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Beau was always willing to help, but he couldn't stop himself from being a little more pensive with this project. Cain had even picked up Beau's duties, both exhaling flame to heat the heavy lengths of metal and using his strength to shove them together, offering as seamless a weld as he could by himself.
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This wasn't just about helping someone, or making the region a better place. This was in response to conflict. A war was brewing, and however much Beau wished he could keep sticking his head in the Dewford sand, he'd seen where that got people. Where it had gotten him, at one point. He couldn't risk it again, so if he had to take part, it was going to be in defense of making sure he had a home to come back to, when it was all said and done.
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A low growl jolted him from his thoughts, Cain cursing the awkward join of the next set of metal rods. Beau mumbled an apology to the Incineroar, moving to catch one end of the implement and offer, "Try again, brah, I'm with you now."
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His glance flicked to Eduardo Hisakawa, and he wondered if similar worries were going through the other's head. This would be one to share a drink over.

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Beau moved to scrub the tears from his cheeks quickly, scuffing them along the back of his hand and breaking the would-be staring contest he was embroiled in with the Xatu. Just as well - he'd sooner take ten steps off the five-step cliff before him than relive another moment with his father.
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Jack's movement next to him caught his attention - and darn it, he had to stop falling into these reveries when he was in the company of his friend. That was no way to spend his time.
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"So, uh," he began, reaching to rub the back of his head nervously. "At least it's a nice place, right? Definitely don't see this in Hoenn." He flicked his eyes to the left, but couldn't bring himself to look at the Psychic-type again. "Could do without the bird, though. What do you say we call it a day, brah?"
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He didn't think he could take much more of the strangely elevated silence of this place, and he'd rather be facing down the Shadow Persian, or the mysteriously talking pokegear. Wait - if someone really were watching them, watching this play out, did they know what that vision entailed? He shook his head dismissively - there's no way they could have.
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Still, he'd prefer a rapid exit to think about the ramifications of repeated entries into this system when he wasn't currently being subjected to it directly. He had a hankering Jack felt the same.
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Beau was going to get whiplash at this rate. The battle couldn't even really be called a battle; between his Gouging Fire and Jack's Magearna, the attack was warded off and the simulation shifting into a new scene before he could even think to order a counterattack.
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The cliffside was new, scenic enough, and unless the strange bird before them decided to suddenly launch an attack, safe enough to catch a breather by his estimation.
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The Xatu's eyes flashed with power, and Beau briefly had the presence of mind to curse every time he'd thought to get comfortable in this place.
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"You fuckin' idiot!" His father roared. Teenage Beau recoiled, narrowly ducking a flying bottle that exploded into shards on the wall behind him. "You don't fuckin' play games with me! You think this is some kinda joke?"
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A crumpled ball of paper bounced off of his bowed head, and he had the presence of mind to be grateful that there wasn't anything more harmful in arm's reach of his father.
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"You can't be this stupid! You puttin' on an act? You think stayin' back a year is gonna be FINE?" His father stood unsteadily from his chair, stomping - not the boots - to Beau's position. "When I was your age, I was captain of the fuckin' football team! With those grades and those fuckin' noodle arms, you're gonna be lucky if you're the captain of the goddamn janitor squad!"
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The kick came, familiar, bruising his ribs. Steel toes. "I'm sorry," Beau gasped, shying away from the strike. "'M sorry, I'll do better, I ain't joking, not a joke, sorry-"
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He blinked, his cheeks wet, and stared brokenly at the expressionless, unmoving Xatu across from him.
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"Fuck you," he managed.
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One minute, he was fine.
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One minute, he was brawling with the opposing Nihilego, batting away their seeking tentacles with his fists, blow after blow barely managing to beat back his aggressors. Not just his - Eddie, behind him, was struggling - was it the chain? He didn't care, he couldn't care right now, focused as he was on keeping the other man - and as many people in his vicinity as he could - from coming to further harm.
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Each blow he brought to bear with his chain-augmented strength sent his opponents backward, and each blow brought him a step closer to smearing these jellyfish across the nearest wall. He saw red. He wasn't going to let these things get away with what they'd done, not any of them, and if the Nihilego happened to be the closest things for him to vent his rage on, well, he wasn't going to complain about that. They'd be first, then the rest.
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A sudden, shocking deluge of ice-cold water snapped him abruptly from his tunneling fury, and he sucked in a startled breath. The Nihilego were at bay. The Ogerpon's mask was doused, then - shattered, gone. The hell was starting to subside, almost as though the Feeding Pit was holding its breath.
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Then he was falling.
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He couldn't maneuver, couldn't turn his head to see what had happened, where the floor had gone, whether Eddie was alright, nothing. Then he hit the ground, and a piece of rubble from the floor above landed on his left arm just afterward. The hunk of stone was large enough that it ought to have pulped his limb completely, but even with the reinforcement of his Chain's assistance, he felt - and heard - at least two good cracks.
