[WAR] Role Play: Terminus

[Neo Emolga]

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

Hayes was everything I figured the prick would be. Arrogant, annoying, and he thought he was such a smartass. The way he talked, he felt I should only be so damn honored to be here. He acted like his cybernetics bullcrap was the life of the planet.

I was beginning to think this whole heist was a bad idea. But then again, it would pull this maggot off his high horse and it would allow me to kick a few of his teeth out.

In the meantime, the mission wasn't going as I thought it would. His brochures were barely usable research. It was all crap, might as well be an advertisement. And the only reason why he was passing them around was to get investors. This guy wasn't a scientist, he was a damn salesman! I really felt like grabbing two brochures, one for his throat and the other for his anus.

"I have connections that might be interested in investing in this," I told him, figuring I might as well lie as much as he was. "However, you would need to promise them your implants can't be detected."

"Depends," He sneered. "What would they use them for?"

"Athletic enhancement," I told him, knowing a more unusual case might seem more believable. "The steroid market is wearing thin. Not to mention the side effects. The guy I know is willing to pay big money toward something like this. He feels pretty strongly about there being a future market for it."

The whole thing was bogus, of course. However, Hayes was greedy and figured he might already have what we were looking for. The whole point of him being here was for money. For all I knew, this could either be legitimate research or the whole thing was a scam anyway.

"I have connections myself," Hayes sneered again. I was getting sick of that face.

"That's great, but what's in it for him?"

"I'm also a member of the anthropology community," Hayes bragged. "Perhaps, if he is willing, he would be interested in a joint venture?"

"No way," I told him, first bursting his bubble. "Not until he sees more than just this brochure. This thing is just as useless as the back of a kid's cereal box. He wants to see the real stuff. Studies, journals, CADs, yeah, that kind of real stuff."

He nodded. He seemed to know what we were getting at. A serious investor was going to want to see some serious evidence. Not an ad. Now, we just had to turn him in...

---

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

In between trying to reverse myself becoming a Furret, I listened to the radio and PokéTarts were becoming a problem. Not for me, though! Addiction rates were rocketing up and it was becoming quite the issue. Trainers complained it cost them massive amounts of money to keep up with the drug desires of their Pokémon. And for even more fun, some people were trying to give advice or even come up with fixer drugs to remove the addiction! Nah, those wouldn't work! Just about nobody was trying the chain 'em up for a few weeks thing.

Ah well. Their problem, our money.

As I realized, the mutagen seemed to really like changing human cells. Well, it certainly enjoyed changing all of mine! Typing and using a computer mouse as a Furret wasn't the easiest thing I've ever had to do, but hey, at least I still could! Thankfully I could still work like this, but it was a little trickier. I was just hoping no one would walk in to see what I just did to myself. Especially Lando.

Now, from what I figured out, the mutagen had to be reconfigured to understand the whole picture, not just part of it! So I couldn't say "hey mutagen, give me a Furret tail." Nope, I had to tell it "hey mutagen, here's the DNA game plan, it's me with a Furret tail, now get to work!" The mutagen would need the full DNA mapping of what it was changing, not just the one part. Otherwise, ha ha, I was the result of doing it the wrong way! Oh sure, being a Furret was ultra-fun and cute, but hey, I had better things in mind.

I put more time and research into it though. I still had my human DNA, which was good. If I didn't have that, KA-POW! I'd be stuck as a Furret for life! I could make a reversal mutagen that would change me back to human, but again, I needed a full mapping program for the mutagen before it worked. I figured this might be helpful to get people back to normal, in case... whatever I was hoping to create out of this wasn't so preferred.

"Now... let's see," I muttered, looking over the computer.

And then, I had to blink twice. Wow... it even changed my voice! Ha, ha, that was cool! I was a talking Furret! Wait, wait, wait, I had to try this out. I stepped away from the computer and stood in the center of the lab.

"Hey, hi everyone!" I laughed and exclaimed, spinning around, waving my little paw at the empty room, "I'm Janine and I'm a cute lil' Furret!"

Aww, it sounded so adorable! And so... eh, wrong. Yeah, I had to get this fixed. I didn't have a mirror, but I imagined it must have looked pretty comical. But yeah, later times.

[Homura]

Jans "Agricola" Hanson
Enroute to Slateport
Affected RPers: None

Alastair was kind enough to allow him to borrow a small cruiser with a bare bone skeleton crew of 4. As Jans walked out to the hanger with some of his equipment, he noted the general features of each of the crew members and assigned them a name within himself. The first was Fatso, not because he was fat or anything, but rather that his facial features were rounded. Crew of this sort was trained for operations that would be far too dangerous for anybody obese. He liked the irony of it all. Stick, on the other hand, was just thin as a twig. Jiggles was a clearly delicious woman whom he wouldn't mind spending some alone time with. Beard, for his beard. In any case, he never really cared enough about background characters to remember much about them, and also he expected these people to be every last bit spies for Alastair anyway.

