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[attr="class","samjermain"]A cough tore from her mouth as Aubre finally crawled onto solid ground. Now blood-red hair was plastered to her face in filthy rows. Mud now mixing with earlier scrapes and muddying her wounds. For a moment, she just lays there. Her breaths are shallow and rushed. Every heartbeat was a pounding in her ears. Feel that coldness? It’s stone. The smell isn’t of an alley is it, Aubre?

Gradually, she manages to rein in her panic. The voices and circumstances around her move from panicked white noise—a fast-forwarded filler scene—to the intelligible conversation. With a grunt, she pushed herself up. When her eyes lift, it is not the severed limb that draws her attention. Instead, they are glued onto the kindling embers beneath it. With a noise somewhere between a sob and a snarl, the doctor sends a wave of swamp water washing over it. “Nnngh!” Shred likely gets caught in the spray.

With shaking limbs, Aubre rises to her feet. A shaky breath follows as she tries to get her thoughts in order. Frantic green eyes flick across the cave;s occupants, finally coming to rest at an unoccupied wall. It’s not their fault they didn’t notice your mental breakdown. You cannot blame them. Just tell them what you want. But, for her, being assertive was hard.

It was easier to hide.

Especially when it came to acknowledging that night. “Excuse me!” The woman speaks up to those around her—the sounds of tears tint her voice. “I am not trying to be any trouble, I—I know how hard this is for everyone.” Not wanting to look into anyone’s eyes, she wanders toward an unattended cage. As she goes, a few papers and shards are tugged into her arms.

“But if you could refrain from—” Aubre shook her head. “--I would just like a heads-up if any of you plan on setting (me) something on fire. Or, well, using dogs.” Green eyes drifted to the cliff’s edge. Riolu drew no sign of fear as she considered it more human than canid. Even from here, she could see the dim lights of the ship. “Please.” Noticing the containers were far too tough for Ricardo’s air attacks, she returned the bird with his blessing.

Sure, this could be a trap. Maybe even another hungry Megalopan a few minutes away from turning her into a hors d’oeuvre. But Aubre stepped forward. Even if this was dangerous, it was better to fall doing the right thing than to live doing nothing. Or, at least, that’s what she told herself as she stumbled away from the container.

“Stay back from the bars, okay?” The Gyarados was called to their position with a sharp whistle. As a creature who’d spent his entire life in a cage—forced to fight and kill friends for fun--the sight of the prison was almost as triggering as the attack itself. “Get them out, Chester. Please.” With a snarl, the water type moved to chomp through the heavy-duty lock.

lCXNS7Ak

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[attr="class","samjermain"]When Aubre challenged Josh Devlin, she had no illusions about winning. And, even if she was victorious, the doctor knew it’d never feel deserved. After all, she had deprived him of his specialty type. But, in the end, just holding the badge filled her with a sense of accomplishment.

So, after another week at the office, she decided to sign up for a second one.

Though, this time, it was a bit less traditional. It made her less guilty. In an obstacle course, she doubted fire would be present. The insurance costs of something like that seemed exorbitant. Then again, the waiver wasn’t exactly comforting. But this route wasn’t guiltless either.

Her three battlers were disappointed that they wouldn’t be involved. Maggie had pouted and stormed off in a cloud of pollen. The Heliolisk coerced his disappointment pretty well. Serena just let loose a sound of disappointment. “Next time, I promise.”

They’d insisted on coming today, for moral support. But, like her, they enjoyed the sights as well. Fortree was a gorgeous city—a truly innovative place to live.

But, in reality, there was another reason she went non-traditional. Flying had once been her freedom. Something she’d denied herself for years. Something she now knew her friend—her sister--would never have wanted her to do. Though she hadn’t taken back to the air out of choice. That decision had been forced on her by the failed catch-and-rehabilitate case beside her.

A strong, muscular Dragonaite stared at the gym leader across from them with a twisted, cocksure grime. The scars from his head injury were now worn with pride. A newly bought saddle—vegan leather—was wrapped around his back. “I must say, Mister Ivanov. Your sanctuary is stunning.” Forest green eyes lifted to what she could see of the course. “Maybe we can trade ideas when I—well—finish.”

If she wasn’t a stain on the floor.

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[attr="class","samjermain"]Too busy raging on the alien’s base to notice his trainer’s distressed state, Chester does not follow them immediately into the tunnel.

