PURCHASING/REDEEMING

welcome to the poké mart!

1X Raging Bolt (Thunderclap, Dragon Hammer, Body Press, Thunder, Calm Mind, Dragon Pulse) (0 PD)

 - Excursion 1

 - Excursion 2

 - Excursion 3

 - Excursion 4

TOTAL

do come again!

0 PD

The grunt waved off the cigarette. He’d given them up again, shortly after the incident in Howard’s apartment. After the incident behind the Poke Mart. Besides, he deserved whatever stress due from this fight. Slaughter.

“If it were merely about the quantity and quality of the violence, I would be in charge of Team Rocket,” he said. “Alas, they seek more… fanatical minds, for that position.”

Howard’s hands shook like leaves in the breeze. Gentle, easily disturbed by any outside phenomenon. These were not good people; they sought to slaughter him just because of his ownership of Regice. All the reports painted them in a dark light too. Yet his hands shook all the same.

Grigori looked to his own. Perfectly still, unfazed by wind or bloodshed or the copious amounts of red and pink and white on them. Like rocks anchored to the earth. He pressed his lips and exhaled deeply from his nose. He was fine, and that bothered him. But in the way of a casual observation, rather than an actual profound discovery.

The other beasts would’ve reprimanded Howard for his slight show of weakness. Save Shred, who might’ve made several crude jokes, taken two cigarettes, and kicked the corpses as they continued on. Grigori?

He wondered if it was possible to lose his desensitization to such easy murder.  After several long moments, his hands fell back in line and he recalled Brick. “I am indeed a monster, Howard.”

There were not many ways to finish the admin’s sentence, given the context. And he knew the best answer from personal experience.

“But I am far from the best. I pray you never bear witness.”

---

howard slayte

As Brick obliterated the DRK Triad member that Howard tripped, Grigori fought his own battle. There was one more on his end and the most capable of them all. That’s why they circle-strafted each other, around and around in a circle. The clock ticked, and the hands danced across its surface.

They locked eyes, both certain of the only way this could end– one dead, one alive. Neither acknowledged how Doug incinerated another of the group, how Druddigon turned one into a fine red paste, or how the final one took his own life. That would require a diversion of focus.

And that was immediate death.

The other one, slightly shorter than Grigori, feinted a knife swing. Grigori batted it away with his hammer, careful to keep his actions minimized. The member twirled their knife back and forth between their fingers, a show of skill and uncertainty. Normal grip was easier to deal with but could lead to brute force attempts. Reverse grip was more immediate slashing power yet left Grigori more chance to succeed.

Ultimately, the DRK Triad member settled on a reverse grip and stepped forward. Suddenly, without warning. The dancer stepped off the track and sought autonomy, for it was unwise to remain static.

Unfortunately, Grigori punished the aggression to deadly effect. The first swipe cut his leather gauntlets deeply, and the second scored his flesh. The third sought to dig into his ribs, around his arm. Risky, and it let Grigori push his hammer straight into the other one’s nose.

“Graa!” Steel missed flesh by centimeters, and Grigori dashed around the man. His hammer clattered to the ground with an obnoxiously loud thud, and he wrapped his hands around the other's head. It left him in the perfect place to be knifed, and the blade rose to do so.

Their neck twisted unnaturally before it could become reality. And just like that, they too hit the ground. Alongside the rest of their group, corpses and dust all.

Grigori let go of the breath he unconsciously held, and gulped air like a drowning man water. It was over. They were safe. Howard was safe.

“Five,” he muttered. His arm wiped the red sweat from his brow, and left him as red as the Blood Moon Howard’s Pokémon conjured. “May your souls find peace.”

If only his could as well. “Mr. Fox, are you alright?”

---

howard slayte

Grigori slung the Pecha berries over his shoulder, roughly two-hundred-fifty poke dollars poorer as he trudged along the path in the Petalburg Woods. He felt slightly bad for the brick he sent through the shop's window, in the dead of night. He hoped the insurance would cover whatever he didn't with his money left on the counter.

But it was necessary, unfortunately. Time was of the essence here: he must be fast enough to help, and to dodge any potential Rockets that might also roam these woods. They would not be happy if he was caught not kicking stray Yamper or throwing rocks at the Furrets that ran through the woods at breakneck paces.

