Parugi

IC: A white blur of light above him was all that he could make out as his eyes eased open. At first, the sight blinded him, and he fought to keep his eyes open and his vision focused. Gradually, the pain and sensitivity eased, and he saw the glowing lights embedded in the ceiling above him. He blinked, easing his eyes closed again and listening to the noise around him. Murmurs drifted into the room through the door. Someone breathed slowly, either sleeping or drifting just on the verge of falling under. A rhythmic beeping sounded from his left. He felt the clamp-like pressure on his finger. The softness of the pillows under his head distracted him somewhat from the discomfort of the needle in his arm and the lingering pain in his chest and stomach and head. He became aware of the bandage covering his forehead. This is a hospital . . . He raised his hands to his face, pressing them against his eyes. I'm in the hospital again . . . Kyle opened his eyes. He grimaced as he attempted to sit up, immediately regretting it as pain surged through his lungs. The movement quickly sent him into a harsh coughing fit, the sensation of fire returning to his lungs. A hand on his chest stopped him, gently easing him back down against the pillows. "Easy there, pal. Breathe nice and slow, alright?" Kyle did so. Every breath burned, like he was inhaling fresh smoke. Even so, the slow breathing helped, at least a little bit. When he lost count of his breaths and threatened to fall into another coughing fit, the woman eased the nearby oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. Surprisingly, the fumes emitted by the mask were rather sweet--certainly not just oxygen. He reached up, holding it in place and focusing on it as the pain began to subside. "You alright?" He nodded, closing his eyes. "Yeah . . . Thanks, Victoire." "It's nothing." She sat at the edge of the bed. "Still feeling the burn from Shift's drugs, huh? I guess that's to be expected--the stuff's potent, especially in as many doses as you got. To be honest, we weren't expecting you to wake up for a while." "How long was I out?" "Four days," Victoire said. "We brought you here to get treatment as soon as we got everyone accounted for. Just in the nick of time, too, apparently--there's no telling what might've happened if we had waited any longer." "Second miracle of my life, I guess." Kyle decided not to think about that any further. "Where are we?" "Morningside Hospital, in Anistar City," Victoire said. "It's the next town over from Dendemille. Shift's compound isn't too far away, either--it's just on the outskirts of the city. Made it pretty easy for the police to round up the henchmen who were all left behind." "But not Shift or . . . what was it--Puzzle?" "Unfortunately." It didn't take long for Victoire to explain why, starting with what had happened after she had gotten her handcuffs off. She explained what occurred between herself and Shift, as well as Esen and Cero's break-in and the former's subsequent encounter with Puzzle and another, more powerful figure wearing a robe--on top of what had happened when they found Esen afterwards. The two fell into an uncomfortable silence. Kyle had leaned his head back again, staring at the ceiling. He could feel Victoire watching him, her concern virtually burning into his chest and joining with the mixture of humiliation and fear brewing within it. He moved a hand, resting it on the marks on his neck where Esen had attempted to strangle him. "Are you mad?" Kyle remained silent for several moments. "Yeah. I am." "I'm sorry." "Not at you." Victoire looked at him. "There's no reason any of this should've happened. The fact that it did . . ." Kyle moved his hand to his forehead. "Should I be more angry at myself for letting it happen, or at Shift for making it . . .?" "It's not your fault." Victoire adjusted her fringe. "It was just a bad set of circumstances . . ." She drew her knee up to her chin, wrapping her arms around her leg. "If anything, you should be blaming me for starting it, to be completely honest." Kyle looked at her. "Even if I could blame you," he said. "I'm not going to. You saved my life, Victoire." He gave a weak smile. "So, thank you for that." Victoire smiled. Kyle rubbed his head. "So . . . where's all my stuff?" "Cero's taking care of that. He's been taking it easy, too, just to give his own injuries a rest. But he's well enough to keep an eye on your Pokémon, so . . . that's what he's doing." "That's good to hear. . ." Kyle said. He suddenly gave Victoire a very concerned look. "How are you holding up?" Victoire rolled her eyes with a smirk, but nevertheless proceeded to adjust her scarf. The very tops of the bandages that covered her stitches were visible underneath. She replaced her scarf a moment later. "I'm good." Her smile vanished, replaced with a frown. "Hey, about that . . . About Esen . . ." "Is she okay?" "She's fine," Victoire said. "At least, physically. Emotionally and mentally . . . That's a bit of a different story." She cupped her hands, looking at the floor. "I don't know how much you remember from before you took that last hit from Shift, but . . . You and I were talking about her, and how she had been acting a bit strangely before everything with the Signs . . ." Victoire looked at the door, and then back at Kyle. She lowered her voice. "She'll probably want to tell you when she's comfortable with it, but I feel like you ought to know . . . There's a reason she was acting that way. And we were right about what that reason was." Kyle furrowed his brow, not liking where this was going. "Ace did something to her. What it was, I can't say for sure; but it's the reason she disappeared all those years ago, and it's the reason she's so . . . effective at what she does. Not only that, but whatever it was was bad enough for Esen to block it from her memory." Victoire's expression had turned deadly serious. "What she did to us--to you--that was Shift's compound bringing those memories back. And I don't know how much control she's going to be able to retain over those memories unless--" A knock at the door caused Kyle to jump, which in turn prompted Victoire to turn in its direction. A doctor stood there, clipboard in hand and a friendly, though troubled smile on his face. "Afternoon," he said, nodding to Victoire. He approached, holding out a hand for Kyle to shake. "I'm Doctor Taggart. Glad to see you're finally awake." He held his clipboard close to his chest, addressing both now. "Sorry for interrupting--a nurse noticed that you were awake and informed me, so I figured I ought to check in. Hopefully, you don't mind?" "No, not at all," Victoire said. She looked at Kyle, her expression indicating that she would continue later. "We were just catching up." "Yeah," Kyle said, still taken aback by what Victoire had told him. "Just, you know . . . making sure everything's being taken care of." "I'm glad to hear it," the doctor said. "Well, if you're feeling well enough, I do have a couple of things that I feel I ought to go over with you--preferably sooner rather than later, given what they're about. Is that okay with you?" Kyle glanced uncertainly at Victoire, and then nodded. "Yeah, that's fine." Victoire offered a small smile. She patted Kyle's shoulder before standing up, heading toward the door. "I'll be waiting outside." Although she stood against the wall by the door, Victoire couldn't make out anything that was being said inside the room. This did not particularly surprise her, even given her impaired hearing, although it did offer a bit of trouble when she spotted Esen approaching from down the hall, wearing an urgent expression. Victoire waved, moving to meet her. "What's going on?" Esen asked. Her arms were crossed, and she gripped her biceps tightly, as if unwilling to trust freedom to her hands. She looked over Victoire's shoulder. "Why's the door closed? Is he still alive?" Victoire held her hands out. "He's fine," she said. "As a matter of fact, he finally woke up." Esen breathed in relief. "Does that make you feel better?" "A bit . . ." Esen rested a hand to her face. "I mean . . . it should make me feel a lot better, right? But . . ." She loosed a frustrated sigh. "I don't know, Victoire . . . I'm not used to feeling like this--like everything around me is falling apart, and with what happened . . ." Esen stepped back, beginning to pace the hall. "I feel like I'm everywhere and nowhere at once, you know? Like I'm here, and I need to be here, but I don't want to be here, and my brain is just . . . screaming at me to get out of here . . ." "Esen . . ." Victoire said gently, stepping forward and reaching a hand out. "" She placed her hands on Esen's shoulders, "Please, calm down." "I'm trying, okay?" Esen said. "I just can't. I . . ." She gestured, defeated, toward the door to Kyle's room. "I'm glad he's alive. I'm glad you and Cero are alive. But you don't know, do you? I came so close to . . ." "Esen." Esen wrung her hands together, trying to stop them from shaking. "Normal people don't attack their friends, do they? And I did, so does that mean . . . I don't know what it means, Victoire, and I've been trying to figure it out, but I just--" She stopped talking, surprised as Victoire suddenly leaned forward and kissed her full on the lips. After a few seconds, Victoire pulled away, moving her hands to Esen's face. They stared straight into each others eyes, both completely silent. It was Esen who broke the silence. "Why did you . . .?" "Because you're too caught up in your head," Victoire said. "You're letting one mistake get the best of you, letting one misstep define you, and it's not for the best." Her expression softened as she ran her thumb against Esen's cheek. "Trust me--I may not be able to relate to this whole 'almost killed a friend' thing, but I can relate to that." She smiled, dropping her hands back to Esen's shoulders. "I love you. I really do. I want you to be okay. But this? This isn't the way to do it, hon." For a moment, Esen could only stare