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Yowling, he rolled to shove the offending masonry off with his free arm, and yeah fuck, his arm was broken in two places. Still, it looked like it would hold as long as his Chain kept up its magic. He didn't really want to think about what it was doing to his body otherwise, but as it turned out he wouldn't have to worry about that for long. Azelf's liberation dissolved his chain, and with it the sole buffer he had between his nerve endings and an incredibly aggravated left arm.
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Tears sprang to his eyes as the pain came into focus, and his arm hung limply at his side. No time for a sling, no time to check for setting - there was Eddie, and he flashed the man a thumbs-up as he ran toward his - his pokemon. His pokemon! He pushed his way through the Breeding Pit floor and came to rest not far from his cellmate, staring at his chain-wrapped Kubfu, suspended in a pod. "I'm getting you out of here, little brah," he growled. "I'm getting you all out."
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And so he did. His progress hampered by his useless and searing arm, he managed to collect his possessions and - all safely accounted for in their pokeballs - his pokemon. Turning to focus on the gaping hole in the ceiling of the Pit, he called out Nemo, his Swampert, who was promptly surrounded in a cocoon of Mega Energy before bursting forth with a bellowing cry.
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It was time to get even.
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Beau couldn't say he was dreaming of great things, but he was at least dreaming, which was something of a respite from the grim situation he and Eddie found themselves in. He dreamed of a strange city, of his pokemon trapped quiet and motionless in strange containers, of a sky that just didn't seem quite right.
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Still, despite the bleak dreamscape he wandered, he reasoned on some level he preferred the ability to walk around and be unsettled in comparison to being chained to his cell and unsettled. At least here he could see his partners, where they seemed safe - if unresponsive. He knew it was a dream, but it was something. Still, he wondered what on earth was going on in his subconscious to conjure a place like this instead of...oh, a beach would be nice. Or a sauna.
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Wakefulness came sharp and suddenly, something jolting at his back and startling him into consciousness. He lurched upward, propping himself up on his arm as he whipped his head around, looking for the source of the threat. Nothing immediate caught his eye, though, just the same mask, the same chain around his neck, the same bars he'd gone to sleep staring through.
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Eddie's voice - oh, that was Eddie behind him, right - sounded soft in the darkness, murmuring about breakfast, or what passed for breakfast in this place. He'd never eat peach-flavored anything again, he was sure of it.
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Stifling a yawn, he lowered himself back to the cot, giving a long, languorous stretch that helped ease his too-tight muscles. The cot wasn't built for comfort, and especially not built for two, he felt, but it would have to do.
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"Shhhhh." He offered his own sibilant reply to the other man, reaching backwards blindly to grab Eddie's wrist and pull the man's arm back over his own waist. A little wriggle saw him pressed solidly up against his bunkmate once more, and he offered a sleepy, "Five more minutes, brah, chill."
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A yawn escaped him as sleep threatened to encroach on him once more, now that he was sure any imminent danger was not forthcoming. The sigh that followed might have been intermingled with something resembling "'S nice," but his lack of verbal acuity could make it hard to tell.
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Still, as ever with Beau, actions spoke louder than words, and he'd managed his speaking for the moment.
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It's what bros did.

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"Ah, geez, really?" Beau fretted as Jack busied himself spraying medicine on the injured Persian. "I just caught one of those things a couple'a weeks ago, but I haven't really had a chance to train it yet. Should I not let it out around my other pokemon?"
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His train of questioning was cut short as a flickering will-o-wisp rose from the lake, darting downward to dance around the fallen Persian. He reached out to grab Jack's shoulder and backpedaled a few steps as the Persian slowly came to its feet, although something was...wrong with the movements, somehow.
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Suddenly, the feline's eyes snapped open, and it launched toward the two men with a SHADOW RUSH. Beau was so busy rifling for the first pokeball he could get his hands on that he didn't see the strange wisp flicker back beneath the surface of the lake, instead calling out his Gouging Fire, who roared before forming a BURNING BULWARK with its mane that warded off the brunt of the attack.
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"Think you were right on the money with the aggressive part, brah!" he called.
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"You got me, brah, I figured you'd know more than I would about this thing." Beau's voice echoed weirdly as the simulation dissolved and reformed around them, but he was quietly pleased that he could still talk - shifting from place to place had still never settled well with him, even after the dozen or so scenarios he'd experienced in the system.
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The island was strange, small, quiet. The withered crystalblooms lent an air of solemnity to the otherwise placid environment, and Beau's eyes snapped on to the lake like a magnet seeking true north. He'd been around water for his entire life, but something about this lake begged him to step in.
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It would just take one step, then one more...
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A low, labored breath shocked him from his focus on the lake, and he caught sight of a fallen Persian near the edge. Dang, had he dodged a bullet? "Hey, check this guy out," Beau called over to Jack, moving to the Persian's side. "But...something's wrong with it. What's all that dark stuff?"
