she gets the wrong idea, despite Naomi Sato telling her she needs to strategize, that she needs to take it seriously, that it's gonna be a big event. but gauntlet? knockout fight ring? she's expecting a field, some combat, some wham-bam-wapow and then maybe taking home the gold.

sheer will can get you through a bloodied fucking face, but mythical monsters beating each other to shit is different. she's not a battler. she's not special ops. she's not, well, anything really, but a glorified bodyguard, a title that seems ridiculous when the body you're guarding can literally rewrite reality.

also, she's been distracted. they have a new house. they live together. lots of furniture needs to be broken in. counters, walls, showers (they have TWO now), the carpet (ow, she still has some rug burn). there are more important things than getting ready for the inevitable war.

which brings us, now, to the present, with her staring out in dismay at some hunger games shit. but instead of platform circles that'll blow her sky high if she steps off before the buzzer, she has ten minutes to 'prepare.' 

plenty of others don't waste time in fucking off to do their own strategy. she pats herself down and walks with purpose, pulling her chicken back in and tossing out her pup instead. he's usually the lookout when she's on a job, tucked around the other side so he can aura sense if someone wants to be rude and interrupt her while she's wailing on a target. 

best someone watches her surroundings 'cause if she gets jumped, it's over before any of this can begin. so she scrambles into a well-defended position, scratches the back of her neck, and shares a look with remus. 

SPECTRA - GAUNTLET

set up a defensive position using the surrounding terrain.
lucario aura sense active / parker lies in wait

☉

that's it, then. that's the truth of it. the cold revulsion she felt looking in the glass doors outside the hospital is going to be a constant now. that haunted, tired light in the back of her eyes. that's gonna be there too. she does not deign to question if it's worth it. 

that's not how these things work. life's shit and then you die, except sometimes life is brilliant. sometimes someone like nomi walks into your life and makes wading through all that shit worth living. 

and in their line of work, makes it worth killing too.

but - "i can't. i can't let us do that, nomes. can't let us be 's bad as that bitch council-lady thinks we are." i can't let you become a monster.

Naomi Sato

☉

remus' demeanor means he doesn't see them as a threat. his brows crease, but parker doesn't know what that means (metal, clinking, whirling, flesh and steel). not much worse can be out here aside from the people who've crossed over to the other side, so she greets her just as amicably. 

"yo, uh, naw," she says, lips quirking in a grin at the question. steel-blue eyes light up though when they land on the woman's arm. "oh shit, are you real? i mean, i ain't seen none of the ghosts with cyborg parts 'n i'm pretty sure i'm at borderlands 'nstead of mecha kingdom.

"unless they're connected. 're they the same place?"

shadows skirt on the edge of her vision, beckoning. she thinks, wait a godsdamned minute puh-lease.

ana fell

☉

it felt like weeks to her too, but she doesn't say that. how can you say that? how can she sit here and feel so sorry for herself? and just as quickly feel nothing with nomi quivering like a bird in front of her? warmth sifts through her hair, trying to draw her back.

she noses closer, cheek on her knee, and looks up at nomi as she looks out, over her, to the bed. to the aftermath of a monstrosity parker's tried for so long to keep choked down.

i love you.

there's no flinch, no wolfish grin, just a deep inhale and a slow, slow exhale. 

"i saw the unown after. the one you make watch me. you know what i did." it's not a confirmation. she knows the truth. which means nomi knows too. nomi saw it all. she says, "i love you," and "i think i would've killed 'im, nomes. i think i would 've killed him to get you back.

"and i don't know what to do, knowin' that."

Naomi Sato

☉

and inevitably, as will always be the case, nomi eludes her grasp. no amount of wanting can keep the woman in her arms and the space she leaves behind is a jagged, empty hole. frustration makes her face pinch, makes her fingers clench up into knuckles, but with nomi gone she's left to stare straight at the man she put in the bed.

one by one, finger by finger, she relaxes. 

only two?

two agonizingly long days of not knowing whether the drk triad finally got her. or if that bitch councilwoman got her. or if any of their other fucking enemies got her. not knowing if her body was rotting in a ditch or if her ashes were made part of mt chimney as some backwards retribution for the life their side took. 

she collapsed in a chair like that once, leg flayed open from Cillian Quinn, and nomi had pulled out a medkit. fixed her right up. parker kneels down too, wants to take her hands to stop their shaking, but she removed herself with such violence before. 

she kisses her knees, brow creasing at her too-pale flesh, the way her veins look in the light (lavender?). she touches her calves, ghosts her ankles, and says, trying not to let it sound as hollow as she feels: "i'm here."

Naomi Sato

☉

hours creep forward, each minute an eternity in its own right. there is a smear on her phone screen, making it glitch as she tries to swipe it away, but it doesn't matter. no new messages. no new callbacks. no word. no nothing. just voices in her head, vying for dominance against the swell.

she's in his room now. had to go outside, get away from that sniveling little man, but when she stepped out and hit asphalt and a parking lot, she got stuck there. and then promptly unstuck, swearing as she traipsed through bushes.

found his room, jimmied the latch, nearly fell in. 

there for a couple hours more, thinking slateport fuckin' general right here. all they can, yeah. doing all they can. hooking him up 'n leaving him. 

her head's in her hands when the air crackles with psychic energy and her fingers flex on impulse. exhausted eyes peer through the cracks. then she jolts upright and crashes into nomi with little regard if she breaks her. arms become iron bars, the shaking palm a lock on the back of her neck, pained snarl made the sneer of a warden.

anything to make it permanent. anything to make it so she can't leave again. 

