Taking for May with Calliope Marks

[googlefont=Rubik Burned]The masquerade is over.

Shining masks break, as do those that carry them. One battle ends, and another begins. Cyllora and their parasite are trying desperately to hold it all together, to keep control of the situation. Yet, the precarious tower that was built is already crumbling, and no matter how hard they try, its collapse can't be stopped.

The Loyal Three fall. The Dynergy barrier falls. The chains fall. The facade falls. And then, everyone falls.

And that includes you, too. Mercifully, it's a soft landing. It still hurts like hell, but it doesn't break anything that wasn't already broken. It takes a minute for the shock to wear off, and another minute to wriggle out from the rubble, but before long, you've freed yourself, from the wreckage and the prison alike. You're not exactly happy about where you've escaped to, though.

"Fuck me..."

Back in a Megalopolis. Grander than the Lesser, darker than the dream. So, is the the Ultra Megalopolis? It dredges up bad memories of your miserly escapdes with Andrea Vaneau, and worse memories of... Well, the last two days. Two days? Huh. Felt like more.

But they aren't over yet. You've still got a job to do.

Mustering what little energy you have left, you shamble forth to the final confrontation. To kill Cyllora. To destroy the Never-rot. To ensure that the Toxic Chain is eradicated from this world, and that it'll never return.

They try to struggle, to fight. They lash out like cornered Rattata starting down a Meowth. A Toxic Chain latches itself to your body, but what's the point? It's spread too thin. One chain might dominate one person, but a hundred cannot control a hundred. Do they really think they can stand up to Zev Harcourt and Cillian Quinn? Could they even stop howard slayte or Naomi Sato? No. It couldn't even slow them down. It can't even slow you. They're reduced to begging and pleading and grovelling, asking for mercy, but it all falls on deaf ears. This is the end of the line. They'll go no further.

As attacks rain down upon Cyllora and the Never-Rot, you feel a strange calm wash over you. Like you're at the end of the storm, and can see the sunny day on the other side. It's almost... relaxing. You idly reach for your Pokeballs, but they're not the movements of an executioner swinging their axe down. They're that of a victory lap, of a winner raising their hands high into the air as they cross the finish line.

And then, amidst the havoc, your eyes settle upon Velmos. Shit, Velmos! That inspires a little urgency in you, getting you pick a Pokeball and pull it free from your belt. Can't have him dying after everything you've been through. Not before you give him an earful. Finding the source of this nonsense and not telling you a word about it... Cheeky fucker. You really underestimated him. Still, you suppose he did help out in the end. You owe him another bowl of soup for th--

You blink, and when you next open your eyes, a glowing flower is above him, radiating killing intent. SHIT, VELMOS!

You throw your Pokeball, and out comes your Raging Bolt.

"THUNDER--"

Before you "CLAP" can leave your mouth, the booming blast of lightning is already fired, tearing out from the mouth of the Paradox and screeching straight towards the Flower Trick. Will it be able to destroy it before it can detonate? Hell, will destroying it even help? Fucking... What the fuck. What the FUCK! WHY? WHY?!

The calm is gone. The storm clouds are rolling back and the sunny day is getting further away. You are the furthest thing from relaxed. And when you turn to scan the battlefield, you see only one Meowscarada, and only one man it could belong to.

Greyson Connors.

Elite Four. Member of the League. SCUM.

Just like them. Just fucking like them, isn't it? You were both in this together, but the moment, THE MOMENT they could fuck you over, they fucking do it. Fucking pricks, fucking, why? WHY FUCKING VELMOS?! He didn't fucking do anything, he's... GHH... HE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING! He just HELPED them! He was Toxic Chained too, just like the rest of you! So why? Why target HIM?!

They're just like them. Cyllora and the League. Both trying to hold you down. Trying to imprison you. They stand from up high and look upon the low, deeming them "weak" and "dumb" and "ugly", and punishing them for it. But Cyllora is going to die today. What about Greyson Connors? Or illeana reyes, or PENELOPE LIVY, or annalise henderson, or the rest of them? They'll keep going. They'll keep doing what they've always done. They're just as guilty as the Never-rot, but they? They get to leave. They get to live. They get to see tomorrow.

No. You're wrong.

ONE OF THEM WON'T.

