[WAR] Role Play: Terminus

[XaiakuX]

[OoC: The stuff in italics is details into Lance's backstory that I've decided to include for giggles. In essence it's sort of like the inner workings of Lance's mind. Memories or thoughts. It has no part of my interactions with the surrounding characters, only with me to keep it fresh. I don't expect that part of it to be graded. If this is forbidden, I will refrain from doing it from now on.]

Lance Harper
Harper Industries Headquarters in Goldenrod City
Affected RPers: @TheProtobabe and potentially @Death's Spook?

--

"Slap the water," a man with long raven hair commanded. The man was thin, but with athetic physique. Although he was short in stature, there was still something heavily imposing about the man. "Do not stop until the bowl is empty. When the bowl is empty, refill it, and do it all over again."

A teenager, roughly in the same height range as the man, slapped the water, and groaned in boredom. "This is so dumb. I've been doing this for over a year! When will you teach me to actually fight and kick peoples' butts?" The boy complained about his task as most teenagers would. This boy was hilariously irresponsible, for he lived off of his parents' money, and didn't care about anyone but himself.

The man rolled his eyes. "You want results? You must learn discipline. You are brash, and stupid. You will never learn anything if you only think of yourself," he spoke swiftly, and stern. He pulled the bowl away and pointed to the table, "Slap the table."

The boy reared back and brought his and down on the surface of the table. Suddenly the wood beneath his palm cracked, and the table split down the middle. The boy had successfully broke the table in half. In a state of shock, the boy sat back and sighed heavily. It was at this point that he realized that great power needed control. It needed discipline. It needed responsibility.

--

A few moments passed before Lance put his feet on the ground, and casually rose to his feet. He reached into the left pocket of his hooded sweater and retrieved a Pokéball. Upon pressing the button in the center of the sphere, the ball grew three times its usual size and filled his palm completely. He then pressed the button again which caused it to open, and project a white array of light. This light flowed into the shape of a humanoid with four large and muscular arms. The creature was grey in color, and wore nothing but a pair of black wrestling trunks equipped with some form of golden utility belt, replacing the usual weighted belt that this creature would normally be found wearing.

The beast flexed and belted out its species natural cry of 'Machamp' before calming down and looking to Lance for direction. Lance closed the laptop screen slowly, and removed the flash drive that was connected to it. He calmly approached the large muscle-bound creature, and placed the flash drive in on of the utility pockets on the beast's belt. He then patted his Machamp on the head before finally speaking up.

"Did you enjoy the show from the shadows, intruder?" Lance called out to the room. His voice carried a low tone, and serious feeling, "I'm no stranger to being stalked, and for that I can thank my brother. He would often have his ghost Pokémon stealthily follow me around. It was difficult to have any privacy until I learned to elude his ghosts, let me assure you that it was no easy task. Just like getting out of here is for you. If you would like to avoid play time with ol' Bane, here, you should reveal yourself to me, and state your business. You should know that Bane doesn't play nice."

Lance turned and faced towards Helena's exact position. While he couldn't physically see her, he knew where she was hiding. His years of physical grueling training with Kenji Gazette bestowed upon him numerous skills and talents that would forbid the common man from noticing the presence of someone who wanted to remain invisble. Bane flexed his muscles again, and let out a low cry, meant for intimidation.

[ShadowJay]

Quinn Harper
Laboratory in Celadon City
Affected RPers: N/A

Team Trainer. Courage, Honor and Glory. Those words were just a blanket we were hiding under. This was WAR, and we are fighting to win. And to win, we needed weapons. No one would dare go into a battle empty handed. There were Pokémon, sure, but in this day and age, they are inferior. Humans and their technological artillery would always be the victor; unless you’re one of those lucky few to get your hands on a burst heart, then you were in business.

I held onto just a single burst heart. I wasn't about to waste it though; I would have to use it at the exact right time. For now though, I would need to come up with something crafty to stand up to those other burst hearts. I needed something big and dangerous, but also something that could move with ease. There was only one other known Team Trainer member out there somewhere, so I would have to rely on my own skills.

I reached for my tool belt and drew a pencil. I needed some ideas for my war machine. I sketched a few things; a tank, a ship, a plane. None of them seemed to fit what I was looking for. I needed something that could do all of the above. Then it hit me; just combine the three.

I drew up a sketch. It was just a rough idea, but it was exactly what I wanted. It was buoyant for sea travel, had high power turbo jet engines for flying and a set of wheels for traversing land. That’s not all it had though, it was also clad in only the strongest material; Graphene. Yes, this war machine would be perfect.

