Jones Sandstrider the Heliolisk
Prankster Platoon
Lotus Den Slums
Affected RPers: None

((Side-note: “x is grit” is a term pretty specific to Liao’s desert Pokemon, meaning something worthless at best and annoying at worst. Mazer's post is pending right now for Reasons.))

The Screaming Talon had achieved its name for two key features. The first was its sharp, streamlined shape that made it somewhat resemble the prismacolored claw of a Pokemon. The second was the ridiculous amount of noise it made when its driver slammed their foot down on the gas pedal.

The Talon took off like a rocket, sparks shooting violently out of the back of it. The acceleration shook Jones a bit - she wasn’t taken aback, but she’d had very few practice sessions to unleash this thing’s full power. However, it only took her a moment to get her bearings. She was rocketing through the slums, the Talon crashing through the slipshod buildings, periodically zigzagging along the path in case anyone was targeting the vehicle.

“How are we doing?” she shouted toward the back of the car, raising her voice as high as it could go. “Any pursuers?”

There was a pause, and then abruptly, Jones saw a field of shimmering teal energy in front of the Talon. Before she could brake, she heard Cheshire’s voice. “That one’s with us; it’s mine!” Sure enough, the field stayed the same distance away from the windshield even as Jones sped up, and it turned white and vanished as the sound and bass vibration of a loud explosion rattled the car.

“I think we have at least one!” Tony spat. “Don’t worry, babe,” he added to Cheshire, “I got this; focus on deflecting fire.”

Other ‘mons might have told Tony to just shoot at the Black Lotus vehicles and spare everyone else. To Jones, though, the other drivers were grit. She didn’t answer, and she didn’t look back as Tony shot out an incendiary grenade, hitting something.

“You didn’t get it!” Cheshire shouted. There wasn’t a response, just the sound of another grenade exploding.

“Situation!” screeched Jones. She could barely keep track of what was going on behind her, let alone in front -

CRASH! A string of curses almost as colorful as the Screaming Talon’s hull came out of Jones’s mouth as something slammed into the side of the vehicle, nearly knocking her off of the main drag. Out her window, she could now clearly see her opponent - some stupid grit-grain Whimsicott on a motorcycle that had some sort of cannon mounted on it. The Whimsicott leered up at her and mimed a rude gesture, but Jones was having none of it - she veered to the right as hard as she could without going too far off the path the other way, clenching her teeth as the Talon’s wheels crunched up vehicle parts beneath it.

Rash the Whimsicott (Thundercrash Gang) has been eliminated.

“Do better!” Jones shouted back at her gunners before righting the vehicle and slamming her foot down on the gas pedal as far as it could go. Their strategy relied on leading the pack and picking off the people behind them, not getting hammered by stupid little mosquitoes who slipped by the idiotic cats who were gunning for her.