable use.)

Similar to the monologuing narrator in that character thought takes over the scene, the rambling narrator has an additional problem in that they often go off-topic or into detail that isn’t necessary for the moment. While the occasional “ramble” can be used to show character personality, a writer can’t expect readers to actually learn from that ramble. Large amounts of information aren’t easy to digest, especially when everything is presented at the same time. 

Avoiding the info dump.

Keep all information in context.

If your scene is about a character going for a job interview, don’t start mentioning their dead sister unless there’s an important connection that’s immediately relevant. Only reveal what makes sense to reveal within the events and flow of the scene. It’s true that the lines can get blurry when you’re working with a story that has interconnected elements, but early on you want to keep exposition in careful balance with the forward momentum of the narrative. Later on, once your readers are already hooked, you can ease up a little on the withholding and start exploring details– but keeping things contextual will still always be an important guideline to follow.

Use prompts for information.

Prompts are things like people, situations, in-story objects or moments that ‘remind’ the narrator of the piece of exposition. Part of avoiding never-ending, rambling, or irrelevant exposition involves using setting and plot to prompt information from the narrator’s mind, rather than just dump it all out at once. Prompts help shows connections and grant relevance by tying the information into the current scene and moment. 

Narrator perspective guides exposition.

The narrative point of view helps ground the reader’s new information by presenting it through the eyes of the person they are following. This does mean that your audience can get biased info, but that’s part of the nature of storytelling; it’s not a documentary. Similar to using prompts, narrator perspective helps guide exposition by presenting information that’s relevant to the narrator and their personal story. 

Use a “weaving” techniques to avoid giant blocks of text.

It’s best to weave your exposition between dialogue, thought, and action to write in a way that’s engaging and informative. Think of it like being in a class. If your professor spends the whole hour giving a lecture off slides, chances are you might be overwhelmed at times and tune out a bit. If they introduce an activity and give smaller lectures to explain the science behind the steps, then you are more likely to pay attention and not feel as overwhelmed. Writing works the same way. The best results are typically found when the activity (story events that are “shown”) are blended with lecture (backstory/exposition that is “told”).

Generally, you want to practice a balance of dialogue, action, and exposition. Some scenes may be heavier in one category than the other, and that’s okay, but a balance of those elements helps with overall pacing and keeps readers engaged and more likely to learn. 

Not everything needs explaining.

While there are certainly pieces of information that you have to “tell” for the story to make sense, there are times when “showing” can cut down on lengthy exposition and make for a more engaging narrative. Why have your narrator explain/“tell” about how they don’t get along with their mother when you can show the poor relationship through the way they interact? And don’t just keep it isolated to one scene, unless the story calls for it, because some parts of exposition stretch beyond individual moments and affect the entire story. It may be tempting to try and directly point everything out at once, but that’s a quick road to long-winded scenes of exposition that leave your characters and their plot behind.

Writing more interesting exposition.

For exposition to be interesting, it needs meaning, and meaning can be granted through context and the relevance to the current scene when the reader is not yet fully invested in your story. When presenting exposition, there are a few things that can be kept in mind:

Try and convey something about the character’s personality with the way they give information. We all have a personal take on things and so will a character, so let that personal perspective show via tone, word choice, fact detail, etc.

An interesting voice can carry a story decently far, especially when it comes to giving background information. It’s possible to have a character that sticks only to the facts, but without a bit of emotion behind that exposition, it can get dry really quickly. Your character needs to interact with their world, not be a robot that gives impartial explanations of everything. 

If you repeat information, which is needed for anything with heavy detail, present it in different ways or at least don’t copy the wording.

Build on detail over time, and make sure to apply that detail to the scene to allow for contextual learning. 

Tension tends to create reader interest. Giving exposition during tense moments can force a reader to learn on the spot– as long as it doesn’t distract from the scene. 

Pace yourself. Part of boring exposition is tied into how much is presented at once, and while info-dumps can be identified and avoided with relative ease, you still have to watch how much information is being presented in a scene or chapter. Even if you “weave” it correctly, there’s still a chance that it’s too much for a reader to reasonably digest.

Good luck with your work and if there are any questions, drop them in my ask box and I’ll see how I can help. Just please read my Rules and Considerations page to make sure I’m the best resource, and consider a Gift of Coffee to grant me an energy boost, if you’re feeling generous.

Fun fact: ‘Mind how you go’ is a Terry Pratchett reference. Not only his last book, The Shepherd’s Crown, has this dedication to one of the characters, it’s the Pratchett family’s mantra for safety:

Her [Rhianna Pratchett’s] parents were living in Wiltshire, while she was based in London but they saw a lot of each other and spoke constantly. “I’m always telling them I love them on the phone in a slightly silly way. We always say to each other, ‘Mind how you go’; it’s almost like a Pratchett mantra for safety.”

with Rhianna, the daughter of Terry Pratchett, saying this as her last words to her father and her grandfather.

The Evening PokeNews

Good Evening and Welcome to the 11 o’clock PokeNews

I’m Chet Pokenews with the PokeNews.

A recent string of poverty has been sweeping the Alola region. Trainers are be drained of all their necent funds after encountering a particular trainer currently on her Island Challenge. We talked with local residents who met with the child.

Punk Girl- “I dunno what came over me, I just saw that Lycanroc start to party and I got caught up in the atmosphere. Before I knew it I had handed over more money than I even thought I had on me at the time.”

Madam- “It was holding something shiny, like a coin, and I just thought it was so adorable that when I lost I just emptied out my purse.”

Aether Foundation Employee- “I lost my life savings, pension, and even the paycheck I was on my way to cash. That child is a menace!”

We managed to catch up with Professor Kukui, alleged relation of this Alolan newcomer, to get his comment.