[TheProtobabe]

Helena Gray
Harper Industries Headquarters in Goldenrod City
Affected RPers: @XaiakuX

Helena shifted in the dark slightly as Lance moved to get up. His hand reached for a Pokeball, and her fingers twitched. As the ball expanded, her own nimble hand reached for one of her own. A huge Machamp appeared, flexing and calling out its own name as Lance casually put his laptop and flash drive away. Damn.

He was good. But she was good, too.

As he went on about his brother setting Ghost-types out to stalk him, Helena walked out of her hiding spot, palms up. She gave Lance an impassive look and ignored the muscle-bound Machamp, who was currently trying to look as intimidating as possible. The thing was, she was used to facing brutes and defeating them, so this had no effect on her at all. It was mildly irritating, even.

"Hello, Lance Harper," she said coolly. She was somewhat glad he wasn't easy to stalk; she had a glimmer of respect for his astuteness. Though the macho show of strength was starting to wear on her. "I'm not here to kill you, so you can put your Pokemon away. I'm sure it wouldn't do so well if he was poisoned, or hit by a powerful Flying move, anyway," she mused, and her eyes flicked upwards. Behind and above the glowering Machamp's head, the glowing eyes and vampiric grin of a Crobat appeared, fluttering just out of reach.

"I think we can come to a truce, here. Don't you?"

[VeloJello]

Lenore Valdis.
Goldenrod City, Johto.
Affected RPers: Death’s Spook (Alistair Harper); possibly XaikuX (Lance Harper) by proximity.

(Side note: Nar and I collaborated on this. It is a bunny free post.)

Goldenrod City.

Lenore hadn’t been to the “Happening Big City” much in her life, and she wouldn’t have minded keeping it that way. In spite of the war, the city was still abuzz - a swirl of motion and sound strong enough to make Lenore more than a little edgy. She couldn’t help but wonder how people still managed to make a decent living out here - Harper Industries, Johto’s main source for cranking out cheap entertainment en masse, was dead in the water, which meant the loss of a major source of income for a lot of locals. There was something off about the whole thing, too; something missing from the chaos. The droves of people did not look happy. The cars and bikes that zoomed along the street had a shocking disregard for the safety of their own passengers as well as anyone else’s. Tough-looking Trainers with scarred-up teams glared out at Lenore and her companions like they were sizing the group up for a fight.

This city has lost its heart.

“By all means, continue narrating,” Lenore muttered sarcastically. Micah, the Absol that walked by her side, glanced upward in surprise, and she patted his head in response. “Nothing to worry about, big guy,” she said matter-of-factly. “Deborah’s being a bit obnoxious, is all.”

I heard that. The telepathic voice of Lenore’s Xatu was curt with irritation. You’re the one who wanted ‘an eye in the sky’. Your exact words. Or did you forget that I’m watching out for you?

At that, Lenore couldn’t help but wince. Although she would have preferred only being spoken to when it was necessary, she had asked Deborah to keep a lookout. Having been to Goldenrod infrequently and what with the region being deadlocked in a little thing called war, she wanted to make sure that she and her companions arrived intact. Some bodyguard she would make if she couldn’t even meet her client without being killed. Sorry, she thought so that Deborah could hear. No need to blurt it out and solidify any illusions her companions had about her losing her mind.

'Companions' being the aforementioned Micah; Amos, her strong, silent Nidoking; and the man who had hired her, Alistair Harper, as well as his Froslass and Volcarona. Now there was an odd case had she ever met one - the man, not the Pokemon. They had met only once - not long before Lenore set off on her disastrous escapades with Eusine, she had witnessed his thorough trouncing of her father Morty’s team. After years of silence he had turned up out of nowhere while she was scraping up cash in Blackthorn - apparently, he had learned of her exploits as a Trainer and had heard that she was in a bind, and for those reasons he had offered her the position of bodyguard. At first, Lenore had been skeptical of the whole thing - Alistair wasn’t without a reputation, at the time; he was known as a fearsome battler across the entire region - but he had explained that she was needed to guard, not Alistair, but his brother. Lance Harper had once been Harper Industries’s heir and golden boy; now he was something of a fallen idol, and blame for his company’s failure had fallen on his shoulders. Sometimes that blame was violent, hence the need for a protector.

