Your carrying on takes you many places, most of them forests. Okay, well, most of one forest. The same forest. You're not exactly moving at a blistering pace here. Your hobbling isn't going to take you to the distant peaks of Mount Chimney, but it does take you to a forest clearing.

It's there, amidst the tall grass, that you see a turnip move...

Shame that you're not a big turnip guy. Just can't eat them. They trigger your gag reflex and make you throw up. Same as boiled carrots, y'know? They just aren't right.

You move along.

---

PASSING ON PETILIL
Warden Safari, spawn 4/6, next is APPLIN.
2/4 Safari Balls remaining.

8AM, a nurse comes to wake you up. Your bandages are changed and your burns tended to. Then, you eat a modest breakfast consisting of some manner of soup. 9AM, you're given an abridged briefings about all the goings-on in Team Rocket you're currently missing out on. 10AM, a session of physiotherapy designed to help you regain mobility. 1PM, you're served a modest lunch consisting of some manner of soup. 3PM, a session of psychotherapy designed to help you regain stability. 5PM, you're treated to a modest dinner consisting of some manner of soup. 7PM, you're allowed to take a walk around, provided you don't stray from the East Wing of the submarine. 9PM, supper comes in the form of yet another fucking modest soup. 11PM, lights out.

You've been stuck in the same cycle ever since you first woke up, following the same routine ever since you regained consciousness. According to the doctors, this is the most effective treatment plan they have for your severe wounds. As far as you're concerned, it's pure unrelenting tedium. You've never been so bored in your life. You're so deprived of stimulation that it feels like your brain is turning into sludge.

And now, as you lay there in your hospital bed, staring at the clock on the wall as it ticks and tocks, one singular thought dominates your mind:

"If I don't get to eat some real food soon, I'm going to fucking lose it."

---

Tempest Quinn

Taking with Tempest Quinn

"...And so, after many years of aimless wandering, our hero’s path finally took him to the land of Hoenn. What bold new adventures awaited him here, he wondered? Was this the place that he had been searching for? A place for him to finally belong? As he stepped off the boat and into the city of Slateport, he looked upon the towering city of grey and asked himself--"

"Fuckin’ hell, you’re still here?"

As you step beneath the canopy of the Dyna Tree for the second time, you’re genuinely surprised to see Doublade is still there. You would’ve thought that she crept back into her Pokeball while you were sleeping, but, well, apparently not. In hindsight, you probably should’ve checked that, but… Well, truthfully, you don’t find yourself reaching for your Pokeballs much these days.

"Oho, sire! Back to tell another story, are we?"

”Nope.” You deadpan, walking straight past both king and subject alike as you sit down amidst the tree’s roots. ”I’m going to take a nap until my time’s up, and then I’m going to leave.”

"Crowrowr!"

"Why, that seems… a rather mundane decision, if I may say so myself."

”Yeah, well? Sucks to suck.”

Predictably, your plan doesn’t seem particularly popular, which would be a real shame if you cared about that. Alas, you actually couldn’t care less. You’re tired, you’re old, you’re hurt, and the last thing you want to do is play storytime with this fully grown rabbit. You don’t want to be here. You want to be back in the medical bay, where the soft bed and the burn ointment and the painkillers are.

You want to be comfortable again.

You want your arm back.

You want to get even.

”...We don’t need you, you know.”

"Cro?"

”I’m sure everyone else has been on their hands and knees begging for you to help us, right? Trying to sway you, the oh-so-mysterious king of legends, to our side?” You begin, disdainful eyes staring a hole into the Calyrex. ”But we don’t need you. I don’t need you.”

You feel a familiar anger rising up from within you. Venom frothing in your mouth. Blood boiling in your veins. Your hand clenches into a fist.

”You think you can show up here and act like you’ve earned a seat at the table? Like you’re somehow important to Team Rocket? You’re not. You’re a blow-in. You’re a poser! You haven’t suffered, you haven’t struggled, you haven’t lost anything, let alone everything. And yet you’re rallying us to go on some grand and terrible and bloody quest for vengeance on your behalf? You must be--

"Sire."

Your song of rage is interrupted before it can hit the crescendo. Doublade’s voice is uncharacteristically stern. You’re typically not one for listening to warnings, but this time, you relent.

But your feelings remain.

”Whatever.” You grumble, pull yourself to your feet. Not like you’d expect him to get it, anyway. ”You want a story? Here’s a story: I got burned a few weeks back. Completely fucked from head to toe. You see the bandages? Yeah, that fucked. So, I’m going to get even. I’m going to get stronger. I’ll even find a way to defeat a so-called “god”. I will take everything from her, and once I have?”