Kukui- “Hey, sometimes you just get a Dizzy Punch to the Body Slam, and when you Agility, it Bug Buzz your Tackle Aerial Ace Flamethrower. Yeah, Cousin?”

Kukui’s lab assistants report that the child is currently in possession of a special Rotom Dex which can induce even great financial prosperity upon victory in pokemon battle. If you see this trainer *posts image of passport picture with vacant eyes gazing into the camera* do not make eye contact as it will ignite our ancient tradition of challenging one another to a pokemon battle no matter the circumstances. Be on your guard and stay safe.

When we return, Aether Foundation President Lusamine has an announcement on a recent project to disappear to an alternate dimension AND current Malasada trends. Stay Tuned.

A little Urban Fantasy

I wish I could say this was born out of a long, well thought out concept of a wizard/shaman character trying to scrape by in the big city as a detective on a supernatural investigative team whilst dealing with the myriad of fantasy creatures sticking their nose into his personal life and causing all kinds of chaos around his town. But in reality, I just wanted a chance for a guy to nail a God in the junk. So, Enjoy.

~~~~~~

The night air was heavy with the musk of summer heat. Standing across the desolate park was Mr. Simmons, or so he went by. I had been tracing his movements for some time, trying to catch him slip up. I had my suspicions after watching him stand behind little Timmy at the festival a few weeks ago. An unremarkable man, Mr. Simmons looked like any other office worker. His dull suit and unoffensive presence made him blend well into the scenery of the urban setting. A little too well.

I had managed to get him out to the meeting when I mailed him some photos I took of him at the festival. I had to shop in some special details, marking in the note that I had a special lens attached. I figured he would just get antsy and cover his tracks, but here he is. Staring at me as if to set me on fire. For all I knew, he could do it.

I guess Gods can get nervous too.

Mr. Simmons reached into his jacket. I tensed my hand around the revolver at my side. A bullet to the gut probably wouldn’t do much to an omnipotent being, but its presence allowed me the bravado I needed to stare down celestial types. He produced an envelope and held it out in front of him, quirking an expectant eyebrow.  I followed suit. Without losing my grip on the pistol, a steady hand fished a roll of film from my pocket. I also held it up for the long-distance scrutiny of my business partner.

Now this is where the dance gets tricky. We show off the goods, hand it over to a confidant and they make the trade. If either side showed sign of unfavorable response, the deal is blown and we go our separate ways, usually the head goes one way and the body goes another. Seeing as my conversation piece was powered by gunpowder and his by the visceral might of eternity, I hedged my bets on taking a dive. As such, I play by as many rules to get by as I can. Stay cool, stay professional, stay alive. Blackmailing Gods is tricky business to say the least.

I hand the cartridge to my confidant beside me, a little sprite I have lovingly deemed “Fetch”. The Fey can be chaotic at times, but with the right incentive they can be a boon for simple tasks. Such as, “give to the big scary guy and nab the goods. Then comes energy drinks.”

The diminutive fellow hefts the cartridge in his arms and sets his wings in motion. Across the park, Mr. Simmons does the same. His choice of companion is best described as a pile of compost. Various bits of plant detritus, leaves and twigs, jutting out at odd angles and mashed together with a pair of flowers at the top as a form of eyes I guess. It managed to balance the envelope on its head and shamble its way over to me.

I had been milling the thought for a while, ‘why would a land god use a blob of mulch as a companion and not some kind of cute woodland creature?’ I narrowed my eyes at the undulating creature. As it approached, I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I glanced over to Fetch, he was almost to Simmons. I decided to make a small diversion. Tilting my head back, I let out a loud sneeze. Everyone on the scene froze for a moment as I reached for a handkerchief. I wiped my nose and glanced over at Fetch, who had been looking at me over his shoulder. He whipped around, letting the canister fall from his grip. It clattered on the ground.

“Ah, come on Fetch!” I called to him, “Be professional, like we practiced.”

Yelling at my companion gave me an opening to steal a glance at the vegetative familiar. The envelope had toppled from its head when I bellowed my sneeze. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the mess snatch the envelope with a bony hand protruding from within the pile of leaves. I made a sound, something between a hiccup and a shriek. Whatever it was, it was obvious enough to alert the land god to my epiphany. Er, correction. That was no land god. I was attempting to blackmail a being of decay, of rot and death. Standing across from me wearing a rather irritated expression was a Plague God.

Remember that part about “separate ways”? Well, things were going to go very “separate” for me in short order unless quick thinking could save my bacon. When in doubt, fall back on the classics.

“AAAAAAHHHH!” I shouted and ran like a maniac. This clued Fetch in to do his most favorite trick. A mystical light-speed hokey-pokey that filled the area with enough razzle and dazzle to out glitz Vegas. The diversion must have gotten to the very angry being of unlife as I managed to make the few steps necessary to pounce on the envelope. A well placed back-hand toppled the camouflaged corpse into a rotten pile of bones. I sprang to my feet as the glitter faded from the air, the little guy can only boogie so long. I let loose a string of colorful language. Or I tried, I got to kiss the dirt before finishing “Shi-“ and had a powerful and ancient being digging its all-powerful boot into my back.

“Did you really think you could best me, Mortal?” It said with a voice like searing acid. I felt a deep chill fill my body. A cold that threatened to stop my heart before I could blink. But, it is in our most dour moments, that glory can be found and indomitable wit can be harnessed. I dug my numb hand into my pocket and work what I assumed were my fingers around my revolver.

“Did—you think, I wouldn’t…gun!” I pulled the trigger and felt a hot sting in my foot.

Some ideas are better than others. The deity howled in laughter, stepping off me and drawing a long, gnarly looking scimitar. Raising it high over his head and looming over me.

“Such are the machinations of a fool.”

I flipped to my back, “Me? A fool?” I pulled my bloody foot in front of me. “Maybe, but I ain’t the one staring down a Gate, am I?” With my one-liner properly dispatched, I gave Simmons my best crippled nut-shot.

