"I guess... I guess it's funny, huh...? It really does seem like I've lost... Doesn't it...?"

It's a redundant thing to say, but you're not talking because you want to. No, the only reason you're speaking right now is to buy yourself time to think. Every second counts, because you're outgunned and outmatched, but that doesn't mean you're outdone. You may be down, but you're not out, because you're going to get out, because you're not laying down for anyone. A sensible grunt might cut their losses and accept defeat, but that's not how you roll. No matter how dire the situation gets, Shred Zeppelin never gives up. After all, if you did, what kind of role model would you be to your soon-to-be-adoring public?

It's easy to see this is an uphill battle. Your body is totalled, which'll make running difficult, and Toxtricity doesn't match up well against either Lycanroc or Lucario, which means going down swinging is off the table, too. The situation seems bleak, but when you think about it, isn't that the saving grace of this mess? You're already fucked, and that means the gloves are off.

So it's time to take the biggest risk you can.

"BOOMBURST, NOW!"

Without hesitation, Toxtricity complies. Over the course of a second, his entire body tenses up, before an ear-bursting cacophony tears free from his throat. The colourful crystals vibrate and shatter, sending dozens of shards exploding out in all directions like shrapnel. The ceiling cracks under the sudden pressure, and stalactites come crashing down to the ground and sending out plumes of dust and debris. That is to say nothing of how viscerally unpleasant a noise it is to hear. Damaging? No, not particularly, but distracting? Yes, the carnage of sight and sound that it kicked up is just the spectacle you needed right now.

The bad news is you won't be running far like this. The good news is, you don't have to. Amongst the havoc, Toxtricity practically tackles you, sending you both tumbling for a moment, before the lizard regains his footing and begins to sprint towards the nearest exit, dragging you along with it. Even now, you can feel its pace quicken as it Shifts Gears, the ability to outrun his pursuers becoming the sole priority. Is he fast enough to outrun that Lycanroc? Maybe he is. Maybe he isn't. All that matters is that you keep running until you're in the clear.

So, the two of you flee. Trainer and Pokemon, humiliated and defeated, fleeing from a fight, but alive and free. If nothing else, you both share that same cockroach-like survival instinct, that inherent urge to keep living in spite of an overwhelming lack of ability, talent, or skill. It's hardly admirable, but in this instance, you're glad for it.

So, you leave the battlefield behind. This can only be called an absolute defeat, but all things considered, you don't hate it... Not yet, anyway. The consequences of this failure are an issue for the Shred Zeppelin of the future. The present Shred Zeppelin, however, is content.

---

Lydia Magnusson

THREAD MP TOTAL:
10 x 5 MP = 50FP for IC Posts.
100 MP for completing a mission.
150 MP for completing a battle.
50 MP for participation in a battle/mission.
300 MP for tying the battle.
Total - 650 MP

This is going terribly, isn't it? You're splayed out on the floor, your partner is splayed out on the floor, and your partner's Absol is splayed out on the floor. If this is a brawl, then all three of you are losing to this bug. Seriously, just what is this thing? It's an absolute powerhouse, and it looks like nothing you've ever seen before.

As its attention turns back to you, a lightbulb goes off in your head. This thing has to be a Pokemon, right? Even if you can't recognise it, the odds are better than not that it is one. And, judging by its behaviour, it has to be a wild one. No domesticated Pokemon would ever act like this, and even if it did, it especially wouldn't be left on its own. The odds are better than not that this is a wild Pokemon. So, that means that there's one surefire way to get out of this mess...

...Okay, well, it's far from surefire. In fact, it's probably better to call it a longshot. Still, it's all you've got.

So, as the insect charges towards you, you unhook an empty Pokeball from your belt, and proceed to fling it directly into its face. The meaty thud of impact echoes throughout the cave, before the bug is consumed by a red glow and disappears into the Pokeball.

As it tumbles down to the ground, rocking and shifting and struggling, all you can do is pray that it holds.

---

Kouji Matsubara

• player/ooc name: RaptorAttacks
• character tags: Shred Zeppelin Levi Lovelace
• dropped characters' tags (if applicable): n/a
• ic posts for characters: Shred, Liliana
• are characters in directories?: Y
• any notes/comments: fuck it, we ball

Well, fuck.