Once you have… What will you do? Kill her? That’s a line you prefer not to cross, but given the severity of what she’s done to you… You don’t know. You’re not sure. What is the destination of this journey? Is there even a destination to begin with?

”...Well, what happens after that doesn’t matter. Not to you… There. That’s your story. Moral of the story? I’m too busy to chase your vengeance. If you want revenge, go get it yourself.”

With that, you storm off, your mood even more dour than the last time. You hope this prick hurries up and gets the hint that you don’t like him. Maybe if he does, you won’t get dragged out to this fucking tree anymore…

…

"Rownrownrown…"

"Yes, well, that… Was not good. I must apologise again, thou majesty. It seems that his mood is far worse than I thought.”

"Carown?"

"Mhm.”

"Cro."

"Well, enough about that little interruption. After all, there’s still plenty of story left to be told! Now, where were we? Ah, yes… After his long and winding voyage, ████ ███████ finally found himself in the unfamiliar land of Hoenn…”

---

Vengeance.

"Stop."

All of his words only makes it hurt more. It feels like you've got a knife buried in your chest, and Howard is trying to pull it out. It's miserable, isn't it? He thinks he's being kind, and yet couldn't possibly know how much worse he's making it. Despite everything you've been through, the good times and the bad, he'd never understand how you feel right now. He's just too different from you.

And yet, you still have to try. You have to try and explain it. You have to try and bridge the gap between him and you. You have to, because if nothing else, he deserves that much from you.

"I didn't save him." The way you say it is so matter-of-factly. As though you're repeating an objective fact, like grass being green or the sky being blue. "He might've survived, but that doesn't mean he's himself anymore. They changed him. They took himself from him. They stole a part of him, and now he'll never be whole again, no matter how hard he tries."

For a moment, your eyes drift back to where your arm used to be.

"I failed."

---

howard slayte

Gifting Shred's gacha Stonjourner to howard slayte.

Yeah, this is about the welcome you were expecting.

It's hardly a surprise. After how badly you botched your last encounter, you wouldn't want to see-- Ah, no, already said that. Hm. Maybe it would be better to lay off the self-flagellation? After all, it's not like you're completely out of it. You've still got that hundred grand that Howard gave you! Nothing to help smooth things over like an absurd amount of money. Probably best not to lead with that little bombshell, though. You'll tell her a little later. Maybe after you've wrapped things up here?

As she introduces her Houndoom, you briefly considering introducing Excadrill in kind. However, after you think it through for a single millisecond, it becomes abundantly clear how stupid that idea is. What would you even say? "This is my Excadrill. His name's Excadrill.". Yeah, no, wouldn't go over well. If only you gave all your Pokemon silly names like Howard...

"...Shade? Good name. This is my Excadrill. His name's Drilliam."

"Drilliam" blinks. Slowly, the mole turns his head in your direction, his head tilted slightly. You pretend not to notice as you hurry the conversation along.

"And we're ready to go, too. Lead the way."

---

Lulu Flint

What a mess.

Seriously. There's just no other way to describe it. It's so thoroughly and utterly fucked that even you, a thoroughly and utterly fucked human being, are completely out of your element. It's almost impressive, but given the circumstances, you can't say you're particularly impressed.

You've lost track of how long you've been here, but if you were to guess, it had to be a good few hours. Six or seven? Something like that. That means it's been seven hours since you've eaten anything, seven hours since you've drank anything, seven hours since you've had a smoke, seven hours since you've enjoyed any kind of luxury whatsoever. And it's not like they were an easy seven hours, no, between the explosive clown and the zombie horde, it's been an exceedingly stressful experience! If you were losing before, then by now, you've almost certainly lost it.

And now, here you are, huddling in some shitheap tunnels beneath the surface with no exit in sight. You are a tightly wound spring. You are so tense that even the slightly disturbance is enough to cause you to snap. And yet, despite that, this idiot just doesn't know when to quit it.

"Yeah, well, I don't want a fuckin' friend, huh? Maybe I want to get the fuck out of here, huh? Have you considered that? Huh? Huh? Did you?
Huh? No. You didn't. Because you don't get it, do you? You're too busy acting like this some lovely summer vacation to take this shit seriously. WE'RE IN AN ALTERNATE DIMENSION ALIEN HELLSCAPE! And what, I'm supposed to be nice to you because we both keep almost dying? No! That's not a bonding experience, you lunatic! I don't want to die here, and almost dying is not fun, and your devil-may-care attitude isn't helping me not die, so fucking knock it off and take this shit seriously!"

Your voice echoes deep and far across the roughly carved tunnels. Then, as the last echo fades away, you take a deep breath in, and let a deep breath out. Whew. Okay. Got that out of your system. Good.

"Now, how the fuck are we getting out of here?"