Like the two that locked onto him. They snarled as they leapt over fallen logs to maul and maim him. In response, the grunt reached into the sack and pulled out a couple Pecha berries. "Please, let this work!"

They did not. But they did instead get the berries instead of his flesh. They chewed and ate them in record time, but remained infected. This was, perhaps, not the end of the world. Whatever Pokemon chased him, as he readied his stack to crush the Toxic Chains, were a few less that chased the Celebi. 

"I can only hope," he said as he rocked the makeshift pendulum, "that this does anything at all."

Everything after that was a blur.

---

PROMPT COMPLETE: involve a PECHA BERRY in some way. (The first 15 characters will receive 10 mochi; the rest will receive 5 mochi - I AM NOT AT MAX MOCHI PLEASE HELP ME)

Grigori watched a second DRK Triad member become little more than dust. Returned to the earth from whence they came. “Two.”

The bear was back. Doug. Fate worked in strange, ironic ways, and the situation did not rise above his head. But he did not have time to dwell on it as the other members came back from their senses. They were, understandably, upset with the grunt.

One pulled a knife and tried to gut him like a fish. Grigori grabbed their arm and twisted sharply. It cracked under the pressure, and they screamed in agony. He threw them into the next member that rushed over, and threw his fist straight into the fourth one’s face. They flew back into the cavern wall, and made it all too easy to–

“Three.” The hammer swung true again. The other two composed themselves enough to charge with growls in their throats. The first stabbed a knife towards his chest. Metal met fingers, and the knife flew off towards Howard. His other fist slammed into their throat.

Another blade arced down towards his head, yet it stopped mere inches from his scalp. He struggled to hold them back as he put all his weight into the inversed tug-of-war. They pulled air through clenched teeth, gurgles in their throat as Grigori pushed it further and further away. Until the hammer rose and slammed straight into the elbow.

He took the knife and plunged it into their chest. “Four.”

Brick, meanwhile, focused more on Howard. As the three grunts ran forward, the massive, lumbering dragon did his best to put himself between the archeologist and the enemy. To help out, he lunged forward and launched his Superpowered claws into their path. “Druddigon! Drud!”

He covered his face as another round of attacks flew from the Unown. Just needed to buy time for Doug. If the bear could charge up another Blood Moon, then they’d surely be fine.

---

howard slayte

The Life Dew helped against the raw, burnt flesh. Not enough to call him as good as new, but it no longer felt like his skin was aflame. Now, it throbbed endlessly on a fixed rhythm. A pulse filled to the brim with pain and misery. Grigori held his wrist with his good hand and breathed deeply.

The ball does not see any signs of change with the Life Dew. Even as the Shaymin sacrificed itself, its only known purpose in life, the ball only ceased to smolder like charcoal in a fire pit. It kept its fiery glow and showed no signs of decreased temperature.

At least Grigori heard Cillian’s most recent words, the first good thing to happen in the last minute. He nodded to the quiet words, on instinct, and tried to grab the ball with his good hand.

“Agh!” The ball clattered against the cavern floor again. Still too hot to handle. How was he supposed to help?

He looked to his vest, and gave it a quick feel. Thick. Hopefully heat-resistant. He braced the fabric and gripped the top. The grunt pulled once, twice, and it gave on the third attempt. Black fabric split at the seams, until he reached the bottom. It looked like he’d been in a violent mauling.

Not very far off. Once more, Grigori reached for the Scizor’s ball. Heat radiated through the fabric and to his hand, but not enough to burn. Some part of him wished it did, so he could bear some of the struggle. 

“Please rest easy, Scizor, help is on the way…” he struggled to his feet.

Heavy steps carried him out of the cavern, up its steep slope. Guilt clung to him, alongside the sweat, while he beat himself up and put one foot in front of the other.

---

Cillian Quinn
TOTAL: 661
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Grigori was hopelessly lost. Maybe that’s why the DRK Triad were able to surround them without much effort. He stopped as soon as he saw them and instinctively reached down to his belt. But he did not try to escalate the situation.

Instead, he looked. Watched. Eyed the competition. They all looked relatively built, only one or two were close to his level. The rest just looked fit– Howard would surely be capable of taking on a few of the smaller ones. He needed to believe in himself more.

“Do not fret, Mr. Fox, for I–”

That’s when the Unown, those letters from another plane, attacked. Their Hidden Powers flew, but Grigori was one step faster. His selected Poke ball hit the ground and released a massive dragon. The Druddigon roared and moved to one side of the archeologist. It soaked up the hits with little issue.

