[attr="class","samjermain"]Once the cursory examanition ended, Lydia returned the ID card to the front pocket of her vest. The sound of metal came from that pocket. A thin chain of steel pulled out as she placed the plastic against her chest. For a moment, dog tags became visible. 

After receiving an affirmative, Lydia moved forward to gently pull the man’s shirt up over his ribs. Already, bruises were forming along his ribs—some purpled by under the skin hemorhaging. Judging by the way he was breathing—like he was continuously being shanked—the soldier theorized one of them might be broken. “I do not think it’s fatal.” Lydia murmured, gently ghosting a thumb over a scrape.

Her cheeks colored ever so slightly.

While paid to take these supplies back to base camp, it seemed stupid to do so without using them for their intended purpose. “I’ll help you clean them.” With the extradimensional spores in the air tonight, Lydia did not want to leave open wounds exposed. Tearing into another swab, she quickly worked her way across his torso. Once satisfied with this, she applied waterproof bandages.


“There is not much we can do for the ribs.” She rattled through the nearest crate, emerging with a bottle of high-powered painkillers. “Try these.” With no water source around, she offered him her own water bottle. “It should take the edge off.”


While doing that, she gave him an up-and-down evaluation. “Do you have a transport Pokemon?” While she had two—three if you countered her mysterious ghoulish savor--the means of conveyance would not be particularly graceful. Not unless he enjoyed be carried bridal style.

[attr="class","samjer","samjertag"]

[attr="class","samjermain"]The man’s composure surprises Lydia. As did his mindless obedience. Most of the civilians she’d encountered that day were downright hysteric. They had spent hours trapped in a world of their own nightmares or been fleeing from active gunfire. A hundred questions spilled out when they saw someone safe. This man seemed calm by comparison.

But, Lydia reminded herself, no two people were alike. Perhaps this man was like a box of TNT. He appeared safe enough until the fire reached his figurative core. Then all hell broke loose. “Lydia is fine.” The blonde murmured, cheeks coloring slightly. It seemed strange for someone older than her to use such a matronly name. As far as she knew, she was not his CO or old enough to qualify as a ma’am.

With a final glance—checking that Shred is following and not frozen in terror—she and Minerva turn away. The hound is a few steps in front of her trainer when the Toxtricity is summoned. “!!” Before Minerva can turn around, Lydia reacts. She sidesteps the strike, moving to grab the electric type at its elbow. With a grunt, she places her foot against its webbed one. Then, using the Pokemon’s momentum against it, she aims to throw it over her shoulder.

A thin scratch mars porcelain cheeks, dripping sluggishly onto the cavern floor. “That was ill-advised.” She seethd. "And underhanded."

Minerva whirls on Shred, obviously not amused. Blue eyes filled with a feral rage as her lips raised in a snarl. Though typically not one for attacking non-combatants, she felt this lily-livered, has-been rocker deserved it. In a blur of white and tan, she charged Shred with an Accelrock.

“!?” Heimdall, meanwhile, paused beside a rock. A little, terrified Sandshrew was clasped in his hands. Looking between the three in confusion, he tucked the ball of plates under one arm. His red eyes jumped between the parties before him, not entirely sure what to do. Should he give this little guy back or what? “Rio?” He queries as the fighting begins.


The Sandshrew struggles in his grip, surprisingly feral. 
Notes

• +10 MP for post

[attr="class","samjer","samjertag"]

[attr="class","samjer","samjertag"]

[attr="class","samjermain"]As the Marowak fell, the Lycanroc stood over him. Her elegant muzzle twisted with rage, a deep growl rippling her chest as she resisted the urge to spit at the beast. How dare he hurt her pup. As he collapsed, the hound couldn’t resist stepping on his skull, aiming to drive his face into the dirt.

A shout from her trainer drew bright blue eyes upward. “Minerva!” Only now—cleared of battle—did she notice the titan flying above. “Get out of there!” As she moved to race away from the Dynamic Punch, one of Inigo’s bullets found its mark. It punched through her ruff and through her shoulder, coming out the other side. A pained yelp followed as the trusty lupine’s front collapsed into the dirt.

Panicked blue eyes—her trainer’s—turned toward the flaming projectile that’d been the Golurk’s arm. She didn’t have much time. While she would normally wait for permission to withdraw her Pokemon, Lydia grabbed the ball and returned her. The Druddigon, meanwhile, was rushing headlong after the foreigner and his Pokemon—his pockmarked hide radiating rage and anger. Since he was out of what she estimated to be a blast radius, she took her hand away from his ball.

Vengeance was his to seek if he so chose. If not, she had no doubt he would wander back. It was trainers that took side in this war, after all. Pokemon were just another tool. No different to most soldiers than guns or grenades.

Seconds later, the Dynamic Punch smashed into the crates and canisters. A large serpentine hiss came seconds before the place lit up like a firework—the smoke around it purple instead of white.