---

Andrea Vaneau

And at last, the most obnoxious three hours of your life finally came to an end. And honestly? Thank fuck for that.

As you clamber back up to your feet, you take a deep, gasping breath. Then another, then another, and so on, and so on. Every gulp of air is like drinking water from a crystal clear oasis in the midst of an endless desert. Oh, sweet blessed oxygen! You promise you'll never take this gift of life for granted ever again--

THWACK! You're interrupted by a slippery, amphibious hand smacking you over the head.

"Ack!"

"YOU JERK! Why'd ya hafta send me out?!" Greninja whines, crossing her arms as her foot expectantly taps against the concrete. "What the hell were ya thinking? That big lava monster was super scary! It coulda KILLED me!"

"Well it was actively trying to kill me! And why are you even complaining? You're a Water type! Even if a Heatran caught you, you would've been fine! All you had to do was hit the damn things with a--"

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! Wrong answer.

"You're not supposed to makes excuses, idiot! You're supposed to apologise for being so mean!"

"Wh... No! Why would I apologise for asking you to do your fuckin' job? YOU should apologise to me, you useless frog!"

"...What'd you just call me?"

--One Hour Later--

As you step outside of the jurisdiction of the Mauville Police Department and onto the soft grass of Route 110, you let out a long, weary sigh. Despite everything, Oscar still got the sci-fi gizmo he wanted, so you suppose this mission was technically a success. So, it's time to wrap things up, say goodbye, and head back home as soon as possible so you can change into a dry set of clothes.

"Yeah, yeah, you're welcome." You reply to Oscar, taking his business card and stashing it in one of your few dry pockets. Sure, being owed a favour is nice, but, well, you don't really have much going on. No big projects or missions or anything like that. Still, what're you gonna tell him? "No, you don't owe me anything, helping you was my pleasure?". Fuck no. He does, and it wasn't. "If I think of something, I'll call you, alright?"

With that, you reach towards Gliscor's Pokeball, and... Hm, no, actually, you don't. You think you'd rather just quielty walk by yourself. That seems like it'd be for the best.

"See you around."

---

oscar clayton

"Fuck, fuck, fuck...!"

Everything is going to hell. No matter what you do, you just can't seem to hurt this thing. Golurk could land a thousand blows on all of Kyogre's weak spots, and its solid stone fist would shatter before the leviathan even bled. You can't win this fight, especially not like this. You need to retreat, think, come back with a better plan and better preparations and--

CRASH! Your thoughts are interrupted as the gigantic wave crashes through you. It feels like getting hit by a train for five seconds straight. It takes everything you have to cling to Golurk, and even then, the only reason he isn't dragged down to the depths is because of the unstoppable beating heart within its chest. Anything less, and the thrusters would've cut out, and you'd be helplessly thrashing about in the water.

Just like Navidson. Through eyes stinging with saltwater, you see the sheriff fall into the water. He couldn't dodge it.

"NAVY!"

Shit, shit, shit, no no no no no...!

"Golurk, hurry up and--"

WARNING, WARNING, WARNING: Systems suffering from overexposure to water. Further exposure will lead to flight capabilities being irreversibly damaged. RECOMMENDATION: Retreat is highly encouraged. All other choices are highly discouraged.

"Damn it, we can't just leave him!" You snap, frantically searching through the Pokeballs on your belt. At first, your hand settles on Sigilyph, but you quickly dismiss that idea. No, too late for that. He's already underwater, and the water's already filling his lungs. You need someone to swim to him, and fast. "Think! Who can get him, who can get him, who can get him...? It's gotta be--"

"GYOHOHOHOHOHO!"

Before you can call out whoever you were going to send out, a familiar laugh rings out through the storm, and Basculegion bursts out from the brine with an Aqua Jet. Shit! You'd forget he was even out here! You'd send him out back at Sea Mauville, and forgot to recall him when Kyogre showed up and starting wreaking havoc. He's certainly a sight for sore eyes, in more ways than one, because clutched in the jaws of the fish is none other than the body of Michael Navidson.

Alive. You hope.

---

Navy

And with a satisfying click, that's yet another successful capture. Two safari balls down, two more to use. All you've got to do is find something worth using them on.

And on the very bottom of that list is an Alolamola.

...Not that there's an Alolamola near you right now. You're in a forest, and if you read the map right, you're about a mile away from the nearest river. If you were to find an Alolamola out here though, walking on dry land? Then maybe you'd want to catch one. Alas, despite the excellent comedic timing you've presented, no long-legged fish make themselves alone. Tch. What a shame.

Nevertheless, you carry on.

---

SKIPPING ALOMOLALA.
Warden Safari, Spawn 3/6, next is Liligant.
2/4 Safari Balls remaining.