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Sassy as it may have come off, Ashley grunts in return to the Tyranitar comments. He might as well have been dressed like a brick shithouse Tyranitar as is, so it made sense. Mecha though? Why were they mecha?[break][break]

The door rattles from an impact back the way they came, attempting to bust off the hinges. They had time, limited as it may be.[break][break]

When Mint continues about Greyson, he scowls downwards. He didn't want to talk about it. They didn't have much time, but to the mention of the cheap office room, he just nods. "Orphanage back in Kanto. Celadon City. The owner could hardly pay for us to eat. Most of the time, I had to steal from the markets to get my meal for the day." He doesn't want to go into it. He lives a much better life now, with a better person, eating better food. But he still pulls his mask down, and shows his disdain.[break][break]

The turnaround, however, is probably worse, as a baby's cries shocks him to attention, as he looks towards the door Mint was peeking in on. The way he froze, as the roars came. When the door was left open, Ashley nods, returning Bongo for now to his Pokeball as he slides in, following through paparazzi, photographers, and even punching a journalist in the jaw.[break][break]

A door blasts off the hinges back the way they came. And Ashley turns his head. It was fine. They had to detect the duo. It meant they had time.[break][break]

"What the hell is with these assholes? Why are they even here for a baby? The hell is Fisk?" He finds himself asking, picking up his pace. Each step was more a gallant leap, and with each step away from that dark hallway, the better. But he isn't prepared for what is to come.[break][break]

The hospital doors slide open.[break][break]

The city streets of old Celadon. The markets, the stalls, all selling food. The feeling of paranoia drags him down, as his face turns to squints. Hatred. Clinching his fists, kids moving to steal food from the stalls, chased to give it back. The lack of choice prevalent in every action, every piece of bread needed to stave out starvation. Staring at the past was an abyss of its own, a mousetrap that led to a level of pain, no cheese awaiting the pests who desired to look in.[break][break]

Back home, the rule was simple; to survive, steal your starvation away.[break][break]

"Come on. Dream isn't done with us yet." He sounds serious, as a mean-spirited kick to a stall knocks a bunch of apples over onto the pathway. Like he knew the weak point already, without even looking at it. When the mecha Tyranitar catch up, they can trip and fall and die.[break][break]

Fed up didn't begin to describe him right now... as they neared an old hideout he used to frequent. An old dumpster, with a dirty tire tunnel acting as the only door. Old metal surrounded it, with the ability to cave in at a moment's notice. A shitplace for the worse of the bottom dweller kids left behind by the League.[break][break]

"Typical."

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