The look of surprise on his face was priceless. Horror, disgust, rage and maybe a tinge of acceptance, though that might just be the hubris talking. The portal I had unlocked via bullet to the foot swallowed the powerful being in a wondrous display of magic and light. There were magical words floating in the air, vortex-y looking structures crafted from aether and a really sci-fi “vwoosh”-ing sound. After the fireworks display, the dust settled and the park returned to a quiet and serene place. I even had a moment to enjoy the adrenaline before the shrill sound of police sirens permeated the night. My signal to get moving.

I whistled for Fetch and I hobbled my way back to the car. My faithful driver waiting patiently, smoking a thick cigar. As I approached, he pulled the door open for me and I threw myself inside, Fetch staying close by. We pulled away from the park and disappeared into the night, literally. It’s handy to know a few gnome mechanics.

“Just as planned?” Piped up my driver, the cigar clenched between his teeth.

I winced as the adrenaline gave way to the throbbing pain aching my whole body. I managed to pretty up the expression with a rugged and manly smirk. I reached down and tugged the envelope free from the hole in my foot.

“All in a day’s work.”

He gave a sideways glance and shuddered, “You Gates are so weird.”

We continued in silence. It gave me time to wonder. A plague god had no place waltzing into the festival. How the heck did he sneak in? I looked over the envelope and resolved to bring it up with Marshal back at the office. But that could wait.

“Danny,” I said, “Take me to 42nd and Vice. I got a date with a gal.”

“Can I ride shotgun?”

I shook my head, “Got a Plague God riding shotgun right now, but if you are into that kind of thing…”

He pounded the palm of his hand on the steering wheel. “Dammit, I never get to—“ He paused and let the cigar drop from his mouth. “Plague God!?”

I snatched the cigar before it landed on the seats and popped it back into his mouth. “Never fret, my friend.” I smiled, “I got a plan.”

He took a drag on the tobacco and let out a thick sigh, “I need to find a new line of work.”

Day 1 - Ring

I can’t draw for Inktober, and it is unlikely I will be able to do a REAL NaNoWriMo, but I still want to try challenging myself. SO! I will take the Inktober prompts and write little blurps to do some on-the-fly world building for a random idea I had a while back. A Giant-Monster themed WWE/UFC fighting league. Enter the KFL, Kaiju Fighting League. Let’s see how this goes. Wish me luck.

----

Prompt: Ring

Title: In The Ring

“Ladies, gentlemen, and everything in between!” The announcer cried. He stood in the center of the massive battle pit. The impressive, gilded microphone he clutched glittered in the spotlights aimed at him. “Welcome to the opening night for the Kaiju Fighting League’s 30th anniversary!”

The crowd roared. People, beasts, monsters and things without names all stomped in the grandstands to chants and cheers. Their voices rattled the cage surrounding the pit. The announcer let them roar for a bit before continuing.

“Years ago, when humanity fought the calamity, it was through teamwork with strangers that led us to victory! And when the calamity was destroyed, we did what we do best.” He put his hand to his ear to wait for the audience.

They rewarded him with a unanimous cheer, “WE FIGHT!” Followed by more roaring applause.

The announcer pumped his fist in the air, “Hell yeah! That’s why our founder, Thrash Flexman, the Ragin’ Stallion himself, founded the KFL and brought the strongest warriors together to enjoy that most traditional of past times. The Brawl!”

At his call, the monitors high above him blared to life. Dancing across the screens were images of the highlights from the last year. The names of champions rolled by alongside their best fights. King Carnage, the colossal apeman with a crown crafted from fighter planes, knocking his opponent so hard it sends him flying through the protective ring. Kill-ogram, the titanic metal beast, charging against the blows of his opponent to send a strike that causes the poor warrior to crumple into a heap. Cassidy Quake, a monstrous catfishman with whip-like whiskers, grabs his opponent and cheers to the crowd before leaping into a flying suplex. 

More heroes flash on the screen and the crowd whoops to each cherished memory. The screen then darkens and shows several silhouettes.

“But no one can reign champion forever! It’s time for new blood to step up to the challenge!” The announcer calls out. “You hear that?”

The gates leading to one side of the arena open up and the newcomers wander out. They march, beasts, dragons, monsters all, out to one side of the ring. Out front, a rather lithe monster leaps onto the cage and cries out, “Bring out my meal!”

The announcer barely manages to keep his feet as the 20 ft tall raptor claws against the cage, rattling the whole battle pit. The crowd is eating it up and start to chant for the kings.

The announcer steadies himself. “Ha, I can tell you’re hungry for the Crown. But it won’t be that easy.”

The lights go out and the music clicks on to play a rocking theme. Spotlights flash to the opposite gate which rattles open. With prestige, pride, and confidence, the Kings enter. Top of their brackets, they march to the cage. Fans wave banners, swing merch, and throw bananas. They stay focused on their new opponents, except for King Carnage, who attempts to catch the bananas. 

Cassidy Quake makes it to the cage first, he signals to the announcer, who runs over with the mic. Cassidy takes the mic gently between his fingers and swishes his wild whiskers before speaking.

“I don’t care who you are, or where you came from.” He points to the raptor still clinging to the cage and wearing a manic grin, “If you want this crown, we meet in the ring as warriors!” He dropped the mic, the announcer did his best to catch it. His fellow Kings respond with a resounding battle cry that makes the whole arena shudder. The crowd goes absolutely wild. Bananas are flying everywhere.

The announcer gets back to the center of the pit.

“Alright KFL Fanantics! That wraps up the pomp and circumstance. Now comes the fun part! Are. You. Ready?”

The crowd explodes in applause and cheers.

“Then let’s get started, KFL 30, LET’S ROCK!”

Music flares to life as newcomers and Kings alike head back through their gates and the games prepare to get started.

How I turned an idea into an outline

With NaNoWriMo around the corner, I thought I might show you how I plotted my novel.

This is the story structure I used:

0% inciting incident

0%-20% introduction in the world, ends with a point of no return

20% first plot point: the hero receives his marching orders

20%-50% response to the first plot point

