[attr="class","samjermain"]The redhead laughed. “I hope you’re still saying that later.” Not because she thought she was the best. Not by a longshot. Sure, she was a moron, but she’d always had a healthy sense of self. But because she wanted Rose to keep thinking it. That’d mean the woman was safe. It’d mean an out-of-control Leaguer hadn’t blasted her naive brain into Swiss cheese. Another stain on Madd’s freckled cheeks.

“That’s a good thing.” Madeline ventured after a moment. “This place is dangerous.” A hidden hand tightened into a fist, something about the impotent gesture felt comforting. But it did nothing to stem off the tide of vitriol. As Rose flew back, Madd’s brain thawed. That first Ice Shard would be followed by another.

What came next was all instinct. “Obstruct!” The dopey Obstagoon’s face twisted in a snarl as a glimmering barrier appeared between them and the attackers. Big boots slammed into the cement as she stood over Rose’s prone form. As the soldiers rushed the square, she found herself stiffening. The feeling of that mask—Badger--washed over her. Sure, she could surrender but that wouldn’t save them. And she didn’t think Rose deserved to die.

“Yakky. Let’s go.” Though trembling, the woman gestured her oldest friend forward. She turned a shaky smile to Rose. Nobody could see them yet. They’d probably think there was one of them. Maybe it was time to take a bullet to the dome. Go out doing something good.

It’s around that time that a stream of blinding fire erupts from the alleyway directly ahead of them. A worn looking Magcargo slides her way into view. Its stalked eyes—one gold and one swollen shut—stare at the tide of people. “Moxxie!” There’s a tremble to those muffled tones. “Thank Arceus.” Her Pokemon weren’t disposable to her. They’d drug her out of the biggest pits in her life. Even if none of them had actual hands to do it with.

A bullet buries itself in a building next to her.

Suddenly, the idea of paying the ultimate price is a lot less appealing. “Snarl! Give it everything you got!” The Obstagoon unleashed a Big Bad Wolf howl through the nearby streets. Already cracked buildings worsened. “Mox.” The beleaguered slug blinked up at her trainer. “Rockslide.” With a reverberation, the slug called stones down from the aether. The resulting vibrations brought all the loosened stuff crashing down.

“Let’s get out of here.” Madd reached a hand down for Rose. “That should buy us a few seconds.” As long as they didnt have any flying Pokemon or a ghost type or—Arceus, this shit was complicated.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","samjermain"]“No one’s perfect.” The redhead murmured in response to Rose. The clumsy naming was definitely a pretty harmless trait. Especially since it wasn’t super offensive. The name wasn’t a racial epithet or anything. Still, it was good to hear that nurse was working at it. Maybe if she kept at trying to leave Rocket, she’d succeed one day. But the fact that she was here showed how well that was working.

Madd watched the trio around her devolve into argument. Her own ire was quickly washed away by the other girls. She watched silently as Absinthe stepped up to Eve. “What about my wardrobe?” A hand hovered over the stale pack of cigarettes in her coat pocket. But a deep breath stymied the urge. It wasn’t exactly time for an emergency cigarette. Nobody was dying.

As Absinthe pushes ahead, Madd does the same. Her Obstagoon lopes behind her. Blood sizzles as it drops from his nose to the wiry expanse beneath. Anyone familiar with her would know it was too fast. Though she avoided the worst of the debris (thanks Yakuza), she still had an arm coated in sludge. As they neared the next part of their trial, the woman reached out a hand to ‘steady’ Absinthe.

“Careful.” She murmurs about nothing in particular. Maybe it’s a warning. Reality? She just wants to spot up the exploder’s wardrobe too. Make the team match for once. But that warning soon was gifted a purpose.

Ahead of them was another chunk of fallen metal. It looked like a Tesla coil gone awry. But they might be able to clamber over it? Seems almost too easy. “I wonder if it’s—one sec.” She grabbed her Blastoise’s ball to bring a water-type to the field. A Hydro Pump or something should kick up sparks, right? Like toasters in bathtubs?