Watching the arm of the League move to crush an innocent inspires such pure rage within you. A small, sensible part of you knows you shouldn't pick this fight. You're beaten, you're drained, and you're exhausted. You have so little left to give, but that doesn't matter anymore. Even as the last of the kindling fades, you will continue to burn. Even as the rain lashes down upon you, you will continue to burn. Even as their boots stomp upon your embers, you will continue to burn.

AND YOU WILL BURN AND BURN AND BURN UNTIL EVERGRANDE CITY IS CONSUMED BY FLAME, UNTIL THE COUNCIL IS NOTHING MORE THAN ASH, UNTIL THEIR DEVOUT ARE NOTHING MORE THAN CINDER, UNTIL ALL THAT REMAINS OF THE LEAGUE IS THE SCAR THEY WILL LEAVE BEHIND.

AND THEN, AND ONLY THEN, WILL YOU BE ABLE TO LIVE WILD AND PURE AND FOREVER FREE.

You lurch forward, muster all the power you can into your arm, and swing it as hard as you can at Greyson.

"DIE."

---

TL;DR - Shred is about to go kill Cyllora, but OOPS! He was reminded of how much he hates the League by Greyson C. Connors!!! Trying to protect Velmos by Thunderclapping the Flower Trick and throwing a punch at Greyson. Though he didn't originally intend to, he does spare Cyllora, Pecharunt, and the Megalopolans.
ybGJd4Y|

And so begins a new dawn.

The harsh sun bearing down upon the battlefield sets fire to your blood. Your veins burn hot and the orichalcum upon your skin burns hotter. But, more than anything else, it’s your soul that burns the hottest.

It’s overwhelming. You barely manage to muffle a groan as you double over. Something feels… different. Your hand reaches to grab your chest, but it just won’t stop shaking. Every breath feels like you’re gasping for air. Every heartbeat feels like you’re getting hit by a hammer. Every thought feels like that, too.

Your eyes narrow into slits. Your fangs gnash against one another. Your claws dig into your burnt hide.

And yet, it doesn’t hurt. No, much the opposite.

You feel alive.

YOU ARE ALIVE.

With renewed vigour, you stand tall and look to the sky, to the silhouettes descending and their glowing masks. But though they might be bright, they don’t shine, do they? Not like you do.

It’s too late for them. The moment they let you slip the leash, it was all over from them. You’ll never go back into their cage. And if they try…

You’ll kill them.

YOU’LL KILL THEM ALL.

OKIDOGI, GUTTED FROM HIS HINDLEGS TO HIS GULLET. MUNKIDORI, EYES TORN OUT AND SKULL CRACKED. FEZANDIPITI, WINGS SNAPPED AND RIBS SPLAYED. CYLLORA, THROAT RIPPED OUT. NEVER-ROT, BEATEN AND MAULED AND LEFT TO DECAY. dahlia goode, HUNTED AND EATEN. declan walsh, CAST DOWN AND STARVED. annalise henderson, BLONDE HAIR TORN AND LEFT STAINED WITH BLOOD. Grigori Sokolov, LEFT LITTLE MORE THAN BONES AND GRISTLE. illeana reyes, BRAIN CRUSHED WITHIN YOUR TALONS. Lulu Flint, HEART DEVOURED IN YOUR MAW. PENELOPE LIVY, LOST EVEN TO HISTORY. howard slayte,

howard slayte.

howard slayte…

The archaeologist places his hand upon your shoulder, and it takes all your restraint to not lash out. The primal instinct within you wants to kill him like the prey he is. Yet, even as your insides burn, you remember. Late nights slacking off outside the Pokemart. Early mornings scrounging about trying to make a quick buck. So, so, so many fateful days.

As a false moon covers the false sun and shrouds the Breeding Pit in ersatz twilight, you manage to find your sense of self for long enough to act.

Your hand slams down on a Pokeball, and from it emerges your Gouging Fire. Empowered by its protosynthesis and pushed even further beyond, it leaps high into the air, even above the Blood Moon, before crashing through it with a Flare Blitz and crashing towards the Okidogi like a falling star.

And as the moon surrounds the Paradox Pokemon, and as the sun shines once more, you begin to burn once more. And as you do, you let out a roar of pure emotion. All of your hate. All of your hope. All that you were, are, and will ever be.

”SIGNATURE KILL: PROMETHEAN ECLIPSE!”

