Yeah, no shit it was aliens. They were in an entirely different realm of existence, everything here was alien. The weird bulbs that Shred and Grigori had ran into, the air they breathed, the bodies they inspected, they were all alien. Hell, they were the aliens of this world.


Yet this was no time to get pedantic.

"Pretty sure this piece of cloth is from casual wear. You don't wear casual clothing to the apocalypse. It makes you thirty percent cooler, and fifty percent more Shred. It also makes you a gazillion percent more likely to get electrocuted. Instead, you wear rubber." Howard frowned and looked at them with a bemused look. "Seriously, all these electrical cords, and the excess of rubber would imply it was abundant. These people died suddenly, and they died unprepared. We'd need to check more buildings, though. More samples, more data."

More, more more. That's what it ultimately came down too. It was likely that they'd never be able to completely figure out what happened here, unless someone found an archival record of this world's history. What, were they going to find it under a slew of cables?

If people knew the end was coming, they would've prepared. Or maybe these weird cord monsters were alien species, and Shred ripping off the plot of Brycen Man 6 was actually accurate. It was hard to tell.

Yet that was archaeology. You made a guess, then found evidence that supported your guess until it could be proven wrong. Then, you amended your prior claim. Something something, scientific method, something something.

"Shred? Making it work? " Howard sounded positively flabbergasted as he followed Grigori over to Shred's discovery. "I could've sworn he did the opposite."

---

Shred Grigori Sokolov

A flathead screwdriver was not a Y-head screwdriver, but you supposed you'd have to make do. Suppressing the urge to sigh, you summon Skeledirge over to your side, the fire-type provided some much needed illumination as you set to work getting the vent open. Of course, that's much easier said than it is done...

"Chirp!"
"Shut up."
"Nah, she's right. You're doing it wrong."
"Chiiiiirp."
"I know what I'm doing. Just shut up and let me do it, alright?"
"You're screwing to the right, chico. Didn't you ever hear about left loosey, righty tighty?"
"Just let me do it! I'm the one with opposable thumbs, so I'm doing it!"
"CHIRP CHIRP!"
"Fuck off! I'm doing it! I'M DOING IT! JUST BACK OFF AND LET ME FUCKING DO IT!"

Or, as it might appear from an outsider's perspective:

"FUCK OFF FUCK OFF FUCK OFF FUCK OFF FUCK OFF--"
"SKELEDIRGE SKELEDIRGE SKELEDIRGE SKELEDIRGE SKELEDIRGE--"
"CHIRPCHIRPCHIRPCHIRPCHIRP--"

But eventually, after much tussling between man, bird, and aligator, screws came tumbling down to the ground, and the vent fell shortly thereafter. As soon as it was done, you quickly return the crocodile to his Pokeball (and make a mental note that he's not getting any treats today for bad behaviour), before scurrying up into the newly opened vent.

"Alright, shit's open." Your voices echoes from within to without, punctuated by two slaps to the cheap metal. "Pack in."

---

howard slayte Grigori Sokolov

Was Shred... okay? To talk to one's own Pokémon was an effort in trying to bridge the gap. Understand what couldn't be understood. They spoke their own language, couldn't speak the common humans did, but perhaps tried anyway. Bonds did that to anyone if they were strong enough.

Instead, it sounded like they all hated each other. Or at least, that's what it sounded like? Either way, Grigori sighed deep and resolved to try and have a heart-to-heart with the man. He might need it. 

"Mr. Shred, do you have any idea where this leads? Or are you exploring for the sake of it?" This did not stop the grunt from letting Howard get in first, and then following along. The metal felt cold, surprisingly. At least, as cold as it could be given the circumstances. A good counterbalance to the sudden jump in temperature.

And so, they crawled. Boring as could be, given his best view was the bottom of Howard's shoes. Gross. "So, any idea on where we'll end up, Mr. Shred? I'm not terribly excited with the idea of falling directly into danger."

Even worse, he'd be the third to fall into danger and die a horrible death. But that was the quiet part. 