However, the situation still nagged at Lenore. Not the job itself; that was simple enough. But Alistair bothered her. He had seemed so gentle and kind when they had first met… still was, in fact, but there was something different about him, too. He had an air of nervousness and pain that was missing when she had seen him in Ecruteak. He looked over his shoulder a bit too often. Occasionally looked too tired, too old for his age. Laughed, but seemed sad, too. And all of this pain seemed to center around their journey to the Harper Building.

Talk to him. There was Deborah again.

I’m getting sick of you doing that, Lenore complained silently. She didn’t like the thought that someone was constantly reading her thoughts, reassuring though it was to have the Xatu watching over her. It shouldn’t matter anyway. The main thing is filling my contract.

Deborah did not reply, but Lenore could sense her disapproval. After a few moments’ more of walking, the tower began to loom over them, and Lenore decided that she may as well speak up. After all, she didn’t want to be walking into any situation unprepared. She touched Alistair gently on the shoulder to get his attention, and gave him a tight smile. “Listen,” she said, her voice calm and civil. “First of all, I probably should have spoken up before, but there are a few things I want to be clear on. Like what exactly happened to you. You’ve changed a good bit since I first met you; I can tell. You’re paranoid about something - not that I blame you, if half of what I hear is true. You’re one of the most widely-respected and feared people in Johto right now; you’re everywhere. Like some sort of juggernaut. And somehow you knew exactly where to find me. And oh, you didn’t let on, but I suspect you knew every bit how desperate I was for work before you even came. So before we meet Lance, I need to know exactly who I’m being paid by. I need to know that being on your payroll isn't going to bite me in the ***.” As she spoke, she positioned herself in front of him - not to threaten him, but to prevent him from moving forward and dodging the question.

[Neo Emolga]

Noah "Neo" Ashfield
Slateport City, Hoenn
Affected RPers: N/A

As I snuck on board, I was already trying to come up with better names for the Entourage. Holy crap did I hate that name. The ship with all of its advanced weaponry was sweet, but damn, the name sucked.

There weren't too many sailors on board, most of them were in town probably getting drunk or stupid. Worked for me. I did run into two schmucks with their stupid looking white sailor boy uniforms. I beat them on the back of the head and then stuffed them in a lifeboat, which I then threw overboard. Sure didn't want that kind of garbage on my ship.

I got closer to the bow, and I decided to strap on my gas mask. I then released Smoky the Skuntank from his Pokéball. He seemed happy to be out, and usually when I let him out, it meant I was up to no good. He caught on a long time ago.

Using Smoky, I gassed six more chumps and tossed them overboard. By the time they alerted the authorities, it would be way too late anyway. Plus stupid sailors in dumb uniforms looked hilarious dripping wet. No one took that seriously.

"Hey!" One of them shouted. "Who the hell are-!?"

All it took was one big whiff and his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he collapsed.

"Heh, sorry," I laughed sarcastically, my voice muffled by the mask. "Smoky sure likes his breakfast burritos."

And his lazy carcass was soon thrown over the ship as well.

I soon made it to the control room, and nicely done on my part, managed to get this far without triggering any alarms. The captain was there, but just my luck, he was already drunk and sleeping in his chair. So, I lifted up the chair, captain and all, and with a bit of Smoky's help, dumped him into the sea as well. He only woke up when he realized he was falling. Heh, little too late there, chump.

Now it was just time to drive this prize off to Mirage Island. But I expected some extra fun along the way.

---

Janine "Angel" Price
AMS Deathwing, Mirage Island, Hoenn
Affected RPers: N/A

A bag of PokéTarts was like ripping open Pandora's Box. This stuff was DANGEROUS, but no one would ever tell! I wanted to make sure the bag design was cute and sweet, with an adorable cartoon Buneary and Minccino as the mascots. Inside would be a whole trove of colorful, delicious-looking, addictive treats for a unsuspecting Pokémon! Or an idiot human.

The formula was complete, and now it was just a matter of mass-producing these deceptive treats and getting them distributed all over the planet. Of course, the "company" that made them, Happy Buneary Candies, was really just a front for Team Aqua, but no one would ever be able to tell. The corporate headquarters was a totally fictitious address, and only Team Aqua operatives would handle the shipments. But I knew deep inside the retailers wouldn't care if the stuff sold like crazy! Heck, they could jack up the markup for all I cared!

Once this stuff hit store shelves, mayhem would ensure. It would first start off with a few sweet, innocent purchases. Oh, I could just hear them out. "Ooh, look, a new candy that gives Pokémon happiness!" "Oh, that looks interesting. Let's give it a try!" Pokéblocks and Poffins came and went, but PokéTarts... you sure weren't going to get these off the shelves any time soon!