On the other side, Grigori gripped the man by his side and yanked him out of the way with surprising force. While the attacks missed him by mere millimeters, they did miss.

“Mr. Fox, please stay out of the way!” He let the man continue onward, off to the side. The grunt then pulled something off of his belt– a hammer. Howard would know it well if he remembered the ill-fated search party. It was the tool the dead Megalopolan had by his side, in front of the alien bowl.

“Brick, please distract the Pokémon!”

“Drud!” He whipped his Dragon Tail back and brought it forward with extreme strength. Bits of rock from the wall flew like rubber bullets into the Unown. Most of them were blinded by dirt, dust, and natural shrapnel, and the humans didn’t appreciate it either. The small group in front of them recoiled back, thrown off their rhythm.

Thus, it was all too easy for Grigori to run forward, faster than a man his age should’ve been, and raise the hammer. Wordlessly, it crashed down on the skull of the first gang member. Blood exploded from the point of impact, all over his face. The fresh corpse folded and fell to the ground like a pound of bricks. “One.”

---

howard slayte

“I see.”

He did not see. It did not seem a good idea to ignore the advice of a doctor or otherwise licensed medical professional. Especially when he had heard what had happened. When he was a living, breathing mummy. Shred would've made a perfect prop for the next big blockbuster set in some ancient cursed ruins.

But Grigori also knew that Shred was a free spirit, and as he’d learned before, herding Skitty was a fools' errand. He rubbed the head of Cream, to remind himself of the difficulty of it. “I will not be the one to try and stop you, Mr. Shred. Just… please don’t hesitate to tell me if you need assistance afterwords.”

It would be rather terrible to find him back here, or worse, in the morgue. All because he didn’t want to remain bedridden for another second.

“But, on a positive note, It’s good to hear you so energetic about it,” he said. “That’s a good sign. It means you’re going to make a full recovery. I can feel it in my bones.”

He did not stare at the place his other arm should’ve been. That would just be downright rude and a mood killer.

---

Shred Zeppelin

The door opened to a woman with short, blonde hair and not a clue who he was. While that didn’t take long to fix itself, it did earn Annalise a raised eyebrow from the Grigori. Did the person he was in conversation with fail to mention the monumental change to the rest of the tenets? That was certainly a red flag.

But not large enough to end things before they began. “Hello there, Ms… Annalise, correct?”

“I-I’m friends with june sleigh ,” he quickly tacked on. “She’s told me about you before.”

The man didn’t waste any time and slowly entered the cozy apartment. Pictures did it plenty justice, but being in person always was different. And so far, the real thing was far better than the concept. He saw someone on the couch in another room.

“As I’ve just said, I’m here to discuss any last second changes, considerations, and make sure we’re on the same page before I sign the lease agreement,” he explained. While he would’ve preferred to do this in the kitchen, or some office, he instead navigated toward the living room.

He walked over to the first empty seat he saw and planted himself down. The briefcase was set on his lap, and he opened it to reveal its barebones contents: a massive wad of paper, a calculator, and a small pencil bag. He pulled out the pages and started to rifle through them.

“Apologies if I’m interrupting something important,” he said to Rory. “I believe I was in conversation with you, Ms. Rory, about the apartment availability? But if Ms. Annalise holds the lease, then I believe she and I should discuss it proper.”

---

Rory Faust annalise henderson marilee beaufort

“I think I see… oh no,” Grigori groaned and pointed at the new disturbance on the horizon. It was a familiar sight, in a sense, but much, much worse than the last five minutes. “You have to be fucking with me–”

The only thing that could make someone like Grigori curse was almost exactly that: across the clearing, like before, was yet another horde of Iron Bundle. Except there was two times– no three times– no maybe four times–

An army of them. They crawled over stumps, fell down from the cover of the trees leaves, and even knocked each other over as they all rushed forward. A literal stampede of the creatures, an endless swarm that came from some unknown source. Scizor sized them up and his eyes widened.

Even with all the hatred in the world at his claw-tips, there were simply too many to count, and even more to defeat.

Grigori finally had to call it quits. He pulled out two poke balls and pointed them at the Skitty by his legs. They hissed furiously at their larger counterpart and the tide of red-and-white murder machines as they were recalled. “Playtime’s over, little ones.”