The heat singed her eyebrows, the smell of wrong stinging her nose and eyes. As the toxin crawled across the ground, Lydia was more certain in her decision than before. Where it touched plants, their leaves seemed to wax and shrivel. Neither side needed a weapon like that.

The woman coughed. “Coordinates—” She spouted out a random string of numbers. “--have suffered toxicological contamination. Please divert any refugees.” Satisfied all of her companions were alive—if injured—Lydia breathed a sigh of relief.

“Let’s let mitigation do its job.” She pointed toward the distant camp. As they flew back toward camp, she couldn’t help but spare a glance to the ghost holding her. This situation would have to be dealt with. Later.

Right now, she needed to rest.

Notes

• + 10 MP for post
• + 50 MP Pokemon Knockout

Total (500 MP)
+ 50 MP for posts
+ 50 MP Pokemon Knockout
+ 50 MP thread participation
+ 250 Draw
+ 100 Completion

[attr="class","samjermain"]A giant arm shadowed her as the woman struggled to her feet. Her eyes were nervous—the gun pointing at the ghost. Unsure if this ghastly savior was friend or foe. He offered an awkward wave to her. A shout from across the field drew Lydia’s attention. A Sharpedo had now joined the fray. Its scarred hide is indicative of a warrior. Blue eyes narrowed beneath her visor. “Shit.” Normally prim and proper, Lydia disliked how many contributions she had made to today’s swear jar.

Again, the Lucario summoned his own bones to combat the flurry of attacks. Two of them he managed to knock away, but the third took him in the chest just below the ribs. A brief howl followed as he was sent crashing to the ground beyond. His head snapped forward as stars swam in his vision. After a moment of trying to struggle to his feet, he crumpled to the ground with a whimper. His last bone was sent rocketing toward the Marowak. Though Lydia noticed the fall, she did not have the luxury of rushing to her pup’s side. ”Minerva! Cover him!” Arceus, protect Heimdall.

The Lycanroc’s blue eyes briefly flickered to her fallen companion. Her eyes softened for a moment as she remembered the little abandoned puppy she’d helped raise. How he burrowed into her fur at night when lightning and thunder crashed. All that softness vanished as she turned to the Marowak. The bulk of the Druddigon settled beside her as he stared down the Aggron with rage-filled eyes. Her trainer’s order drew a curt nod. Gladly, mistress. A howl erupted from her muzzle as she turned from the Aggron and rushed toward the fire type with a powered-up Accelrock.

With a snarl, the Druddigon moved to hit the grandstanding Aggron with a Dragon Tail across its face.

Knowing all of her Pokemon were now otherwise occupied—including the hotheaded dragon—the blonde lifted her gun. As the trainer and shark passed overhead, she shot three rounds at its underbelly and its trainer’s side. Arceus, please. With that done, she rushed toward the crate herself, the silent specter of the ghoul followed. Her gun lifted to point at Inigo, no longer aimed at his body. Then, the sound of a hiss caught her attention. The canisters! Her eyes lifted to the Golurk at her side.


The havoc Team Rocket could wreak with poison was untold. Making sure he lost was more important than winning herself. She remembered twisted bodies from her time in Kanto. Let’s give the man what he wants. A gas mask was pressed against her face. “Can you—” A powerful arm wrapped around her middle as the ghost jumped up. Her nearest Pokemon were returned as the ghost’s other fist detached and shot toward the crate in a fiery Dynamic Punch.

Notes

• + 10 MP for post
• + 50 MP Pokemon Knockout

[attr="class","samjermain"]Lydia was content to let the other woman speak. A person of few words, the blonde did not mind others doing what was necessary to fulfill the silence. As long as what they said was inoffensive, at least. “It was just unexpected.” While the Johtoan native felt her military career to be the peak of her existence, she would not say such things were her glory days. They were nasty, violent aberrations unto Arceus.

A blonde brow went up, one word, in particular, capturing the soldier's attention. “Performance?” The talk of grim cases made Lydia frown. Though an admirable desire, it seemed irresponsible to allow a child to investigate the criminal underworld. Still, now was neither the time nor place to put Elaine’s parents on trial. As the initial words trailed away, Lydia nodded. “I think you will find the path not so simple to rid one’s self of.” Even years later, she sometimes sat bolt upright with the echoes of gunfire and screams in her ears. Her fingers dropped to her pistol as if bullets could eradicate the bad memories. “Even when we want to.”


At the talk of origins, Lydia thought back to her own eleventh year. She’d participated in her first fencing championship. An attempt at a local talent show ended in stammers and a terrible case of stage fright. Much of her nights were still spent curled around her worn Teddiursa plush. It’d also been the year she found out what being a bastard meant. “That is a lot to ask of a child.” Lydia offered up a small smile. “It makes me feel unaccomplished.”

