They say when people got to close to a flame, they'd get burned. It's a shame for Schuyler, he was an ever persistent moth that found a light to be drawn to. Mt. Pyre had so many mysteries that were just itching to be uncovered. And from the proper vantage point, you could see just about anything. As the Cofagrigus unveiled the corpse within its coffin-like body, Schuyler began to scratch the pencil in his hand against paper. The body seemed pale, bloated, and most importantly, lightweight. He'd never seen a dead body other than funerals, so to see it displayed so viscerally before him was a treat.

Then his pencil's point had to go and break.

Maybe it could have been written off as a wild pokemon. Schuyler's body stiffened before he began to relax again and carefully rose to full height. Tucked in between a few rocks upon the mountain, he kept his hands raised to show he meant no harm as he began his approach. He was brave enough to meet the grave digger's eyes if he chose to look back at him. Not necessarily a challenge, but an insistence on the fact he meant no harm.

"Livor mortis," he spoke finally, a nod to the corpse. "Recent work, am I correct? What's your method?"

Schuyler took a small pocket knife out and began to carve away at the pencil to sharpen it once more. Once he was ready, he lifted his notebook again and readied himself to take any notes that the dark haired man had for him. But then it hit him. Maybe he should reason why he was there. The stranger's purpose was obvious. But Schuyler's? Absolutely not. He acknowledged this detail and opted to speak once more.

"I'm just here to take notes. I'm fascinated by this sort of stuff, you see. I want my writing to be as accurate as it can be."

He had no qualms to show the man the notes he'd taken already. They seemed organized, like a science project of sorts. Then words spewed out, itching with curiosity.

"Say, do you mind if I touch it? I've never seen a corpse before."

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Zev Harcourt

Morbidly curious fingers trailed against the exposed arm of the corpse and his eyes flew open. It was freezing. A gentle nudge showed any lack of resistance. A pick up and drop of the arm. Everything he experienced was soon jotted down. The only thing that broke him was the rumbling sound of his Nidoking. Schuyler backed away from the corpse, a little surprised. But he could understand the trepidation the man had in regards of Schuyler's own presence. As much as he could understand it, the author attempted to reason with the man.

"Rather than resort to violence, hear me out," he implored. "Sounds like a battle are likely to draw further spectators. While the probability that others are around is highly unlikely, it's not an absolute zero."

The way he spoke seemed fluid, like he expected the man to doubt him. Schuyler attempted to be the voice of reason in the moment as well as an attempt to save his own ass. But if Zev felt so inclined to battle, who was he to refuse? The blonde withdrew his Pangoro and allowed the panda to take its stance. The Cofagrigus was occupied with the corpse, so unless it closed or dropped the body into the grave, it posed no threat.

"Though otherwise, I don't plan on telling a soul of what transpired here. I could be considered an accomplice in this mess. That corpse has got my fingerprints on it, too. So how about I help you take care of the rest here?"

A simple suggestion that weighed heavy in the air. But he didn't seem to flinch at the idea one bit. Hell, he'd already touched the corpse, what was burying it in comparison?

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Zev Harcourt

The man offered a fair point. What if he were to go squeal after the body was disposed? The only proper answer Schuyler could give was a simple one. He withdrew his Pangoro and instead opted for a much simpler option. The Ditto of his party oozed out of its pokeball, its beady eyes a dead stare as it looked upon its trainer. Schuyler glanced from the Ditto, to the corpse, and cocked his head in direction of it. It was almost a wordless command as the slime-like creature began to inch its way towards the body.

"We can dismember it and split it up among the both of us," he offered. "That way we won't know where the other buried the rest. If you so desire, to save the effort of breaking bones, this little guy can slip into any orifice and began to disconnect them."

How did he know that? It wasn't exactly a secret he was keen on revealing. (Had this actually been his first dead body? It was hard to say. The way he reacted and spoke so calmly about the situation seemed suspicious -- he could understand Zev's hesitation.) Though rather than continue to be all talk, he figured it best to shoot the man a question that would hopefully break the ice:

"Or better yet, how about you tell me what you want me to do to prove that I won't say anything? Besides, I think everyone's a bit occupied with whatever's happening near Dewford Town to really give a shit about one dead body."

The sudden land formation from the tectonic shift became a war ground for either side to fight for. Part of him remained eager to see which side would win, but he wouldn't hold his breath. The League had been falling behind. Maybe they were too focused on rehabilitating some of the criminals that fell into their hands rather than actually giving two shits about the place they called home? Schuyler didn't care much for the kumbaya power of friendship bullshit that some of them tried to pursue. Once a criminal, always a criminal.