The cruiser, however, was a small sight to behold. It was a sleek design, capable of traveling quickly through the air, but sacrifices armour and defenses for speed. The wings were at the back of the plane, and merged seamlessly with the body, almost like a rocket ship designed to travel into space. He theorized that the similarities in design was to minimize friction between the air particles and the plane itself, so that its travel speeds would be higher. This must have cost at least a fortune to acquire and maintain. In fact, he was pleasantly surprised at how well this was equipped inside.

"Men, let's get going." Jans uttered as he walked into the ship.

Jans took the center seat, with the rest of the crew manning the stations of the ship. In just a few minutes, the ship launched into the air, and Jans was on his way to Slateport.

Inside had a full suite of computers and hacking devices, capable of limited remote hacking of enemy ships. He likely couldn't do much, but manual hacking of a few doors here and there would be easy to do, with more difficult tasks such as disabling weapons systems being possible. The ship had a full suite of anti-hacking devices as well, designed to keep itself protected on the cyber front. Jans was impressed something like this was around, and he meticulously looked for every tiny bug and listening device in the ship, picking them out one by one.

The bugs were easy to catch for the most part. Several near the captain's chair, a few with the crew members' displays, a few more with the hacking devices and anti-hacking devices. As an example to Alastair, he would pusposefully take the bug just above the central hacking device, and crushed it, mumbling "Oh? a fly!". The ones on the ceiling of the cabin were a bit more difficult to figure out, but after some searching he was able to deal with those as well. It did help that he personally had surefire ways to find those buggers as well with his own devices. He purposefully left one bug near his seat alone, which can only record video but not audio.

With that, he sat back, and looked at the computers to see what Whitehall was up to. Orre just attacked Hoenn's navy, but news of how much the damages were still unclear. It seemed to Jans that he would have some clues as to what Whitehall would want to do, and it would involve taking Orre. However, he was interested in what he seemed to be planning. If a military attack from Orre would provoke Hoenn to invade, then it would be likely that Whitehall was looking for resources in Orre. What would he gain from these attacks outside of straight resources? This couldn't be simple retaliation, after all.

He looked into Whitehall's ties with other less savory aspects of Hoenn. Every politician has his own demons. This one happens to have a lot of power. But that would take some time, for he needed to keep searching through the rumours and false data.

[Death's Spook]

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

Alastair let out a teasing smile as he shook Helena’s hand, “An investor. I’ve seen your point of view on ‘investors’ such as this lovely lady before, Lance. But yes. We should definitely go visit the hospital. Perhaps a donation to the place, too...”

Alastair was simultaneously thankful and disgusted with the fact that he was already extremely practiced with hiding his emotions from Lance. The petite woman in front of him looked positively harmless. But Alastair had submerged himself in monsters, in the vilest of individuals, and he was still alive.

One did not get to be that way without being able to recognize the dead eyes, such as the ones on this woman. In his opinion, if Helena didn't have hamburger made of human in her fridge, that would be because she was lazy, not out of any conscience.

Leviathan, as a psychic with a direct link to Alastair’s mental state, registered his trainer’s anger and panic. So the starfish suggested, <If you want, I can kill her and make it look like an unfortunate health defect.>

<Maybe later. Hold off for now. Although, advising Deborah that Lenore should keep an eye on Helena would be a plus.> Leviathan gave Alastair a thought of agreement.

He was suddenly very glad he hired Lenore to obliterate any threats to Lance. He was a tad worried about Lance seeing her as eye candy and not being able to look past that, but now he didn’t particularly care: any Elite Four level trainer guarding Lance, regardless of his brother’s gratitude, was a big huge plus.

He continued smiling as introduced Lenore, “Speaking of new people doing business with us, this is Lenore Valdis. I hired her to act as your bodyguard, effective immediately. She’s a very powerful individual and I trust her.” As much as I can trust anyone, at any rate.

[The Nonexistent Tazz]

Yarvick "The Raticate" Xelsez
Team Aqua
En Route to Mirage Island, Hoenn
Affected RPers: N/A

The currents of the routes they had to traverse-or avoid-were bad, and they had to completely avoid Pacificlog on the way to Mirage Island too. All of that said, it was easy as taking a bathroom break. They just had to stay a good distance away, and in any case, loads of trainers surfed around these days. The only oddity would be the Infernape on board as well, but would anyone be THAT picky, to stop Yarvick and inspect him over having an Infernape riding with him?

Oceanus was doing a fine job of carrying them both, and Rhea had a firm grip on the ride and wasn't getting soaked. He had nothing to attend to at the moment, so he had time to think about whatever came to mind, and what came first was the disguise thief.