“Mr. Cross, we must retreat! There’s too many of them!” He tried to pull the admin backwards, further away from the horde that crossed the distance in record time. They kept pouring in from all over, and threatened to drown both them and the environment in their conquest for…

Wanton bloodshed. Wait a second. “Mr. Cross, your Pokémon! It’s making– damn it, it’s enraging them! We must leave, now!"

---

jayden cross
TOTAL: 425
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PRISMATIC PENITENTIARY[break]SIGN-UPS

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CHARACTER: Grigori Sokolov
WHICH WARD?: Ugly Ward
PREFERRED CELLMATE(S): PUT ME IN THE RING WITH ANYONE, I'LL KILL THEM
PKMN TEAM (6 MAX): See Below
WHY WAS YOUR CHARACTER SORTED INTO THEIR WARD? (OPTIONAL): Grigori sees his ugliness as more internalized in how he has befriended the daughter of the man he murdered in cold blood in a fit of rage.

The academic process had its place, Grigori had no doubt. Yet it could stand to be a little more informed when it came to the field. A field infested with paradoxical beasts, enemies that’d kill them on sight, and a shadowy organization that’d kill them on sight. A concession or three would be nice right now. It’d let him sleep easier as well.

Instead, he had to duck low and keep his voice lower. How does one go around an encampment made in the bowels of the earth? Perhaps Howard knew something he didn't, about the layout of these caves. Knowing him, it was entirely realistic. He'd been through Arceus knew how many temples and relics of the past.

The footsteps were numerous, but there looked to be a lot of overlap between the individual imprints. Which made it hard to tell exactly how many there were… but his gut knew the answer.

“We can do as you suggest, but I think there aren't many at this particular setup,” he whispered. “If I had to guess… less than ten? Smaller one. Theoretically, we could take them on.”

Science couldn’t explain a gut feeling, yet it was rarely wrong. It was the only time he disregarded any facts or logic that would otherwise distract him. But he’d listen to Howard anyway, as he was both his boss and the leader of this journey. Loyalty remained, even if personal dislikes clung to him like dirt on the soles of his boots.

So, he started to lead the way back, eager to be done with this expedition. Except there was one major, critical flaw: he didn’t do it slowly. Instead, he ate a face-full of cave rock. The impact disrupted his balance, and he started to fall. Desperate hands tried for any rocky outcrops, but his fingers slipped past each one. And then–

THUD!

His head throbbed, as too did his shoulders. He groaned softly, but quickly stopped when he realized what happened. That ‘movement head’ suddenly didn’t sound so ahead. “Oh no.”

“Mr. Fox, quickly!” He rushed himself off the ground and grabbed ahold of Howard’s arm. And then he started to run.

---

howard slayte

As the air grew static, and the Iron Bundle aware of his presence, Cillian’s words rang in Grigori’s ears. In the heat of the moment, the idea had evacuated itself from his mind like he the safety of their cover. “R-right!”

But first, not die. An Iron Bundle had locked on and gathered energy into its mouth. He dashed back just as an Ice Beam tore through the spot he’d just been. The chill it left in its wake quickly vanished, taken up by the fires from Scizor. His free hand pulled up the Poke Ball and called back the Scizor.

He left the grunt a furious, hellish glare on the way back, one that filled him with sudden regret and doubts.

They all faded when the sky exploded. His vision went pure white, and reality itself disappeared. he couldn’t even hear the destruction of the Iron Bundle in one clean, efficient attack. There had been too much water, and thus they were all subjected to the raw electricity that tore the cavern asunder.

Grigori thought he fell. He couldn’t tell. The seconds passed, and his eyes took long, arduous seconds to readjust. His ears didn’t. As suspected, though, the threat had been finally neutralized. His heart raced, but they were now safe. For the time being.

Something burned. Flesh? He sniffed– it was close. Why did his hand hurt? He looked down and–

Grigori screamed deeply and dropped the smoking ball at the same moment. The ball was literally red-hot, and vapor poured from the seems of the ball. That wasn’t good. Bad. Fear returned to his mind, even if the auditory information didn’t.

“Oh no,” Grigori untapped the power of the mega band. Its power left without fanfare, and he couldn’t feel the thrum of its energy. “Mr. Quinn, please, I need assistance!”

---

Cillian Quinn
TOTAL: 713
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