Surprisingly hot outside in the afternoon sun, it's clear that something is amiss by the crowd gathered outside the pokemon center at the entrance to Mt. Moon. Even as one approaches the murmur of conversation, not all of it pleasant, is easily heard. Though it's clear that the line extends inside the center, an exasperated man standing atop a small box seems to be doing his best to quell the irritation among the trainers and travelers assembled.<br/><br/>"I'm telling you," Rolf the Caretaker was calling to the crowd, "the caves of Mt. Moon are<span style="font-style: italic">closed</span>! The clefairy here are very sensitive, and tonight is the most important night in a hundred years for them! When the comet comes through--"<br/><br/>"Screw the comet, it will take me a fucking week to get to Cerulean City trying to go around!" One of the assembled trainers shouted out, with a general murmur of assent threatening to overwhelm the poor man on his soapbox. He managed to stand firm, however, and in a surprisingly assertive shout he pushed back.<br/><br/>"That mountain is those little creature's<span style="font-style: italic">home</span>! They have more right to be here than you do, and if it's a little bit inconvenient for you then you can suck it up and deal with it! We'll open the cave when we're certain their ceremony is complete and they're all settled down, and not until! For your safety and theirs!"<br/><br/>As the crowd started to disperse, or at least settle in, a pair of trainers left Rolf's little conference with a gleam in their eyes.<br/><br/>They headed back up the trail a ways, out of hearing, and set up shop.<br/><br/>-------------------------<br/><br/>A little ways up from the pokemon center, a pair of men waited on either side of the road. They looked very much alike, one a bit taller and one a bit shorter, and both of them sporting the sort of facial hair that would have made a Hiker blush. As people approached, they would offer their little sales-pitch.<br/><br/>"Mt. Moon's closed!" The shorter one would say as they approached, talking through the handlebar mustache that stretched well beyond the confines of his face.<br/><br/>"Go ahead and check. Won't be gettin' in." The tall one drawled, his thickly grown mutton chops working like woolly-catterpies while he talked.<br/><br/>"Not without our help!" The short one corrected with a surreptitious wink, rubbing his hands together theatrically.<br/><br/>"And not without our fee." The tall one added with a smirk, his hands in his pockets.<br/><br/>"Right you are, Will!" The short one would grin, and jerk his head over his shoulder. "Only 1500 pd to get through. Save you a week's worth of waiting or walking!"<br/><br/>"Right you are, Jake." The tall one would grin. "Getcha on your way real fast, no harm, no foul."<br/><br/>Most people walked past, paying them no mind. It was alright, they'd be back--but of course, as they walked past, Jake couldn't help but hiss after them. "Just don't tell old Rolf you heard it from us!"<br/><br/>Which, every time, made will sigh and knead his temples.<br/><br/>"Dammit, Will."<br/><br/>It was a class act. They didn't get too many takers.