Dreams

Reunions

He got yanked back into the limousine.

And landed head first against a wooden log, banging his skull against hard bark. As white flashes filled his vision, the youth realized he would have to give up on truly understanding what was going on.

Whatever this was, dream or reality or limbo— it was clearly not something he could hope to understand.

As he waited for his vision to clear, he found himself staring up at stars framed by the thick canopies of a forest.

A glowing, shifting orange tint colored the underside of the tree leaves as his vision slowly began to clear, and the sound of voices began to reach him.

Familiar voices. Familiar tones. Familiar words and familiar jokes.

There was a bonfire nearby, he realized now. Something was being cooked on it— not particularly well cooked. But the scent made him feel young. It was familiar and nostalgic.

As he rose from were laid against the wood log, he saw several familiar faces sat around a campfire.

"Damn. You ate shit, mate. You good?" A familiar voice suddenly said as a palm fell over his shoulder, a grunt following as a very familiar youth tried to help him stand. "Come on—! Everyone's waiting."

Dreams

Aspiration

"W-wait, Mom, how are you—" The youth said as he rushed after his mother, rounding out of the living room and into the kitch—

Into the blinding flashes of camera lights as he stumbled out of a —his?— limousine, finding himself surrounded on all sides by men and women trying desperately to get mics to his face, all shouting incomprehensible nonsense questions at him.

Champion Doug this. Doctor Sullivan that.

Brought back Victini from the dead...? Defeated Talia Bosch, Bailey Cooper and Kyle Lopez in a 1v3? Impossible feat here, ludicrous thing there.

Every question thrown at him seemed to concern some event so thoroughly outrageous and/or impossible he was already getting second hand embarrassment.

It sure would've been nice if he were to ever actually accomplish anything quite as ridiculous as all this, but...

His brow furrowed deeply, head swiveling back as he looked over his shoulder— and getting blinded by another group of people on the other side of the limo.

What the heck was going on? Lucid dreams weren't like this.

"Ugh, I can't do this right now." He groaned as he rubbed his temples.

Before freezing as a hand suddenly reached out from the limo's open door.

"You should know better than to make me wait, John." Came that familiar voice, tone impatient and expectant and making his heart leap to his throat.

Dreams

Family

His breath still caught in his throat, he slowly turned his gaze to her—

And found himself looking at a familiar shack... no woman in sight.

Cold. Wet.

Everything beneath his bum suddenly welt... watery.

Glancing down, he realized he was no longer resting on a hill— but on a verdant marsh. A familiar marsh.

Rising slowly, he cocked a brow as he looked down at himself, unfastened overalls clinging to his waist yet another vaguely familiar element. He had seen these before... he had never worn them, though.

And even hHis father had stopped wearing them after they moved into Slateport...

Turning his gaze back to the familiar shack, his brows rose as he noticed the... smoke rising out of a shabbily built chimney.

"Wha- what the heck is this...?" He muttered to himself as he took a slow step towards the shack, and another— before breaking out into a sprint—!

The door banged against a wall as he ran into the house, panting hard and nearly as wide eyed as his shocked mother.

"... John!? Boy, why didn't ya call if ya were visitin'?" His mother finally gasped after recovering from the shock, holding a dainty hand to her chest briefly before pursing her lips at him. "I didn' prepare near' 'nuff food to feed yer butt too! Wait, is my lil' daughter in law with ya? That poor girl is so thin as is... Argh! Stay right there! I'll whip up something real quick!"

Stupefied as he was, he had didn't get to answer any of her questions, simply staring wide eyed as his mother grabbed an apron and rushed back into the small kitchenette...

---

Dreams

Love

Breeze that smelled of leaves, acorn and carnations.

Sunny rays that warmed but did not burn.

The rustling of grains as wind swept through a small field overgrown with food and life.

The caress of grass beneath one's skin, still covered in a morning dew... A soft, gentle firmness enveloping his head like a pillow.

These sensations. Most were all so... Familiar.

So much so... he refused to look.

His body trembled, as his torso slowly rose from where he rested.

The feeling of straw and knitting fabric dragging against his curly locks of hair gave him pause, something atop his head tipping forward and falling over his eyes.

Slowly, he grabbed at it— felt the familiar, yet distant sensation of his once prized straw hat... And shivered.

"... Fine." He muttered, moving it back atop his head— before finally opening his eyes.

A familiar vista stretched out before his eyes. It had been nearly 30 years since he had seen it with his own eyes, but it was burnt into his memory— both at it's highest and lowest moments.