He hadn't seen the last of her-not until he fenced off the meteorite. Until then, she'd do everything in her power to get back the meteor. She was the type to make sure she got the mark even after it was stolen from her, and he knew that type. That she got it in the end was irrelevant-just that Yarvick got it and sold it. Nevertheless, keeping it safe on-route was important. It would be humiliating to lose it now. He looked up, around, and back, many times, to keep an eye on anyone following him. It didn't seem to be that way right now, though. There were no clouds and no signs of the water being stirred up behind or in front of him. But, who knew? Maybe she was smarter than him. Definitely not smarter than an Alakazam, though. Nobody was smarter than Hyperion except his brethren Alakazam. Hyperion could have easily told if there were any trackers, or if the meteor was fake. He gave him training just for loot identification.

As for the loot itself, Yarvick gauged a lot of money coming from the meteorite's sell. He wasn't sure how much, though, every client and fence paid different. The meteorite was rather devoid of rare minerals or metals, but it was huge-as far as meteorites went, anyways. Most were barely larger than pebbles. He had a REAL rock in the museum's meteorite, about as big as a football. He could see a hundred thousand to a million just for that-and more due to the historical significance. He could see a good market for it as well, covering a lot of areas and grabbing the attention of multiple collectors. It would be good news for the Aqua Fence as well. That meant more funds for Aqua.

But, of course, this was only payment for the larger job of stirring up chaos, distract from the boat stealing, make sure that Noah wasn't overwhelmed. Judging from the looks of things, he succeeded in causing chaos and Noah got his boats. Was he on-time, did his distraction matter? That was a bit harder to judge, but he'd know when he got back. They weren't going to terminate the contract early just for one screw up, the operation was a success on all fronts, and in any case, properly sold, that Meteorite would be additional funding. Yarvick didn't see a single problem with this, bar his performance. And that was theoretical. Yarvick was fast by the standards of a museum raid. The whole thing was over in minutes. That was incredible by all standards.

Yarvick was satisfied with his performance and confident he would not get killed by his own employers, failure or no. He was worth their investment.

And this was all just to get at the next heist, the next thrill. That was the other big reason Yarvick stuck to his criminal ways. Yarvick wasn't just all 'greed.' It helped, but Yarvick learned a life lesson a good while ago: having a job that pays a lot that makes you unhappy is not worth it. This 'job,' if he could call it that, was not only a high-paying job, it was exciting and cathartic. He was no robin hood-this was all for him, he was sensible. But, there was always that certain thrill he got from stealing things. He could not describe it as anything other than a thrill, excitement, suspense-a beautiful thing that kept him smiling. He excelled under the stress and pressure just as much as out of it. He was in and out in minutes-and in those minutes were the real reason he stole things. He was in it for the challenge of taking what was not his, he was in it for the excitement of dodging the many forms of security that man could make up, and he was in it for the unbelievable satisfaction when he gets away and vanishes.

He was in it for the money, and he was in it for the thrill. He was a firm klemo, and he would not relent from his habits.

[Lord Celebi]

Norton "Norb" Whitehall
Benefit Dinner, Evergrande
Hoenn
Affected RPers: None

The scene: a black tie charity dinner for something Norton Whitehall couldn't be bothered to remember. I mean, they're all the same, aren't they? he pondered to himself at a table surrounded by politicians and businessmen from all across the country. Sitting next to Whitehall was his estranged wife, Mitzi Whitehall. The two were entirely separated, however, Mitzi understood that her monthly check were entirely dependent on her keeping up the appearance that Whitehall indeed was still married. For some reason, voters just didn't seem to trust divorced politicians as much as married ones. The two, obviously, hated these occasions, but both knew that they were for the best.

Someone at the table was talking about how often him and his wife frequented church. "Norb and I go to mass each Sunday," Mitzi lied through her teeth to the table. That's what Whitehall had initially liked about her--she knew how to play The Game. Sometimes, she played it too well for Whitehall's tastes. Besides Raidon Makoto, Finch Reynolds, Tyrus Hale, and Noah Ashfield, she was the only other person to know about his connections to Team Aqua. For that reason alone, Whitehall must ultimately submit to her.

To cope with this, he drank heavily, as the politician was wont to do when he wasn't playing The Game. It was moments like these--moments when the old politician was reminded that he was truly alone in this world with nothing but his thoughts that he tried to fill the void with alcohol. The Game merely offered a distraction, a way for Whitehall to use his immense wit that he normally basted in booze. He downed a complete glass of Jack Daniels in one swig and then set the glass down, looking at his estranged wife with eyes begging her to stop it all. Mitzi Whitehall smiled. He knew exactly what it meant. You belong to me, Norb. This is how I'm going to pay you back for all those years. Her bruises faded, but her hatred for him grew with each passing year.

"Excuse me for a moment," Whitehall said, placing the napkin in his lap on the table. He needed to get away from the absurdity he had surrounded himself with. Out on the balcony, he bummed a cigarette off of Blazes Boylan and lit it up as the Slateport politician vacated the balcony. Much to his chagrin, Mitzi had followed him outside.