---

howard slayte Shred


 

Howard gave a salute to Crumble and Digsley as he returned them to their balls. As Shred threw himself into the vent, Howard followed suit. As they all fell to their deaths, Howard began humming the opening track from Brycen Man 2: Lost in Castelia.

Was there really no better way to die?

The cramped passage opened up into a wide, dark room. Luckily for Howard, he had a soft landing, falling onto Shred's back with a grunt. Unluckily for Howard, he was crushed by Grigori. Not the worst sandwich in the universe, but Shred smelled like a sparkplug and Grigori smelled like dust. Granted, so did Howard.

"Lay off the lava cookies, Grigori." Howard grunted as he clawed his way out of the pile, before dusting himself off. Howard crawled around on the floor until he found his flashlight, which flicked on. It looked like they were inside an underground room (brilliant deduction), that had been sealed off. Cords dangled from the walls, and cans and jars lined the walls.

Maybe this was a bunker?

Shining his light towards the end of the room revealed a doorway that had been collapsed in with stone. It wasn't an ordinary doorway, though. It looked more like a set of blast doors that had folded in on themselves over years and years of misuse and pressure.

"Why did we fall down here again? Besides, y'know, the urge to throw ourselves down a vent? We're blocked in, and climbing up the vent might be impossible." Howard didn't seem worried, though. He simply went over to the cans and jars to inspect them.

Great, it didn't matter if they all died. At least the historian got to look at old jars before they did.

---

Grigori Sokolov Shred

Compared to the sheer agony of electrocution, having Howard and Grigori land on top of you is like a walk in the park. Then again, that could just be a consequence of the extensive nerve damage that you're no doubt suffering, but you're opting not to worry about that right now. With a groan, you scramble out from the bottom layer of this twunk-twink-hunk pyramid, pulling yourself to your feet as you peer about your surroundings. Underground, reinforced, and generally not where you want to be.

"Look, I don't know where we're going, but we're getting there. Just gotta keep solving the problems that we create, yeah? It's like, a metaphor for life, or some shit like that."

...Yeah, that's not a good enough excuse. You need to clear out that doorway as soon as possible, or else they'll never let you hear the end of this. Lucky for you, you've got the dinosaur equivelant of a bulldozer hanging off your belt. It doesn't stand a chance.

"Great Tusk, show us a Headlong Rush!"

"▂▂▃▃▄▄▅▅!"

Charging out from the flash of red light, the monstrous Donphan immediately set to work, clearing away the blockage. Rubble was tossed aside by a trunk, smashed underneath claws, and broken to pieces by tusks. Such is the sheer brutal efficiency of this creature, too powerful to survive onward to the world that left it behind. Eventually, even the heavy blast doors are pierced, layers of heavy metal peeled aside to reveal an opening just large enough to slip through. Yet another path forward, out of this musty bunker and back to the dangerous, treacherous outside world.

"See? Just like real life."

---

UNIQUE PROMPT - Use a Paradox Pokemon.
howard slayte Grigori Sokolov

The danger turned out to be gravity, thankfully. Grigori oofed onto the top of the pile, and was quick to roll off the top. He flopped hard on his back, his head a victim as well. He could feel the headache form within seconds. "I eat them in strict moderation, Mr. Howard. I can't do my work if I gain fifty pounds."

Wonderful. They were 'trapped' inside a bunker, with more power cables and various jars, and no lights outside Howard's measly torch. "Mr. Shred, may I suggest a different philosophy? At least, when others well-beings are affected by your decisions?"

While the one that got them in this situation went to go fix it, Grigori followed Howard. These people either had this location as a back up in case things went south, or as a storage location of some sort. What else would explain the jars of...

"Lots of mixed goods here. Unless I'm mistaken, these are preserved foodstuffs and various types of chemicals or reagents. Or everything in between," Grigori reached over to grab a particular can that caught his eye. Its dyes and pigments had long since faded due to time (how long had it been here?), but a few faded words remained: OIL-BASED LUBRICANT.

The demand for greased hinges must've been quite high. "Mr. Howard, as the team's historical expert, what do you make of all this? Makes me wonder if all this is the remnants of a world destroyed by outside forces, or a snapshot of some other expedition attempt. Destroyed, frozen in time, then preserved perfectly for the next sorry fools to stumble upon."