You can't really say you're surprised. Toxtricity might have had the speed advantage, but Tyranitar had every other advantage. When it comes to strength, size, and stamina, your partner is easily outgunned. Hell, even the battlefield itself plays to all of their strengths and your weaknesses. Maybe that makes you an idiot for even trying to take this fight in the first place. No matter how hard you cheated, you were never going to win.

Shocking nobody, the violent burst of Stone Edge catches Toxtricity square in the chin. All of that force, equivelant to getting hit by a speeding truck, is sent directly to its head. Thus, your ace is sent flying backwards, crashing into the crumbling ceiling before tumbling down in a heap, landing right in front of you. Needless to say, he's fainted. You've lost. All you can do is scowl as you return it to its Pokeball, leaving behind only defeat and bad vibes.

But hey, hindsight is 50/50, right? And you miss every shot you don't take, too. Really, this is just a learning experience. Besides, it's not really a loss, right? After all, the Swagger did its job. Tyranitar is still rampaging, and it won't be long before it brings down this entire tunnel. This cna only be a pyhrric victory for your opponent, and a meaningless defeat for you. All you need to do now is scurry away and let your opponent bury himself, blocking off this passageway and making you the true victor of...

...No, actually, fuck that, that's bullshit, and there's no fucking way you're letting it come down to that.

"Fucks sake... Get out here, Salandit."

Sure enough, as you click the button, Salandit comes out of its Pokeball. At first, his little eyes seem grateful, overjoyed at the prospect of finally being called upon to battle. However, any glint of happiness immediately turns to fear as it faces down the bulldozer of a beast currently wreaking havoc. He tries his best to put up a brave face, god bless him, but he's clearly shitting himself. Toxtricity couldn't handle this monster, he must be thinking, so what am I supposed to do?

"Sweet Scent, on the double."

Oh. Given such a safe command doesn't make it any less terrified, but at the very least, Salandit complies. Out from its maw, a nostalgic aroma overflows, and soon fills the collapsing tunnel. It's the sickly saccarine smell, and a soothing one, at that. Even just breathing it in brings to mind better days than this one. Hoping that it'll calm down a raging Tyranitar is a long shot, but hell, it can't hurt to try, can it?

"You better survive this, fucker. If you die before I get my rematch, I'll be fucking fuming."

With that odd combination of fuming insult and eager farewell, you return Salandit to his Pokeball and turn tail, running away on the double. Today didn't count. Too many external factors getting in the way, too many needless circumstances gumming up the works. You can't even call it a worthy fight, let alone a good one. Wet kindling can't feed the fire of your soul.

Next time, though? As your boots hit the ground, the slightest hint of a grin twists onto your face.

That'll be gasoline for the pyre.

---

Michael Navidson

THREAD MP TOTAL:
10 x 5 MP = 50FP for IC Posts.
50 MP for getting Toxtricity knocked out.
100 MP for completing a mission.
150 MP for completing a battle.
50 MP for participation in a battle/mission.
250 MP for tying the battle.
Total - 650 MP

You don't really see much of what's going on, given the fact that you're preoccupied with being slumped. Writhing in pain and trying not to scream is a full commitment, and you don't have much energy left to dedicate to anything else. That probably explains why your vision is blurring and why your ears are ringing. Your body's priorities are rapidly shifting, and your senses are getting shuffled down low on the totem pole of your disgusting biology.

Still, as you're squirming like a worm on a hook, you do manage to catch the sight of your accomplice suffering a similar smackdown as you. It's frankly astounding how quickly your opponent dropped the both of you. It was really a masterclass in brute force, an exemplary display of the simplicity of hitting things hard. It's enough to bring a tear to your eye.

That's certainly the only reason you're crying right now.

Luckily, Kouji's Absol makes its presence known, illuminating the darkness as it does so. Straining your eyes, you're finally able to glimpse the perpetrator of your gut shot - A giant bug. At least, you think it's a bug? It looks fairly bug-like, what with the wings and such, but it's all so fuzzy that you can't be sure. After all, bugs are usually shit like Butterfree and Beautifly, right? Could an insect really hit that hard?

You'll find out soon enough. The insect is quick to react to the flash of light, its wide eyes immediately narrowing in on the source and lurching towards it. Soon enough, the Disaster Pokemon is faced down with an ill omen of its own, one moving a breakneck speed and aiming a punch straight at its dome.

---

Kouji Matsubara

"Hm."