Sat upon a hillside found within the Viridian County of the Kanto Region, a small farmland stretched out before a farmer's young son, the colorful structures of the nearby town making for a remarkable, distant scenary.

"Huh...? This dream again?" He muttered to himself, slowly turning his gaze to his palm. "It's been over ten years... Wasn't I usually a kid as well...?"

Rolling his very much adult sized, very much scarred hand before him, he pondered the change... Very flinching as a bright refraction from a sun beam hit him in the eye... Bouncing right off a ring fit around his ring finger.

"... Huh?"

"... Is something the matter, John?" He froze.

That voice.

A failsafe— a dam inside him cracked. She —her voice— ?

---

Supply

Cillian Quinn vs Doug

"...?" He tried not to shiver, the other man's chilling laughter engraving itself in his memory. "You... you serve declan walsh's rocket. All you want is power? Second-in-command 'power' good enough for you? Cause otherwise..."

He would have to depose and substitute Declan Walsh eventually. Here he was, nose down on the trenches, doing literal grunt work while the real Rocket Boss was back in Sootopolis, feet on his desk.

"S'like watching someone try to climb the corporate ladder." People who actually believe they can 'win' the rat race; become the CEO through sheer hard work, grit, and hours... "Inside Team Rocket."

The corporate ladder rat race was already nothing but a false dream sold to corporate workers to keep them dazed and hopeful. He supposed Team Rocket's adherence to strict hierarchies and love for badass, if almost juvenile rankings began to make sense if one looked at it through that lens...

"Urgh— capitalism makes everything worse." He muttered, his hand slowly moving to grasp his wrist, staring at the other man pensively.

This was Cillian Quinn, Rocket Underboss, Avatar of Lugia, and Rocket's current top enforcer.

He... was alone.

Surrounded by many nautical miles, far away from land.

And Rocket support.

Doug was a medic now. It wasn't his job— not anymore. But...

No. To even attempt it would put their medics and supply line at risk— more importantly, it would put the lives on his hands in danger.

But to let the man go would do so too—

"Huh? Pretty sure you were trying to destroy—" He began to quip back, before his eyes widened as the large anchor suddenly vanished into a rippling portal of energy.

He had thought too much about it— any choice on the matter had been taken off his hands now.

As the Underboss rushed towards the portal, a shadowy blur zipping through the ship at superhuman speed, Doug realized that if he was to do anything, now was the time.

His hand raised towards the portal, his finger pointing moving a step past Cillian as the tip shone a bright magenta—

And shot the scales, attempting to give the blonde a parting shot.

[attr="class","silpc-pkmn-img"]

Sky

Lulu Flint vs Doug

"With all due respect lady, seems hypocritical for a rocket to point fingers for 'starting wars'." The Kantonian orphan refugee turned Soldier turned Doctor said dryly, face flat.

"Gotta agree about genocide, though." He conceded. "And I'm sure you can agree with me on how a plan that nearly sabotages the only thing that could keep us ALL from getting erased by a meteor would seem IDIOTIC AND SELF-DESTRUCTIVE."

The entire conversation was silly, in all fairness. Arguing with a random rocket about who was right, wrong, good or evil in a war with factions that had long proven they weren't the perfect good their most devout followers professed them to be was a waste of time for both of them.

He needed the battle to end quickly so he could get back to the healing te—

"But not like THAT!" He yelped as he saw the other woman suddenly take a fall, his Orbeetle's expanding force having caught her ride.

In retrospective— what the heck did he expect? Riding flying pokemon in a war zone was dumb for both of them—

"Aaah! Catch her catch her catch her!" He screamed at his dragonite as he grabbed onto his antennae and jerked them down, the dragon yelping before dropping onto a nosediving maneuver.

If that woman hit the ocean's surface at that height, she would splatter across the hoennian sea as if she had hit solid pavement.

Even more desperate than either the medic or his Dragonite however, was the woman's own Noivern, the creature swooping down at lightning speed to catch its trainer, diving into the ocean below.

For however briefly, Doug and his Dragonite stared with bated breath— before the woman came sailing out of the water, dragging a relieved sigh out of both of their lips.

"Oh good." He sighed, his dragonite spreading his wings wide to stop himself from diving into the water himself. His Orbeetles hovered down nearby moments later, eyes aglow as they fixated on the woman.

"... Haaah. Wish debate and drinks alone could solve this mess." He grumbled, scratching at his hair.

One couldn't (completely) manufacture a pokemon's desperation to save their trainer. So it seemed that, at least this rocket, was one of the few that was actually loved by their pokemon.