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","samjermain"]It takes everything in Madd not to laugh at Rose’s pout. What comes out instead is a wet, whimpering hiccup. The pink-haired woman’s insistence earns a smile. It’s rare to run into a Rocket that’s so trusting. Most of them were like Ursaring in bear traps, trapped and gnawed on by so-called good people. Parents who didn’t love them. Tortured by out-of-control Leaguers. Street rats and vagrants forgotten by society.

And, even if she’s not intimidating, the woman’s right. Her entire body is still shaking. Though it’s started to dry, there’s still blood on her hands and face. If she ran into somebody, she isn’t sure if she’d lash out, surrender, or go catatonic. “There are worse people to be stuck with.” The redhead offers an empty, stressed smile. At least having a human being along gave her someone to act for. A motivation to put back on the mask—figuratively and literally.

After a few minutes, the taller woman turns to face Rose. Her hand still shakes, but there’s a tension and motive too. This beanpole is obviously even worst equipped for a fight than Madeline is. “You all right?” The redhead murmured behind her reattached mask. “You seem a little…jumpy.” Though it isn’t visible, a carrot brow jerks skyward. But there isn’t time to ponder that.

A movement on the horizon catches amber eyes. “Smoke.” For a moment, Madd freezes.

She’s scared. Both of what waits and who might not. Suddenly, her boots feel like hunks of drying concrete.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","samjermain"]The redhead rarely stands straight. The effect of years of being mocked for looking like a giant and basketball star. Madd does her best to make her face look soft, but it’s hard when she’s panicked. That and she inherited her dad’s resting asshole face.

The Misdreavus earns a wave from the redhead. For some reason, the gesture’s awkward. There’s something about Vespa’s look that gives Madd stage fright. That and she’d never been good with kids. “Yeah.” The Rocket grunt murmurs after a moment. Her eyes drift upward to the upside down islands among them. “It’s preeeetty strange.” A shake of her head sends freshly styled hair falling around her cheeks.

Movement from the corner of her eyes send her whirling around. It looked like someone’s hand trying to cover her face.

After being in her fair share of Ultra spaces, Madd is familiar with the weirdness. It doesn’t make her like it. The woman prefers to watch horror movies, not star in them. A hand dipped into her jacket to pull out her phone. “No signal.” She sighs. “Of course.” She jumps as claws wrap around her shoulder. But it’s just Yakuza trying to get her attention.

A glowing doorway is hanging above them and to the right. Maybe it was a way out of this mess? Anything was better than just quivering in darkness. If Aubre’s experience told her anything, it was that the exits rarely stuck to the same place. “You ever see The Labyrinth?” This question is uncertain. Was it really worth it to test this theory? With a deep breath, Madd throws a leg into the abyss.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","samjermain"]“Good point.” Madd acknowledges Evelyn’s worry with a sigh. She was surprised she’d never seen Cillian Quinn and Fernando Silph throwing down on Black Friday. The factions squabbled over everything like anorexic alleycats. The idea that they now shared Sootopolis was laughable.

The Obstagoon staggers back from his strike with ringing ears. He shakes his head trying to quell the noise. Only happenstance allows him to dodge the first two grunt’s attacks. As the other two step in, the badger took a moment to nurse his pains.

“Creepy, huh?” Madd questions Rose offhandedly. Sure, her names were stupid, but she never compared any Pokemon to a nasty old pervert. Still, the little creature’s Wood Hammer was pretty solid. The Hydro Pump collided with the weak spot. But the metal wasn’t breaking or shattering. It was just bending. “Maybe we should play with tempera—” Her brow rose as Absinthe stepped forward.

That woman’s next protest earns a scowl. But there’s no time to protest.

She hears the order. “Shit!” The redhead threw her arm over herself as garbage and steel rained down around them. An Obstruct from her Obstagoon stops most of it, but a rotten banana peel smacks into her face with a wet squelch.