"Those are bad for your image," she said coldly, snatching the death stick out of Whitehall's fingertips and tossing it over the edge. "Your drinking is bad enough."

"You've taken my dignity," Whitehall began, finally drunk enough to slur his words. "But you will not take my liquor."

"Taken?" Mitzi laughed haughtily. "You never had any to begin with, you cretin." A woman passed by whom Whitehall thought Mitzi was friends with. She turned to the onlooker and smiled, somehow indicating to her friend that the two were sharing a passionate moment instead of a horrific quarrel.

"Are we done? I'm going to need to bum a second cigarette off of Blazes because of you," Whitehall fumed.

"I suppose-" Mitzi was cut off by a gunshot. The people inside the building started screaming, until a second gunshot quieted them down. Standing at the entrance of the room was a face that Norton Whitehall recognized from his Aqua file: Captain Kip Marston. Marston, a fat blob that looked more like a pirate than a soldier, was holding a sawed off shotgun. Behind him, several Aqua grunts had cabled the doors shut. No one was getting out until Marston was satisfied. If any of them were going to get out. "Really, Norb. I can't believe you went to these lengths to get out of this."

"I didn't. And unfortunately, this one doesn't know who I am..." Whitehall said, surprised at the turn of events. "Damn you, Raidon."

[Neo Emolga]

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

The real question was whether this guy was a scammer or not. He acted like he had real research on this stuff, but signs were beginning to point toward "phony." His brochure on cybernetics could have easily been created by any chump with Photoshop skills. I wanted to see the real deal stuff. He was more and more reluctant to show it, and I could tell he didn't even have anything to show after all.

"Very well, meet me after the showing," He told the three of us.

And so we waited for about three hours doing near nothing. I was pissed. The beer was going to be hot by the time we made it back, if it was not found by anyone else. Part of me just felt like obliterating this guy and being done with it, but we wouldn't accomplish much in the process. When the showing was over, I felt like giving this douchebag a piece of my mind.

"This better have been worth the wait," I told him, knowing if it wasn't, he was going to have his head handed to him.

"First, your end of the bargain," Hayes sneered at me again. "Show me you have at least ten million to fund the research."

"Are you out of your bastard mind?" I asked him, thinking that was just stupid even for a rich freak. "I'm a reporter, and I don't cut my boss's checks. We haven't even contacted him to negotiate. You're nothing more than a prospect at the moment, so don't think we have any deal here."

"I don't let anyone view my research until I am rightfully paid," Hayes sneered again, even laughing now. "Now show me the money or this conversation is terminated."

This idiot talked like robot. In any case, I didn't feel like having Whitehall wire me ten million. Next thing I knew was this guy was going to want it in bills. It was all part of his own scam. I could see it through his damn, fugly sneer.

"I knew it," I spat at him. "You don't actually have anything, do you?"

That was when he signaled to two of his goons, hiding behind two of the support columns. They stepped out of hiding and drew two pistols out. And that prick Hayes just kept on smiling. I at least tried to play along, looking like I was shocked and surprised and didn't have squat to try and get myself out of this.

"Now then, how much do you think your investor would pay for your release?" He asked, laughing. "If you three aren't worth ten million to him, then your only future will be as three of my test specimens."

So that's how this crapsack did his dirty work. Well, this was one chump who was about to have another thing coming.

---

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

Hoenn tried to ban all sales of PokéTarts and officially called the candy a "national pandemic." But... uh oh, guess what? Pokémon can't get that essential fix if their trainers can't buy the stuff! Ha ha, they tried to fight it but they couldn't! Legal action was attempted, but there was no one to sue! The money was great for our distributors and the whole operation was underground, so they couldn't do squat but just keep buying the stuff! Or just let their Pokémon get fat. Which some did.

The whole situation was a slippery slope for everyone in Hoenn. Doomed if you do, doomed if you don't! Once a Pokémon got hooked, escape was very difficult. It made me wonder if some people really were going for the "cage 'em up" tactic. Maybe someday they'd figure it out, ha ha!

As for my research, I tried playing around with the mutagen a little more. I figured I wanted to try something that blended multiple Pokémon together. With the thanks of Tiantus's DNA mapping program, it was more of a matter of making a jigsaw puzzle and customizing the puzzle pieces. And then it got more complicated. I wanted to have a decent way to blend them together into one creature.

That was when Lando knocked at the door. CRAP. I jumped and quickly backed away from the computer. Umm...

"Janine, you in there?" Lando asked.

I quickly ran to the corner of the room and just sat there. I just... needed to act natural! And soon enough, he opened the door and walked into the laboratory room. I looked up at him and just blinked twice. Meanwhile, Lando looked around the room, and he realized I wasn't there.

Or at least he thought I wasn't there.

"Fur-Furret?" I asked him, pretending I was just another ordinary Furret.