Which he generally took as a 'can't be entirely bad' sign.

"Shall we call it here, lady?" He said after a moment. "I'm a medic— I've got better things to do than hurt people— you don't seem like a soldier either."

---

MP
50 MP for participation in a RT Battle/Mission.
40 MP per IC post in a RT Battle/Mission.
10 MP KO'd an opponent's pokemon.

SEA

Zev Harcourt Vs Doug

Hard as stone— no, diamond. Possibly harder. Did he not need to breath? How did his chest and gut swell as his lungs took in air...? How did his limbs move and rotate...?

It was impossible to truly know without more observation, more experimentation. He didn't have that kind of time, and at any rate— he hadn't expected to be able to choke out the guy.

He just needed to hold onto him for long enough.

With one arm around the man's neck and the other clamped on the guy's skull, securing the lock, the man could probably not see the magenta glow in the youth's palms as he held them against his diamond carapace...

Well, until hot, blinding pain suddenly shot, quite literally, through him.

"Hrk!" Came gagging out of his throat as blood pooled into his stomach and promptly shot back up, his grip on the man lasting for only a few seconds more. It took his body a while to fully process the fact that it had been impaled in several places— which actually made it somewhat hard to pull away.

eventually though, his arms let go, body collapsing onto the deck with a wheeze.

Once upon a time, Xenon Antheil had been at the top of the leaderboard for most pain inflicted upon him.

Finally, she had been dethroned.

He had a LOT of holes on his torso right now— so many he couldn't even breath, let alone speak.

Despite this... if one stared, one could see the pierced lungs, as well as the rest of the gore and viscera knitting itself together—

Leading to a gasping breath from the soldier.

"Son of GUN!" That too.

---

MP
50 MP for participation in a RT Battle/Mission.
50 MP per IC post in a RT Battle/Mission.
50 MP for getting my pokemon KO'd.

Painkiller

His brow twisted at the single, small word, teeth gritting together as he resisted the urge to grab Eris hand. It and the gnawing feeling in his chest, like a hole swallowing him inside out.

"You did nothing wrong, Eris." He whispered back simply.

His jaw locked together as his eyes were drawn back to the myriad of injuries— not just the broken wrist, not just the cuts and bruises, not just the hairline fractures beneath.

He regarded every small scar and injury.

"So don't worry." His eyes shimmered cyan and magenta, pupils shrinking to dots as the world around them took on a violet hue, glimmering particles rising off the ground and whirling through the air. "I'll fix it. I'll fix everything."

His hovering tools flew to him, his hands snatching two.

"Like it never happened." He said, before nodding to his Orbeetle. It was time for Eris to sleep.

"Beginning operation!"

Nyeh

What's up, Isaac Merlo.

"Not exactly a high bar, mate. I ain't dead, So..." He gave the other man a once over. "Yes I am, I guess!"

Slamming the door shut behind him, the youth threw his case onto a nearby chair before popping it open, pulling out ye olde stethoscope and hanging it around his neck.

Starting it off with the classics, it seemed.

Casually, he produced what Isaac might recognize as his assigned doctor's clipboard, before beginning to sort through the blonde's medical history.

"Yer lucky healthcare in Hoenn hasn't been fully privatized yet, my guy." He said with a grin, sorting through the rest of the pages on the clipboard as if they were paper animation. "Injuries like these would've bankrupted a millionaire in Unova."

Not really, but it was nice to dream up a world were millionaires could be fucked over by the same problems they had created for the poor.

"When did they give ya yer last physical?" He asked, before interrupting whatever response he got. "Eh, doesn't matter. I'll do my own; get naked. Let's see what we're currently dealing with."

Smog

With Yuina Higashi

"Sounds good to me." Came the simple reply— followed by the sound of approaching steps, the steel heels of boots clicking against the granite flooring.

"Gotta make sure ya ain't a rocket first, though. Them's the breaks, lady." He said as he marched towards a cluster of stalagmites, eyes narrowing as he saw something like a shadowy figure move amongst them.

Still caught in the range of his terrain, he had vaguely felt her presence when he exerted pressure earlier— akin to the resistance from a boulder one felt when attempting to crush it in their palm.

He stopped a few steps away. He could feel Tapu Lele still nearby... and whoever was hiding behind the rocks, if a rocket at all, clearly wasn't confident in fighting him— otherwise they would've attacked when he and Lele had been busy with the Paradox Pokemon...

There was a possibility that the other was a leaguer, afraid that he, too, was a rocket. It would be problematic if they weren't, though...

Ah well. Lele was there. He could afford to extend the Olive branch first.