PokéTarts actually almost made my development on the Liquidator seem boring. Almost. I was more into the big mischief gags as opposed to the breath of death kind of machines that Team Aqua needed also, but hey, I knew the Liquidator needed some loving too. The research and development ops were almost done with the prototype, and things seemed pretty positive overall with it.

I managed to get a look at the pictures. The research journals... pah, I couldn't care less about those. Pictures were worth a thousand words anyway. Seemed like they followed my original design pretty closely, although it seemed they incorporated a larger cooling system and larger ammo depository. Well, hey! Whatever floats their boat.

Shadowfall Tanks were still in earlier stages of development, but those were coming along two with models and the early fixings of a prototype to test. Simulation testing had a few quirks at first, but modifications, reconfigurations, and all that jazz were done to make sure it was ready to kick up and go.

And lastly, Project MEND was still to be kept quiet. I could kind of get a gist of what they were cruising on with this, but still not enough to really put my finger on it. Heck, it still had plenty of room to become something totally not what I thought it was. But hey, as long as all this secrecy stuff and fluff didn't screw it up, I figured I could treat it like Christmas and be patient. Yeah.

With all that work done, I felt I needed a break. A chocolate ice cream cone seemed like a great deal. It was nice to see no one had stolen my ice cream. The last guy who did... heh, we'll just say he won't be eating too much more ice cream with that tube they had to run through him.

[Lord Celebi]

Raidon Makoto
Abandoned District, Evergrande
Hoenn
Affected RPers: None

Raidon Makoto was not a man to be dressed in civilian clothing. He was also not a man to be caught dead without his swords. Unfortunately for the soldier, today was a day that he was afflicted with both of these conditions. He made his way through the Abandoned District in Evergrande. It was once a bustling industrial center before Evergrande's industry was ported over to Orre due to cheaper labor. The slum was only home to the homeless now. No one would catch Makoto traversing this shitpile nor would they see the man he was meeting. Knowing his boss to be a paranoid person, the soldier kept watch around him to make sure that no one seemed like they were following him. Makoto fully intended on wasting any potential stalkers with the Desert Eagle tucked in his underwear waistband.

Confident that he hadn't been pursued, he pushed the door open of an abandoned silo and then promptly shut it. In the center of the room was a single, lit lightbulb illuminating the whole building. Under it sat Norton "Norb" Whitehall in front of a rusted metal table. Makoto sat down in the chair across from him and fished through his backpack. He pulled out a fresh bottle of Talisker 10 with a bow tied around the bottleneck and slammed it down on the table, passing it to his private financier. The enmity between the two was quite palpable.

Whitehall inspected the bottle for a moment and then tore off the bow, opened the bottle, ripped out the bitchtop with his teeth, and took a swig directly from the Talisker. "This is crap. Why didn't you get the Talisker 18?"

"What's the difference?" Makoto asked him despondently.

"About eight years," Whitehall corrected, uninterested in giving Makoto a lecture on the finer points of Scotch Whiskey distillation. When he was satisfied with the lackluster peace offering, he put the bottle on the table and passed it to Makoto, who took a small swig himself.

"What do you want?" Makoto asked the bossman. The dread lord of the Deathwing refused to break eye contact with the elder politician. He almost treated it like they were in a staring contest. Whitehall wasn't amused, however, he was unwilling to be the first to look away. He would not be the weaker man in this battle of wills.

"I'm concerned with the way you're spending my money," Whitehall began. Makoto so badly wanted to roll his eyes and tell the politician to sod off. Well, almost as much as he wanted to run Whitehall through with his katanas. "And I'm concerned with your lack of regard for discretion."

"I'm sorry?" Makoto managed.

Whitehall took another drink before bringing the rod back down onto Makoto. "Project MEND? You might have better luck flushing cash down the toilet. I'm not interested in funding pseudo-science, Makoto. I already did that with that inane crystal healing bill I co-sponsored to get a favor from the representatives from Lilycove. I want you to abandon it immediately."

"WHAT?" Makoto slammed his palms down on the table. "I trust Tiantus. If he says it can be done, then it god damn well can be done! I don't need your silver-spooned ass to be second-guessing my best friend."