35% first pinch point: reminder of the nature of the antagonistic force

50% midpoint: big fat plot twist that changes the hero’s AND reader’s experience

50%-80% attack: the stakes are higher now

65% second pinch point: again reminding the reader of the antagonistic forces at hand

80% second plot point: the final injection of new information into the story to give the hero everything she needs to become the primary catalyst in the story’s conclusion (no new information past this point)

80%-100% resolution + final conflict + return home

I didn’t make this up. I think it’s by Larry Brooks, if The Internet informs me correctly. Fun Fact: once you pay attention to it, you’ll see this structure everywhere. Just take a look at any Harry Potter book, for example.

These points are the “bones” of my story. Next, I decided what “flesh” to put on them.

I simply made a list of things I like to read about:

Books about books and libraries

Magic

Quirky characters

Intelligent, fast-paced and sometimes silly

So, I combined this list and the structure points into a story that makes sense. Because I don’t want to spoil my plot / I am still to shy about my wip, I will make up a new plot for this post, so I can show you.

0%: The hero does something magical without knowing how she did it. She discards it, because everybody knows it can’t have been real.

0%-20%: We see the daily life of the hero: she is unhappy because all she wants to do is read, but she is not allowed to. She reads in the dead of night and is punished for it by her evil stepcousin. She finds a book on magic.

20% It all clicks together: she can do magic!

20%-50% The daily life for the hero changes. Instead of reading all night, she practices magic. She now loves books even more. She has little victories over her evil stepcousin, but hasn’t won yet.

35% The evil stepcousin finds out that she can do magic and takes away the magic book.

50% She discovers she can do magic without the book.

50%-80% The hero is not the only one who is bullied by the evil stepcousin. Her younger cousin is a victim as well, and he doesn’t have magic to defend himself. The stakes are raised, this is bigger than herself now. The younger cousin also wants to read, so they have several bonding moments over reading.

65% The evil stepcousin hurts the younger cousin, he’s in a coma now.

80% The hero discovers the evil stepcousin could do all these evil things because he knows magic too.

80%-100% The hero confronts the evil stepcousin, fights him off, nearly loses but wins in the end. He gives up and releases his power over the younger cousin who wakes up from the coma.

It’s not the most genius plot ever, but I literally made this up in minutes. So can you! And imagine the genius plot you can come up with if you spend more than a few minutes on it.

Then I calculated how many scenes I need in which part of the story. My wip is a YA or 12+ book, so I want it to contain about 75,000 words in total. I want my scenes to be around 1,000 words long to keep it snappy, so I need 75 scenes.

Scene number 1 (0%) is the inciting incident, scene number 15 (20%) is the first plot point, scene number 26 (35%) is the first pinch point, scene number 37 (50%) is the midpoint, scene number 49 (65%) is the second pinch point, scene number 60 (80%) is the second plot point and scene 75 (100%) is the last scene.

Some sidenotes on the 1,000-word scenes:

That’s more of a vague rule of thumb than a strict rule. If your scene needs to be longer or shorter, make it longer or shorter of course. My wip has some 2,300-word scenes as well.

Having 1,000-word scenes does not mean I have 1,000-word chapters, that would be really short. I will divide my novel into chapters after I’m finished writing my first draft.

For NaNoWriMo, maybe you could write scenes of 1,667 words, so you do one scene per day. A 50,000-word novel has 30 scenes of 1,667 words. Inciting incident is at scene 1, first plot point at scene 6, first pinch point at scene 11, midpoint at scene 15, second pinch point at scene 20, second plot point at scene 24 and scene 30 is your last scene. That’s just an idea, you got to see what works for you.

Then I made up in one sentence what will happen in every scene. For example: “They meet the dragon and he sends them on a sidequest.” Now my outline consists of 75 one-sentence scenes. This way, I prevent the problem of the sagging middle and other pacing problems and I still get to surprise myself when writing.

From those one-sentence scenes, I flesh out every scene into a first draft, using the process I described in my post How I never have to face an empty page when I write.

And that’s my first draft! I hope everything is clear. Feel free to ask me questions if it isn’t.

I’m gonna tag a few people I admire, who I hope are interested. If you aren’t, feel free to ignore me, or message me to take you off my tag list. If you would like to be added to my writing advice tag list, let me know.

Keep reading

Banzai

If I can ever recommend one thing to you, it is this:

I have several done years of RPing, and this has taken me to countless different forums and, if you are at all familiar with RP forums, let me tell you, they were the lowest of the low some six or seven years ago.

In one of these forums, a legendary tale happened, a tale that, if I can ever recommend one thing to you, it is this:

The Ballad of Edgardo.

A story that happened to an anonymous RPer years ago.

Anyone will be able to appreciate it (and trust me, you will), but if you are kinsmen or kinswomen to me, if you ever had to experience the shittiest of RP forums and their terrible userbases, particularly that one guy that does whatever he wants and is an asshole that clearly godmods but gets away with it because the actual mods don’t give a damn, you will find the beauty behind the ballad that much brighter.

Just trust me on this one. It’s not a particularly long read, either.

I hope you enjoy The Ballad of Edgardo

I have been doodling a lot recently in the margins of my notes at work. Figured I might as well join some of my art friends in the spirit of the Month. Don’t expect much, I am no professional.

Day 4 - Freeze

I appologize, this one got way out of hand. Hopefully you still enjoy.

Prompt: Freeze

Title: A Pilot is the Soul

At the Combat Robotics center in the big city, a crowd of photographers and important looking people in suits had arrived to witness the latest prototype in Fighter Robo being showcased that day. Investors from leading tech companies, as well as KFL fans, had gathered to see the fruits of their investments. As well as the return of a retired KFL Robo Pilot. One dapper gentleman known as Danny Fierce. He was one of the first humans who took his military combat robo rig and had it refurbished for KFL fights. 