---

TL;DR - Shred goes SICKO MODE
Attacking Okidogi, Orichalcum boosted, Howard/Doug is also Orichalcum boosted, cool combo attack, uhhhhhh that's like 4 total?
6X|Rh0kQ

You look at Howard.

There's a cocktail of emotion brewing in your eyes. Confusion swirling amidst anger swirling amidst hesitation. Swirling and swirling and swirling, saying so much and so little at the same time. But whatever seeds of doubt he might've tried to plant are quickly suffocated in the sullen dirt. Soon the roiling waters settle, and you find clarity beneath the surface.

And that only makes you angrier.

"You sound like them right now."

You smack Howard's arms off of your shoulders and shove him back, leaving a crimson handprint upon his chest. Then, as soon as he stumbles out of arm's reach, your anger explodes once more.

"This isn't a FUCKING TROLLEY PROBLEM, Howard, it's REAL FUCKING LIFE!" You howl, reaching up to hold the gaping wounds on your chest. The bandages around your face are starting to come loose. Hints of your lipless mouth and the bleeding teeth underneath poke through to the outside world. "It's not fuckin'.. Ghhh.... There's OPTIONS! WE HAVE OPTIONS! THOUSANDS OF FUCKING OPTIONS! So why, are you, fucking, acting like, the only choices I have, are KILL HER, or FUCKING DIE?!"

---

howard slayte

[attr="class","milkyac"]

CANON AC TEMPLATE

MAY 2024 CANON ACTIVITY CHECK

[break]

[attr="class","ynospace"]

• player/ooc name: Raptor
• character tags: Shred

4 ic posts for canon characters:

[attr="class","ynospace"]

• Lending a Hand (April 5th)
• Markov Chain (April 18th)
• Dog's Out (May 5th)
• Reshi-RAM (May 15th)

summarize 2 plots that are in-progress and being threaded:

1. They Didn't Lie, That Chain Really Was Toxic[break]

• Chain Reaction
• Supply Chain
• Under the World
• Chain of Command
• Markov Chain
• Lucid Dreampolis: Shred
• Polybius
• Prismatic Penitentiary and also like a dozen PP2s but lol lmao

[break]

The Toxic Chain is a threat. Not just to Hoenn, but to the entire world. And nobody is doing anything to stop it.[break][break]

Nobody, except you.[break][break]

With the League riddled by incompetence and the rest of Team Rocket distracted, the events of Route 119 went mostly unconsidered. Reported? Sure, but certainly not considered. The reveal of this apocalypse-in-the-waiting was witnessed, then quickly dismissed. Nobody seemed particularly concerned about it. And why would they be? They weren't there.[break][break]

But you? You were. You fought the Megalopolans, faced down the Toxic Chain, escaped upon the reflection of the Quaestor Lucis. And you're going to crush that apocalypse beneath his foot before it can ever hope to blossom.[break][break]

---

[break]

If there's one thing Shred Zeppelin hates, it's a chain.[break][break]

In the aftermath of the Route 119 incident, fuelled by his glimpse into a dark future, Shred investigates the mysterious Toxic Chain. In doing so, he forges a... Well, not quite a "relationship", but certainly a something with former head scientist and fellow survivor Lulu Flint. They take him far and wide, from examining Tera Crystals to begging Howard for money, and even a meeting with his own Megalopolan ally, the General Velmos. It's a difficult search, but perhaps not a fruitless one. After many distractions and much struggle, the Chain finally seems to rear its ugly head once more. Maybe, just maybe, this was the lead he needed?[break][break]

A tragedy? Sure. Avoidable? Yes. His fault? Maybe! But none of that mattered. As long as he could get to the bottom of this, as long as he could cut down this quickly growing weed before it grew any larger, then maybe he could still prevent the worst case scenario. He could prove himself. He could save the day. He could ensure that this pathogenic slavery was annihilated, and that it could never, ever control him again.[break][break]

And then, he woke up in prison, with a Toxic Chain around his neck.[break][break]

Fuck.[break][break]

A story about stupid love, control and the loss of it, guilt over the unpreventable, and a Dogi that's pretty Oki. Stay tuned for the thrilling conclusion and also-thrilling aftermath!