“Well. That’s one way to do it.” Madd murmured as the potassium curtain slid off her face. Anything she was going to say was cut off by Evelyn's complaining. And, since her sentiment was the same, she didn't see any reason to protest. The redhead did, however, take a few steps across the now opened pathway.

Hopefully, there were no dirty hepatitis needles in that bag.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","samjermain"]Sure, she’d had amnesty talks. But breaking free of this terrorist symbiote was tough. It clung to you like goo, dragging you back in with horror stories and traitor executions. A war raged within herself that was harder to accept than the one in Hoenn. And, honestly, she didn’t know which side was winning. Sure, she could justify still being here all kinds of ways. But, really, Madd was scared.

Though avoiding the battle itself had been easy, the patrols that followed were tougher. So, she found herself making rounds on Route 112. “At least it’s quiet.” The woman’s voice emerges from beneath her plain mask.

It sounds drained. That emotion is audible even through the static.

At her side, her Obstagoon’s muzzle twitches. Slowly, he offers a soft, empathetic grin. Big burly arms reach out to gently squeeze Madd’s uniformed arm. They’d both made a mistake getting suckered into this shit. But, hey, no matter what, he’d be there with her. “Thanks, Yakky.” Madeline murmurs after a moment. The badger leans close as if to give her a hug. She laughs as the badger proceeds to stick his tongue out at her. “Yeah. You know what? I take it back.” An insult followed."Dickbag.”

Hopeful this shift would end without conflict—a task that required a careful dance—-the woman somewhat relaxed. Tense shoulders lowered as a warm breath clouded the inside of her visor.

The Crobat above them lets out an alert. It faces behind them, what military dweebs would call six o'clock. “Shit.” The redhead shakes her head as she edges forward. The guy on the other side isn’t in uniform. And he doesn’t feel like a Rocket. Just the kind of anomaly she wasn't looking for. “So much for that.” Holding up a hand for pause, she gestures Yakuza to stay. Her eyes flick up to the Crobat that flits across the clearing.

“I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to be here=.” Suddenly, that soft voice is deep. Some people had a phone voice. Some people had a baby and dog voice. Madeline? She had a ‘I’m a big terrorist grunt.’ voice. “How about you fuck off?”

A gesture to her bat predicated an Air Slash. One that didn’t seem intended to actually hit.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","samjermain"]Again, she finds herself in Ultra Plant. The entire air thrums with electricity, the ever-present smell of ozone is impossible to escape. Spider webs of wire criss cross the ground, disturbing in the organicness of their structure.

The pink-haired nurse in the group is part of why she volunteered.

The redhead had plenty of experience in this place. She’d even acquired a new bud here—a tangle of wires known affectionately as ACDC. The thick rubber soles of her boots weren’t just a punk accessory here. They helped protect Madd from shocks. A pair of rubber gloves were wrapped around her hands. “Really wish they’d repurpose this place.” She sighs as a hand runs down a wire. “All this power? I bet we’d never have to pay another electric bill.”

Arceus, her hair is probably a mess. She's glad there isn't a mirror Ultra Beast.

Behind her, two towering Pokemon walked. One is the slim Xurkitree mentioned earlier. He dances nimbly from wire to wire, resembling an amorphous spider. Directly behind her is an Obstagoon. It’s obvious he’s uncomfortable, his muzzle twisted into a grimace. Each lightning strike set his teeth on end. But he didn’t like Madd journeying with a bunch of strange weirdos alone.

Her eyes narrow as their path is cut off by what looks like a fallen spaceship. It’s wedged between two plates. A glance upward—where electricity sparks between oversized Tesla coils—makes her think going up is suicide. “Pretty sure we need to go forward.” Her voice is clipped. “AC, can you—”

Yakuza steps forward with a shake of his head. Though shaking, he seems ready to go. “All right, bud.” Madd offers with a nod of acceptance. “Do your worst.”