At least he could respect the idea of Team Rocket. They knew and acknowledged they did wrong, and didn't try to cover it up by claiming the idea of the greater good or some high-road morality spiel.

"Name's Schuyler. Schuyler Tate. So then if you've gotta come after me, you know who you're looking for."

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Zev Harcourt

Unfortunately the Nidoking took to dismembering the body. As Schuyler witnessed, the more cooperative veneer he'd held up seemed to vanish as he simply stared as flesh and bone became malleable. His pulse quickened, whether out of fear, excitement, or something else entirely. He could hardly hear the way tissue and muscle ripped and tore over the beat of his heart like a drum in his ears. Even with the lack of resistance from a corpse, he noted it still took plenty of force. Bones snapped like twigs under the Nidoking's might, popping and twisting from their respective connective tissue. It was almost a shock to his system when Zev spoke up once again. The blonde felt himself snap back to reality and looked to him with a chuckle to attempt to ease the tension in that moment.

"Right, my interest," he acknowledged finally. "I guess the topic of death just leaves me curious. Lives are kind of like books to a degree -- they end eventually. Some are longer than others. The only difference is that we can't go back and re-read a life. But after all we experience, is that really it? Does that story truly end?"

The way he spoke reflected an interest in what possibly lay after death. Everyone has wondered it at some point. Maybe Schuyler was just a bit more obsessive on the topic. Once the work was done, he looked down to his Ditto and jerked his head in the direction of the Nidoking. The Ditto complied and transformed to carry some of the remnants of what used to be a living, breathing person.

"Besides, I write a lot of horror. I want to make things realistic and challenge people to read beyond what makes them comfortable."

Life had a way of throwing uncomfortable and devastating situations without warning at others. To the author, it was the way of weeding out the weak. If they couldn't manage through it, then the universe would cull them respectively. The notepad still gripped in the palm of the writer's hand fell closed so he could pocket it. The spiral of it stuck out of the top of his back pocket but otherwise fit. Without another word, Schuyler followed his Nidoking-transformed Ditto (which notably lacked the dark aura that the other pokemon carried -- maybe it was the bulbous eyes or something more.)

What portions they carried were buried deep. Notably the pair focused on burying the half they took among already dug graves. (In all fairness, they'd already witnessed the dismemberment. What was defiling a couple graves along the way? Besides, what kind of do-gooder would want to dig up another grave in case there might be traces of a fresh murder there?) As the pair worked, Schuyler kept his focus to himself and his Nidoking-Ditto. He'd keep his end of the bargain and give Zev the opportunity to bury his half elsewhere.

In the meantime, he removed the silver watch off of the bloodied limb and gave a hum. It looked expensive, the victim must've been someone of opulence or importance. But it wasn't his to keep. Besides, the thing already looked broken, as the clock face was cracked in a variety of places and the hands had come to a complete stop. With a shrug, Schuyler threw it into the open maw of his pokemon and allowed it to crunch down on the jewelry.

With their part of the work complete, Schuyler returned to where the two had first come across one another. His back turned to the opposite direction as he attempted to pick the dirt from under his fingernails that had accumulated.

"Since we're sharing details about ourselves, I don't think I ever got a name for you," he mentioned in a laissez-faire fashion.

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Zev Harcourt

His brows raised in slight surprise, slight intrigue. A simple request by the sounds of it. There didn't seem to be any cons to the arrangement. The hitman had a lackey and the writer had the opportunity to play mortician with no need to go poking through things that didn't concern him. Teeth flashed in a broad smile as a hand reached out for a shake.

After all, that's how all devils cemented their deals, was it not?

"I can't say I see any problem with it," he reasoned. "You've got yourself a deal."

While he seemed pleased with the deal, the sneaking suspicion dawned on him that the work wouldn't be as simple as torture and kill. Thankfully Schuyler wasn't one for easy work. That would make the arrangement dull.

But it made him wonder: was it appropriate to exchange contacts in that moment? With a shrug, Schuyler pulled out his phone, unlocked it, and offered it out to Zev, should he take it. He seemed a little too cooperative. When it bubbled down to it, it was just the fact he seemed enthralled on the promise of inspiration for his work, to study death in any form that came his way. It would help make his writing all the more gripping, he could feel it.

"I figure it'd be easiest on the both of us if we exchanged numbers. For business purposes."

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Zev Harcourt