He looked at me once and then just turned around. He didn't suspect a thing!

"I swear, you can never find that crazy psycho girl you when need her," He grumbled, heading out the door.

Well, thanks for that, good sir! Now I knew the kind of stuff he was talking about behind my back! Ah well, screw him. As soon as he was gone and shut the door behind him, I got back to the computer.

I figured I'd have to guinea pig myself for this next thing. If people didn't want to try on a Pokémon tail, oh, forget it, they'd never subject themselves to this experiment. But hey, I was always ready and willing to try something new for fun!

[Grassy_Aggron]

(I strongly apologize if I step on toes with this post, but I saw nothing in the rules for info on what BHs could do to the person, soooooo...I took some liberties. Tee hee. And apologies for another long post...Oi.)

Grassy_Aggron
Claressa Nissa
Goldenrod General Hospital in Goldenrod City
Affected RPers: Possibly everyone, considering the information revealed (for readers) about health effects from Burst Hearts :P
Heart Burster? Surely you chest!

Having dealt with several people in the room, cleaning up after them and addressing their injuries, Claressa began to walk down and check on every room on the floor. It was robotic to her, a natural instinct which decreed that it had to be done. She could hear her patients talk to her and her own automatic responses, feel her hand writing down information that she would later read for reports, but her mind was only half there. Unless they said something that required all of her attention, her mind was focused on her research, pondering about what to try next. This did not make her a bad doctor, no, as she was excellent at multitasking, but rather made her a grand one in that regard.

Burst Hearts fused people with a Pokemon of their choice, really, and took the most desirable parts to compliment the human. The minds were merged, but they retained a distinct sense of self – aware that they were together, yet understanding that they must remain apart. Communication between the two was instantaneous and perfect. It apparently did this by modifying appropriate genes, perhaps liquefying the Pokemon in question to allow the host to absorb them through the skin. Through the Pokemon’s power they remained alive and supplemented the host.

At least, that was the theory she had.

The issue here was the health effects, and she was trying not to become alarmed about what she had so far discovered. Occasional use was not too detrimental to one’s health, but the Pokemon was another story. She had attached receptors to Mr. Shoatter – her helper and “lover” – and his Dragonite, Stark, and monitored them several times when he used it. The results were quite clear. Tony experienced a rapid sense of euphoria while Stark had experienced extreme pain. Afterward, she had him perform clinical tests such as matching puzzles pieces and strength, and they were above the average, which was to be expected.

She quizzed him on facts about his home life that he had informed her about before. Normal response here, which was good, and watching the monitor as the “de-fusion” occurred, she noted that both were slightly sluggish but quickly snapped out of it. The first few tests happened this way, and it seemed there was nothing to worry about…until the later tests, where symptoms began to develop, and develop quickly.

The euphoria was akin to a high and, after using MRI scans, the same parts of the brain showed heightened activity that was comparative to a cocaine user, for example. Stark’s pain seemed to be getting better with every fusion, which was odd, and she had to wonder why exactly. Each fusion seemed to better mend the two together and increase strength and prowess, as if reaching a perfect equilibrium. Yet, worryingly, Mr. Shoatter was having more and more trouble recalling facts of his past life, such as high school or even worse, his own birthday. It was as if the fusion was giving him amnesia.

He stayed fused for longer and longer periods, and when they eventually did separate, he reacted negatively and often was scatterbrained – more than usual – for hours or even days, being irritable to anyone who came near. Stark on the other hand didn’t react much to stimuli, almost as if in a zombified stupor. At one point he had managed to knock over equipment as we pushed him to move, and it had drawn blood from his thick hide. There was no reaction, and when he finally became aware again, it was clear the Dragonite had no idea where the injury had come from.

She had put an immediate stop to experiments and allowed them a month or two to recuperate. He continued to insist he was fine, and when she allowed another test, she was, admittedly, relieved when he seemed react much better this time. She was even able to confirm that injuries on the Pokemon did not transfer to the host – and the Pokemon would be healed upon being separated – but injuries to the host itself remained, healing at an accelerated rate if given enough time. As they ran more tests, however, the same negativity and stupor began to emerge once more, and an immediate stop was called for yet again.

The conclusion to her was clear, and it was that Burst Hearts were even more dangerous in nature than others thought. The issue was finding some sort of blocker to the effects entirely, and unfortunately that was where she was having trouble. Time was not a luxury; it was now a red hot commodity. She couldn’t release this information yet, not without a way to counteract it. Governments were stupid enough to ignore the negatives in light of the positives, and it could cost them greatly. Hoenn would likely start feeling the effects soon, she imagined.