The grunt returned the dusty can, "And fall into the same hole."

Maybe he read too far into it. Too philosophical. But if Howard saw history, he saw warning signs. Things happened for a reason.

---

Shred howard slayte

 

"You can't even deny it..." Howard grumbled as he continued his inspection. At least Grigori was better than Shred. Whenever Shred committed a stupid, he just deflected it with some stupid bullshit he had probably read off a t-shirt or some asshole on the internet. Hell, Howard was pretty sure he had seen a shirt with that whole 'solving problems and life' bullshit for sale at a megamall in Mauville.

Mauville. Mallville. Heh. He was hilarious.

"I'm unsure." Howard confessed as he checked what Grigori had found. When he did, it caused him to positively deflate. "From the corpses, it looked sudden. From this building, it seems anticipated. It's also under a power plant, apparently. Not that we can easily tell. What I can say is that the existence of this bunker is heavier inference than a piece of cloth. Maybe Shred was right, and it was aliens."

How did that explain the sudden electrical storms, though? Perhaps the storms had been anticipated, but people had still gone outside anyway? It wasn't like people didn't ignore the apocalypse in Hoenn. It was really easy to pretend the world wouldn't end when you were so focused on maintaining a status quo.

After all, who wants the end on their conscious?

"Makeshift bunker. Make a log of everything before we leave. I don't care if it's food, if it's paint, if it's oil, or fucking lube. If it's in a container and marked, we write it down. We can't stay in one place for too long. We're low-level explorers. Only once we have a safe perimeter can we do in-depth analysis." Howard stood after making some marks on a pad. "Carry back one of those food cans. We'll date it. Assuming it's not fried by the electricity.

Stepping out into the open with Shred revealed that the storm had grown even worse. Howard frowned as his hat fluttered against the cord. The air was electric. Even moreso than usual. It causes his phantom eye to switch, and his nerves to jump.

"The storm is getting worse. Maybe we should head back in and wait it ou-."

Then,a massive strike of lightning fell in the distance. It wasn't an ordinary bolt. This one was the size of a skyscraper, and several other lightning bolts erupted from it. Even worse, the air grew charged. Howard groaned and covered his eye at the bright light. In the light, something...

...emerged.

---

Shred Grigori Sokolov

According to recent research commissioned by Macro Cosmos Energy, the entirety of the Galar region uses two-hundred and eighty nine billion kilowatts of energy per year. A standard coal power plant produces roughly three point five billion kilowatts in a year. With that in mind, assuming there is no extended downtime in operation, and that they are consistently running at maximum capacity, it would take eighty three distinct power plants to fulfill the energy needs of Galar. Hundreds of people, thousands of yards, and millions of Pokedollars, all to sustain the ever-growing nation.

And the creature that emerges from the flash of lightning, glorious and golden and brimming with unknown power, is capable of providing all of that power, billions of wattage, simply by existing.

...

"What the FUCK?!"

Arceus, that fucker is HUGE. Even from such a faraway distance, you can tell just how massive it is. Like... Okay, you can't tell HOW big, but you can tell it's BIG big. It's a good thing you're over here, and he's over there--

"REGI-REGI-REGI [UN] [UN] [UN] regiussy RE-GI-E-LE-KI"

In a split-second, miles became feet, and the titanic thunderbolt was suddenly bearing down upon you, crackling with an overwhelming amount of energy, and charging a Hyper Beam of pure destructive power.

---

PROMPT 13 - Encounter a giant Regieleki [COMPLETE]
howard slayte Grigori Sokolov

Grigori stole a jar from one of the shelves. Pickled slowpoke tail? Gross. Despite the preservation tactic, it looked positively foul. It would also have to do the trick. He had come with the clothes on his back and two pokemon, so there wasn't anywhere else to store it. Maybe if he jammed it hard enough into his pocket--

"REGI-REGI-- [UN UN UN]"

Hairs stood up on end. That gut feeling kicked in hard. Just as they all stepped outside, a massive THING emerged from seemingly out of nowhere. For Himself and Howard, as Shred proclaimed earlier to its existence. And before they could even act, it started to charge. Electricity stolen from the air. Condensed into a singular point.