His majestic partner stood at the entrance, proud as the day it was re-commissioned for the KFL. For his part, Danny walked up to an anxious-looking intern that was frantically looking around, clutching her clipboard and pen.

“Hey, excuse me. The email didn’t say where to go.” He said, slipping off his weathered cap and scratching his head, “Don’t suppose you could help with that?”

The intern gasped, “Oh thank goodness, we thought you got lost.” She clicked her pen and brought it to her mouth, “Mr. Fierce has arrived at the north entrance, I’ll take him to the briefing room.” The pen crackled some kind of response. She smiled and waved to him, “Follow me please.”

They slipped past the crowd and into the center. Passing by the posters and displays for the latest prototype. There were even some inside the elevator they rode to the top floor. Danny took note of one beside him. He muttered to himself.

“The Maverick mark two. Synthetic craftsmanship honed to its utmost potential? Pah,” He said shaking his head, “Just give me a rig and hold the synthetics.” He looked to his guide, she kept politely silent. 

The elevator opened up to a conference area. At the main podium, was the leader of the Combat Robo program. She waved to them.

“Yes yes, come in. Glad you could make it.” She said and gestured to a seat beside her. “For the guest of honor.”

Danny smiled and made his way past the other rows of tired-looking scientists and engineers. Some had let their chins dip to their chests and were snoring softly. When he arrived at the podium, he reached out to shake her hand.

“Danny Fierce, reporting for duty, Miss--”

“Doctor, actually,” She said, taking his hand, “Doctor Abigail Bishop.” She smiled and gave his hand a firm shake.

Danny smiled and nodded, “Got it,” He took his seat beside the podium, “Please continue.”

“Of course,” Doctor Bishop said. “Today is the big day team. We’ve put in the hours and now comes time to show it off to our eager investors. Right now, they are getting the VIP treatment and the awesome sizzle reel that our media team was nice enough to put together.” She said and motioned to a group seated in the back. They gave a weary cheer, the rest of the congregation applauded.

“And speaking of VIP treatment,” She said, “A round of applause for our very special guest, the renowned robo pilot Danny Fierce.” She clapped, others followed suit. Danny waved politely.

“We stand at a crossroads, my fellow creators,” She continued, “A new era is about to dawn. We have suffered through the setbacks and struggles of mark one, but with this, the mark two, we shall showcase the incredible might of Combat Robo development team!” She clicked a small remote and a projection shot up from the center of the room to showcase the specs and holographic design of the new robo rig. Supportive applause fluttered around the room.

Danny leaned forward.”Say, that’s pretty compact,” He said, “How is a pilot supposed to fit in there?”

Doctor Bishop smirked at him and clicked the remote again, “Oh no no, my archaic friend.” The image switched over to a spec readout, a highlighted phrase said, “Remote Operation and Autonomous Control modes”.

He leaned back, “Ah, I see.” He folded his arms and shook his head, “I dunno, you take the pilot out of the rig, the metal ain’t got no soul.” 

She wore a professional smile, the kind hewn from stone and salt that belies the teeth clenched behind tightly pressed lips. 

“Well, old man,” She said, “That’s what we are here to showcase.” She clicked the remote again. It brought up the specs of Danny’s rig, the Dandy Piston, and the not so flattering details. Including but not limited to a highlight phrase that said, “Unpredictable Human Error”.

“Oh, I get it now.” He said, a smile played across his face. He looked at her, “A friendly exhibition.”

She smiled, “Friendly, yes.”

The meeting dispersed and the crowds gathered at the research center’s KFL ring. Maverick Mk.2 was standing proudly inside the pristine ring. Carbon-fiberglass platting designed to look like an upright fighter jet with legs. Sleek, deadly, and super cool. 

Opposite the black and red rig was Dandy Piston, Danny’s faithful rig. The center was kind enough to get the cobwebs off of it before having it deposited into the ring. Danny stood on the staging balcony situated at what would be called the rig’s neck. Danny slipped into the last of his piloting gear, modeled after the aviators of old, all leather and insulating fur. The most high tech thing on his person, the headset the Doctor was nice enough to lend him, buzzed in his ear.

“Are you ready?” The voice was the anxious intern. 

“Just about.” Danny responded. He popped open the hatch and slipped his way down into the gyro cockpit. He sat back in the pilot seat, a wave of nostalgia washed over him.

“Hey there, you old fool, you remember me?” He ran his hands over the various levers and dials that made up his configuration. He took his time remembering each switch and the feel of the pedals under his feet. “Got another fight left in you?” 

He slipped his hand under the main console and triggered the startup command. The cockpit hummed to life, lights flickering on and gauges spinning to calibration. The music of the machine took Danny to a special place in his mind. A time of great battles, struggles, fear, and triumph. He smiled.

“Uh, are you ready, yet?” The anxious voice said in his ear.

Danny sighed, letting his shoulder slump. “Can’t let me have anything, can ya,” He muttered before adding, “Yeah yeah, we’re ready to rumble.”

Up in the command center, a host of the section leaders were gathered in front of various terminals, all whirring and beeping with up-to-date information of the condition of the Maverick. Doctor Bishop walked the rows, checking on last-minute adjustments.

“Matilda, Flick me the diagnostics. Marco, make sure the software is at its most recent patch, should be 11.5.1. Chell, no drinks at the terminals, please thank you. Juliette?” 

The anxious intern looked from her terminal, lifting an earphone from her headset, “Yes, Abby?” 

Abigail cleared her throat.

“Oh uh, I mean, Doctor Bishop? What is it?”

She smiled, “How is the fossil doing?”

Juliette looked back at her terminal and leaned into the microphone, “Uh, are you ready yet?” She paused and then nodded, “Okay, he said he’s ready.”

Doctor Bishop clapped her hands, “Wonderful, then let’s begin.” She dashed to the front of the command center and clicked her remote, a camera drone floated up to record her.

Out in the KFL ring, a robo announcer drone flew up to address the audience.

“Honorable guests one and all. Welcome to our demonstration exhibition match. Today, our latest creation, the remarkable Maverick mark two, will clash with one of the best robo pilots of the last generation, Danny Fierce. Please, enjoy the show.”