2. Shred is Burnt, Part B[break]

• To Sow Dragon's Teeth (Leftward (Lol, Lmao))
• Honest Hearts
• Long Time No See
• Melt
• AZ Excursion: Shred and Parker Talk About Women
• GIANT CHASM EXCURSION D: Shred/Howard v. June/Annalise
• AREA ZERO EXCURSION D - Shred/Howard v. Penelope/Illeana
• Rage

[break]

Getting hit by that Mind Blown was the second worst thing to ever happen to you. The first? Getting hit by the Hyper Beam a few seconds later.[break][break]

It feels like a sick joke, doesn't it? Things were going well for you. With your promotion to Rocket Beast, everything was finally going your way. You had a nice house in Sootopolis, you had a fair mortgage, and you had money to spare. You were happy! You were... Well, maybe not "content", per say, but pretty damn close to it![break][break]

And then, they took it all away from you. Just like they always do.[break][break]

The League[break][break]

They're gonna pay.[break][break]

They're ALL gonna pay...[break][break]

---

[break]

After suffering horrible wounds in his foolish stand against Palkia and the League, Shred Zeppelin is a shell of his former self. Physically, but also mentally and spiritually, too. It's left him a husk of his former self, hollowed out and left to fester. Given the circumstances, how else could he fill the holes but with contempt for those that did this to him?[break][break]

Not that it's the first time. For Shred, the League represents all the things that have haunted him throughout his life: His "betters", their corruption, the laws they enforce and break at their discretion, the holier-than-thou attitude that makes them "right", and the authority that puts them beyond reproach. Once, he might've been content to simply hide himself from them, to scuttle away from notice and try to live his life as best he can.[break][break]

Now, though?[break][break]

He'll burnt the whole thing down to the goddamn ground.[break][break]

A story about hate; For your enemies and your friends and yourself, for your successes and your failures and your wounds, for the envy and the space and the modest soups. Very longingly ongoing!

if an avatar, summarize how you've utilized[break]the legendary/avatarship for collaborative narrative:

• 1. AVATARSHIP: THE SUN

[break]
Shred can summon the sun, but since he's Galarian, he doesn't know how to feel about that yet.

• any notes/comments: Feeling like WorrySleep the way I'm very tired. Going to probably stick to a lower threadcount for the foreseeable future in an attempt to maintain more consistent posting rates and also stave off burnout (I will probably fail but alas).

[googlefont=Rubik Burned]In hindsight, maybe throwing yourself down the mysterious flesh tube wasn't your brightest idea. As you splash and sink into the vat, the change from burning heat to chilling cold delivers and unpleasant shock to your body, forcing a gasp of pain out of you. Immediately, the strange green fluid rushes through your open mouth and into your throat, and that gasp is soon followed by a choke.

You struggle. You thrash and flail in an attempt to swim back to the surface, to no avail. Oh, God... This is it, isn't it? You're gonna die. All that struggle and survival and humiliation and heroism and endurance and escape, only to drown in a few feet of fluid mere moments before you can claim your freedom? Is this really how it ends?!

No. Thankfully.

But, eventually, after the most torturous minute of your life, you stop trying to move up and instead move down. You push your way through the membrane, like a larvae ripping through its egg, and spill out onto the floor. "Birthed". Or, maybe "discharged"?

Whatever the case, you're cold and miserable and tired and hurt and your wounds are drenched in some kind of horrid amniotic fluid. But, you're not dead. Yet.

To that end, you spend the next few minutes retching and hacking and coughing. Bile, blood, and green goo alike are dredged from your body and pour out on the floor. All your injuries are finally catching up to you. Even if you aren't dying, it feels like you are. As the last gout of sick bursts from your mouth, you slump down to the ground and lay there for a moment...

...You think... You're going to pass out now...

...

...

...

"omg (°ロ°) mr shred!!!"

...

...

...Or maybe you can keep going, just a little longer.

"...Meltan?"

"youre hurt (º □ º l|l) we need to go find mr slowbro and--"

You interrupt the hex nut as you pull him into the most sincere hug you've ever given in forty-one years.

"m-mr shred (¯ . ¯;) are you crying?"

"No... J-jus got some stuff in my eyes, is all..."

It's the ugliest you've ever cried. Perhaps the ugliest that anyone has ever cried. As the tears fall down your burnt face, they wash away what little mystique you might have had. It certainly isn't a sight that's becoming of a Rocket Beast. But, fuck it. Just this once, just for a few seconds, you don't have to be Shred Zeppelin. You can just be you.