back at Victoire. Suddenly, however, she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around her friend, taking comfort in the embrace as Victoire returned it. She buried her face into Victoire's shoulder, prompting her to gently pat the back of Esen's head. Before long, Victoire pushed Esen away. She looked back toward the door, just in time to see the doctor step out of the room, his expression somber. Victoire turned back to Esen, gesturing with her head. "Go ahead and see him," she said. "I have some things to take care of, so I'll be back in a bit. In the meantime . . . I think you both could use a conversation right about now. But, please, promise me that whatever you do from here on out, you'll go easier on yourself. Okay?" Esen nodded. Victoire smiled, using her sleeve to wipe Esen's face before patting her shoulder and stepping out of her way. When Esen had passed and disappeared into the room, Victoire began to walk, pulling out her Poké Gear and dialing a number. She held it up, smiling at the camera. "Hey, Fallon. I need a couple of favors . . ." Kyle was sitting up when she entered the room, staring, troubled, at something in his hand. Esen paused at the doorway, suddenly overcome with the urge to run away and hide. Steeling herself, however, she knocked on the door frame, prompting Kyle to snap out of his trance. They stared at each other for several moments, neither quite knowing what to say. At last, Esen managed to break the silence. "Hey . . ." "Hey." "Mind if I come in?" "Sure, go ahead." Esen tried her best to look bigger than she felt as she stepped inside, quickly taking a seat on the chair next to Kyle's bed. She couldn't help but look at the dark bruises on his neck, knowing all too well what had caused them. Suppressing a shudder, she dragged her eyes away from the sight, directing them instead to the object that Kyle was holding. It appeared to be a Poké Ball. She cleared her throat, nodding to it. "Problem with one of your Pokémon?" Kyle momentarily furrowed his brow, not breaking his gaze. "Not exactly." He paused, and then held it out for Esen to take. She picked it up, peering through the transparent seal. A pink bird-like Pokémon rested inside, suspended in stasis within the orb. "The doctor gave it to me. I think he called it a Spritzee. Said that my lungs . . . aren't in the best condition right now, and that it could keep on producing an inhalant to help in the meantime." Esen glanced at him, before handing the Poké Ball back. "That was nice of him . . ." "Yeah . . ." Kyle fell silent again as he cradled it in his hands. "Esen . . . Do you remember that woman in the alley that we met, the night we got to Kalos? The one with the Gothitelle?" His expression saddened as he remembered what he had seen when the Psychic-Type had connected with him--the vision of a bloodied beach, him lying upon it with a hole in his chest. It didn't feel like such a distant memory anymore. "I was thinking about that . . . About what we've just gone through . . . And it made me realize . . ." He made a small gesture with the Poké Ball. "This is the second Pokémon I've been gifted after an injury like this. Both times, I've only survived because of luck . . ." Kyle looked at Esen. "How many times do you think a single person can dodge death before it finally catches up to them . . .? Am I living on borrowed time . . .?" She thought about this for several moments, though did not find a suitable answer. Though she remembered the incident, she had never intended to share what she saw that night--not a vision of death, but rather fragments of what the Signs' toxin had shown her. It had been the first crack in the illusion that she--she?--had created about her past, protecting herself from her own trauma. Thinking about all of that now . . . All she could do was shake her head, offering him a defeated look. Kyle averted his gaze again with a sigh. The two fell silent. "I'm . . ." Esen said at length, forcing herself to look again at Kyle's neck. "I'm really sorry about what happened." Kyle rubbed the back of his head. "None of it is your fault." "Please . . . don't lie to make me feel better . . ." Esen said. "I tried to kill you. I have to take responsibility for that . . ." Kyle closed his eyes. "Esen . . ." He turned away from her, placing the Poké Ball on his bedside table before turning again to look at her. He winced with the movement, placing a hand on his chest. "You didn't do that on purpose. At this point, I'm pretty sure I'm the only person alive who can relate to what was happening to you when you did that--I know the kinds of things that that . . . stuff can do to a person . . ." He looked at the floor, grimacing as a feeling of nausea overtook his senses. "What it can make you see and feel . . ." He shook his head, pushing the memories aside, and met Esen's gaze. "Please, don't beat yourself up over it." All Esen could do was nod, lowering her head and clasping her hands together in an attempt to stop them from shaking. She rocked slightly in her seat, fighting to control the surge of emotion that she was feeling. Kyle watched her for a moment, before tentatively reaching a hand out toward her shoulder. As he neared, he hesitated, deciding to draw it back and give Esen some space. He folded his hands on his lap, leaning back against the pillows behind him. "You saw something terrible, too, didn't you?" she asked at last, looking back up at him. Her eyes were red, glistening with the beginnings of tears that she had somehow--just barely--managed to subdue. "I can't imagine what four doses of that toxin must've shown you . . ." She wiped her face with the sleeve of her jacket. "I only got one, and it . . ." She closed her eyes, taking a shuddering breath. "Kyle, how much do you know about Shadow Admin Ace?" Kyle felt his chest tighten. He gave her a surprised look. "Not a lot . . ." "Probably for the better . . ." Esen said. "I know you're with Liberty, but the Shadow Admins . . . They aren't bad people. None of them . . . except for Ace." She gripped her hands tighter together. "Not long after the war with Team Liberty started, Ace turned to extreme measures to get an edge in the war. She restarted the Shadow Pokémon Project, intentionally destroying the innocence of a number of unwilling test subjects in order to create loyal super soldiers . . ." Esen paused. "Before that, though . . . she didn't experiment with Pokémon." She looked squarely at Kyle, her eyes clouded with pain. Kyle turned his head toward her, sickened by what he was hearing yet doing his best to truly listen to every word. "She started with her own daughter. When her father found out what Ace was planning to do, he tried to establish a separate, secret life in Sinnoh. But it didn't work. Ace found them. She killed him and took her away. And for years . . ." It was clear that her composure was beginning to slip away. Esen covered her mouth, hands visibly shaking now. "I . . . I can't remember a moment from that time when I wasn't being stuck with a dozen needles . . . when I wasn't being forced to . . . to . . ." No more words came. Kyle stared at the ceiling for a long time, listening to Esen's shuddering breaths beside him. "Would you . . . be upset if I said I already knew that you were Ace's daughter?" He glanced at Esen from the corner of his eye, catching just the barest glimpse of the surprise on her face. "Silvermind is very dead-set on bringing you into Team Liberty . . . She tried to get me to convince you to join up with us . . ." Guilt and shame were beginning to burn his eyes with the threat of tears, forcing him to rub a hand against them to stop himself from breaking down. "You don't deserve that . . . Not after all of that . . ." Esen nodded again, rubbing her own eyes. "Thanks for telling me . . ." she said, her voice quiet. "Guess I'm going to have to have a . . . a little talk with her when we get back . . ." Kyle managed a weak chuckle. "She could use it . . ." Silence again. "You're not the only one who remembered something because of the toxin, by the way . . ." Esen looked up, watching Kyle wring his hands together, eyes closed. A sense of deep concentration appeared on his face, as if he were trying as hard as possible to recall every detail of what he was about to recount. Finally, he opened his eyes, turning to her. "I need to check something when I get back, but I think . . . I think a big piece of my life up to this point might have been a lie . . ." He looked downcast at the thought. "One thing I know for sure . . . I know who my mother was . . . but Richard Eston isn't my father . . ." A small smile parted his lips. "Nothing as bad as what you've gone through, but . . . definitely something I've been wrestling with . . ." Esen smiled in understanding. "Everyone has their struggles." "You bet they do." The voice came from the doorway. Victoire had returned with a tray of food, which she set in Kyle's lap. She offered only the briefest of smiles to Esen--an acknowledgement of their conversation in the hall--before turning to leave again, ignoring the blush that subsequently appeared on Esen's face. "Thought you could use something to eat while you rest up," she said. "Take your time with it, though--you don't want your stomach to explode." She stopped at the door. "Also, I've taken care of the arrangements to get back to Kanto. We'll be leaving in three days, so try to get as much rest as you can before then, alright?" Victoire blew a kiss in Kyle and Esen's direction and gave a small wave before vanishing around the corner. "She," Kyle said, after a brief pause. "is great." "In a way . . ." Esen said. "Although, I think you might also have a small case of hero worship . . ." She stood up, turning to leave at last. "I guess I ought to let you rest . . ." She paused, and then stooped down to give him a peck on the cheek, prompting his face to turn a shade of pink. "Thanks for talking with me. I'll stop by again tomorrow." "Y-Yeah," Kyle replied as she walked away. "Anytime, Esen . . ."