There came applause and cheering. A few of the gentlemen in suits who wore their graying hair in conservative styles, whooped and hollered the loudest, even starting a small chant for Danny.

The announcer drone floated up between the two competitors. 

“Are the fighters ready?” She said.

Danny rolled his shoulders and cranked his controls, Dandy Piston responded by pumping a fist in the air. 

“We’re ready to dance!” His voice cracked out of the rig’s megaphone.

Abigail looked across the command center, her eyes falling on Juliette. For her part, the nervous intern put on her game face and nodded.

“Well then,” Doctor Bishop’s voice boomed from the announcer drone. “Let’s BRAWL!”

The Maverick sprang to attention and charged at Piston. Metal clashed and sparks flew as the two massive battle robots exchanged blows. The audience roared with each heavy hit. Piston was a little sluggish at the start, taking a few hits that rattled Danny in his seat.

“Yeesh, at least dance with me a little before taking me back to the hotel room.” Danny grunted into the mic.

“S-sorry. Your simulation was a lot harder. Should I hold back a little?” Juliette said.

“Oh, so you got sass, huh?” Danny said. He grit his teeth and jammed a pedal. A kick flew up and caught Maverick in the chest, sending it staggering backwards. “Ha, how’d ya like the pepper on that?”

The sleek rig straightened up. Juliette came back on the line, “Actually, that should just about finish it.”

“Finish? But we were just getting warmed up,” Danny protested.

“What she means,” Doctor Bishop said, cutting into the channel, “Is she will no longer need to fight you.”

She looked around the command center, her team looking up to confirm.

“Matilda, good. Chell, excellent. Marco. Marco? How we looking?” She said.

The engineer was furiously typing at his terminal, “Uh, fine. Yeah, we’re fine. It’s fine.” He gave a thumbs up.

She smiled. “Finally.”

She clicked the remote again, her announcer doppelganger appeared before the crowd.

“Been enjoying the fight, KFL fans?”

Cheers came from the crowd.

“Because now it is time to show what the Maverick can really do! Time to switch to Autonomous mode!” She clicked her remote again.

The Maverick snapped to attention, its eyes changing color. Once a humming red, they became a pulsing green. It stood pensive opposite Piston.

Danny squinted at his display, watching the idle rig across from them. Moments drifted by before he chuckled into his mic, “So uh, is it supposed to be doing something?”

There was no response from the headset. Until a voice shrieked.

“Why are its eyes green?” Abigail shouted.

Her team was frantically typing at their terminals. Juliette smashed the buttons on her controller to no avail. Matilda was flipping through a dense tome of code. Chell scrolled through dense code on her terminal. Marco fought to deny eye-contact and keep a low profile. It did not go unnoticed.

“Marco?” She said, walking quickly to him, “Fine? It will be fine?” She asked, pulling him back away from the terminal. The screen said, “Latest patch, 10.9.1”. She stood up straight and took a deep breath.

“Are you telling me, our prized prototype is standing like a dead lump of metal in front of all our investors because it had a system crash?” She said, visibly shaking.

Marco opened and closed his mouth to say something a few times before Abigail heard laughing coming through her headset.

“Aw now, you can’t blame the poor rig.” He said, pushing down on a pedal to have Piston approach the stoic Maverick. “Everyone goes through it in their first fight.” He laughed, “The Freeze.”

He got within a robotic arm’s length. In the cockpit, Danny flipped open a panel that had a big red switch. He let a wide grin pass his face as he flipped the switch. The rig started to hum louder, charging, priming, getting ready. He pulled back a lever, Piston readied a balled fist.

Abigail snarled into the mic, “What are you doing?”

“Let’s see if a nice, hard reset will do the trick?” Danny said.

“Don’t you dare!” She cried out. But it was too late.

In the audience, when they saw Piston wind up, they went wild. They knew what was coming. It had been the signature move of the pilot and his rig back in his day. The crowd cheered as the massive metal fist slammed into the sleek rig’s chest plate, lifting it off the ground. Then, the deafening crash as the hydraulic piston built into its arm sent a massive shock wave rippling through the Maverick and knocking it up into the air, end over end, in a shower of sparks and shredded metal.

The advanced piece of tech landed in a heap on the ground at Dandy Piston’s feet. The crowd was on their feet, cheering for their hero.

Abigail stood in the command center, Marco had pushed his chair far away and now she was left standing alone. Her jaw was clenched as thoughts raced through her mind. The remote that connected her to the investors that had paid for their project was heavy in her hand. Her fingers slowly loosened and let it fall from her grip. 

It was caught by another pair of hands. Juliette smiled and put the remote back in her hand.

“Just another setback.” She said. “Like the mark one. Just think of how good the mark three will be with all this data.”

Abigail shook her head, “There might not be a mark three, not with that pathetic display.”

“I dunno,” Danny said, hollering through the headset, “Seems like my fans got one hellava show.” He laughed, “You tell them I am already on board for the rematch against Maverick mark three, and they’ll fall all over themselves to put money behind it.”

Abigail looked out the window to the ring, where Dandy Piston was striking heroic poses to a no doubt elated crowd. She looked back at Juliette, who patted the remote in her hand and returned to her terminal.

Doctor Bishop took a deep breath. “Minor setback folks,” She said to her team, “Now let’s go win em back.” She clicked the remote.

The folks in nice suits were stepped back into their fancy cars, smiles all around. Danny waved to them as they went off. Juliette stood beside him.

“So, the soul in the metal?” She asked, “Is that how you won your fights?”

Danny looked at her and laughed, “No, I won most of them by being a little stubborn and a lot of lucky. I just wanted to bitch at your boss a bit.” He stroked his chin and looked up at Dandy Piston as it was being loaded into a transport. “But maybe--.” He shook his head, “Bah, I’m gettin old. Come get me when you need a rusty pilot to wrestle with your latest rig.”

He headed off to his ride. Juliette finished taking her notes and hurried back inside. As the new full-time assistant for Doctor Bishop, she would be very busy.

The Wreckers - New Hideout

Chapter 2 of my Pokemon Thuglife AU. Again, inspiration comes from my good friend Puck’s Pokemon Superhero AU, Dustpan. Check her Twitter Puckarooni.

Enjoy the exploits of my young punks.

Alolan Joe - Alolan Ratata Ben - Spearow Zach - Zigzagoon Sherman - Sentret