The very thought of what the Ancient Burst Hearts could do to the mind made a chill crawl up her spine, and with a sigh, she decided that it was time to visit the duo and make sure they were recovering well. Even if they had agreed wholeheartedly to the testing and signed paperwork for it, it still caused her guilt for what they went through. Everything is such a mess. Why did those wretched things have to be invented? There are some lines that should never be crossed…

Yet, perhaps, and she hoped this growing feeling of suspicion was correct, everything was not as it appeared. She was putting all of her blame for the health effects from numerous tests on a single item. Numerous tests were good; using a single product is bad. If that product itself was flawed, then the results for a normal test were completely thrown off. Burst Hearts were manufactured, and presumably in mass quantities to supply Hoenn's army. Mass produced goods were notorious for being of cheaper quality than the originals or those that were produced by hand, so perhaps...this one wasn't functioning properly.

Now she had even more reason to revisit Tony, since she needed to take a look at the actual device. She didn't know what they looked like normally, but maybe she could figure out if something wasn't right. Ugh, why didn't I think to check it before? Granted, I didn't have much of a reason to suspect anything...I'll have to look up online and see if people are having similar issues. If worse comes to worst, maybe I can get in contact with the one who invented them. I don't have a choice. If this follows my new theory, it could have even more terrible consequences.

[The Nonexistent Tazz]

Yarvick "The Raticate" Xelsez
Team Aqua
AMS Deathwing, Mirage Island, Hoenn
Affected RPers:

After a few hours of nonstop surfing, where Yarvick looked every which way like a paranoid conspiracy theorist certain that a man in black was about to give him a memory wipe, he was back at Mirage Island and the AMS Deathwing, a mighty beast of a ship. New guns had been installed on the thing while Yarvick was out-they looked like massive gatling guns, ready to rain lead death from above. There were also two new ships-one the AMS Fairy Dragon, a battleship armed to the teeth with basically every heavy gun in existence (and adorned with a butterfly-winged Dragon, grasping a minigun and winking). Yarvick heavily approved. The other was a cruiser, looking rather plain in comparison to the other two, the AMS Deathknight-though that was adorned with an armored skeleton, holding enough machine guns to make any orc jealous. In any case, he climbed aboard the Deathwing, withdrew Oceanus and Rhea, and prepared to meet the Aqua Fence.

The Aqua Fence was Eric Sequoia Brailis, or 'Greaser' for his permanently greasy hair and the fact he never took his sunglassess off. He wasn't the most ruthless fence Yarvick saw, but his prices were stingy and he was very adamant that what he would buy was not directly illegal. He was a fence, not a drug dealer, as he said. Yarvick traveled through the many halls of the Deathwing, considering how he'd argue to him what the thing was worth. He tried to aim for its size compared to other meteors and it's 'incredible' backstory. It would all be targeted by collectors, but they paid big for stuff like this, and this covered multiple markets.

On the way there, Yarvick passed by the skunkworks, where all of Aqua's science happens. It was infamous for two things: It smelled of chemicals and sweat almost constantly, and they were all just a bit crazy, except maybe the man in charge, Titanus Hale. From what he heard of passerby grunts, a few of them had been asked by one of the 'skunks' if they wanted a Pokemon's tail.

Yarvick would avoid it like the plague if he could. He did not distrust science or scientists, it was just he distrusted the skunks of the skunkworks. They were all mad scientists in their own way, and unless something awful happened he would try to dodge direct contact. He would accept any boons they gave to him, but he'd try to stay away. Mad science was not in his interests.

After a few more turns, he finally found the man in his usual spot-a small break room. The 'break room' was more of a bar than anything, with a bartender and various alcaholic and non-alcaholic beverages. There was also a jukebox, a couple of pool tables, a few chessboards (surprisingly), and even an XBox 360 with 4 controllers and a small cache of video games of any man's tastes. Not too surprisingly, Greaser was in the middle of his favorite pasttime-getting utterly hammered with scotch.

Yarvick wasn't a boozehound by any means. He only drank for big parties and his ability to hold down more than a single can of Miller Light without puking his guts out was nonexistent. He didn't smoke at all, either. A few people called him a pansy for it, but Yarvick needed good lungs. In any case, Yarvick sat right down next to Greaser, tapping the space between them a few times with his thumb.

"Huh?" Greaser went, turning his head towards Yarvick. "Oh, it's you, Yar...Sup? Got Sumthin' fer me?" He said. Yarvick and Greaser only talked when there was something to sell, and even drinking as hard as he can, Greaser knew. Yarvick liked it that he was drunk-easier to barter with.

"Howabout a Meteor?" Yarvick said. "The one that dented that old navy ship...I don't know the details, it's a space rock with some naval importance, can't remember the names or places. Space geeks will be all over it." Yarvick said. "Nicked it from the Slateport Museum."

"Oh, yeah, 'dat job of yers...Yeah, I fink it was 'da HAS Halberd, or somethin' like 'at. Yeah, I know what yer talkin' 'bout," Greaser said. His heavy drinking didn't inhibit his memory all that much, it seemed. Or maybe he just remembered his National History class. Greaser took another swig of his bottle. "Lemme see it," He demanded. "Need to see if it matches."