You might want to add a note about that to the first post, then... ;3 Also, wasn't trying to debate anything. Just clarifying and adding onto the point.

On the flip-side, you can't dodge or block every attack, so find the middle ground between the two extremes. Tying into that, be aware of the physics and realism of combat. I've seen this.... incredibly strange thing happen in several RPGs where characters will somehow see an attack coming, and then manage to do these elaborate countermeasures before finally being hit, when--realistically--if there was enough time for them to do said elaborate counters, then they should have had enough time to simply get out of the way of the attack. One such instance was an extremely egregious shot where Character A was about to be hit by Character B, and in the process of Character B shooting toward them with a punch, Character A was somehow able to launch a "burst of healing energy behind them," which Character B ended up knocking them into, effectively rendering the attack void. I can't even begin to picture how that set-up would ever actually work, myself, and frankly, it was as ridiculous in hindsight as it was at the time of reading it. So... don't do that.

Sounds painful. Definitely not what I was expecting.

IC - Esen Windred: e s e n d e a r e s t . e s e n . w a k e u p . How can I wake up when I am not asleep. How can I focus when the world is flitting about me, d i s t o r t e d l i k e d a m a g e d f i l m ? N o t h i n g c o n n e c t e d . in place Nothing its proper. Nothing clear. Nothing real. I remember. A rapid knock and a shout. An order to enter. An explosion of wood. A dozen men and women with guns and armor. A single muzzle flash. The drop of a dead body. My dead body. "Daddy?" Reality ended that day. It continued to end the day after, and after, and after that. It never came back. I never woke up. He never woke up. And the body . . . Not even a glimpse, a second look, as you carted me away, kicking and clawing and screaming for him to "Help me!" You left him. You took me. i t ' l l b e o k a y . i t ' s f o r t h e b e s t . y o u ' l l s e e . s t o p s t r u g g l i n g. And her . . . My friend . . . You separated us. Left her alone. Gave me enough time to say the words: "I'll see you tomorrow." . . . and none to make them true. "I'll see you tomorrow." Never a greater lie. s t o p s t r u g g l i n g. n o w . Did you even think about what you were doing? Did you consider what was going through the head of the child you were strapping down cutting open sticking with needles? Augmenting. Bettering. Changing. Your words. Not mine. They mean nothing. You wanted me to help you. You wanted me to serve you. And when he would not let you--when he took me from you--you couldn't stand that, could you? You struck. Like a meteor, you struck ground. Who could stop you? you know what i saw, lying there on that tableblinded by the white lights and the white coatsby the two doctors beside me and, before me,you, standing there, 'motherly,' you claimed? i saw demonsi saw monstersi saw smiling, distorted grins that would have driven any stable person to the brink, faces friendly and horrifying in the pleasantries that they presented whilst simultaneously working, actively, forcefully, to create something that on a deeper level would likely never again be seen as a h u m a n b e i n g and youy o ue n c o u r a g e di t . i should have never taken iti should have never let you do what you did, motheri should have sprung from my restraints, broken them with the sheer force of my hatred and grabbed something, anything with which to fight my way to freedomhow might you have smiled thenwhen the doctors would fall at either side, bleeding from open chests that could only imitate what i had seen and felt upon myselffalling, bloody, dyingand in front of you, bloodied and vengeful and crying, you would see your very flesh and blood rise up to face youthe very controlled ferocity which you had so carefully bred turned against you and used as the springboard from which i would lunge forwardinto youa tight embrace that,for the briefest of moments,might have been seen as an act of reconciliation until the hands the bloodied hands would close around your neck and we would fall back amidst the scattered rock and metal and the fear upon your tired visage, within your bulging eyes, would show itself and you would whisper the name you had forgotten in your desire for victory against your enemies "esen . . ." fighting futilely to live your hands clenched around my own "Esen . . ." tugging pulling failing "p-please . . ." rising . . . caressing my face . . . bringing me back . . . revealing that you were not you . . . because you are already gone . . . "K . . . Kyle?" The garage was back, its edges frosted by a dense fog that clouded her vision. Victoire and Cero lay to either side of her, both knocked backward and bearing shallow slashes across the chest from where she cut them. The blood-tipped blade lay beside her, abandoned in favor of her hands. They were wrapped around Kyle's neck. The injured boy lay still, shallow breaths and an earnest gaze the only active signs of life. His hands, linked together, rested on her face. All had fallen silent. Her face burned with tears, and her heart with receding rage. She stared back at him for a long time, frozen in horror by the realization of what had happened. His lips shifted into a small smile. She blinked rapidly, overcome with emotions. Guilt, anger, horror all threatened to break her down. What managed to was the sense of relief that washed over her at the simple gesture of forgiveness. A sign of understanding. Esen cried. "Let's go home."