You hadn't been expecting that. It seems like you've majorly underestimated this woman. Or maybe you've just majorly overestimated Toxtricity? Watching your Pokemon get flung to the ground stings a lot more when it's coming from a human, rather than a Throh. It's like seeing the behind-the-scenes of a movie. Really kills the mystique, y'know?

"Poor form, mate. Try harder next time, yeah?"

The lizard growls in response as it scrambles to its feet. You assume it's some kind of excuse, but honestly, you have no idea. You flunked out of your Languages course, among many others, but even then, you still get the gist. There's a certain tone to that snarl that tells you all you need to know.

But your sordid academic career and the intonation of your Pokemon are both secondary to the fact that there's a giant dog about to maul you like you're a Meowth slathered in bacon fat. Taking it head-on seems ill-advised, and unlike your opponent, you don't know your Judo well enough to throw it off like it's nothing. You need a plan, a smart one, or you're getting pasted across the floor.

But critical thinking was never much your strong suit, was it? Because if a fucking pig can do it, then you can too, and you can do it bigger, better, and flashier than any copper ever could.

So, with the split second of time available to you, you raise your leg and leap upward, aiming to counter the speeding mass of savagery and rock with the world's sloppiest jumping knee strike. For most people, this is the stupidest move possible. Even attempting it is unspeakably stupid. It simply doesn't work on so many different levels. But you? You're Shred Zeppelin. You do the unthinkable and perform the impossible. So, you clash with the attack, and--

CRASH!

--Are immediately sent flying backward, crashing through several colourful crystals, and into a wall. And you know what? It fucking hurts. It hurts so fucking bad. It's unreal.

But it was so cool, wasn't it?

You hear a panicked yelp and panicked scurrying towards your direction. That's probably Toxtricity, isn't it? Man. This is not the best work of your lovable duo act. Plan A and Plan B have both failed tremendously. So, as you lay on the floor, bruised and batter and in extreme pain, you try your very best to think of Plan C.

---

Lydia Magnusson

Just as Toxtricity wrecked the floor, Tyranitar wrecked the roof. The entire tunnel is shaking, cracking, breaking apart, sending debris tumbling down. It's small right now - Pebbles and dust, mostly, but it won't stay that way. All it'll take is a few seconds before stones and boulders start coming down on your head, and a few minutes before you're all buried alive.

A race to the bottom, huh? Normally, you'd be more than happy to oblige, but not here and not now. You're going to go down in a blaze of glory, and a cave-in is not glorious. But, you're not going to pump the brakes just yet, are you? No, the two of you are locked in a game of Farfetchd. You're both speeding towards each other at a hundred miles per hour, waiting for the other to lose their nerve and swerve out of the way. As long as you're the last to flinch, you win. That's the way this is going to go.

"Proper big fucker, aren't you... Toxtricity, Swagger!"

With that single command, and your Pokemon immediately switches gears. One moment, it seems fully invested in the battle in front of it, and the next, it doesn't have a care in the world. It stands tall, arms hanging limp by its side, as it takes a few lazy steps towards the killing machine in front of it, the living earthquake currently tearing the tunnel asunder. And, as casually as one might toss crumpled paper into a trash can, it spits directly in Tyranitar's face. It's a masterful display, managing to hit so accurately under the effects of a sandstorm, even if the distance is modest at best. If it had been a Sludge Bomb or a Gunk Shot, it would've hurt like hell. But this attack isn't meant to target the body. No, that harmless blob of saliva is targeted solely at the beast's temper, its ego and its pride.

Maybe you can't beat Tyranitar, but you can sure as hell get Tyranitar to beat itself.

---

Michael Navidson

"Tch. Cunt. You're a mouthy sort, aren't you?"

It's harsh words spoken with none of the gravity one would expect. Indeed, it didn't sound like an insult, but it wasn't quite affectionate either. It was more like an observation, the same tone one would take when commenting on the weather, stated as though it were a matter of fact. Then again, takes one to know one, right? And you can certainly claim to knowing one when you see one.

Frankly, you're about ready to head out, but it seems the pipsqueak has other ideas. You're not certain, but he seems like he's on edge. You've heard chit-chat that this place messes with your head, that lingering too long can warp your view of the world. Make you see things that aren't there, hear things that don't exist, and so on. Funnily enough, you haven't really felt anything like that. It's been "smooth sailing" for as long as you've been in this other dimension, save for all the times you've gotten your ass kicked. Or, maybe you have been experiencing the effects, and you're just already in too deep to notice it? Or, maybe one too many late night with bad company made you resistant to whatever bad trip everyone else got? Whatever. Makes no difference to you. You just want to leave.

