‘The battlefield is no place for people who are too soft.’

Maybe that adage held true in this case. While he was fortunate enough to escape the latest ‘curve ball’ that the region had thrown their way, it wasn’t without damage though. Thankfully none of the damage was physical; most of it was mental… or psychological, but we don’t tell anyone else that.

He’d also had to talk to Ethan, to Claire, to the rest of the staff about what had happened and if they were going to be alright with losing their jobs at the Sanctuary since the ‘main source’ of funding had been abruptly shut off… he guessed that this had something to do with that ‘gaffe’ he commited.

And Hideo gets off scot-free because he’s a kid? Where’s the justice in that bullshit? he thought angrily as he stared out the perimeter fence at nothing in particular.

It would take a warning squawk from his Braviary, Kyouya, that there was someone coming…

That certainly isn’t a good sign.

Johanna pondered as she saw Alexei staring into the distance through perimeter fencing only to be pulled back into the real world by the squawkings of one of his Pokemon.

Knowing that he was here now, Johanna raised her arm in greeting as she approached him before she spoke. “I hope I am not interrupting something important?”

She had a feeling she wasn’t but better courteous than apologetic.



MISSION: Post Prismatic Penitentiary

Thankfully, Kyouya the Braviary alerted him to her presence; and while the blue Braviary hung around briefly on the top of the perimeter fence, he knew that his human wanted to be alone for a little bit.

Giving the approaching lady this side-eye that literally screamed, ‘if anything bad happens to him, this shit’s on you’, the Braviary would then take off for another part of the Sanctuary.

“No… not really,” he would answer quietly as he forced himself to move towards the side gate in the fence, opening it quietly and allowing her to come inside.

“What brings you here? Come to laugh at what’s happened to me?” he would retort a little, before turning away to look over at where the gym used to be.

For starters—if she would notice; the open-air arena was no more. Only blurred-out paint lines remained; and the bleachers have since been removed from the outside perimeter.

While he awaited her answer, he would reach into the pocket of his jacket and slap something on his palm; before retrieving a small pocket lighter… yes, while the lighter belonged to Claire, the pack was…

Once he was satisfied, he would reach inside, pull out a stick and perch it on his lips before he turned to face her again.

“You mind if I light up? You’re free to get one if you like,” he would offer the slim box of menthol cigarettes her way while he fumbled with the lighter in his other hand, before the tip caught flame and he pocketed said lighter a few moments later.