Explain. Still waiting.

IC - Esen Windred/Malvolio Rask/??? - Signs Compound: The alarm blared around them, a resounding drone that filled every corner of the garage until the very air became a reverberating ocean of lifeless noise. But that was it. No thudding footprints responded to the call. No shouts of worry or confusion drew closer to the source. There was no response. Why was there no response? "How many more guards do you have?" Puzzle floundered at the question. "What--?" "How many?" The woman before him took a step forward, clenching her fists to emphasize her words. They framed her face on either side, and from between them, one dark green eye--covered by neither arm nor fringe--glared out at the him, alight with a burning, barely-contained rage. "I--Well . . ." Puzzle cleared his throat. To his credit, he stood his ground, and now that the initial shock of the attack had worn off, he appeared to be regaining his composure. "Aside from this group and the ones that ran off into the forest--three, not counting my compatriot." He held his free hand up, palm outstretched. "But I'm sure you won't have to worry about them--they really aren't anything out of the ordinary, more of the same, really, although if I'm being completely honest--" "Stop talking." He did. "Where's your 'compatriot?'" "I don't know," Puzzle said. "He wouldn't answer when I tried to call him right before your attack started. The silly fool's probably tied himself up at this point, with how things are going here . . ." He pulled a handkerchief from his coat and used it to dab at his forehead. "Not that I don't enjoy playing the part of the bumbling villain being interrogated, but might I presume that you're here for Mr. Shift's 'guests'?" Although she didn't answer, the look in her eyes told Puzzle everything that he needed to know. "I told him this wouldn't end well for us . . ." "How many people have you kidnapped and brought here?" Puzzle gulped, feeling the underlying threat in her voice. "Just two--a boy--your friend--" He felt the color beginning to drain from his face as he moved to take a step back, and found that he had run out of room to do so. He held up his hands. "The other is just--just someone we picked up in Dendemille--a girl--" The room fell very, very silent as Puzzle realized what he had just said, as he realized how his words might have been interpreted, and as he realized that the woman had jumped to that very conclusion. In a matter of seconds, she had covered the distance between them and taken hold of his collar, pushing Puzzle back so that he hung off of the platform, suspended only by the woman's grip and his own meager footing on the metal plates. In his haste to avoid being knocked over, Puzzle dropped his Symbol, sending it clattering against the solid concrete awaiting him twenty feet below. "Wait!" he yelped. "It's not what you think!" "I doubt that." She tilted her head, her glare never leaving his face. "You traffic Pokémon. Why not people?" "I swear, that's not what we took them for," Puzzle pleaded. "The girl attacked us, and the boy crossed a line with Shift. But I would never allow him to do something like that as revenge." He carefully raised his hands off of her arms, holding them up again. "Listen, we've got a small meat locker towards the east that we've repurposed for storage space." He gestured to the door at the end of the garage. "That's where they're being kept. If you go now, you can find them before Shift does." The woman studied him for several long moments, her cold gaze searching for any indication that he was lying. When at last she appeared satisfied with what she saw, she stepped back, swinging Puzzle around and throwing him to the ground behind her. He yelled in pain, though inwardly thanked Arceus for the act of mercy. She walked past him, headed toward the ramp. "He had better hope that you're right." Esen stopped at the bottom of the ramp. Noivern and Scor--both of whom had stopped to roost while Esen dealt with Puzzle--had risen to their feet, ears alert and their bodies turned to the same door that Puzzle had indicated and that Cero had vanished through. They dared not move any closer to it, instead merely remaining in place and growling at what they sensed approaching. Esen moved to stand by her Pokémon, prepping herself to fight alongside them. For several moments, nothing happened. Then, the door opened. At a glance, she could have mistaken the figure for Cero. Like the Magma Agent, this man--weary-bodied and of a damaged stature--wore tattered robes over equally unkempt clothes, along with a hood that obscured his face. Unlike Cero, he carried a strange staff in one hand, and bore a graying beard upon his chin. White Coat--Shift--lay draped over his shoulder, unconscious. The man paused in the door frame, taking a moment to survey the devastated garage. His gaze swept over the broken boxes, the shards of glass where numerous containers had been shattered to free the Pokémon contained within, the unconscious men and women who had served as Puzzle's and Shift's workforce. He looked up at Puzzle's platform, where the man himself sat, still recovering from his few injuries, then down at the dropped Symbol below him. Finally, the man came upon Esen, where his steel eyes remained for a brief moment before he took several sure, but uneven steps forward. He stopped, stooping briefly to set Shift down. His gaze never left Esen's face. "Don't think." But . . . She did not like this. She did not like this one bit. She did not know whether it was the man's gaze itself that made her uneasy--the way that his eyes tore through her like bullets through silk, peeling away the layers of fiery fury building within her blood until there was nothing left but cold--or whether it was some unseen force hidden within them. She suspected it was a mixture of both, not entirely due to the way that Scor and Noivern appeared to bear an instinctual aversion towards his existence. They felt it. She felt it. "Don't feel." I . . . I can't . . . She was moving without conscious thought, her instincts taking over again. Before her was not a human being. It was a target. "Act." Noivern and Scor scrambled, flying ahead of her. She ran beneath them, darting to the side. The figure hardly reacted. She saw something fall from his sleeve--a paper, bearing a pattern that she did not recognize. It dropped to the floor. His staff moved, and he slammed the end of it down in the middle of the patterned parchment. The open circle at the top of the staff glowed. Esen felt herself pressed down as if by a blanket, as the force of gravity increased around her, Scor, and Noivern with a swing of the man's staff. She stumbled and fell against a pile of debris, left to struggle against the sudden, invisible weight on her body. The man approached, each step punctuated by the sound of his staff clicking against the concrete at his feet. She turned her head, watching him as he grew closer and closer. Her hand touched sharp metal, cutting her fingers. She closed them around the duller side, gripping the make-shift knife tightly. He stopped next to her, stooping down. She forced herself around, swinging the blade in a wide arc. He moved back. The metal caught his cloak, barely missing his leg and hip and instead slashing open a pellet linked to his belt. An explosion of white powder erupted from it, burning Esen's eyes and lungs as she breathed it in. s t r u g g l i n g s t o p s t r u g g l i n g s w e e t h e a r t t h i s i s f o r t h e b e n e f i t o f u s a l l She crawled away from him, blind to the world around her but knowing that she needed to move away from whatever menace had overtaken her vision and thoughts. He followed slowly, lowering his hood. Grizzled hair fell in unkempt knots around his face. He reached into his pocket, pulling out another card. It bore a flame-like symbol, which glittered in the light as he dropped it to the ground at his feet. "Impressive," he said, his voice as gravelly as the broken shards of rock that covered the garage floor. "Not many can overcome the paralysis that comes with Fear." He frowned. "What a waste of spirit . . ." He raised his staff above the charm. A clatter of steps came from behind him as Puzzle stumbled down from the platform. "Gethin! Leave her!" Gethin paused at Puzzle's order. "I do not believe that would be the wisest course of action." "The alternative is having whoever else is associated with these people coming after us because their burned corpses were found in our territory," Puzzle said. He grunted as he lifted Shift, supporting his unconscious partner by the shoulders. "We've suffered enough of a set-back just from separating two of them from the others. I'm not interested in seeing what happens when they're killed. Leave them." He observed her, watching as she clutched at her throat and heaved, eyes wide and beginning to go bloodshot. He lowered his staff, setting the end off to the side of the charm. He stooped down to pick it up, and then turned back to where Puzzle waited with Shift, walking toward them. "As you wish." e s e n d o n ' t y o u w a n t t o m a k e m o m m a p r o u d ?