"Well? I'm Lt. Colonel John Douglas Sullivan of the Medic Corps." If they were a rocket, this was probably the time for them to dip. "Did that help any?"

Supply

With Hideo Kino.

Well that couldn't be good.

"Oi, 'sup with him?" He asked Elga bluntly as Hideo walked past, cocking a brow as he threw a thumb Hideo's way.

As ever, Elga summarized it all rather succinctly, leading to Doug staring at Hideo's back curiously, scratching at his cheek.

"Huh... Must've been something wild." He thought. After all— Hideo wasn't really a kid anymore. He just looked like one. The man he remembered in Galar was pretty unflappable, all things considered.

Turning his gaze back to Elga, he nodded, muttering his thanks before gesturing with his neck for the little guy to follow. He jogged after Hideo shortly after, approaching the payload of supplies the youth (or his other pokemon?) were bringing along and helping push it.

"Alright y'all, follow me. It's just ahead— s'well hidden, though!"

---

A cold can was pressed to Hideo's cheek later on. Perhaps not entirely a surprise— the flap of the otherwise empty tent had been audibly opened, and the steps approaching were rather clear.

"Heard from Elga something happened." He said, still holding the can out for the other youth to grab. "... Wanna talk about it?"

Secret

With Eris Halla & Isaac Merlo

"Get that smirk off your face." Snapped the medic as he backhanded a rocket with scales, the sweeping wave of pink bringing a number of uniformed grunts to their puking knees.

As the other threw an arm around his shoulders, he resisted the urge to pull on his hair as he attempted to (successfully) pull at his heartstrings.

Sob stories were very effective on him when Eris (and Hideo Kino) were at the center of them.

"All right, Fine! I get it! You win!" He said irritably, waving off the other's arm. "But don't thank me yet! we're not—"

---

"—Past the worst of it now, everyone. Good job!" Doug said as he threw another cuffed rocket grunt onto the (almost literal) pile, patting his hands with a huff before turning his attention to one of his soldiers. "Gather them up, make sure they ain't got anythin on them and throw 'em all into one o' the convict ships."

As the soldiers saluted, he turned on his heel and began to shout at them to bring him all the injured, before finally turning back to Eris and Isaac.

His brow twitched as he stared at them, looking torn between chewing them out for recklessness or thanking them for their help.

With a sigh, he dropped into a squat, patting Eris on the head.

"You did great, Eris." He said, smiling softly.

Before turning a mean mug to Isaac.

"Not you, though. What the fudge was that? Ya think yer a pokemon or something? 'Double Edge'-lookin' ass. You dislocated yer own shoulder in a warzone!" He said, reaching up to grab the man's jacket... should he have any. "Let me look at that thing— I just did a quick patchwork back there; gotta make sure I didn't screw something up."

He glanced back down to Eris, back to smiling.

"How about you, Eris? Anything hurt? Don't hold back on me! Small pains become big problems if ya leave 'em alone long enough."

Best to just be direct with her— He had seen the extent of the damage and pain Eris was willing to endure silently and on her own if left alone, hidden behind those big, puffy dresses and shorts of her.

INTERVIEW

Oh boy, a date with FERNANDO SILPH!

"No." He replied bluntly, slowly lowering his fork to the plate. "I am not."

He stared into his plate briefly, shaking his head.

How frivolous and cowardly would that be, to waste the Elite 4's scant free time with unofficial, off the record matches?

"That wouldn't prove anything." He said. "Other than the fact that I'm spineless."

He reached for his drink, bringing it closer.

"You're right in that it's pure self-satisfaction. Ego tripping, even." He said. "Yer underestimating my standards, though."

He raised the drink to eye level

"The whole region's gotta see it. A record's gotta be made. A legal certificate stating I that whooped kyle lopez's ass has gotta be on hand." He said, before cocking his head and grinning wide. "That or a million poketube videos showing me getting stomped."

Could definitely happen. Hoenn's current Elite 4 had no easy targets amongst it, and the Champion was the strongest in Hoenn's, possibly the world's, history.

But that only made it all the more worth it. He didn't have to travel far and wide to prove he was the very best, like no one ever was.

After a moment of maintaining his bravado, he finally smiled sheepishly, scratching at his cheek.

"Think of it as a... mummified teenage dream." Juvenile for sure— even more so now that he couldn't just excuse himself by being 19. "I don't think the league's hurt one way or another, is it?"

If he won, he was just living up to the promising potential he had shown the region back in 2021. If he lost... he was neither particularly important, notorious or infamous to the public at large.