"Sorry, twerp, but whatever you're looking for, you won't find it here." You begin to explain, marching straight into the shadows without a care. As though to prove your point, you pull your lighter out of your pocket, clicking it on to illuminate the gloom. "I've been here for the last ten, fifteen, however many minutes, and I haven't seen anything or met anyone. There's nothing--"

CRUNCH!

"--NGH!"

Your words get stuck in your throat and the breath is stolen from your lungs as you're hit hard in the stomach. Or, maybe your chest? You can't tell if you're dealing with broken ribs or a bruised belly, because your entire torso hurts all the same. Was there actually something in here with you the whole time? Sitting in the pitch black, even as you waited in the room with it? You can't tell. All you catch is a fuzzy blur in the corner of your eye before your lighter hits the ground and plunges the cave into dark once more.

---

Kouji Matsubara

Perfect. Not only is she an idiot, but she's gullible, too. If it weren't for the mutt following her around, you'd practically have this as good as won. Unfortunately, you don't, and that prick of a dog is standing between you and your cheap spot. Still, it could be worse. She still doesn't know you're bad news, and she bought your little lie about the missing Pokemon. You've got wriggle room. All you've got to do is find an opportunity and capitalise.

"Yes, ma'am, of course, ma'am."

So, you feign obedience, following along behind her and towards the exit. You don't want to wait too long, though. No, just a few seconds, enough that the Lucario is far enough away, enough that the Lycanroc to turn its gaze elsewhere, enough for the girl to get distracted with the prospect of navigating the caves.

Enough for you to take a step, to put her between you and her guard dog. Will her Pokemon be so eager to rip out your neck if it has to run through its trainer to do it? That's the gamble you're making. Granted, it's a cheap trick, but given the circumstances, why get expensive? There's no need for it. You've got the shot, now you just have to take it...

"Poison Jab."

The order leaves your mouth before Toxtricity even leaves its Pokeball, but by the time it does, its claw is already surging towards her neck, ready to win the fight before it even starts.

---

Lydia Magnusson

As you light your cigarette, you take a moment to savour it. Not just the smoke, but the adrenaline, too. It's been a while since you've had to get your hands dirty. Too much time spent running, and not enough spent fighting, though typically, you find too much the latter inevitably leads to the former, anyway. Still, it's nice to know that petty violence is enough to get your blood pumping. If it wasn't, you'd start to think something inside you had gone off.

Such a shame you can't gorge on it like you want to, but it is what it is. Shred Zeppelin can't become champion if he's getting caught braining people willy-nilly. No, just a little indulgence every now and then will be enough to get you by, and so long as Team Rocket keeps offering you the chance at a fix, who are you to turn them down?

Nothing wrong with it. Just the way you were raised, the way you live. Can't be helped.

"Whatever you say, boss."

The obstruction's gone, and the evidence is, too. Nothing left to do but the job you were sent for. So, you jump back into the driver's seat and speed away, leaving the empty road behind.

---

Zev Harcourt

Sure enough, break time's over.

You don't know who this lady is, nor do you know who she thinks she is, to be interrupting your relaxation like this. Luckily, that little badge told you all you needed to knew - She's the enemy. She's League, and you're Rocket, and by the rules of nature, one of you has to kill the other. Such is the nature of the glorified gang war you signed up to. Was getting to see another dimension really worth becoming a pawn in a power scheme so thoroughly beyond your comprehension?

Yes, and the answer isn't even close. Compared to all the withering drones back in Spikemunth, you're practically king of the world right now. As long as you can find a nice souvenir to commemorate your trip to the other side, you'll be more than glad to have been a foot soldier fed into the meatgrinder of petty conflict. Though, to that end, surviving is quite necessary, and if you want to survive, you'll have to overcome the woman in front of you, and her grizzly-looking mutt, too.

The bad news is, said mongrel is a problem. It's already out of its ball, and its already on high alert. You're not going to be able to get anything past that thing, no matter how hard you try. The goods news is, you can't say the same thing about its owner. No, the girl is either naïve or stupid, because she didn't immediately jump you the instant she laid eyes upon you. No, she seems to be under the impression that you're an average joe, caught in the crossfire, in desperate need of rescue. Just one of a thousand reasons why tossing that ugly little "R" pin they gave you in the garbage was such a swell idea.