Typically known for her hesitant nature, Aubre did not falter as she splashed into the water. Her progress was fast and frantic, an occasional stumble sending her chin under the waves. In some ways, the water’s iciness was comforting. It counteracted the phantom burning that threatened to engulf her back. In an attempt to calm his trainer, the Oricorio shifted to her head.

A series of calming whistles emerged—the song once used to lull Aubre’s fussy daughter to sleep. Unfortunately, this beautiful tune ended in a surprised squawk as a Dhelmise swept his trainer’s feet out from under her. “!?” Viscous, icy water covered her head—staining her bright red hair. Fortunately, Ricardo reacted quickly—his wings beating back the vines with a powerful Air Cutter. In doing so, he hoped to disentangle the seaweed that brought these stupid anchors to life.

The sudden swim seems to shake the doctor out of her fugue state. What a worthless burden you are. She wanted to laugh. Fighting all these years to drown in some nameless alien hellhole. What a riot. Above the water, two fire attacks rage courtesy of Tempest Quinn and Oliver Shrakes. Her bum hits the base of the water. Above, the two fire punches light up the ceiling like fireworks. What’s the point? Why even bother getting up? All that smoke will just clog up the tunnel.

Then, a purple shape swoops by, the Oricorio’s panic plain as he circles her spot in the water—like a vulture eager for the next meal. "Corio!? Ori!?" At about that time, his shadow blocks out the fire.

She remembers Michaela. The desperate way she clings to her before bed. The expression of her father the last time she had given up. Then, of course, there are her patients and her husband. She reminds herself that her life isn't her own.

Back into the fray, Aubre. Get up, you coward. Gripping onto a nearby chain—courtesy of a Dhelmise—the doctor moves to pull herself from her swampy baptism. Just don’t look at it, okay? Which, of course, made her want to do exactly that.

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[attr="class","samjermain"]What’s the Lucis II? The fact that they were food did not bother her as much as the idea that she’d be taken. Why are they doing all of this? Why not just pick up someone the old-fashioned way. Her hands trembled. Killing her was one thing, but the doctor could not live in chains. That was why she fought so strongly against the Ultra Beast’s gelatinous hold.

Ricardo and the Ludicolo’s dance sent the Megalopans scrambling against one another. In confusion, tentacles began to clasp desperately at one another. A few of them lunged for their compatriots. “Thank—thank you, Riccy.” Aubre gasped with a smile. The Nihelego around her seemed to be unsure of what to do next. Its magenta tongue pulsated irregularly against her skin.

As their captors fell, Aubre’s mind was racing a mile ahead. Surprisingly, she felt little sympathy for the Megalopans—only a strange sense of displaced empathy. The sight of the bodies should have made her nauseous. But, right now, there were important things to worry about. Her frantic planning did not skip a beat as the Nihelego embracing her vanished in a shower of elemental waste. A gasp of air brought fresh air into her lungs. Or, well, as fresh as a swampy cave could be, anyway.

Free of his bonds, and deprived of enemies, the elderly Gyarados turned his rage on what was left: the equipment. WIth a snarl, he drenched the machines in water, taking a chunk out of one with his teeth. For once, the normally placid creature showed why his species were known for their rage.

There were murmurs of reinforcements. And the corpses in the swamp had been far from exhausted. “Chester, use Whirlpool to block the—” The Gyarados moved to obey, churning the water outside into a maelstrom. “...the…entrance.” But the redhead didn’t hear him. Plate-sized pupils sunk to pinpricks as Cadeyrn Osmond’s Charizard unleashed a burst of flames and fire. Her own back lit up with pain, the illusion of attack almost sending her to her knees.

Any words said to her—including Thomas Benoit's encouragement—were just white noise. Somewhere in the chaos, she returned the beleaguered Gyarados. These close quarters didn’t give him room to maneuver.

The air of damp was suddenly tinged with the smell of wet dog. The offers of healing went ignored. The blood from her mauled shoulder soon joined the furrows bitten nails dug into her skin. Count to 10, Aubre. Now. She tried. But it was hard to catch her—-to do what her therapist said—in a place like this. Grounding was hard when everything felt surreal.

Run! Run! Some of those words blurred into a hound’s hungry howl. She swallowed. Shook her head to clear some of the cobwebs.