Grigori dropped both the poke balls from his belt. A red-metallic insect dashed forward and grabbed Howard by the scruff of his shirt. The Druddigon from earlier, Brick, shoved Shred as hard as it could (without murdering him) out of the way. His landing would not feel as nice as Howard's. Grigori simply ran to the side as fast as he could--

The world went white.

If only for a few moments, reality did not exist. A Hyper Beam of monstrous proportions shot down into the earth where they had been seconds ago. A harsh ringing echoed in their ears as color returned. Gone was the solid earth, now replaced with a near perfect hole. Grigori tried to angle his head to see just when it started to curve back in on itself.

It didn't.

Grigori clawed his way upright, jar still intact. He ran to Howard and shoved it inside his backpack. "We need to leave NOW! You two run for the exit, I'll buy us time!"

The grunt grit his teeth and ran away from the other two, parallel to the cliffside that held the rope and accompanied by his Scizor. Brick stayed with the other two, ready to do whatever necessary to ensure their safety.

He looked to the Regieleki, which currently towered over the area. It looked less active than before, but still thrummed with enough electricity to power the world a dozen times over. Maybe he'd get lucky, be able to escape as well.

But this day had been coming. If Arceus deemed it atonement for his past sins, then... so be it. "Over Here, you big ball! Come get me!"

---

Shred howard slayte

"We... We can't... We're gonna..." Howard's eye watered in a mix of fear and blinding light as the colossus. What did you do here? How did you fight against something like this? It was too big! Far too big. There was absolutely zero hope of victory here, only pain for the defeated.

"Run! RUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN! Get to the portal!" Howard immediately broke out into a sprint, ignoring Nikolai's sacrifice. There was nothing he could do. Fuck this. Fuck all of this. He could spew clever words all he wanted, and he could talk about how smart he was, but when push came to shove...

He was a coward.

As he sprinted, Howard released his three Pokémon. Digsly looked up at the Regieleki immediately followed Howard, and Crumble's eyes began lighting up like a beacon. In Morse, it read out as SHITSHITSHITSHITSHIT. Even Ayer, a Nosepass that never moved, trembled.

"Mud Sport! Earth Power! Sandstorm! Give us cover!" Howard shouted as he reached the canyon. "Crumble, a path!"

With a slam, Digsley slammed the ground, producing a mud that covered the three explorers and their teams, weakening Electric moves. Meanwhile, Ayer began to whip up a sandstorm for cover.

Too late.

REGI REG REREREREREGI REG UN UN UN UN ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZRT

The Hyper Beam hit, and Howard was knocked into the chasm alongside Crumble. Falling sucked. Howard wanted to curl up and cry. At least the impact would be instant in the death it would bring. Howard's eye snapped open as he was sharply yanked up by psychic energy. Crumble became Howard's lifeline, dragging him back from the brink. He was floating in the chasm. "Other side! Other side! Get the others!"

At least, that was what Howard thought he said. His tongue was tingling and numb. It probably came out as 'Uhhh duhnnnn?'

---

It's pure, unrelenting chaos. With the aftershocks of the Hyper Beam ringing through your ears, you can barely even tell what's going on. You clamber up to your feet, desperately trying to get a grip on your surroundings, but there's simply way too much going on. The last stand of Grigori Sokolov and the expeditious retreat of Howard Slayte are both drowned out by the all-consuming buzz of electricity. But with every second that passes, your senses return to you, and with every second that passes, the more you realise just how bad the situation is.

The long version is that you have no meaningful way to challenge this foe. It dwarfs your biggest Pokemon ten times over, both in size and in power. Even if you dared to fight it, it's too fast to hit, and too fast to dodge. If you tried to battle it up-close, the sheer voltage it radiates would fry you before you could land a punch. If you tried to battle it from afar, it has enough firepower to wipe you off the face of the earth. Even if all of you came at it at once, with all the Pokemon you have in your possession, there's still no guarantee you'd even stand a fighting chance against such an unstoppable force.

