Floating in the current, the Shedinja bumped against his shins. He thought it was a piece of driftwood for a second before the strange C-shaped halo caught around the meat of his calf and the thing flipped rightside up.

It was all waterlogged and bedraggled, and even more useless looking than these things normally looked. Onyx snorted, then shrugged, and touched a Pokeball to the creature's wet forehead.

catching shedinja

☉

He shifts back slightly in his chair, one forearm braced on the bar, and lets his gaze slide over to the poor girl he accused of accosting the obnoxious bastard. She has pink hair and a kind face. How unfortunate for them both.

She looks slightly panicked at the situation, but who wouldn’t? Especially because Onyx has, without pity, dropped it entirely in her lap.

In his defense, he had intended to get involved from the start-- he was the bouncer, after all, and while he couldn’t start the shit, he could certainly finish it.

"Oh, you didn't? My apologies, then. Must've been someone else's glass you threw."

He catches her venomous look, from the corner of his eye, and he grins in response.

The man whose head is still leaking blood follows Onyx’s pointed finger to the pink-haired girl who lapses into a soft and tender voice to try and placate him. The man is angry, but now he is also confused-- how could such a petite, attractive thing have ever accosted him? That clearly does not compute.

He makes the mistake of reaching out-- it’s a slow and uncoordinated gesture, there’s no real heat in it like he’s still struggling to process how a woman could have picked up such a heavy object like a drinking glass and found the aggression in her feminine heart to throw it at him. It’s all Onyx needs to spin round on the stool and grab the guy’s finger, bending it straight back to the meat of his hand with a snap.

“Sorry for interrupting your meal, miss,” Onyx says, casting Flora a wink before fully dealing with the unfortunate customer.

A choked-off scream escapes the man’s mouth as Onyx twists his arm behind his back, wrenching the elbow painfully, and directs him towards the door. “You are being ejected on the grounds of disturbing the peace,” he accuses, grin as sharp as the shards of glass that shatter under his boots.

The hostess makes a throat-cutting gesture at him and he grunts at the inconvenience of having to twist and drive the guy towards the employee side entrance, but at least he goes quietly. Well, mostly. He’s still making short little stuttered Tina Belcher gasps, likely dealing with the shock and pain of his very dislocated, likely very broken finger.

@flora
that's okay so is he
mission

☉

Unlike Andres, Onyx didn’t have the luxury of surplus cash. he could make a pretty penny selling Sharpedo teeth-- and given the looming apocalypse, items that supposedly warded off doomsdays were in high demand, right now.

He was wearing a full wetsuit (black and Rocket purple) and clambering out of the water, up onto the beach. He had a wet, zipped-up rectangular lunchbox that was darkened at the corners with a watery, red substance; the pale skin on his hand was stained with blood and he had some vicious, jagged scratches across his palms and forearms.

He hurt. He was used to hurting. But he had the better part of probably over a grand or two of shark teeth in his little lunchbox. More than enough to keep him comfortable for a while. It was worth it. But he hurt.

He was so focused on his hurt that he almost didn’t see the little brown menace streaking towards him until it was too late-- as it was, his brain registered not a threat, and he stood still as Pepino bounced off his shin. “Ugh,” he growled, giving the baby Zigzagoon a menacing look, but all it did was succeed in making him bark more.

Why did this keep happening?!

Onyx’s eyes tracked up the beach to Pepino’s trainer, but by then, the venom had drained from the glare and was replaced by exhaustion.

Blood dripped into the sand, watery and bright red.

“I’d accuse you of following me,” Onyx hissed, more tired than mean, “but that would be giving you too much credit.”

There was no heat to his words. Like the first time he’d run into Andres again, he couldn’t conjure the hatred. There was just an all-encompassing exhaustion that bled into sadness, a feeling he couldn’t place-- something too close to longing that set his teeth on edge and made his gut roil. At least the rampant horniness of their grocery store encounter was gone.

For the moment, anyway.

andres buenaventura

☉

His wild Pokemon hunting luck had been down and he’d taken a short break to get his mojo up. He was, unfortunately, collecting a group of the most un-Onyx like Pokemon known to man. He had a Hoppip, for god’s sakes.

It was ungodly hot, so he’d kicked off his shoes and socks and rolled up his pants to stand in the shallow water and cool off. A moment of tenderness, though he was on high alert the entire time. No one needed to see him like this.

bug/water

☉

He regards Adrian with a slightly raised eyebrow. “Are they? Hm.” Part of him feels like he should know more. Obviously, the impending end of the world is forefront on everyone’s mind.

But, truth be told, Onyx didn’t really give a rats ass about the world. He barely cared about himself. He could die tomorrow and it would be a nonevent. The sort of detachment he had to cultivate for survival spread to all facets of his life like gangrene through a limb.

He turns fully to face Adrian as the other man displays the Unown Report for him to see. And he does, in fact, pick up on the name. It’s either the same person or a coincidence, and Onyx doesn’t believe in coincidences.

“So you hunt down the Unown and… what? Scan ‘em? And then you get a bunch of codewords spit out?” Onyx asked, frowning. “That’s a bitch of a word search for the end of the world.”

Zia angrily pursued a Rotom, the static of its body causing her feathers to lift and stand on end. A sheen came over her wings and she crashed a steel wing into the mote of light, causing it to jar between the metal and less conductive stone of a nearby grave. Shaken, the Rotom spun off, wobbly in the air, and Onyx nailed it with a Pokeball.

”So there’s a bit of friendly competition between the Unown hunters, I’d wager?”

catch attempt rotom
adrian boutta make a friend
Adrian Malcolm

☉