The bulky badger charges the obstruction with a Double Edge.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","samjermain"]Her initial response is a tight, shivering smile. “Yeah.” Some part of her imagined it could end like this, but she hadn’t been too worried about it. She thought there’d be glory and all that other shit military recruiters opined about. Hell, she couldn’t even really imagine what it’d feel like. You didn’t feel blood spray when you watched an action movie. After a moment, she nodded. “What about you?” This angel seemed more insightful than she could ever be. All she’d been was angry.

Her laugh is bitter. Sure, she wasn’t injured but that didn’t mean she was okay. Not by a long shot. “Tell that to my therapist.” Not that she had—or would ever have—one.

Talking to them about her issues would mean admitting a lot of illegal shit. And she really didn’t trust confidentiality. At Rose’s encouragement, the taller woman sighs. It’s almost as if her very soul is being pushed away. “I always do.” And that, more than anything, made this worse. No matter what she did or who she hurt, she found a way to shove it aside for later. To tell herself she’d deal with it eventually.

Every month she decided it’d be the time she left Rocket. And, yet, she kept waking up in this same Arceus damned nightmare. Every ounce of blood spilt just filled the tiger trap deeper. The latter’s first rung always shattered. For a so-called tough guy, she really was a baby. “One foot in front of the other, right?”

The pronouncement drew the redhead’s attention. A muscular hand tightened in the brick. “I think that’s pretty obvious.” She was in a terrorist organization. There was some person’s brains on her face. It’d be weird if she wasn’t off-kilter. At the offer, Madd smiled. “I would try to stop you, but—” There was a lot of Aubre in her. And experience told her there was no stopping the martyr type. They’d slit their wrists to water a tree in front of a logger. Her sentence is punctuated not with a period but a resigned shrug.

There wasn’t any fight in this badger.

“Just stay behind me, okay?” At least, if someone got shot, it’d be the asshole who deserved it.

A shaky breath erupted as she took a step into the empty street. Her lips pressed together as she realized se didn’t know the way. It wasn’t like she’d Google mapped ‘place to hide from enemy soldiers’ on her phone. “I think it’s this way.” A sticky footprint confirmed she remembered that much.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","samjermain"]After the clusterfuck that was Petalburg, Madd needed a minute. But even 27 showers couldn’t quite erase the feeling of someone else’s blood on her hand. Even now—miles and miles away from the scene—she could still feel the lump where brain had landed.

But this stupid fishing shop almost made her feel normal. With a sharp stick in her hand, the redhead was cleaning trash off the rocky little beach. A trashbag behind her was already filled with a bunch of human garbage. Discarded chip bags, cigarette butts, and even a stray condom or two. Apparently the sight of a fishing shack got some teenagers horny. “I’m about done over here. What about you, Yakky?” There are bags under her eyes almost as big as the trash bag.

Madd is jealous of the badger across from her. The dark-type is seemingly unphased by all the bullshit they’ve been through. He’s jamming out to some heavy metal on his custom earbuds, rocking his fat fuzzy ass to the music. But he hears her shout above the water. He nods. And the he freezes. A single claw lifts to point to something behind his best bud. “?”

She’s jerked backward with a grunt and into the gate behind her. The last thing she sees is his claws reaching out for her before everything goes black. Then, she’s hanging upside down like Jareth in the labyrinth. “What the—?” Orange eyes scan the area around her. But it’s just weird. And that’s saying a lot considering she’s been to a living power plant. That’s when she hears someone screaming the ABCs.

A quick pat of her pocket reveals her cigarettes are missing too. Dangit.

“I hate this place.” That’s her last spoken words as she begins making her way up (down?) the rocky staircase towards the voice. It reminds her of a voice she hasn’t heard in a while. One that she’s still not convinced wasn't real.

Eventually, she sees Vespa curled up on the ground. Though she cuts an intimidating figure—built like a giant Oranguru and towering over most men—there’s something soft in her demeanor. “Hey.” There’s a pause as she steps toward her. A hand reaches across the abyss to help her up. “You all right?”

