Also, Oh dear.
OOC: Click, click, bang, bang.
Konuju: Chances are this won't be as creepy. And actually Jeri-Type had no influence on it, interestingly--although there was a shadowy creature from a particular game series that did.
I wish you luck in your endeavor. =)
IC - Kyle Eston/Ilios/Sheik - Sinjoh Ruins: "How is that possible...?" Kyle said in disbelief, staring, immobile, at Sombra. This... thing was no longer a Pokémon. No; it had transformed itself into something directly out of a nightmare, a monster born from the darkest depths of the world. Even Ilios seemed to hesitate in his attempt to fight it, staring uncertainly at Sombra's new form. The Liberty agent could hardly move his hand toward a Pokéball, let alone move from where he stood.
He was frozen. That was the fact of the matter. In mere moments victory had been snatched away from them, like a rug pulled directly out from underneath their feet. Their courage had begun to fail them--it had failed him. As far as he could tell, the game was up. Kyle had lost. What hope was there now, when the very unity that had brought so many together to confront this evil had been turned on its head, used against them, taken as a means to transform their enemies into a single, unbreakable foe?
Kyle's hand dropped to his side, eyes transfixed on Sombra.
"You're seriously going to let this guy stop youi?"
Ilios looked on uncertainly, thoroughly disturbed by the sight of his brothers' and sisters' faces and features distributed throughout Sombra's body. In a way, the sight saddened him, though he had expected something like this to happen after what he had seen in Lilycove. With a deep breath, the Darkrai clenched his fists, pulling forth cold energy in one hand and fire energy in the other, coat both with flickering flames and ice. In this form, he had no idea what Sombra was capable of, and as such, the only thing he could hope to do was experiment and see what would work and what wouldn't.
He dearly hoped something would. If not... Ilios could not forgive himself for not delaying Sombra's release any further. Raising a hand, the Ninth Darkrai launched a barrage of green fireballs at Sombra, preparing to follow the attack up with an Ice Beam.
Of herself, Kyle, and Ilios, Sheik was perhaps the only one who did not lose faith upon seeing Sombra's new form. If anything, the renewed challenge only drove her further. They had, after all, managed to defeat the eight hostile Darkrai for a time, had they not? Individual or combined, it did not matter--the amount of power still had to be roughly the same. And for the sake of everyone back home, around the world, they had no choice but to emerge victorious here.
With a mighty roar, Sheik used Rain Dance, summoning a cloud directly above Sombra. The next instant, electricity began to dance around the condensed water, before a powerful bolt of lightning shot down from the heavens, crackling with power and burning with a righteous fury.
IC - Jackson Sang/Tobias Elton - Below Chapel: "Thirty seconds, Mister Sang."
"Thirty seconds," Elton repeated calmly as the needles whirred, as they descended toward various points on the Gym Leader's body. She was facedown on the table, her head placed in a restraint so as to provide the easiest access to the back of her neck. That appeared to be the main point of interest--that was where the main needle was going. But others... Others were on the move, too. They were moving elsewhere, to different spots on her head.
Mental Override Augmentation.
"The process takes exactly thirty seconds--right now," the Sci-Xec continued. "That is what it takes to create an imperfect product--to make a person more open to suggestion. To do so without providing permanent damage to their outward appearance. We try to avoid that, you see..."
"But, of course, if we want to create an even better soldier--place hidden programs in their mind, completely obliterate their sense of self, make them a slave to our agendas... Why, that takes a bit more. That is the process we meant for you. For you see, as I've mentioned, Team Rocket's leadership has stagnated. Sleight and Joker... These are no longer effective leaders. We require someone capable of overpowering them. Naturally, you're at the top of the list in that department."
The needles were getting uncomfortably close to Misty. Jackson thought she was unconscious. Her sudden screams proved otherwise.
"The only issue was how to convince you, how to get you down here... But, it seems as if that issue has taken care of itself, has it not?"
"Enjoy the sight while you can, Sang," Elton said triumphantly as his guards moved forward, guns still trained on the motionless, silent assassin and his Ditto. "In a little while, you're going to become out next weapon."
The needles punctured.
A flash. A gust of wind. Surprised shouts, the bangs of guns firing. Smoke clearing. Groans of pain from the guards as the smoke cleared. Elton's smirk flickered as he peered through the cloud, just barely able to make out two shapes--one very different from what he had seen before. And as the cloud dispersed, he heard the metallic screech of a motor being forced to a standstill, and then the telltale crunch of something metal being crushed.
His eyes widened in shock.
Tracer had assumed the form of the scientist's Gothitelle. His hands were raised, eyes glowing, one palm held toward the now-broken machinery, suspending it in midair, and the other facing the scientist. A dozen bullets had stalled to a complete stop in the air between Jackson, Tracer, and the guards, shots blocked from hitting the Ditto and his trainer. Jackson himself stood with his hands in his pockets, still facing away from Elton. The scientist's shock was punctuated by the clattering of the bullets as they fell to the floor amidst the psychically-injured guards. Around the room, all of the other scientists and personnel were in a similar state.
"Two things I can't stand," Jackson said quietly, just loud enough for the words to resound like the ringing of a bell in Elton's ears. "People who are so overconfident as to tell me their plans... and those who smirk whilst doing the former." He turned, a cold, almost bored expression on his face. "Sound familiar?"
Elton managed to close his mouth again, smiling again as Jackson turned and began walking toward him. "This sounds very familiar," he said. "May I say something before you kill me?"
"Sure," Jackson said, though did not slow down. Elton's expression faltered for a moment, and he began to back up. "Make it quick."
"I shall," the executive said. "It's a simple thing: I minored in acting."
Jackson stopped. He stared at Elton. "... And?"
Now Elton's confidence seemed to return. His grin broadened, stretching across his face until his skin refused to move any further. "I minored in acting," he repeated. "And I was quite good at it, too. So, perhaps it will come as no surprise when I say that I genuinely was testing you with that little performance--and that everything is going according to plan already."
"You must be very good at improvising on the spot, if you already had all of this planned out," Jackson said. "I thought you weren't aware I was coming?"
"Dear boy, I knew from the moment I accessed the prison logs," Elton said. "That was a long walk back, if you recall. I had time to plan." He reached into his lab coat. Just as he pulled his hand back out, Jackson rushed forward, slamming into the old man and knocking him to the ground. In one, smooth motion, he had produced a knife and driven it between the executive's ribs, causing the old man to scream out in pain.
He was too late.
Jackson rolled back, eyes widening as he saw the remote in the man's hand. It bore only a single set of buttons, and Elton had pressed two of them--the first opening a set of cages around the room, smaller than the one that the assassin had seen the new prisoners brought into, and the second sending some sort of signal to the people within. Elton chuckled weakly as three people emerged from the cage, all horribly scarred and with vacant looks in their eyes, all utterly zombie-like in appearance. But they were not. They still lived.
Even through the scars, Jackson recognized them. It was impossible not to. Two of them were virtually identical, short, mid-thirties with black hair--the twin Gym Leaders of Mossdeep City, Tate and Liza. The other was unmistakable. Equal in age, taller than both, clad in tattered black and blue clothes.
"I lost...?" Jackson said disbelievingly, his grip loosening on the scientist's coat. He looked in horror at the scientist. "What have you done...?"
"Behold... the fruits of our labor..." Elton laughed, lying his head down and closing his eyes. "Soldiers loyal... to the core... Have fun, Mr. Sang..."