~~~~

The Wreckers stood in the parking lot of the old thrift shop. The sun was setting on the cape and cast an orange glow over the scene.

“Ben,” Said Joe, contemplating while stroking his ‘stache, “When I said we needed an official hangout for our official crew, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

Ben quirked his head to the side, “It’s the only abandoned place left in town.” He folded his arms and turned to Joe, “Unless you want to start a turf war with The Darkness.”

Sherman coughed, “The Darkness? B-But they are the biggest and baddest team in town.”

“We’d be crushed.” Zack said, picking up a discarded “thrift shop rewards” card off the ground.

Joe cleared his throat. “Right, no need for that.” He looked back to the thrift shop. The sunset reflected off the cracked windows and illuminated the several layers the filth and graffiti that had piled on since it was abandoned years ago.

“It’s…perfect.” Joe said, gagging on the words as they came out. “Let’s go in a check out the official crash pad for the Wreckers.”

They all nodded and followed Joe into the thrift shop. The setting sun continued to creep its way down the horizon.

…

Ben ripped off the boards baring the entrance and they made their way inside. The shelving was in disrepair and the paint on the walls was peeling. The floorboards showed their lack of maintenance as well. The air was heavy and each footstep echoed and somehow enhanced the silence.

The team split up to investigate the shop.

Joe wandered the aisles, murmuring about future design plans. “ah yes, the pool table will go here. And this is where we can have the television. I wonder where we could fit the couch…”

Ben had already set about pushing some of the shelving around to make space for themselves.

Zack and Sherman wandered the perimeter together.

“Hey, Zack.” Sherman said, looking over the stuff on the shelves, “Do you know why this place was abandoned?”

Zack looked over a handful of penny candies he had found.

“It’s haunted.” He said.

Sherman looked at him in a moment that seemed to last too long.

Zack looked up at him, his eyes shining from within his hoodie.

“Maybe.” He concluded. Sherman let out a breath he realized he had been holding. He turned and noticed that Ben and Joe had overheard the comment and had stopped their activities. Everyone froze for a moment.

“Welp,” Joe said at last, “I think that works for our first survey.” He clapped his hands, “We’ll come back again tomorrow.”

Ben scoffed, “Feh, what’s the matter? You scared?” He crossed his arms and smirked.

Joe and Sherman spoke over each other, each with their own flair for denial.

“Yes,” Zack said sheepishly.

Joe looked back at the sunset, “Besides, it is getting rather-” Suddenly, the four of them were plunged into pitch black. “-dark.”

From the center of the shop a hazy purple glow bubbled up from the ground. The four members clamored for the exit in the dim, eerie light. Ben grabbed at the door but it wouldn’t budge. They fought for an attempt to try the door as the light grew stronger. A large ball of purple ethereal vapor hovered in the center of the shop before a pair of bright red eyes flashed and locked on the small group.

“TRESPASSERS!” Came a bellowing voice. The mass started to float towards them.

“Dammit, Ben! You had to pick a haunted place.” Joe cried.

“This is not my fault, you bristle-lipped jerk.” Ben said. Joe snapped to Ben with eyes full of fire in complete disregard to the looming supernatural danger.

“Guys, come on,” Sherman said with a quivering voice, “Isn’t there something we can do?”

“Give it something?” Zack said. He reached into his pockets and pulled out his current stash.

Sherman picked out the thrift shop rewards card, “What is this?”

Joe glanced over and saw the card, “That!” He said, snatching the card, “Is our ticket out of this.”

“TRESPASSERS!” It roared again. The mass had finished its slow, menacing migration and was now looming over the four of them. “YOU WILL BE–“

“Actually,” Joe said, holding up the card, “We’re customers.” He spoke with absolute confidence, almost casually.