But eventually, the time for you passes, and as the Toxic Chain fades from your neck, you pull yourself to your feet. Something malicious burns in your eyes. The same look that annalise henderson and june sleigh saw back in the Great Chasm.

You step into the dark room full of Megalopolans barren, and step out fully armed. Bandages crudely wrapped around you skin, Pokeballs by your waist, Mega Medallion around your neck and Tera Orb in hand, with Meltan on your shoulder and Walking Wake by your side. Emboldened by the sight of one of its oh-so-distant cousins Dynamaxing, the Paradox Pokemon lets out a raccuous Dragon Cheer, stoking the dragonfire of those that share its mythic ancestry. And though you are no dragon, it stokes the fire within you, too.

You raise an orichalchum-marked arm up to the crumbling ceiling. Funny - Even though several floors and a thousand feet separate you from the false sun, it still feels so close. As though it's still shining above you, even now. The mere thought of it makes your bronze-burnt fingers twitch.

It's time--

"CYLLORA!"

You clench your hand into a fist, and imagine the shadow of the Toxic Chain being burnt away by the shining heat of an apex star.

"COME DOWN HERE AND MEET YOUR MAKER!"

--TO FINISH WHAT YOU STARTED.

---

TL;DR - Shred reunites with his Meltan, has an :ureshii: moment, gears up, preps for the oncoming raid boss fight with a Walking Wake Dragon Cheer, and does something unique and intriguing :salmonsmirk:
Lulu Flint
1meNoGOb

"Why are you always trying to make me sad, man?"

How many days did you spend in that hospital bed? How many weeks were you confined to the medical bay? How many months will you be stuck eating modest soups? And how many years of surgery are ahead of you? Too many. And you've spent too much of that thinking about what you did and didn't do. You don't have any more introspection left to do.

Leave it to the archaeologist to be stuck in the past. You want to focus on the future. And to that end...

"Look, Reshiram is all about truth and shit, right?" You ask, though you don't give him a chance to spout whatever "smartier-than-thou" answer is resting on his tongue. "And Pokepedia is all a bunch of facts, right? And facts are basically just truths, so, you put that together, pump in a thousand pages per second, and... Shit, dude, I don't know! But what do we have to fuckin' lose? Not like we can make it any more of a rock than it already is."

With that half-impassioned-plea and half-bitching-out, you tap a Pokeball and release your Porygon-Z. At the same time, you pull out your phone, cracked and scuffed and held together by tape and dreams.

"You got a Rotom?"

---

howard slayte

How many days had it been?

How many weeks had it been?

How many months had it been?

Had it been years or decades? Surely, it couldn't be centuries? And there was no earthly way that it could stretch for millennia, could it? You hope not, but some long-forgotten memory is gnawing at the back of your brain, telling you to expect the worst. You believe it wholeheartedly.

At first, the dreams had been a safe place. Away from the prying eyes of the guards and wardens, a place where you could do as you please without the fear of beatings of executions. But the passage of time, be it seconds or aeons, is cruel. The punishments wear down your body, and the humiliation wears down your mind, and there's no need to wear down your soul, for it was already worn down a long time ago.

All you've got left are your fading hopes and your growing obsessions.

"Gotta lift it... Gotta lift it... Gotta lift it..."

This city is a fucking sham. It's all pretty lights and fancy architecture, but in the end, it's all nothing. Nothing here has any weight. You keep searching. You keep getting disappointed. You can pick it all up like it's nothing. It's not REAL. It won't HELP. It isn't what you NEED. You--

--stop. Howard and Grigori are standing there. Immediately, you step back, out of sight and into the alley you came from.

And then, you listen.

---

howard slayte Grigori Sokolov

Fucking hell.

Just your luck, huh? Once again, you've found yourself lost in a Megalopolan City with her, of all people. Why is she even here? She wasn't on Route 119 that day. She's not some important bigwig in the League or Rocket. Who even is she? Are they just grabbing any man, woman, or child they can get their hands on? More and more and more questions, and yet, the answers continue to evade you.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and let out a deep sigh. You don't have time for this. Not again. You've got too much going on, and you know damn well you're not going to have enough time to do it.

"Look, I don't know what's going on either." You admit, your face reaching new heights of exaggeration. "But there's people in here that are gonna fix it, alright? But those people aren't me, so go bother someone else about it. I've got other shit to do..."