Whitehall ignored the outburst. "And these PokeTarts that you intend to produce on a massive scale? What of them? What happens when Hoenn's FDA busts down the doors of whatever shipping facility you operate? What happens when they interrogate your soldiers are trace it back to you? What happens when they audit you and trace the money back to me? Huh?"

"The money's clean. We launder it exactly the way you tell us to, Norb," Makoto defended his organization. He took a deep breath and cleared his head. Whitehall was just another person. Makoto just needed to negotiate him down. Cooler heads always prevailed. "We're trying our best to fulfill your expectations, Norb. We're building up our armada for when the eventual takeover happens. What more can I do for you?"

Whitehall threw a manila folder in front of Makoto. The soldier picked it up and looked through the dossier. It contained all of the Hoenn military's information on DyneTech Industries, Orre's leading tech manufacturer. "I want you to personally go to Hoenn and... secure me a majority share in the company. Nothing fancy, and definitely no theatrics. You need to treat this mission with almost surgical caution. Do that, be careful with the PokeTarts, and I'll continue to fund Tyrus' work on MEND."

Makoto filed the paperwork in his backpack, and copped a smile. "You have yourself a deal."

[The Nonexistent Tazz]

Yarvick "The Raticate" Xelsez
Team Aqua
Slateport Aquatics Museum, Slateport, Hoenn
Affected RPers: Neo Emolga?

Yarvick didn't take long to find the museum. It was very close to the northern entrance and the most predominant building in northern Slateport other than the contest hall. It was two stories, mostly a wide building as opposed to a tall one. Of course, what was inside was what concerned him.

Yarvick took a museum map. They were free and for everyone-it was no problem to take it. Yarvick had already gone over the museum through a website earlier today, and had already laid out a plan, but double-checking was going to save his rear in the long run.

He sat on a park bench, facing the museum, wiping some sweat off of his forehead. He didn't know the exact forcast, but any idiot could tell it was hot as hell. His business was mostly around the area from Rustburo to Mauville-he hadn't been down to Slateport much, especially not around summertime. He checked to see if it was OK to release a Pokemon here, and seeing no signs to the contrary, he grabbed the Poke Ball containing Hyperion. He activated it with a click of a button and dropped it on the ground, releasing his Alakazam.

"Yarvick...This is Slateport, isn't it?" Hyperion said, telepathically. Nobody else could hear him, only Yarvick. Private conversation was quite a blessing.

"Yep. And THAT is the museum," Yarvick thought back. Speaking aloud would be a bit crazy. He gave Hyperion the map pamphlet to read over, while he reached into his pockets for a plastic baggy of berries. Hyperion sat down on the bench with him, giving it a good look over.

"Is your target still the meteorite?" Hyperion telepathed.

The meteorite. It was a small rock-small enough to fit in his pocket inconspicuously. Normally, this would belong in the Mossdeep space center, but there was some level of cheap reasoning against it this time. In this case, the meteorite dented the deck of a battleship, the 'HAN Charlatan.' The ship it dented then became famous for an insane record of confirmed ship sinks during a war a while ago. Yarvick only skimmed it after the first few sentences on the website. The point was, it was considered a good luck charm and one of the big attractions at this small-time museum. It was superstition, but that combined with it being a space rock made it carry quite the price tag. It would be a punch in the gut for the navy, as well: it was part of their history, and history was important to some people. It fit all the bills for a great burglary target.

Hyperion didn't even ask for an answer, and continued as Yarvick found the bag and fished for his favorite berry, "There will likely be at least one camera on our target, a possible few navy soldiers on top of the usual guard, and the museum will be more crowded inside than out due to the heat, so conditions for escaping in a crowd will be against our favor. On the other hand, the high space-to-exhibit ratio means there are more opportunities to escape LOS than usual, and in case we get in a fight there will be a good deal of cover for both sides. Considering the size, this should not be difficult...However, we have to draw attention to the scene. I would clean out the guards quick, but make a flashy exit."

Hyperion's genius was never to be doubted. Yarvick wanted a lot of heat gained on him in order to spread the navy boys thin. It went without saying that Yarvick also had to ditch this heat quickly-rope them in and leave them hanging. Everything else was just details he'd need to know on the exit. Yarvick handed Hyperion a nice Bluk berry. Yarivck knew his Pokemon's tastes. Hyperion ate it quickly and with a small smile. Yarvick gave him a pat on the head, smiled back, and returned Hyperion to his Poke Ball.

He then sent out his oldest Pokemon, Atlas. Atlas'es materialized near Yarvick's knee level, and Yarvick looked down upon him, whispering to it. "It's go time. You know the drill. Ready?"