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","samjermain"]The guy has a cool name. It’s way better than the Pride and Prejudice stuff her parents forced her into. She can’t help but wonder if he chose it or if he lucked out with hippy-dippy parents.Her Obstagoon offers up a pair of rock horns in assent; the dork always had to be extra. After a second, she nods. “You got it.” There was zero problem calling people what they wanted to be called in her book.

Madd shifts in her seat. There’s something nerve wracking about talking about herself. It was like turning a mirror on her inner organs or something. But the payment sounded pretty good. It’d be enough to get Yakuza a new bed in the guest room. Since he evolved, that twin bed wasn’t doing much. “Right.” It was too late to back out now. Hopefully, those nerves would vanish after a few questions. “It’s nice to meet you both.” She murmured after a minute. The dog’s name earned a snicker from the badger.

A toss of a balled up straw paper cut him off.

Of course, he opened up with the worst interview question ever. It’d always felt like a trap to her. You had to walk a tightrope between giving too much and too little information. Obviously, the terrorist stuff was out. But it wasn’t like Madeline McKenna was interesting. She was a working stiff just like everybody else. The last time she won an award was a martial arts tournament as a teenager. “Well…” She tugs at her shirt’s collar as she looks for something to start with.

“I help run a fishing shop out in Slateport. Teach kids to fish and give water Pokemon a place to go.” So far, so good. Sure, the shack was a shit hole, but it was the only untainted part of her life. She got to see kids smile as they cast their first line into the water. “Yakuza helps me out. Sometimes daylights at a warehouse in the outskirts.” Those muscles weren’t just for show after all.

But work wasn’t all she was, right? “Two of my uncles were in the Elite Four, and I grew up in Galar.” Until her dipshit of a dad drug them off to some hellhole in Johto. That’d been when her life took a bad turn. “Yakky was actually my second starter Pokemon.” Her laugh is a bit stilted. “The first was a Clefable if you can believe it.” Wasn’t this about dark-type Pokemon? Should she mention that?

Arceus, she hoped she didn’t look like a moron.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","samjermain"]The redhead wants to sigh. She isn’t sure getting stepped on qualifies as an attack. But it should be enough. As the Roaring Moon draws close, she collapses into the dust. Cherry Bomb’s brawl behind her throws up dirt and grime. Leaves obscure the pantomime as Madeline falls to the ground. It’s graceless. The thump is harder than it needs to be. But this needs to look legitimate.

“Sand Storm!” The redhead shouts into the aether. The dragon’s natural element heeds its call as it pauses for the briefest moment. It doesn’t care about the weirdness in front of it. Whatever her trainer does is no business of hers. She then returns to hacking at the beast in front of her. The fact that it’s taller than her makes the miniscule dragon angry.

A curtain of sand falls over them. It howls and bites. Leaves turn into miniature shurikens. The detritus obscures the pantomime as Madeline falls to the ground. It’s graceless. The thump is harder than it needs to be. But this needs to look legitimate.

“AH!” A hand reaches up to her damp uniform and tears at a small hole. "No! Get off!" Her nails, though blunt, dig deeply enough to coax out blood. It’s then that the grunts stumble out of the bushes. One of them rushes to check on her and help the ‘dazed’ trainer to her feet.

A hand locks around the goth kid’s arm as she faux stumbles to her feet. “Shit!” She seethes. Rocket really isn’t all bad. “I can’t believe her Roaring Moon just hit me.” Arceus, she’s a terrible actor. The sand howls around them.

Hopefully, the doctor took a hint.

Around that time, a burly Obstagoon rushed out of the undergrowth. Merlot eyes blinked.

What'd he miss?