With that, you pick one of the many alleys leading deeper into the city, and begin walking.

---

Andrea Vaneau

As the Okidogi and the prison guards are beaten back by the relentless rioting, you're given a rare moment to recover. You lay there on the floor, simply breathing, doing nothing else. Even as your chest is raw with pain, there's something strangely serene about the moment. Any other time, this kind of passivity would've gotten you beaten and bullied. But here, in the midst of the madness? It's the first time you can really, really relax.

You would've stayed there for hours and days and weeks if you could. But there's no rest of the wicked. As Lulu Flint 's shadows begin to drag upon you, you pull yourself to a feet with a groan. Still, you make sure to swipe a few pieces of the shattered orange rock before you go. You're not sure why. It's just instinct. But you'll trust it.

You make it to the platform, which descends to the next chaotic ward, which descends to the next chaotic ward, and finally, you come down to the feeding pit. You see plenty of familiar faces all around you, and plenty of unfamiliar-but-overly-familiar faces, too. But you can't afford to linger on any of them. Not until you're safe. Not until you're out of danger. Not until the Toxic Chain is off your neck and you're holding a Pokeball in your hand.

And especially not while you're standing opposite to this blazing ogre.

There's no way in hell you're beating this thing, especially not with all the Nihilego and the stealth rocks and the fire and the like. Staying is suicide. You need to get the fuck out of here, to somewhere where you can get a grip, get a lay of the land, and get where you need to go.

And you need to stay with Lulu Flint . And, unfortunately, that means taking the worst exit possible.

You stare at the gaping tube for a moment. You would do anything for love, but would you do that? Then you glance back at the madness happening behind you, and decide that yes, actually, you'd definitely do that. But you wouldn't be happy about it.

Letting out a groan through gritted teeth, you kick a chunk of stale mochi towards one of the assailing Nihilego before flinging yourself down the grotesque tube.

---

TL;DR - Shred has a strange time, kicks some mochi at a jellyfish, and follows his pookie Lulu down the flesh tube.
Lulu Flint
ltOAYZY4
FUCK IT WE SALAC

"Nope." You lie, looking around the all-too-familiar gym as though you'd never seen it before. "Spikemuth didn't really have a gym. You must be thinking of something else."

Fortunately for you, the spectre of Kyle Lopez has risen from the dead to save you from further scrutiny. It's a little weird, seeing the guy stroll in. He's barely even been dead for a few days, and yet, here he is. Something about watching this digital soul strolling about your facsimile of a gym feels horribly unethical. Somehow even worse than all the normal crimes that Team Rocket do. If this RKS tech ever leaks and the big corporations get their hands on it? Oof.

You cross your arm and look at the once-traffic-cop now-gym-inspector as he pets the monochrome Zigzagoon.

"They have Galarian Zigzagoon in Hoenn too, y'know." You mutter under your breath. "It's not wrong. It's a creative choice."

Still, you've passed the inspection, somehow. Which shouldn't be surprising, considering it passed the inspections in Galar, too. Still, it feels like you've just witnessed a minor miracle. But the fun and games are over now, and the novelty of this little exercise is all said and done. Time to wrap this up and head deeper into the simulation.

"Barnaby!" You call out, looking in the direction of the man. "I'm heading out now, so..."

You trail off as your eye catches on the magenta glow of a Power Spot.

"Huh. Don't remember adding that. Anyway... C'mon, let's get out of here."

---

BARNABY FINCH

"Thrilling" would be one word for it. "Exhausting" would be another. Maybe the most fitting, though, would be "a lot". And if Theo's got the right of it, then it's going to get a whole lot more from here...

"...DT?"

You blink. The fuck does he mean by that? Is he... Oh, like, the letters in Dread Threatening? That's a new one. You're not sure you like it, though. If he wants to stick by codenames and all, then it's no skin off your nose, but c'mon. Is "Dread" really that much more arduous than "DT"? DT sounds like the kind of lazy nickname you'd give to one of the ex-girlfriends you didn't really love.

Still, he's your boss, in the under sense. Not like you can really complain about it. Oh well.

"...Yeah, sure, okay, why not?" You shrug, getting ready to leave. Right on time, too, as your Shedinja returns once more. With a tap of its Pokeball, you return the husk to your possession, before looking forwards. "I'm ready. Let's get moving."

---

THEO BECKETT
PROCEED TO STAGE 2.