So, it's time to put on the show. You like to think yourself more a rockstar than an actor, but hey, there's plenty of actors with habits just as bad as yours, right? And while they're making blockbusters, all you need to do is scam one idiot. You can pull this off, easy...

"Ah, yes, ma'am, that would seem to be the case." You mumble, putting on the dodgiest Hulbury accent you can muster as you pull yourself to your feet, turning to address the woman. "But, hm, hah, y'see ma'am... I can't leave just yet. Y'see, one of my Pokemon slipped the leash and I cannae find 'im for the life of me... Proper small bugger, he is, real quick type... Could'ya help me look for 'im? Please, ma'am..."

---

Lydia Magnusson

You're tired. Frankly, it's just been a very tiring day. You knew you were never a very good Pokemon trainer, but you didn't expect all the other trainers to be so much better than you were. Really seems like you just can't get a single win over anyone. Are you really just that bad? No, no, that can't be it. It's everyone else whose wrong. All these bastards with their Tyranitars and their Salamences, who do they think they are? They probably think themselves noble, but really, they're just scum. You, though? You're the real noble one. You're a proper noble type. The Queen of Galar would surely knight you if she knew how noble you were.

Still, doesn't change anything, does it? You, of all people, know how little nobility means. The unfortunate truth of the matter is, if you want to start winning fights, you'll need better Pokemon. Toxtricity and Doublade and Forretress are all well and good, but they can't go toe-to-toe with the real heavy hitters. If only you had a real brawny sort who could fill that sort of role...

Oh well. No point worrying about it. After all, it's not like you can just nip out of here and catch a new Pokemon to fill the gap in your ranks. So, you may as well just grin and bear it, and work on correcting that little flaw in your team later.

For now, you need to rendezvouz with your contact. You've been lost for so long, they finally sent someone to clue you in. In fact, they're here right now, waving that flashlight around in the darkness. You're guessing that they're looking for you, so it'd probably be a good idea to step out of the darkness, right? Seems like your monologuing time is up for now. Keep all this in the back of your mind so you can scribble it into your autobiography later. For now, it's time for business.

"It's a sick name, is what it is."

Finally, you make your dramatic entrance. You flick your lighter on-- No, hang on, try again, okay, no, just keep hitting the wheel, no, try again, hm... Still no spark, huh? Is it really out of lighter fluid? Fuck. Well, there goes the dramatic entrance, so it's time for plan B. You stride out from the gloom and into the light, unlit cigarette in your mouth, your entire body practically radiating disappointment. This is the kid you're supposed to meet? Yeah, matches the description you got over the radio. The feed was a little crackly and warbly, and it did cut out a bit, but you're sure you've got the most of it.

"Besides, you're one to talk. What kind of name is Mr Bara Joe Jeeves? Sounds like the name someone gives their Mr Mime. That's gotta be bad for your soul, innit? If I were you, mate, I'd get that shit changed ASAP."

---

Kouji Matsubara

Rock and stone, rock and stone, rock and stone...

It's all bloody rock and stone. Everywhere you go, it's rock and stone, caves and tunnels, a neverending network of desolate places that look the same. You've been wandering around aimlessly for... Well, you lost track of time ages ago. Trying to keep any kind of coherent map or timeline in your head is like rolling a rock up a hill. It's just not worth the effort.

Luckily, after enough "exploring", you managed to find this place. It's not like the rest of the caves and tunnels: It's wide and sprawling and open. And while it's not lacking in rock and stone, it's got crystals, too. Colourful ones, dotted all about the places, erupting from the ceiling and the floor alike. Looking up, you even think you can see what might qualify for "daylight" in this realm. This seems like as good a landmark as any, so you decided to spare your sore feet and take a break here. You can rejoin all the scrapping and the brawling later. Right now, you're content to take a break, sit it out, get comfortable, and enjoy a cigarette in peace.

Or at least, you were. Nothing in this place is ever that easy, is it?

No, there's a bad omen in the air. You can feel it burning in your lungs, and that's not just the smoke and tar. You've got a sixth sense for trouble, a radar in your head for bad vibes, and you can feel them getting closer and closer with every passing second...

---

Lydia Magnusson