Explain.

i like that it looks like a demonic bunny (seriously though great job!)

Just to put it out there, I wouldn't suggest trying to get involved in the Kalos plot, at least not at the moment. My aim is to wrap up that situation in my next couple of posts, if not get the entire thing done in my next one.

Looks good. I don't have any suggestions on where you can start, but if anyone else has ideas, that'd be great. Otherwise, feel free to do your own thing for now and we can figure out how to get some interactions going as the story continues. =) Welcome again!

OOC: Hey, Dallior. See my response in the Discussion Topic. =) General: IC to come soon, hopefully today--it'll be a big one.

Hey, Dallior, glad to see you're interested in RotR! A few notes on your profile: -The "Specialty" section is where you're able to diversify your Pokémon by specifying which attribute/what kinds of attacks they're best/worst at. So Pignite, for instance, could be used as a Physical attacker like in the video games, but in RotR it could also Specialize in Special Attacks or Speed or Support Attacks--that kind of stuff. You can play around with it a bit. -Regarding moves--two notes: --You can actually give your Pokémon six moves each instead of four, if you so wish. --Moves don't need to be marked as Egg Moves unless they are attacks that they can only learn through breeding. So you can remove the "Egg" tags from the three attacks that have them. =) -Quick correction on Dallior's backstory--the Ancient Darkrai only attacked Johto, Hoenn, and Sinnoh, and thus never had a chance to attack Unova. That being said, Castelia City was heavily damaged by a terrorist attack shortly before the Ancient Darkrai were defeated, so the backstory still works as long as you make sure to chance that detail. So yeah. I'll check your profile again once you've edited it. If you have any other questions, feel free to PM me or another player in the RPG. We also have a Skype group and a chat room on Wiki if you want to get involved in that. And, of course, welcome to the RPG! ^^

Emergency notice that I need someone to take up Drake Masters for the remainder of his battle with Alma. Merc, if you want to finish up, you're more than welcome to. Other than that, don't expect to see me for a few days.

IC - Drake Masters - Lavender Town, The Memory House: With her tail pinned, there was little that Dragalge to do to avoid the Shadow Ball, and so was forced to take the hit. With a roar of pain, the Mock Kelp Pokémon yanked herself forward with her tail, putting her in range to unleash a nearly-point-blank Hydro Pump against Gengar. Drake, likewise, kept an eye on Alma, knowing how foolish it would be to let the murderous girl out of his sight. "So who set you up to this, huh!?" he demanded. He crawled backwards, feeling with his good hand for his lost Poké Gear, knowing full-well that the only way he was going to get out of this alive would be if he could signal for help from outside. "Was it some . . . scumbag, like Joker or Ford? Or are you just . . . just doing this for your own, twisted amusement?"

IC - Drake Masters - Lavender Town, The Memory House: The Curse took. Dragalge immediately felt a sharp pang of pain, as if a nail had been driven through her midsection. Nevertheless, a thick layer of water--several inches deep--covered the floor now, and that was all she needed to gain at least a semblance of an advantage. She dove forward, her thin frame refreshed by the water, and sprawled her limbs outward as she shot toward Alma and Gengar. With a yell from Drake, she brought her tail forth. It glowed and glistened with a metallic sheen as she launched a powerful Iron Tail attack at the pair, sweeping up from in front of Alma and through the air toward the Ghost-Type.

OOC: Slight bunnying of Cero ahead, since Mangs hasn't been around for over a month. IC - Victoire Coleman/Kyle Eston/??? - Signs Compound, Halls: "Golem, hold up." The Megaton Pokémon slowed to a halt and turned to his trainer, slowly approaching her. She had kneeled down, partly to catch her breath and partly to check on Kyle again. He had begun to stir again, seeming at last to be coming out of his drug-induced sleep. Victoire nudged him slightly, quietly urging him to wake up. After a few moments, however, he fell still again, head drooping down against that her shoulder. Victoire sighed, steeling herself and standing up again. "Don't die on me, bud," she muttered. She raised her eyes from the floor, staring down the dark hallway in front of her. The dim, flickering light directly above her did virtually nothing to illuminate her path. Still, she was not blind, and her eyes had adjusted enough that she could see to the end of the hall, where this one's end came and it crossed with another. There, a man stood, facing her. The sight sent a chill down her spine. She could not make out a single one of his facial features, only that he was wearing a hooded cloak and leaned heavily upon a short staff. There was something unnerving in his invisible gaze, a sensation that Victoire could not pin down. All she knew was that his presence made her uneasy. How long had he been watching them? Just as Victoire processed what she was seeing--an action that could not have taken more than a few seconds--the man turned, disappearing down a hallway. An inkling of a compulsion crept into her mind, prompting her to go forward. Golem followed close behind. At the end of the hall, Victoire turned left, compelled by the sinking feeling in her gut--some inner foreboding--to follow in his wake. And so she did. IC - Drake Masters - Lavender Town, The Memory House: Drake could read the tells enough to realize that he needed to dodge. And so he did, kicking off to the side just as Alma and her Gengar lunged at him. At the same time, he moved his hand, bringing his Poké Gear in front of him to block the knife. It did the job wonderfully, the hard metal shell deflecting the sharp knife blade--and directing it instead against Drake's fingers. He landed with a heavy thud against the ground, his comm device skidding to a halt on the ground nearby. Drake grit his teeth in pain, gingerly cradling his bleeding hand against his chest, doing what he could to stem the flow of blood from his wounds for the time being. As he kicked away from Alma and Gengar, he reached down and grabbed a Poké Ball from his belt, giving little thought to which one he was sending out. A toss of the container later, and Drake's Dragalge emerged. Though the normally-aquatic Pokémon did not appear completely comfortable finding a standing position on land, she quickly acclimated, more determined than ever before to protect her trainer. "Dragalge, Hydro Pump--now!" Drake yelled. Bracing herself, Dragalge drew her head back, and with a thrust back forward, unleashed a torrent of water at both Alma and Gengar. IC - Cero/??? - Signs Compound, Halls: He had done as Esen had instructed and hidden. Just as she had promised, the alarm had sounded after several minutes, following a rather loud cacophony of noise that had swiftly turned into a dead silence. Yet, despite this, no one had yet come through the hall--no guards, no White Coat, no one. Cero began to ease out of his hiding place. Tap. Tap. Tap. The sound of footsteps drew him back in. He watched from between the boards in front of him as a man appeared. He carried a short staff, which tapped against the ground with every step that he took. A cloak swept about his feet, ending in a hood around his head that shrouded his face in shadow. As the man passed by, largely appearing to be unaware of Cero's presence, the trainer could not help but feel as if the man's hidden eyes had swept over his position, seeing right through him. Soon enough, he had passed, saying nothing to Cero and giving no indication that he intended to fight the intruder. After several minutes of waiting, just in case anyone else came through, Cero again left his hiding place, pausing for a moment to stare after the hooded man. With his mission taking precedence over his misgivings, however, he turned and proceeded down the hall, away from the garage. As Cero turned a corner, he found himself face to face with a Golem. He moved to draw a Poké Ball at the sound of it growling, until the woman following after it gave a short order, drawing it back. Cero stared in surprise, wary of the stranger and she of him. Before long, however, she had eased forward, and he saw the unconscious form of Kyle supported by her arms. The woman paused, glancing between Kyle and Cero. "I recognize you . . . You're his friend, right?" she asked. Cero gave a silent nod, prompting a weary smile from her. "Thank Arceus . . . Give me a hand, won't you?"