The short version is that there's no way all of you are making it out of this alive. This unstoppable force is punishment for your indolence, sent by Arceus himself. God does exist. He is not ignorant. But he is uncaring.

But... It's fine.

Sure, somebody will die. But it doesn't have to be you. Grigori is making the sacrifice play. Howard is scouting the path back to the portal. If you start running right now, you'll probably have enough time to get out of here. You can tell the Rocket higher-ups you did your best, and they'll pat you on the back and commend your bravery. Grigori's name will be printed in the Slateport Herald's obituaries, and you and Howard can continue your lives as though this dreadful mistake had never happened.

And it shouldn't bother you, right? You shouldn't care. You're Shred Zeppelin. You're a fool of a man. You haven't showered in two weeks. You haven't paid your taxes since you were eighteen. You still think about attempting the gym challenge even though you're forty years old. You live in an abandoned apartment you've been squatting in for the past three months. You managed to lose to the Ballonlea city gym with a team of Toxtricity, Honedge, and Salandit. You're addicted to several different illegal substances, and constantly going through withdrawal for half of them. Despite witnessing the existence of Zacian firsthand, you don't believe in the existence of legendary Pokemon. You have nothing going for you - No friends, no romance, no prospects - and you're perfectly fine with that. You're just a tumbleweed, a wastrel, nobody special. You could just leave.

You should just leave.

But.

The teeth marks on your face still ache. A reminders of an unassuming job gone wrong. Of an enforcer who truly embodies enforcement. Grigori doesn't like you, but he's always willing to put you before him. You, who might as well be human garbage, before himself.

The gentle hum of a pointless song still echoes in your ears. A reminder of a dozen stolen breaks, a dozen getaways from the turmoil and chaos of life, spent complaining amongst yourselves. Howard is half your age with five times your debt. Compared to him, what do you have to complain about?

The fire in your heart still burns. A reminder that you were born to fight. To fight and struggle and fail and hurt and weep and mourn and fall and seethe and cope and pick yourself up and dust yourself off and do it all over again and again and again. That feeling, that surging adrenaline, is what it means to be alive.

You were not born as the apex predator. You were not born rich or strong or loved. You were not owed these things by the world. But by tooth and nail, you will take them, because you are Shred Zeppelin, and you were born to fight.

"GREAT TUSK!"

Your voice just barely manages to pierce the cacophony of the battlefiend. He's out there, somewhere, amid the falling lightning and the roiling sands. He's out there, looking up at your foe, a Durant looking upon a Heatmor.

And for a fleeting moment, your hearts and minds are one.

"SHOW THAT FUCKER WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU MESS WITH ME!"

"▂▄▄▃▄▄▅▅!!!"


With all of its might, Great Tusk rushes forth. He rushes past you, past the fleeing Howard, and past the stalwart Grigori. He rushes straight towards the Regieleki, and a teravolt of crackling electricity breaks upon his body like a wave crashing against the shore, the unstoppable force met by the immovable object. With a defiant roar, the paradox hooks the underside of the lightning, and with all of its might, it tosses it straight upwards, back to the sky where it belongs.

It does not remain there long. As strong as it is, Great Tusk is still just a normal Pokemon like any other, and Regieleki has ample weight to match its size. It crests the dark clouds for but a moment, graces the world beyond the stormy skies for but a second, before it begins to fall once more.

They say the bigger they are, the harder they fall. And this son of a bitch is going to have one hell of a fall.

---

howard slayte Grigori Sokolov

The fact that it still went after the other two despite Grigori's earlier taunt proved disheartening, to say the least. Just how else could he hope to deal with such a threat?

Well... there was one way. He looked at his Scizor, who shared the same thought. Slowly, they nodded together. Thick as thieves, until the very end.

"Hey! Come after me, you dumb ass!" Grigori shouted at the large ball. While the grunt picked up a large rock and chucked it at the creature, Scizor dashed to the side and launched an X-Scizzor right at the creature. It did little more than tickle the Regieleki, but that certainly got its attention.