"two fucking days, nomes," she growls. 63 hours, to be exact. 

Naomi Sato

☉

into that end. into the deep. off the deep end? blood moon over the water and spilled over the surf, running down her arms. the sea is so quiet when there's nothing around you but water and your lungs are thin slivers of nothing; the hurt can't even hurt anymore.

there are always bruises on her knuckles, always bloodied with someone else's red, and it's even been his before, but not like this. never like this. 

it's an almost-empty waiting room, with a man in the corner, here before she was (was he?), caught in the euphoria of 4 am and some news parker should have been able to catch a snippet of, but words are all gibberish to her now. 

everything stopped working when she asked, "is he gonna make it?" and they said, "we'll do our best."

Naomi Sato

☉

she hasn't been back here. not since she came here with isaac. not since he broke his chains. not since he left them all stranded on the wrong side of the river. she doesn't know why she comes back, really. she keeps seeing those chains, that awful smile from that terrible puppet, and she knows hers have only grown tighter. 

unbreakable, even, but she's not here to break them in the first place. 

then why then why then why?

remus lifts his head, aura sense alerting her to the presence of another from the portal just a few paces away. 

ana fell

07 offer coins to the gimmighoul ferryman to take a ride across a river.

21 encounter soulmarchers, marching parades of warrior spirits (pokemon or human) with feet that do not grace the ground.

24 become trapped by the use of 'shadow tag' or 'mean look'.

29 encounter shadowy copies of yourselves or your pokemon that mimic movement, form, and more.

🗺️ SPECIAL HUNT: parker jones will now be able to encounter and catch a MARSHADOW. you must be able to defeat or prove to the marshadow that you are worthy of training them, but this will be no easy task. they quickly learn you and your pokemon's movements, able to mimic their movements by analyzing or hiding in their shadows.

☉

she's so good for her. parker's fingers flex adoringly on the stick and every time her gears shift seamlessly, she melts just a little bit more. they're still going through some tight alleyways, but she leans into the gas a bit and gods, she purrs. 

nina's already going to do so and parker doesn't stop her. in fact, she maneuvers her hands so she can crank her own window down. slateport's undercity air - brine and piss and home - hits her nose and then they pull out onto flat road, driving further and further inland, leaving the sea behind them.

they aren't alone for long. eventually, other cars start to follow them. junkers, mostly, but with enough shit rigged on 'em she knows they'll put up a fight before sputtering or spinning out. there are a couple of bikes, but not many. roads get too crowded for them.

except for her, of course, but parker doesn't see the gleaming black helmet, the telltale golden mane flowing out from under it. 

"gonna mosey 'er up to start. roll your window up, nins. don't wanna give these monkeys the time o' day 'fore shit begins."

nina larson

☉

the unown have a lawyer? does nomi know about that? unless he means nomi, but as far as nomi's list of avatar powers went, parker's pretty sure she's never heard her say 'they brain blasted the knowledge of a 4-year degree in law to me and helped me pass the bar.'

there is a 30% chance that it is possible and she explained as much to parker, and more than likely it happened when parker was in her boxers, lazing out the couch eating cereal and watching sonic boom.

admin fox (dumbass, call him that if you don't know his name!!!) stands up and parker smacks her lips impatiently, fingers curling on the table. at this point, with his back turned, it'd probably be faster to just reach for the damn thing herself, so she does that, only the pickle slips right out from under her and tumbles right into the air. 

you silly bastard. she swears it's squinting in laughter at her. the pickle is floating out of reach now. up, up, and away. she half-stands, shoves her arm up to try and grab it. the fridge door slams. 

she has her hand up so high and she looks like she's trying to maybe-leave-her-seat-maybe-also-take-a-shit? he turns around. she angles her hand, says too loudly, very convincingly because this is obviously what she wanted all long: 

"HIGH FIVE! put 'er THERE! my MAN!"

howard slayte

☉

there's something so curious about the mind when it's unraveled from the soul. morphine sluices the glue holding the two thirds of her together and it's like she has a third eye on her forehead. she thinks, much like nomi - a house of their own, just like...before.

but she can picture it. freshly fallen snow, boot tracks leading up and away from the front door. crackling of hazelnuts by a fire, a warmth in her arms. promises of tomorrow even though there were days they were terrified it would never come. 

she sighs into nomi, caught in the bits between, thumb tapping away at the morphine drip to ease her closer to that spill of watercolor she's never been able to look at before. 

'i'm sorry,' she murmurs in a tangle, long pink hair draping over parker's bare chest. 'you were right, parker. i should have been more careful.' parker shakes her head. 

she says, "nah, i just gotta get stronger, nomes," but her lips are kind of fumbling the words. she's drifting. she's saying, but she's really whispering as she slips away, "don't worry, hon. gids'll fix me right up again."

Naomi Sato

☉