Yarvick pulled out Hyperion's Poke Ball and sent out Hyperion, who still had the Meteorite.

Hyperion fell, back first, onto the floor, Meteorite clutched tightly in his hands. Yarvick's face fell like Hyperion's body, and a frown appeared on Greaser's face. Even drunk, he could tell that wasn't good.

"That 'Zam looks as sick as f***, Yar...Didn't know 'bout no weird virus on 'dat rock...Yar, take it to 'da meds, get rid of 'dat sickness, and 'den we'll talk...But it looks like the rock I'm finking of, yep." He said, turning back to his booze.

Yarvick was still staring at Hyperion, before heeding Greaser's good advice, returing Hyperion to his Poke Ball, and rushing to medbay. What the hell was going on? All those cleanings and s**t, did they do nothing?!

[Lord Celebi]

OOC

@Grassy_Aggron, I am invalidating your post. I'm sorry, but the background you're giving for Burst Hearts completely subverts the RP. They general idea with Bursting was that it was how the Nasmar became closer to their Pokemon, however, your post instead asserts the opposite. It removes most incentive to Burst (basically the "gimmick" of the RP) and makes the Ancient Burst Hearts much less desirable.

[The Nonexistent Tazz]

Yarvick "The Raticate" Xelsez
Team Aqua
AMS Deathwing, Mirage Island, Hoenn
Affected RPers: N/A
Devastation

Yarvick waited patiently just outside the medbay. Team Aqua hadn't started really attacking yet or doing much, so it was mostly deserted, though due to the meteor still being on Yarvick's person and still possibly a valuable item to fence, Greaser had accompanied Yarvick, in all of his drunken glory. Eric could, for the most part, coherently think while completely stoned, but his ability to move was worse than a regular drunk. His 'walk' to medbay was better described as Yarvick dragging him around like a sack of potatoes to his intended destination.

Once there, the medical experts gave a quick check-up on Yarvick, Greaser and Hyperion for any signs of illness, but thus far only Hyperion seemed to have symptoms, which ran the gamut from a runny, stuffy and bloody nose, to extreme stiffness that bordered on total paralysis and a drastically increased blood pressure. Yarvick and Greaser, however, were totally fine. They concluded, quite logically, that the meteor was the source of the virus, and demanded it to remove it of the disease the hard way-taking only a small sample for skunkworks and otherwise leaving them be. At this stage, Yarvick and Greaser were shown outside while the group tried to heal Hyperion. It was NOT a standard illness that regular Pokemon medicine could remove...

Hyperion legitmately cared for Yarvick, perhaps more than his mother even. Yarvick had only caught him as a thief's aid, yet as he grew physcially and mentally, he also grew more concerned for the klemopatric growing within Yarvick, and had often asked him, politely, to stop, reconsider, and use his skills to turn his life around. Yarvick never considered the arguments for too long, if even at all, and even if he died he probably would not reconsider. It was still an obvious proof that Hyperion was more than a good friend, to be concerned, even if Yarvick wouldn't believe him. Hyperion was also the first to make a safe plan, the only one to arrange his Pokemon when regular words would never work, the first and final consultant on any heist's execution. He could move objects with his mind, offer instant getaways, and was powerful against things that several of his Pokemon were worthless against. Hyperion was a part of his success, a hyper-competent sidekick, practically a blessing for a man who's ability to capture Pokemon was all of s**t, and Yarvick made sure he was treated right for his considerable aid in his plans, even though at this point Yarvick could realistically start doing it on his own. Obtaining the Meteorite itself was proof-it would have been a hell of a lot harder, if not impossible, without Hyperion. Losing him severely crippled Yarvick's abilities. He could still do it without him, but Hyperion was still incredible. He was a friend and an ally, far too good to lose.

Let no man say that Yarvick was heartless to those that cared.

Even when sober, Greaser was not exactly the guy to go to for comforting words. "Maybe it's just tha' flu?" He queried.

"Isn't a d**m flu strain, Greasy, they said this was definitely not a familiar disease they were working with..." Yarvick responded.

"Oh, d**m...Are you 'fected?" Greaser asked.

"We're both clean, he said." Yarvick said. The 'he' was referring to Doctor Harland Volso, the medical expert for people and Pokemon aboard the Deathwing. Even pirate terrorists needed doctors.

"Oh, good, wouldn't wanna catch 'dat." Greaser responded.

"Eric, I don't really want to talk right now. This is pretty stressful s**t I'm going through." Yarvick said, putting his left hand on his face. There was suddenly more activity-more voices-in the medical room, and the conversation got a bit more intense. Then, the doors opened. Yarvick stood up, expecting Harland.

It was not Harland. That was Tyrus "Titanius" Hale, king of the skunkworks, flanked by two of his skunks. It was undoubtable that what was going on here was...Special, somehow. Tyrus did not leave the skunkworks for many reasons. It was a good thing, too, Tyrus was known to be a big-a** prick. Being Raidon's closest friend made him practically invincible.