IC - Drake Masters - Lavender Town, Memory House: The girl's words alone would not have necessarily made Drake uneasy. Quick to call her out for what she was saying, certainly, but not uneasy. What did make him nervous was the accompanying movement of her hand, and the subdued, yet calculated look in her eye. It was as if she were evaluating him--his place in the building, what lay around them. He shifted his hand ever-so-slightly, nudging the handle of his Poké Gear into his hand. "That's a very morbid thing to say to someone you've just met."

IC - James Pierce - Mossdeep City, Hoenn Presidential Office: The day's light shone through the office window, dazzling and bright against the glass and the waters beyond. Normally, he might have enjoyed the sight. Today, however, Pierce found himself more preoccupied than usual with his thoughts, filled with concern and nerves as they were for what lay ahead--and, too, what he did not know and did not fully understand. Wrath and Envy . . . A skirmish in Celadon from out of the blue . . . President Pierce steepled his fingers, resting them against his mouth and closing his eyes. Recruitment finished on all fronts, all ranks fulfilled, and all pieces necessary to move forward acquired . . . Yet still no word from Ford, Mewtwo, or Nine, and without that, no moving forward. He opened his eyes, frowning at something that did not stand within his vision. I've done my part, Father . . . Just what more do you need from me? His brow furrowed in thinly-veiled annoyance, disgusted at the disloyal thought that crept into his mind. What more are the two of you hiding from me, I wonder . . .? A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Pierce spun his chair around to face it, nodding to the Déoza Agent that entered. The woman offered a salute before approaching and coming to a stop in front of his desk. "Sir," she said. "We've just received this from Team Liberty." She held out a tablet, on which a message was displayed. "Thank you, Dejana," Pierce said. He read over the message as the Agent exited. Within moments, a smile crept across his face. Interesting . . . Perhaps this is my final test . . .? He set the device down on his desk, pressing the button on his desk's intercom. "Get me a messenger." IC - Drake Masters - Lavender Town, The Memory House: The room had become deathly quiet while he stood before the grave marker, eyes closed as he sent silent thoughts to whatever great beyond now served as the home of Ema Black, the Liberty Agent housed within the grave in front of him. She had been his partner in crime, once upon a time, his close ally during the more active parts of the Rocket-Liberty War. Almost a year ago, they had worked together to bring down a small Rocket facility in Cherrygrove City, where a Diancie had been held captive. Freeing it had proven a successful and satisfying endeavor. The loss of Ema's life in the attack, however . . . He couldn't help but question whether it had been worth it, especially given the establishment of the ceasefire not long after. He sighed, steeling himself to leave and once again fighting to bring down the burning dislike of Team Rocket that perpetually manifested itself in his chest. "Excuse me." Drake's eyes snapped open in surprise at the voice to his left. A girl--very pale, with even lighter hair--had approached from his right, with nary a sound to alert him to her presence. She peered at him with a peculiar look, one that unnerved the Liberty Agent without much effort. "Are you Drake Masters?" He stared at her for a moment before adjusting his jacket and turning back to Ema's grave. "Who's asking?" "I am," the girl said. She said it with a very plain and simple tone; yet something about it rubbed Drake the wrong way. He stared back at her for a long while, neither of them moving. Then, with a soft smile, the girl spoke again. "I've been looking for you." IC - Ethan Worth/Gavin Braner - Celadon City, Streets: Ethan and Gavin offered a short wave to the retreating forms of Lucia and Jamie, pausing for several brief and silent moments to watch their departure. When they had gone, Gavin glanced at Ethan. "Are you okay?" "Yeah," Ethan said after a moment. He flashed a reassuring grin to the younger Rocket Agent. "Totally cool, as always." Gavin chose not to voice his doubt at this, nor the fact that he could tell the smile was very, very forced. "All right," he said. "You mediate and play psychiatrist all the time, you know, so maybe sometime you ought to let someone else help you out. If you ever need it, anyway." "Thanks, pal. I'll keep that in mind," Ethan said, fist-bumping Gavin. "Onto Chapel, then. Got a Teleporter on you?" Gavin nodded, pulling Evris's Poké Ball from his belt and holding it out. The Claydol appeared from within, materializing before them. After a quick set of instructions, the Clay Doll Pokémon's many eyes began to glow, enveloping the pair in a field of psychic energy. The next instant, they were gone. IC - Victoire Coleman/Kyle Eston - Signs Compound, Hallway: The lack of windows in this hallway was beginning to weigh on Victoire. She wasn't sure how long they had actually been moving, though no matter that actual time, it felt like it was taking much longer than it possibly could have. Part of that she blamed on general fatigue, part of it again on the lack of windows, and certainly part of it on the fact that she could only move at a slow pace with her passenger in as bad a condition as he was. Thankfully, with Golem around, she at least knew they were safe. "Come on," she whispered--more to herself than to Kyle, whose weight was certainly beginning to take its toll. "Not much farther . . ." They had come to a fork in the hall, prompting her to pause before deciding on a random direction to go. She had not taken many steps before a distant alarm sounded. Victoire froze, staring down the hallway towards the source of the noise. Either someone else is here besides us, she mused. Or Shift's awake. Without a second thought, she turned and began down the other hall, followed closely by Golem. Either way, we need to get out of here, quickly . . . She glanced over her shoulder at Kyle. And I'm really going to need you to wake up pretty soon here, pal . . . IC - Goldhawk - Message: A message beeped on the Pokétchs and Poké Gears of a select number of Liberty Agents--most notably that of Executive James Arthur. It read as follows: "Public forum between Liberty, Rocket, and Hojohsin has been approved. Date set for July 24th. Ensure all preparations are completed before then. ~Goldhawk" IC - Esen Windred - Signs Compound, Main Garage: Esen watched Cero go, mentally ticking down the clock. She had promised him five minutes to advance and hide before the start of the engagement. She intended to spare neither a second more nor less than that. She turned to Noivern, raising a finger to her mouth as an indicator of silence. The intent was clear: Wait for a signal. Though Noivern tilted her head, it was clear she understood this. Her confusion seemed instead to be directed at Esen herself, and the almost glossy, emotionless expression that had entered her eyes--an unnatural, almost frightening condition for which the Sound Wave Pokémon knew no explanation. She had no time to inquire into this, however, for in one moment she had been joined with a subdued flash of light by Esen's Gliscor, and in the next, Esen herself had slipped away, vanishing into the garage. The large boxes made it easy enough to maneuver without being spotted, and with the eyes and ears of the men occupied as they were with loading their cargo into their vehicles, Esen found the task far too easy--boring, almost. With two minutes to spare, she had already positioned herself in a point of ambush, and thus sat, crouched in the dark, waiting for the next two minutes to pass by. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. The metronome sounded in her head again and again. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. The men chattered. They were concerned, rightfully so, about what had transpired outside--what had drawn their numbers away and, thus far, prevented their return. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. One man--she could not see him--pressed them to keep moving. The question arose--"Where's Shift . . .?" Tick. Tock. "Who knows, man?" Esen reached into her pocket, removing a marble from it. Tick. "Probably still egging on those kids." A footfall before her. Tock. She bounced the marble. The garage door exploded inward from the force of Scor's Guillotine attack. Shouts of surprise erupted from all around the garage, and soon turned into cries of pain as the Tailwind-sped Noivern and Gliscor rocketed forward, striking all nearby targets. The man in front of Esen made to grab and hurl a Poké Ball containing some unknown adversary. Without a sound, she slipped forward, bringing his arm back and twisting it with a sharp crack with one hand, the other leading her arm around as neck as one of her feet kicked forward to knock his knee out from under him. He gasped for breath, but could not breathe, and soon fell into darkness. She let him fall, slipping backward amidst the confusion. The garage shook from Scor's starting Earthquake, knocking their opponents off balance. In the chaos, Noivern let loose a powerful Boomburst, the force of which immediately befuddled and bowled over the two men closest to her. The others fell under assault from the rain of debris--rock and pieces of wood uprooted from within her blast radius. In mere seconds, Scor had slammed her tail into one's head and a claw into another's, knocking the two of them out of the fight. That left only seven conscious, only three of whom remained in a position to actively engage the two Pokémon. The others had been buried by debris, and with their arms trapped, they had effectively been removed from the equation. The three left? Two who had fallen back to defend Puzzle, and Puzzle himself, all of whom stood now on the tall platform from which the Signs leader had been issuing his orders to begin with. Unfortunately, for all the cool-headed confidence that he possessed, even Malvolio Rask could be surprised. And it was for this reason that he could not immediately give directions to these last two Signs Agents, both of whom could only manage to send out one Pokémon each--a Scrafty and a Hawlucha--before they, too, came under