Posts: 10 x 10 = 100
50 MP for "winning" or having a "positive" outcome for your character and their Skirmish thread.
25 MP for completing your Skirmish thread.
150 MP for having Rocket and League characters and faction-based conflict in the thread (no NPCs).
50 MP reference (tag) another character that is not in your thread in a meaningful way.
50 MP describe your character's pokeball throwing style.
50 MP involve the pokeballs of your pokemon in a meaningful way (e.g. type of pokeball described to reflect the pokemon or character, damaging them, seizing them).
25 MP include a theme song or visual involving your character meaningfully in your post.
50 MP have an antagonistic exchange of dialogue between your character and another writer's character or NPC.
50 MP include a motif or recurring symbol of some kind in your thread (cugarettes).
50 MP have your character learn to respect another character in some way.
50 MP have your character be injured by another's pokemon directly or indirectly.
25 MP for knocking out another Pokemon in your skirmish thread.
50 MP for getting your Pokemon knocked out in your skirmish thread.
25 MP for completing your Skirmish thread.
150 MP for "losing" or having a "negative" outcome for your character and their Skirmish thread.
150 MP for having Rocket and League characters and faction-based conflict in the thread (no NPCs).


TOTAL: 1175

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","samjermain"]The redhead stiffened at Tori’s proclamation.

The lover boys hadn’t ran for the hills. Which meant they were doing this. Orange eyes shit briefly to the forest behind her, half hoping someone will interrupt. But that isn’t happening. So, she either has to Ponyta up or risk being pegged as a traitor. And there’s no telling what Rocket does to traitors.

Her eyes widen as the chain scythes are lit by the flicker of the Zeraora. Sure, she noticed the things. But she thought they were like cosplay accessories. Maybe made out of plastic. She definitely didn’t expect the lady to use them. As the Lickilicky takes to the field, the redhead hopes it’ll succeed. That its clumsy, gelatinous limbs will rip those weapons from Tori’s prim, little proper hands.

But any thought of that battle ends as the mustachioed thing turns its eyes on her. A hand lifts automatically in a brief sign of peace. But those fingers quickly turn into a fist. Sure, she didn’t want to be here, but it wasn’t like she could say that. His comment made her blush beneath her mask.

The guy’s right. Tori is a loose cannon. But it’s not something she wants aimed at her. “She did give you guys a chance, Bird Boy.” She recognizes him. Her cousin—Aubre McKenna-Settentrione—had been talking about challenging his gym for a while. “Not like there’s anything to fight for.”

There were no dead bodies or injured people to protect. Just a patch of empty ground in a rubble strewn wasteland

The two featherheads had a lot in common. If it was Aubre out there, could she attack her? Could she tear her Pokemon apart? They’re not her. Just two more strangers, Madd. His request earns an irritable gaze, one hidden by the flat plane of her mask. “She’s a strong independent woman. I cant tell her what to do.” And that’s true.

Madd also spots the affection between the two. It’s obvious the dark-haired one is the softer of them. Which means, hopefully, he’s easier to spook.

Time’s up. The remark was directed at Lam and Rook, but Madd can’t shake the idea that it was meant for her. If she didn’t act now, she’d join them on the pyre. And, at the end of the day, she was a selfish little shit. A figurative mask slid over the real one. Right now, she wasn’t the second oldest McKenna. The girl who hosted BINGO nights at the old folk’s home. She was Badger.

The Weather Ball interrupts her inner debate. “Dragon Rush!” Glowing purple, the dragon uses a burst of draconid energy to dash under the Weather Ball. Wreathed in purple, it tries to tackle the genie. Her eyes slide to Rook as the Kanto rocket rushed forward. Sure she couldn’t directly help, but she could maybe make it hurt less.

A Crobat burst from the ball. Fingers shift briefly in the light. “Air Slash!” He charges for Rook and unleashes a burst of flying-type energyn. She hopes it’s enough to bowl him out of the way. Maybe scratch him up a bit. A punch of wind would hurt a lot less than steel in the gut.

• Crobat 'attacks' Rook with Air Slash
• Garchomp dodges Weather Ball with and attacks with Dragon Rush

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]