Atlas nodded wordlessly, and hid himself the best he could in Yarvick's shirt. Not the most graceful of hiding spots, but it worked, and he wouldn't need to do it for long. Yarvick walked into the museum, almost ready for action.

[XaiakuX]

Lance Harper
Harper Industries Headquarters in Goldenrod City
Affected RPers: @TheProtobabe | Potentially @Death's Spook and @Velocity

---

"Happy 12th Birthday, Lance!"

A crowd of people celebrated in unison while a young boy with pale icy blue eyes and dark brown hair attempted to blow out the candles of his birthday cake. However, the candles were trick candles, so he couldn't close the deal. After a roar of laughter from his audience, and the flashing of cameras temporarily blinded him, his mother, Mary Harper, removed the candles and placed them in a cup of water. This put the candles out, permanently.

"You see? Fire is beaten by Water," Mary explained to her son, doing her motherly duty of trying to educate him, "However, Fire can burn Bugs, which is something you'll need to remember. Due to your first birthday gift from your father and I."

At this point, Oliver Harper appeared and presented Lance with a Pokéball. "Son, this Pokéball contains your very first Pokémon! Now be careful with it, this particular Pokémon can be especially dangerous in the wild. Although, I feel it has been tamed down since being captured," the man said with direction in his voice. However, trying to tell a spoiled 12 year old something that would make him appear responsible is literally impossible.

Lance took the Pokéball already in its enlarged state, and pressed the button before tossing the ball into the air. "Pokémon, come out and obey your master!" The ball burst open, seemingly forced open by the abundance of light that poured out like a stream of water. The array formed into a large mantis-like creature with scythes for arms. There was an immediate intensity in the vibe it gave off. This Pokémon was a fighter, and a tough one.

Lance stood in awe of his new Pokémon. Then proceeded to punch it in the face. "Quit looking tough compared to me! I am the Awesome Lance Harper and I am your master!" The onlookers watched in complete shock. This boy just punched his new Pokémon, which showed levels of ungratefulness, he also managed to otherwise enrage a relatively rare and dangerous Pokémon, so they all now felt threatened, and feared for the safety of their children, who were friends to Lance, and also present at his birthday party.

Before anyone could react, Scyther nailed Lance in the face with a headbutt. This was no Pokémon attack, just a direct physical assault to repay a physical assault. Lance fell to the the floor with his nose bloodied and crying. "I hate you, you stupid Pokémon! I HATE YOU, HATE YOU, HATE YOU!"

--

The temperature in the room seemed to shift, downwards like the state of Harper Industries. It began to feel colder and colder, as ice formed on the knuckles of Bane's four fists. It was at this moment that Lance reached behind him and rested his hand on the chiseled chest of his Machamp."Easy Bane. There will be no fighting, today," he spoke to his Pokémon in an gentle tone, and turned to face him, "But, way to reveal your secrets WAY too soon."

With the shaking of his head coupled with a heavy sigh, Lance pressed the button of Bane's Pokéball, and the creature was engulfed in a unique red beam of light which transferred the entire mass of Machamp into the tiny red and white sphere. The very workings of Pokéballs always astonished Lance Harper. "You know, it's strange, these Pokéballs. I remember watching a sort of fighting cartoon as a small child where they would use these small capsules to hold massive objects or an abundance of objects all at once. I wonder if that's where they got the inspiration for Pokéballs."

With his back turned, he continued to speak aimlessly, testing the patience of his unwelcome guest. "I also wonder why this company never got around to working on Pokéballs. Maybe my parents decided what they were doing was enough, and didn't want to take away from the Pokéball Factory in Kalos. I can see that being a reason. My parents were always kind for business people."

Lance turned once more, refocusing on the topic of intrusion. "While this company is deceased, the building is still private property. You're not even allowed past the lobby without security clearance. Although, something tells me you didn't use the front door. So tell me why you're here," Lance looked into the eyes of the woman, leaving wonder how he could go from recalling such childish memories, to being dead serious so quickly. Lance began to move about, circling the woman, studying her clothing, her posture, and even so far as the vibes and auras she gave off at any given time. He was looking for weaknesses, and attempting to learn what words alone could not tell.