assault. With a screech from Scor, he and Noivern shot forward, barreling into the Hoodlum and Wrestling Pokémon, respectively, and dragging them away from their trainers. Said trainers turned to follow, though only managed to catch a glimpse of the two pairs and hear them slam into the trucks before Esen appeared in front of them. Immediately raising her arms into a fighting stance, she thrust a series of quick jabs into the first guard's gut, before stepping back to avoid a fist from the second's. As the first reeled from the assault and attempted to regain his breath, the other followed after Esen, pulling a baton from his belt and taking a sharp swing at her. She ducked under it, training her eye on the weapon. As it came around again, she ducked and charged forward, shoulder-checking the man's ribs and knocking him back. Esen took the opportunity to use the momentum of their impact to swing around, yanking the baton from his hand and--in one, smooth motion--connecting it with the backs of his knees. He toppled off of the platform and into a pile of wood below, landing with a heavy crash. The first guard had regained his strength now, and charged at Esen with a shout. She moved almost effortlessly around him, shifting her grasp on the baton so that she could jab it into his back as she came around. At that moment, a crackle of electricity sounded from her left. With a glance, she managed to move a step back just in time to avoid a pair of electrical nodes that had shot forward from Puzzle's cane. Esen offered him only an annoyed look before returning her attention to her original opponent, who by now had begun to prepare another assault on her. Wordlessly, she straightened up and tossed the baton to him, catching him by surprise. As he reached for it, she lunged forward, quickly shifting into a dropkick that sent him toppling over the edge of the platform after his ally. Esen rolled to her feet, and turned to Puzzle, fists raised again. The Signs leader stared at her, dumb-founded at what he had just witnessed. She studied him for a moment, as if waiting for something. Then, she said something that he would never have expected: "Raise the alarm." He did not hesitate to do so. IC - Sleight/Eileen Alaric/Jackson Sang/Jessica Ortrune - Viridian City, Hospital: "Thank you for coming on such short notice." "It's not a problem at all, sir," Captain Ortrune said. For perhaps the first time in months, she was dressed in straight-up civilian clothing, with not a hint a her usual Rocket attire. She nonetheless saluted Sleight as she entered the hospital room, and in another moment, had produced the Ultra Ball containing Team Rocket's Cresselia. "My apologies for not coming sooner--Cresselia's injuries turned out to be more serious than I had initially thought." "As long as she's alive," Sleight said. He shook his head as Ortrune offered the Ultra Ball to him. "As much as I'd like to use her power myself, I don't believe I've had the chance to truly earn Cresselia's respect yet." The Shadow Admin gave the Captain a grave look. "Please--I'm trusting you to get this done." Ortrune appeared genuinely surprised by this. She nevertheless nodded. "You have nothing to worry about, sir." The Rocket Agent approached the unconscious form of Eileen Alaric. It had been almost two weeks since the incident at the Alaric Estate that had rendered her comatose, plagued by incessant nightmares as a result of the attacking Darkrai's power. In a nearby bed, a similarly-affected Jackson Sang rested, attended by an Elgyem that sat at his head, seeming to be deep in a trance. Ortrune pushed the odd sight out of her mind, returning to the task at hand. Holding out the Ultra Ball, she released Cresselia. The Lunar Pokémon's presence immediately lightened the atmosphere of the room, her glimmering form also literally making the room significantly brighter. Two marks had been left on her left side from the battle that she had partaken in alongside Ortrune two or so weeks ago, all healed now save for the scars that endured. Paying as little attention as she could to the scars, Ortrune nodded to the Legendary Pokémon. "Good to see you again, Cresselia," she said. "I hate to ask this of you, but we need your assistance." Cresselia looked at her in silence. Ortrune gestured to Sleight. "This is Shadow Admin Sleight. His wife, Eileen, was recently attacked by a powerful Darkrai, along with a man named Jackson Sang. We need your help to awaken them." Cresselia projected a mental frown. A powerful Darkrai? she repeated. Surely not another Ancient? I thought they were all defeated? Ortrune glanced at Sleight. The Shadow Admin shook his head. "We don't know," he said. "It would appear that it was one. If not, then we can't explain why they haven't woken up yet. In any case, you are our only option." His expression turned desperate for a moment, a pleading look appearing in his eyes. "Please. I'm begging you." The Lunar Pokémon fell silent. I will do it, she said after a moment. But I can only wake one of them for now. Unfortunately, I do not know when I will be able to help the other. "I understand," Sleight said. He glanced at the unconscious pair. "Sang's Elgyem hasn't left his side since the incident, and appears to be doing what it can to help him, so I think it's safe to assume that he'll be fine for a bit longer." The Shadow Admin looked back at Cresselia. "But my wife doesn't have that luxury. And I've lost enough of my family to Ford without adding another name to that list." For several moments, Cresselia did not respond. It was as if she was weighing Sleight's words in her mind--almost judging whether the plea was worthy enough to be granted. In the end, she appeared to decide that it was. She moved to Eileen's side, closing her eyes and focusing all the energy that she could muster into the pink aura that emerged from her form. A similar aura appeared around Eileen, alongside another, darker energy that immediately began to push back against Cresselia's power. Had she not taken the time to gather her strength beforehand, the Lunar Pokémon may have been blocked out completely; however, she found that she was able to maintain a hold on her target. The nerve-wracking spectacle unfolded in moments that felt like an eternity. As the shadows struggled more and more, so, too, did Cresselia push back, placing them into a deadlock that seemed as if it would never end. Soon the effects on Eileen began to become obvious, as the heart monitor linked to her began to beep more and more, signaling the dangerous and tenuous position that she had fallen into. Sleight started forward, barely containing the panic that he felt at the sight, but stopped as he felt Captain Ortrune's hand on his arm, silently imploring him to wait. Soon, Cresselia's eyes flashed, and she began to speak. Awaken in peace, from long-suffered dreams, Shadows, disperse, from light which Moon brings. Darkness, begone! and no more cast fear, Awaken, I say! The nightmare ends here! And with that, the shadows broke, vanishing from around Eileen. Her heart rate began to drop back to normal. Cresselia collapsed to the ground at the same moment that Sleight and Ortrune ran forward, the former placing his hands on Eileen's shoulders and the latter kneeling before Cresselia. Sleight frantically rocked her, whispering her name--"Eileen? Eileen!"--searching for any sort of response. Slowly, Eileen opened her eyes. "Elijah . . .?" Sleight stopped in his tracks, a rush of emotion washing over him--relief, thankfulness, the last vestiges of terror that had come to possess him. "Eileen . . ." He pulled her into a tight embrace. IC - Kyle Eston if i didn't know any better i would say i was dying yet i am not for it is not yet time. what a vivid hallucination. 4. n. the destruction or permanent end of something. Saline scent, thick in the air. Ebbing, flowing, washing waters slinking up the sandy bank, retreating back to the depths of the ocean. Rivers of red running down the sides of breathing hills, pooling into lakes of crimson on either side. Arms spread wide and out, palms raised toward the endless expanse of blue above all else. Thunderous sounds deafened by loss of feeling echoing in the distance, dull and there yet not entirely, truly there. Lonesome, lying, dying, save for the other lonely and dead away and near, already gone and some soon to come along. Crunching sand elicits an awakening. The world is how I dreamt it, though my eyes, unfocused, take a moment to register this. Red intermingles with the colors. It is dried and wet in equal parts around me, everywhere that I can feel it that is not simultaneously frozen with unbearable pain. Altogether the sensations merge into a cacophonous confusion, joining with the sounds and the smells of death and battle to overload my senses. Here I want to sleep, to rest; but is to rest not to remain, and thus to die? The colors separate and focus, the blues into blues and the grays into grays. And amidst them, peering down at me from a visage cloaked in black and flanked by crimson, shine two red orbs, fiery and bright. They glower. They prey. They wait and inquire. And I can only stare back, waiting in turn for some change in their expression, some action to make this creature reveal itself. Who are you? White joins the black and red, within the former and beneath the latter. It is as if it relishes the sight of me, bloodied and tattered, lying before it. "Am I forgotten?" And it shifts an arm. I see the silhouette move, joined by another object--another object, the weapon that has broken me. You . . . "I am remembered." It's been so long . . . "Yet, it feels so recent." Every day . . . "As if it were yesterday." Why . . .? "So fell the order, so it came to pass." A frown. "Mostly." What . . .? "You lived." I lived. "I failed." You failed . . . . . . How does that make you feel? "I am livid." Pause. A grin. "But, it's all the same. Time ticks, the gun clicks--so the moment comes, fee-fi-fo-fum." A laugh. When . . .? "Now, if I could tell you that . . ." A chuckle. . . . Have you finally done it? "Tick-tock, tick-tock." Have you killed me? A broader grin. "No." The shifting of the gun, level with my face. "Not yet." And the pull of the trigger . . . 4. n. the period between the birth and death of a living being. if i didn't know any better i would say i was alive and so i am but for how much longer? what a frightful thought.