REGI- [UN] [UN] -LEKI -LEKI--

Now, it looked down upon the pair. Grigori stared back, unfazed by its ominous gaze or weird, guttural shrieks. Once more, the energy was sapped straight from the air. Slowly but surely, another Hyper Beam would be unleashed within a few seconds. Unfortunately for him, he couldn't make himself move. Scizor didn't try either, its attention still focused on the behemoth of electricity. 

However, it didn't leave the range of the attack either. 

Death was a familiar concept to Grigori. Ever since the last fight with his father, it had followed him wherever he went. Team Rocket was not a charity. He was no saint. He did bad things for bad people. The sun rose, people breathed, and life moved on. Even as he tried to 'fix' himself, there was no changing the past. 

As he struggled against his father, the thought terrified him. During his younger years of organized crime, the concept baffled him. Yet in these most recent years... it felt necessary. The only way 'out', so to speak. 

Karma, in the politest terms, was a bitch. It did not forget. It did not forgive. Only through punishment and atonement could absolution be derived. Hell, Grigori had yet to pay off his debt. It still grew with each and every day that he didn't outright abandon his position and become a wandering nomad. But he gave his word, all those years ago. And if he was not a man of honor OR his word...

Then what was he?

So, as the end stared him down, Grigori stared back. Death was the greatest equalizer, and karma loved its just rewards. Would this sacrifice for two other people, possibly equal in sin as he, pay off his karmic debt? Would this even put a dent in his total?

Yet none of that mattered. A ball of flesh and mud barrels right past the man. Regieleki's attack flies straight into the sky, decimating the thick storm clouds. While they repair themselves, it flies into the air. Now, the primordial bolt of lighting returns to its rightful place in the sky. But for how long?

A smile breaks out on his face. He'd have to apologize to Shred later. For now, he needed to NOT be underneath that thing when it came back down. So, he ran. Scizor right by his shoulder, the two carried each other back to the edge of the cliff. The rope was still there. After Shred got on, he followed immediately behind. They raced up the line, desperate for safety. 

PROMPT FULFILLED: Grigori utilized his enforcer abilities last post, and explored karmic absolution in this one.

---

howard slayte Shred

 

There was a logical contradiction between fear and a need to explore.

To do the former, you had to embrace in the latter. It was something that every explorer had struggled with, from the first sailors to reach Hoenn to the brave few who crossed Orre's desert. You were expected to put everything on the line in order to grasp for what was beyond the horizon.

Did those people contend with giant monsters that could traverse miles in a second? No. Howard was innocent, right? He had faired no better than anyone else when he ran away. Ran away. Ran away. Arceus above, he ran away. He just left two people to fend for themselves. Coward. Failure. Fool. Ancient people had managed to seal away great threats, and he was running away.

But what could he do? What could any of them do? They were a group of misfits, mutually tied together by poor decisions and idiotic coping mechanisms. They were not heroes who were proclaimed and heralded on stone tablets millennia later.

They were just Shred Zeppelin and Grigori Sokolov, no matter how much they faced the storm. And he was Howard Slayte, the biggest coward of all. The one who ran.

"...dammit." Howard cursed himself as the Regieleki crashed against the ground. It was already getting up again. The other two weren't going to make it across. "Dammit dammit dammit. I can't do it. We can't do it..."

Then, if you couldn't face something, you performed something many beaten cultures and groups had done before:

Run.

A massive sandstorm began to erupt over the chasm, blasting out of Ayer's nose, covering a massive section of the chasm on both sides. As Grigori and Shred crossed the gap, it hit them. There had once been a study done on the electrical fields generated by sandstorms. It hadn't gone anywhere, given it tore through any instruments left out like a knife through butter.

Walking through the sandstorm made Howard feel like one of those instruments. "Get them...! He hissed at Claydol. Shred and Grigori would feel a jerk of psychic power pulling them towards the storm that engulfed the exit area.

"Find us now, fucking lightbulb..." Howard cursed as he crawled towards the portal, over to shout as a bolt of lightning struck several feet to his left. Wonderful. If you had a gazillion bolts at your disposal, spray and pray, yeah?

Dammit, where were those two? "SHRED? GRIGORI? WHERE ARE YOU? We're running out of time! SHR-"

---

Shred Grigori Sokolov

KGdMfroj