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"HA!" Beau, absorbed in the task of tinkering with the pokegear, didn't notice Jack's reaction to his snap, nor much anything else occurring in the workshop, including his friend's warning. His triumph at successfully repairing the pokegear as its light blinked on was swiftly silenced as a voice emanated from the small device.
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Almost reflexively, he brought his fist down on the device, which crumpled into fragments with a loud crunch. His eyes, wide, flicked from the destroyed device to Jack, and he frowned. "Dude, this is a simulation, right? Was that just, like, an NPC, or is somebody actually watching this?"
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He looked around the enclosure, up at the top of the walls near the ceiling, but no cameras appeared to be in use. "I don't like this," he murmured, turning back to Jack. "That doesn't feel right, you know?"
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Beau groaned in sympathy at the thought of a beer. An ice-cold beer, bracing and refreshing and calming, would be the FIRST thing he sought out after finding freedom. Hell, he'd probably settle for a warm one. It might be gross, but it was the principle of the thing, and Beau was not one to shirk his principles.
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He lifted a hand to rub at his eyes blearily, and paused when it hit the hard, unyielding material of his mask. Damn it, he'd almost forgotten about the thing with his mind focused on his hometown. He dropped his hand with a frustrated exhale, settling for blinking his eyes clean behind the mask, and murmured his agreement to his cellmate. "That's a deal, brah."
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He shifted and shimmied a little in place, trying to find comfort in the cot, and while he found a position that was comfortable for him, he couldn't be sure that the other man was - particularly not with the way Beau was pressed right up against him. He figured that couldn't be great, so he offered: "Hey, Eddie...get comfy if you can, we should get some rest. I don't know if I can handle doing this on no sleep, if we can get sleep."
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It's not like it was weird, right? Eddie, that reassuring warmth at his back...that's just what bros did, right?

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Beau was grateful for his next mission with Jack being in the Simulation proper - sure, there was something to those real expeditions, but the closer he got to those Dyna crystals, the weirder he felt. He couldn't quite get over it, and he understood the necessity of gathering resources for the League, but given the choice he'd much rather feel like he was playing a game.
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It was with this particular mindset that he and Jack materialized in a cluttered workshop. He blinked and glanced around, but no threat or even engagement seemed to be presenting itself other than the damaged pokegear set prominently on the center table. "Huh, do you recognize that brand?" he asked Jack, moving to examine the device more closely.
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He assessed the device with as much focus as he could muster - which wasn't much compared to some, but it was enough for him - and snapped his fingers. "I got it!" he exclaimed. "This is what we gotta do to move to the next area!" He immediately set around poking through shelves and drawers, in search of a screwdriver. He wasn't a tech-head by any means, but he'd repaired his own remote-control car when he was a kid, and after he'd managed to do that, it actually made it to the end of the block before it burst into the smallest fireball he'd ever seen. Which was progress!
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The melee was stupendous, and Beau was dimly grateful for the sight of Eddie ahead of him, giving him something to run toward; in the crush of bodies, the surge of prisoners and guards, and the various incredible effects suddenly taking place around (and on) him, his attention was hard-fought. He cracked a grin at Eddie's comment, rejoining, "Same to you, brah, good lookin' out!"
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Nevertheless, with eyes on Eddie, he made it to the platform, and as it began to descend through the wards, his position only got more and more secured, pressed tighter among the group as more and more revolting prisoners piled on to join the excursion. When he saw Eddie remove his mask, he blinked, then cursed under his breath - he hadn't even thought to check once the Chain around his neck started acting up. Sure enough, he was able to pry his own mask off and cast it aside, drawing the freshest breath he'd taken in...well, he didn't know how long.
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He offered a whoop and a jaunty wave to Navy - friends in hell were still friends - and blinked as Eddie's attention swapped to Andrea Vaneau. He recognized her - it'd been years, but he was pretty sure that was the gal who explored the haunted house with him. She could barely handle the house, what the hell was she doing in a place like this?
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He shot Eddie a thumbs-up as the platform descended, offering a reassuring laugh. "We got this, brah, you and me." The almost immediate appearance of the Ogerpon and its Nihilego friends did their best to shake Beau's conviction, but he shook his head, diving off the platform after Eddie and coming up behind him as he taunted one of the floating jellyfish-like Ultra Beasts.
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Concern shot through him, a flash of cold against the burning heat of the Chain pumping Arceus-knew-what into his back, as Eddie flagged after his first riposte. Growling, he moved forward to swing at the Nihilego directly, taking his place between Eddie and the Beast to ward off potential attacks against the other man. They could do it, he knew, as long as they made up for each other's deficiencies.
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He joined in the laughter, taking another heavy swing with a grin that bore just a touch of feral edge. He could think of worse things, right now.

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