"Um, sir?" Yarvick said, having utterly no idea on what question to ask. He was braced for anything.

"I will be curt," Hale said. "The disease your Alakazam carries will kill it. It also will not spread, sadly...Only Psychic-type Pokemon can accept the virus, and we cannot get the virus to infect other Pokemon. Considering what we are dealing with, that is more of a shame than you'd realize..."

Yarvick did NOT like the idea that Hale wanted the sickness to spread, but whatever was preventing him was likely a good thing. As for his issue with being the smartest man on board, Yarvick just shut up, to not make a fool of himself and to let Hale talk his a** off.

"...Are you familiar with Deoxys? The Pokemon that came to be when a virus from the depths of the void we call 'space' crashed down to earth and mutated? This virus that gave it birth was almost a total enigma, as was the process of its mutation-But researchers did, in fact, manage to create what we believe to be a facsimile of the unmutated virus, just in case we would need to vaccinate it. Though I myself was never involved in its creation and the facsimile lacks key properties to mutate into Deoxys, the fact remains...The meteor you stole seems to carry an almost flawless match for that facsimile, with only a few errors off of it. This indicates that this could just be the unmutated form of Deoxys, and a form of the virus capable of mutating into it."

OK, Yarvick had not heard that one before. He's seen a few movies on such crazy things ever since Deoxys was discovered, but he never really understood the hard science behind it, while Doctor Hale here stood there, going on about it as if he studied it most of his life. Yarvick just stood there doing his best impression of a block of cheese while Titanus went on, unable to intelligently respond. Hyperion might have had an enlightening conversation with him, but Yarvick could not raise a finger against Titanus'es mighty words. Titanus realized this and kept an undertone of smugness about him, looking down upon the mentally inferior Yarvick like an Alpha wolf to his pack.

"...Why this concerns you. Aside from the fact that your Alakazam caught the Proto-Deoxys virus and is dying of it, if my theory is correct, we can mutate your Alakazam into a new Deoxys, saving its life and giving us access to a Pokemon as strong as mewtwo."

THAT got Yarvick smiling again, a genuine smile. The news that not only would Hyperion remain alive, but be quite truly better than ever, was possibly the best news he ever got.

"That being said, no matter how fascinating the chance may be...Well, do not expect to keep it, or at least not as you know your Alakazam. The nature of the virus itself is still quite an enigma. Though I am almost one-hundred percent sure that we can easily mutate the virus, what effects the virus may have on your Alakazam are...Undetermined. Likely, what comes out of this project of mine will be a blank slate, and your Alakazam will ultimately have died, only in a different manner."

Oh.

"So, you know your choice: You either allow your Pokemon to slowly die and I miss out on critical research opportunities while it is alive, or you donate it to my care with some adequate compensation and we'll see if we can't turn it into a hyper-lethal sapient space virus."

Yarvick didn't really see a good side of either option, but he was NOT about to argue with Titanus. He was practically invincible. It was one or the other in this case. He either let him die slowly and painfully, or gave him over to mad scientists for experimentation to turn him into an alien.

That, and maybe, just maybe, Hyperion's mind would be left intact afterwards.

It was a slight benefit-and it might just mean Hyperion came back better than ever. And, it was money. It was hardly wonderful news, but it was SOMETHING.

"I'll give Hyperion to you. Being that he's an Alakazam, I'll just tell him what's going on..."

Titanius rolled his eyes. "Yes, I suppose he deserves to at least know what's happening...Granted, the Alakazam's psionics are currently unusable due to the virus."

Yarvick nodded and walked into the room ahead, where Hyperion laid on a bed. The medics had stopped doing anything the instant Titanius came in.

"...OK, Hyperion, I had two options. The virus isn't possible to be cured...So, either I let you die here for no reason, or I give you over to titanus and see if we can't make an alien out of you for some financial compensation...Crazy," Yarvick said. "I understand you can't really respond to me right now, but I chose the latter option. It seemed like you'd die either way, you get to be a Space alien, I get money...And...There's a chance your mind won't go. Slight, but it's better than nothing. If you don't agree, then I'm sorry, Hyperion, but...The choice is kind of Binary." Yarvick said. He kept from tearing up. "Let's hope all goes well."

Yarvick have Hyperion a pat on the head. "If not...Well, we'll know where we'll meet." Yarvick added.

He hardly considered himself religious. In fact, didn't at all. Hyperion wasn't very religious either. They believed in an afterlife and a creator-that was it.

Titanius walked in at the end of the display. "I'll be taking them over to the science wing-you too, Yarvick. Your compensation will be...Different from just money, if you would like." Titanus said. "Have you heard of Wolverine?"

...Hoo boy. Hopefully Titanus was referring to the regeneration powers rather than the painful adamantine skeleton or the claws.