[Death's Spook]

Alastair Harper
Goldenrod City
Affected RPers: @Velocity, @Homura Indirectly: @XaiakuX, @TheProtobabe

In Alastair’s mind, everyone existed as pushes and pulls: things people desired, and things they feared. If one could ascertain the nature of these pushes and pulls for a given individual, one could easily make things fall out according to one’s own desires by pushing and pulling others into the proper places. He often mused that his life philosophy sounded far more cynical than it really was: yes, one could only obtain their desires through manipulation, but those desires could run the gamut from selfish to entirely altruistic. In his mind, the way he treated his friends was the ultimate example of manipulation used exclusively for good purposes. By paying attention to each of the pushes and pulls of his friends, he could ensure that they were not only healthy, but happy as well.

Leviathan, for example, needed novelty and exploration. He had been alive for a century before Alastair found him, and the Starmie tended to adopt an attitude that came with having seen it all. Alastair was certain that the misadventures and movements and manipulations he made were more than enough to keep Leviathan from growing bored, and so considered the Mysterious Pokemon to be low maintenance.

Simurgh was the opposite of Leviathan in many ways: while he was a thrill seeker, she was a guardian, a protector; she needed to feel like her charges, Alastair and his other Pokemon, were all safe. Alastair knew that the interesting lifestyle he led, the same one that enabled him to enthrall Leviathan, distressed Simurgh to no end. He could not ease Simurgh’s stress by changing his lifestyle: for him, the would involve burying his head so far in the sand (or up his nether regions) that it would require surgery to remove his cranium. Instead, he sought to allow Simurgh to watch them, to care for them whenever possible. When she fussed over his mental or physical state, he listened to her and attempted to make things run more smoothly. When Simurgh gave advice in a bid to extract his team from the latest catastrophe, he took special care to listen. Even now, she was high in the sky, scanning for threats in the lull.

Behemoth and Kodama had complimentary needs, which pleased Alastair to no end. Behemoth needed friends with whom to joke, to have fun with. Kodama, by contrast, needed friends to listen to, to empathize with. Alastair considered the both of them to be invaluable to the team dynamic (not that any of his friends were not, in his eyes). Not only did they not usually require any active intervention on his part to be happy, they tended to be a source of laughter and kindness for his friends in a world with an increasing dearth of both.

However, Alastair’s main concerns were Onna and Abaddon. The two of them had latched onto him since he rescued them from Team Rocket, and so looked to him like a child might look to their parent. He credited them with his ability to stay kind and gentle no matter how angry he might become: if he ever even gave a dirty look to one them when they first joined him, they cringed with the expectation of violence. The two of them hung onto his every word, and needed him to be kind to them or else they suffered both mentally and on the field. He always kept them as close as possible, and didn’t say anything when they hovered next to him, trying to listen to him give a message to Jans:

“You’ve been a big help for me and I’d hate to risk you, especially on something trivial. I should be arriving in the building shortly, and I want to know why you’re telling me to send you into danger. If the reward is greater than the risk, I may be amenable, but I’m not sending you there if you just happen to be thrill seeking. It would not be right for me to do so to a friend.”

Technically speaking, Jans was not a traditional friend: he was so horribly unpleasant that Alastair doubted that the hacker could traditionally befriend anyone. But Jans was an invaluable resource, properly exploited, which always put Alastair in a good mood. Putting Jans in the proper framework to be used was child’s play for Alastair: Jans’s pushes and pulls were completely mercenary. As long as the very rich Alastair gave padding for Jans’s paycheck, the hacker would give him information ranging from enemy intelligence to keeping a covert eye on Lance. Alastair also liked to think that Jans was aware that the Harper child could bury him in bodies should the computer geek turn on him, but Alastair never explicitly stated it. No point in being hostile without gain.

He finished the message to Jans and was just about to continue walking to the radio tower when Alastair felt a hand on his shoulder. He resisted the impulse to flinch as he turned to face Lenore.

On the surface, Lenore was similar to Jans in that Alastair was mining her as a resource using money. However, Morty’s daughter was an individual Alastair actually liked, and her motives were more complex than Jans’s. She was worried and had been rather astute about the way he developed since they last met, which simultaneously annoyed and pleased Alastair: he was going to need to be more careful about holding his cards close to his chest, but if he played his cards right, he figured he would be able to secure a very intelligent ally:

“I wouldn’t use the word paranoid, exactly, but I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t trying to watch my back. I knew where to find you because I was in Blackthorn at the same time you were for an errand and Clair mentioned you were strapped for cash. I took that as an opportunity, because I could simultaneously solve your financial troubles and make sure that my older brother would have pair of eyes watching his back to prevent someone from sticking a knife there. You’re on my payroll, specifically, and while your job will most probably not be the easiest thing in the world given that you’re a bodyguard in a time of war, I don’t anticipate it to be excessively brutal.” Alastair wasn’t lying: having Lenore was something he fully anticipated would go back to dearest Uncle Van, who should be deterred from attacking Lance for the time being by the Elite Four level trainer guarding his back as a paid job. Besides, Alastair had long resolved not to lie to Lenore, as several of the Gym Leaders he talked to took note that she was not a stupid person. However, he wasn’t going to fully disclose everything, either. “Now, shall we go meet my brother?” He offered a hand to her, attempting to end the conversation gracefully.