Code for "Tim is coming out of the woodworks"? : O

So, sup. How's it going. why are you here. : p

Hi, you.

IC - Ethan Worth/Gavin Braner - Celadon City, Streets: For a brief moment, Jamie's thoughts appeared to have gone elsewhere, though she returned her focus to Ethan and Gavin almost immediately. As such, Ethan decided not to put too much thought into it. Instead, he offered Jamie an understanding look, before beginning to fish through his jacket pocket. "We're not going to have to look very far for a lead," he said, pulling his hand free again and holding it out. A thumb drive rested in his palm, black and yellow in color. "McKinley gave this to us as 'consolation.' Supposedly, it'll tell us where we can go to get Skye back and when we need to be there. We just need to decrypt it first." Ethan closed his fingers around the device again. "It'll take a while, but a lead's a lead, right?" "That's . . . not all," Gavin cut in. "McKinley wants the information on that thing spread--not only to Team Rocket, but to Team Liberty and anyone else whom we consider allies. He made it sound like he wanted an audience for what Ford's doing." He looked between Jamie, Ethan, and Lucia. "Whatever is on there--and whatever Ford's endgame is--we need to be careful."

I didn't even read the question but the answer is no.

IC - Tyler McKinley - Route 110, Bridge: The smile on McKinley's face masked the rush of victory that cascaded through his heart. "I agree wholeheartedly," he said. With a clap of his hands, he gestured to his Xatu, who had remained entirely stationary and unresponsive for the entirety of their interaction. "If you'd be so kind as to take a moment to meet my dear friend here, then we can get this all wrapped up." Ellen nodded and walked forward, McKinley moving backward to join her as she came to a stop in front of the Psychic-Type, his arms outstretched to either side in a broad and welcoming gesture the entire way. Something appeared strange about his movements, however, specifically his eyes. Indeed, if one paid close enough attention, they might have noticed that while he seemed to be watching Ellen, in actuality he was maintaining a close watch on Paul and Xander. "Stay still, now, and Xatu will show you all that you need to see," he continued, placing a hand on Ellen's head and gently directing her to match Xatu's gaze. "And, of course, there's one other thing." Ellen glanced at him. The Fourth Child smiled brightly. "Don't worry, my friend, it's nothing big! All of the Children are given their own code names--Madison Hayes, for instance, or, you know, Tyler McKinley. So you'll need one as well. Let's see . . ." He tapped his chin. "How about . . . Taylor? That's a good start . . . And for the last name . . . Aha!" He snapped his fingers. "Taylor Carter!" A smile had begun to form on Ellen's face when Xatu's eyes suddenly flashed. Images whirled through the girl's mind, awe-inspiring and bewildering in their sheer, chaotic nature. In what seemed like ages, but what was actually only a brief moment, the images stopped, and Ellen stumbled, dazed and barely conscious. She fell back, her fall immediately broken by McKinley. He straightened her up, continuing to support her as he tilted his head. "You know," he called to Paul. "I probably should have mentioned that the day in question isn't until the last day of the month." McKinley offered the blacksmith a bright grin, as if he had embarrassed himself by forgetting to lock his front door. "My bad. But that's okay--she'll be among friends in the meantime. Until then . . ." He nodded to Xatu. "You two have a good day." Xatu's eyes flashed, and the next instant, all three figures had vanished.