“Corio?” Ricardo turned from his socializing with his dance partner to see his trainer take a few shambling steps. His head tilted as he watched her approach the lit tunnel. It didn’t matter that the other one was what she’d prefer. She just wanted water. It’d hopefully put the fire out. Not in her right mind—and eager to get away from that--she moved to run onto the now-cooled swamp water.

With a noise of alarm, Ricardo took to the air to hover over her shoulder. Bright eyes peered suspiciously down at the water. He prepared an air cutter as his trainer sank into the water. If she felt the cold water, she didn’t show it. The ghosts of her past scared her far more than the aliens of the present.

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[attr="class","samjermain"]The bluish tint was hard to discern earlier—between the fog and muk. But, as she stares into the corpse’s face, it is impossible to miss. This body is nowhere near old enough to turn blue. Is it a Megalopan?

Something stirs nearby. Another one of the supposed bodies. Immediately, her heart drops. Suddenly, it made sense why the dispatcher had been confused. This had not been a call for do-gooders. It’d been a trap.

One laid by a bunch of cannibalistic madmen. And, unfortunately, one her martyr complex had sent her stumbling into.

Leon was right. Oh, Arceus! What do I do? She tries to shout a warning, but her voice withers in her throat. All that emerges is a panicked gasp.

As the last pieces fall into place, a hand wraps around one of her ankles. “!?” Aubre gasps as she falls onto her stomach in the muck. Drag and kick though the doctor does, it proves as ineffective as a thorn against a Rhydon. In the end, only a single green boot shows she’d been there at all.

Chester, noticing her distress, rushes toward her. But even the Gyarados falls to the swipes of the oncoming horde. Through the muck and brackish waters, he briefly catches his trainer’s panicked eyes.

Another set of fingers joins the first set. In her mind, this blossoms into a dozen clawing limbs. Each of them tearing into her like starving dogs an abandoned piece of steak. A sense of despair threatens to overwhelm her. “AH!” She sucks in a mouthful of gunk as a ring of sharp teeth slam into the skin between her neck and shoulder.

Her struggling begins anew. As she turns to look, the blue face shifts into something almost wolfish. The waters swirling into strange, undulating bricks. Green eyes shrink to pinpricks as tears begin to roll down her face.When a robin’s egg hand slides over her mouth, digging into her cheeks, she slams her teeth into it with everything she has. Blood fills her mouth as the thing hisses behind her.

A fist smacks into the back of her head. When the stun fades, she finds herself wrapped in the embrace of a Nihilego. Its tentacles wrap around her the embrace of a psychopathic, territorial lover. Though she wishes to bite—like some cornered, feral animal—her mind remembers that it is poison coursing through this creature. A fact driven home when a strange, maroon tentacle brushes one of her dripping wounds.

Bile rises in her mouth. Hot and viscous. But she swallows it down as her mind tries to plan an escape. Her eyes notice the change in one woman’s hair color. Kazimir Wynter’s biting is met with a wince—that would likely not be good. With a great deal of effort, she manages to flick her two returned Pokemon’s balls onto the floor. Her panicked eyes meet Chester across the laboratory—his entire form stretched across the like a pinned butterfly.

His thrashing shakes the very ceiling, but the grip still holds. “DOSSSSSSS!”

Any planning, however, is interrupted as the ‘rescuers’ emerge from the cave’s entrance. Her eyes flick gratefully up to @thomas, but then the place turns into hell. She is grateful for the Nihilego as attacks fly every which way. One of them—a hurricane of coins—sends a piece of metal into her forehead (thanks, howard slayte and Shred). The normally kind, quiet doctor (already scared and overwhelmed), cannot help but shout. "FUCK!" This noise startles her captor for a moment. “Watch what you’re doing!” Realizing this is quite rude, she adds: “Please.”

Even as she says it, she realizes this brand of chaos may be just what this situation needs. Come on. Just a little lower. I can almost get it. Her foot gently taps a Pokeball. Unfortunately, it does not belong to Maggie (judging by the sticker on its side). That means Stun Spore is out. Still, there had to be something she could do.

From it, her Oricorio emerges. It only takes a moment for the flirtatious bird a moment to figure out who the bad guys are—the ugly rats in the masks. “Ricardo!” She croaks even as the tentacle tightens around her throat. Panicked eyes flick toward the line of Nihelego and Megalopans. “T-teeter Dance!”

It was their attackers' turn to learn how these tentacles felt.

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