“Customers?” The mass said, in a nervous and soft tone.

Suddenly, the lights in the shop came to life. Joe and his crew covered their eyes until they adjusted. Standing before them was a young woman with wild, flowing purple hair and a tall pointed hat. She wore an apron that had a name tag on it.

She clapped her hands in front of herself, “I’m terribly sorry, valued customer, feel free to look around.” Her voice was mellow and comforting. The four of them glanced at one another and then to the shop. Illuminated, it had taken on a new life, looking much less of a total wreck than before. The woman nodded and then levitated off the ground to go tend to the aisles.

The crew stood in shock. Ben woke up first and slapped Joe in the gut.

“Ouph, ahem yes.” He straightened up, “Well, I am afraid we can’t stay tonight. Must be moving on.” He offered.

The lady turned to them with a dour look on her face, “O-oh.” Her shoulders slumped forward, the lights began to dim.

“A-actually,” Sherman said, “I was wondering if you had uh–” He glanced at Zack who pulled out one of the penny candies and shrugged. “Uh, penny candies?”

She lit up again, the lights of the shop coming back to full illumination, “Why yes we do. Right this way, valued customer.” She glided through the air and showcased a small section with different colorful wrappers on display. “We have a rather impressive selection, I think.”

Sherman and Zack joined her and began nervously looking over the candies. The atmosphere relaxed slightly, Ben looked over the shop and sighed.

“I guess this is a no-go, huh?” Ben said.

Joe twizzled his mouse-stache, “I wouldn’t say that.” Joe walked up to the floating ghost woman. “Say, my dear. You wouldn’t happen to have a place where we might be able to rest a spell?” he motioned to the others, “We have been working hard all day and could really use a place to take a load off.”

She regarded him for a moment, her face scrunched in and she glanced around the shop. “Hmm, well,” She said, biting her lip, “I am not really supposed to, but,” She looked back at him, “But you are valued customers so I think it will be fine.”

She flitted over to a door along the back wall that said “employees only”. She opened it up and it revealed a small lounge with a TV, a couch, some tables and chairs and a vending machine. “Feel free to relax as long as you like.” She said. “After all, it has been a long time since we had customers.” She looked away, her eyes unfocused, “A long…time.”

“Yes thank you,” Ben said, scooting past them and hurling himself on the couch. He landed with a thud and kicked his feet up on the shoulder rest. “Aha! That’s more like it.”

Joe joined him in the room, seated at one of the tables. “Yes, yes this will do wonderfully. Thank you very much Miss…uh,” He squinted at her apron, “Drevie?”

The woman nodded, “You can call me ‘Dee’.” She said.

Joe smiled back at her, “Excellent, Miss Dee. My name is Joe, that’s Ben.” He motioned to the couch. Ben lazily lifted his hand in greeting. “And the two outside are Zack and Sherman.”

“A pleasure to meet you all. Oh, I had better get back to the floor. Take care.” She said and fluttered off.

Joe leaned back in his chair and stroked his mouse-stache. “yes, this will work.”

…

Sherman and Zack joined them in the lounge when they finished purchasing their candy. The ordeal had left them all rather spent, before they knew it, they had passed out in the employee lounge. Joe joined them in resting his eyes a spell. Ben had been snoring since Dee went to cash out Sharman and Zack.

Dee dutifully stood at the register till daybreak, awaiting any further customers.

…

Joe pried open his eyes as a brisk chill washed over him. He sat up from where he had been lying in the grass. He looked around. He had somehow ended up outside, looking at the backside of the thrift shop. Nearby, the rest of his crew snoozed in a heap. Joe got to his feet and cleared his throat.

“Alright, look alive you punks.” He said, clapping his hands.

Ben grumbled and pulled his blanket tighter over him, which was actually Zack’s hoodie and caused the poor boy to be flung over onto Sherman, who yelped and flailed his arm, smacking Ben in the face. The three of them groaned.

Joe rubbed his eyes and shook his head. “Let’s try that again. Up and at’em, gents!”

The three of them got to their feet.

“Hey, where’d the couch go?” Ben said.

“Did Dee kick us out?” Sherman said.

“Ben was snoring.” Zack said. Ben shoved him.

Joe shrugged, “Dunno about that. But I dare say our souls have not been sucked dry, so that’s something.”

There was general murmur of agreement.

“So,” Ben said smirking, “This haunted shop our official crash pad now?”

Joe looked to Sherman and Zack.

Sherman smiled, “It’s a wreck, but I guess that is kind of our thing.”

Zack nodded.

Joe laughed and twizzled his mouse-stache. “Then it is settled.” He placed his hand on the side of the building, “This will be our new pad.”

The others gave a vigorous cheer. Vigorous for the early morning, at least. Joe then turned to Ben with sharp and critical look, “Now Ben, you may apologize to me.”

Ben quirked an eyebrow, “Huh, for what?”

Joe stroked his ‘stache, “You know very well what, you sharp-eyed pigeon!”

Ben stepped right up into Joe’s face, “You wanna say that again?”

Joe sized up Ben, Ben sized up Joe. They sized each other for a moment before Joe spoke again, “I apologize for my morning breath, it must be difficult to stand there.”

Ben blinked through watering eyes, “Absolute torture.”

The two of them laughed and Joe wrapped his arm around Ben’s shoulders, “You had me going there, friend.”

“No use beating you,” Ben said snickering, “Your head’s too damn hard.”

They exchanged another laugh and walked out to the parking lot. Sherman looked at the haunted shop again.

“I hope we see Dee again.” He said.

“We will,” Zach said, taking out the rewards card and flipping it over in his hands.