[Akaida]

Zach Pierce
Outside of Rustsurf Tunnel
Affected RPers: None

The toxic smoke didn’t affect his poison-like physiology from bursting with Dragalage. However, it did prevent his sight and he jumped into the air and gathered energy in his arms and then spun around and threw it out, using Twister, which took much of the smoke and redirected it towards the soldiers and as he landed, fired a Sludge Bomb from his mouth, which hit dead on against one of the tanks that was near the back of the convoy, and not yet damaged by the attack. The poison ate away at the Hoenn tank. He could see the man inside try and escape, but the poison spread too fast, and he too was caught, his agonizing screams all too familiar to the war tested squad leader.

His fellow squadmates tore through the convoy, as they bursted with powerful Steel types that used their strength to tear apart the trucks like paper. Others engulfed supplies in fire, while Slaughter moved in and out of the darkness, cutting apart men and tearing through tanks from the inside out.

Just as he assumed, he could see men at the end of the convoy, approaching but this time it wasn’t with panic. Hoenn had an abundance of Burst Hearts, and these soldiers clearly had some as we could see them unite with their Pokemon. The one he first saw bursted with his Rhyperior, another with a Jolteon, one with a Magmortar, a Samurott, and finally a Tyrantrum. These weren’t special forces by any means, but Zach could tell that they were much more disciplined and trained than the escort troops that had yet to see a bullet fired.

“I’ve got three Burst-Soldiers at 9 o clock. Slaughter, Wheeler, Jones, Howard, all of you on me. Assign yourselves to them and take them out quickly, we cannot afford delays. I will handle the Tyrantrum. The rest of you, divide the convoy away from our fight and then prepare for disengagement.”

Zach knew that he had put himself at a disadvantage by going up against the bursted Tyrantrum soldier. There was not only a size disadvantage, but his poison attacks would hardly be effective. However, he made up for it with speed. While Burst Forms were mostly humanoid, certain characteristics of the Pokemon passed onto the user. While the Hoenn soldier didn’t have to deal with small arms, he wasn’t agile. This didn’t stop the soldier from going into a head long charge, utilizing his heavily armored head. He was fast, and running with so much power the ground broke underneath him. Zach knew that speed wasn’t his expertise and shot a Dragon Pulse out, which recoiled the Tyrantrum, Then Zach charged himself, and met the powerful headbutt with an Aquatail, causing both to go flying in opposite directions, but he could tell the soldier was damaged from his second attack. Both were reasonably effective and disoriented him. He readied another Dragon Pulse and fired it dead on, and with that, the Tyrantrum was done for. He was unconscious and reverted to his human form. He threw a Sludge Bomb at the soldier, and watched as he disintegrated to nothing, along with his burst heart.

He looked around the battlefield and saw Slaughter, who had bursted with a Zoroark, dancing around the Rhyperior and cutting him apart. The fight was over, but he could tell that Slaughter was enamored with the pain he put him through.

“End it now, Slaughter.”

“Aw, I was just beginning my games with this one.” The voice had a cruel tinge to it, and Zach sometimes wondered what had caused this man to even exist. In his contemplation, Slaughter finished off the soldier, and with that his squad had beaten the main obstacle to the mission, while the rest, successfully demolished the convoy.

“Our mission is done here, pop smoke and escape, make sure that they can’t track your location, be prepared to engage any pursuing soldiers, and don’t follow Slaughter’s example and make it quick.” He fired a red flare into the air, and Zach and his comrades had left as fast as they came as the convoy was engulfed in smoke from their grenades. Zach left his burst form and brought out Talonflame, who’s back he got on and quickly departed from Rusturf Tunnel. A standard successful mission, although had the Burst soldiers delayed them anymore, he felt as if reinforcements would have come in some shape or form and eventually brought down Zach and his squad. He would have to prepare more carefully for this in the future.