Listening to her outline the more lighthearted stories, Lydia turned to Russell. “I am fine with whatever you prefer, Mister Salsbury.” The man swallowed, fiddling with the strap of his laptop bag. The talk of something slipping through seemed to suck all the wind out of his sails. Maybe—maybe we could talk about a false—” The ground trembled beneath their feet. But—this time—there was no distant explosion to explain it. “Stop.” A muscular arm shot out to make the other two pause. At her master’s feet, the Lycanroc growled. “I am not sure we are alone.”

The ground in front of them exploded as a Steelix burst from beneath the road. Injuries dotted its iron sides. Its mouth opened in a bellow, its trainer sliding from its tongue to the soil below. A smirk slid into place on the opponent’s face as he stared down the trio. “Well, well. What we got here?” His voice was slow, at odds with his erratic movements. Calloused knuckles ran across the Steelix’s hide. “Ya ladies lost?”

A sandstorm kicked up around them, buffering them with sand. 

With a noise of distress, Russell raced to hide behind Elaine.

Notes

• +10 MP for post
• Steelix and Rocket appear in path
• Steelix summoned a Sandstorm

[attr="class","samjermain"]With her head finally free from the helmet, Lydia could not resist a sign of relief. Sweaty strands of blonde hair curled around her face, the smell of her own breath all-encompassing. A deep breath went a long way to clearing some of the paranoia that’d wormed its way beneath her armor. When she turned to Gideon, she tried her best to be comforting. The smile that followed—strained—was her attempt at a soft expression,

A nod followed. “I am.” Though not officially affiliated with the League—nor an officer—she was certainly not Rocket. From her vest, she produced an identification card. This she presented to him as a way of introduction. “Former military—Kanto.” Settling her helmet against her hip, the blonde approached the museum curator. “And your skepticism is warranted. Monsters do not wear uniforms.” Pale pink lips pressed into a thin line. Without the visor between them, the extent of the man’s injuries became more apparent.

“I can see that.” While she herself suffered some injuries, most of them were unseen. Bruised ribs supported by her vest and a brace, for instance. Blue eyes swept over the first aid supplies. Though Lydia would not call herself skilled, she believed she could enable him to get to the checkpoint. She gestured to the most stained, torn part of his clothing. “May I have a look, sir?”

[attr="class","samjermain"]
Minerva and her trainer shared many traits. A blitz approach to battle was not one of them. But against this many opponents, to be caught was dangerous. Especially with the size of the dragons she faced. In comparison to her, they were gargantuan. So, the Lycanroc opted to use her speed to hopefully maintain an advantage. In being the fly on the figurative fruit bowl, she hoped to keep attention off her partner’s newly acquired Druddigon. Keep your eyes on me, you oafs! Come along now!

Too busy in her own fight to immediately notice her puppy’s attacks, Lydia did not notice as the Aura Spheres phased through the Marowak. His newly lengthened muzzle wrinkled in confusion as he watched them slam into the rock behind the ghost type. “Rio?” The sound of confusion drew bright blue eyes up as her finger tightened on her gun’s trigger. “That is a—ugh—ghost” The woman shivered. Yuck. She hated ghouls and specters. Aberrations in Arceus’s grand plan. “Those will not work, Heimdall!” She shouted above the fray. “Try something else!”

Confusion slowed his reaction as the bones rushed toward him. Remembering he was taller now, he took one to the face. This sent him back onto his bottom for a moment. His eyes widened. BANG! His trainer fired a bullet at the Marowak’s skull, aiming to buy Lucario time to get back on his feet. With a nod of thanks, he did so. Obviously, he was still gangly in this body. What did he do with all this extra stuff? Blood dripped from his right eye. What else can I do, mistress? Almost all of his moves were fighting type, with few exceptions. “CARIO!” Lifting a paw to the sky, his eyes glowed pink as he called down the heavens themselves on the Marowak—Meteor Mash.

The Lycanroc, meanwhile, chose the worst moment to take a breath. Just as her shields fell, the Aggron rammed its head forward. With a yelp, the dog was sent flopping down the path. Lydia let out a gasp of concern, one the dog banished with a howl. Raising to her feet, the dog aimed to meet fire with figurative fire. She shook her head and braced herself. The air in front of it solidified as she aimed to ram the beast with a Stone Edge.

Another bullet sparked off the dragon’s arm. Lydia swore under her breath. “Shit.” With a heavy thunk, the Druddigon dropped the box. Though canisters were pinged, the arms didn’t punch through them, yet. A bullet had grazed its face and Kerboros was over this shit. He was a dragon, not some yellow-belied coward in need of a girl’s protection. With a snarl, he charged into the fray, stampeding toward Inigo’s crew with an Outrage.

“Kerboros!” Lydia’s heart stopped as her world became dappled in shadow. She closed her eyes as she moved to dive out of the way. Rocks fell around her like rain but she did not get crushed. When she opened her eyes, a giant Golurk stood above her, a strangely affectionate smile on his face. “Where…where did you come from…?”

With a grunt, it stood. Dust fell off of its armored shoulders in waves. The box, meanwhile, remained buried.

Notes

• + 10 MP for post

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