All it takes is one step, and you've gone from where you were to somewhere else entirely. The stale air of the ruin fades, and you're hit by a fresh breeze that rolls across Mauville City. You don't know how you got from point A to point B, but you know that you don't like it, and you're certain it's going to keep happening, and you know very well that you're going to get sick of that real quick. Alas, not much you can do about that. After all, you're the dumbass who let yourself get plugged into this dubious simulation. You can't really complain about it.

Nevertheless, you're quickly lured into the next encounter. So, giving it less thought than the situation deserves, you simply shrug and follow Barnaby into an alleyway. It's there that you encounter a strange-looking stranger making a very strange offer.

"Heads or tails...?"

The fuck? Who the hell is this bozo, and why is he flipping coins? You'd assume this was some kind of glitch in the system, but your accomplice on this endeavour seems to be reacting far too strongly for it to be a mere bug. Is this a real person? Someone in the real world? They look like a complete goon. You could probably break their back over your knee.

But that was hardly in the spirit of things, was it? No, you might as well play along. Maybe if you do, everything will work out.

"Tails it is."

• player/ooc name: RaptorAttacks
• character tags: Shred Valerie Katraz Beatrix Nash
• dropped characters' tags (if applicable): Levi Lovelace
• ic posts for characters: Shred, Beatrix, Valerie
• are characters in directories?: Y
• any notes/comments: poe gars

Your attempt at a quick exit doesn't go very well. As it happens, the millennia-old ruins you're inhabiting aren't very structurally sound. That shouldn't be surprising, all things considered, but that doesn't stop you from being surprised when the floor gives way underneath your feet.

"FUCK!"

Luckily, you don't fall very far, and you don't fall into a pit of spikes, or lava, or anything else that might prove hazardous to your health. Once the initial shock of the impact wears off, you clamber up to your feet, and look around your surroundings. There's some kind of engraving of Unown all next to each other, spelling something out, but... Man, you really don't care about that at all. Leave figuring that shit out to the learned folk with their fancy diplomas and doctorates and all that nonsense. Right now, all you want to do is get out of this miserable little catacomb as quickly as you can.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." You grumble, dusting off your clothes. "Done with this shithole, though. Let's blow this joint before this floor collapses, too."

---

BARNABY FINCH

"...Hey, dumbfuck, did you forget the part where we both got mugged by a giant insect?"

Seriously, did he? Did this idiot suffer a major concussion and get a crippling case of amnesia when you weren't paying attention? Because honestly, you wouldn't put it past him. He has about as much survival instinct as the chick from Driftveil did... God, you miss her, for definitely wholesome reasons that you absolutely can't think about right now. Not in front of this stupid child who may or may not be suffering from major brain damage.

"Y'know? The one that punched me in the ribcage? That kicked the shit out of you and your Absol?"

You're not sure you're getting anywhere here. Maybe he's more of a visual learner? Or a visual rememberer? Whatever the case, you grab the Pokeball containing the offending bug and vaguely gesture it in front of him, as though that might somehow jog his memory.

"This one? This one right here?"

---

Kouji Matsubara

The fight is quickly reaching its end. You were expecting that. Your battling style has always been to go half as long and twice as bright, and it's been no different here. Tyranitar is on its last legs, but Toxtricity isn't exactly looking good, either. Meanwhile, Slither Wing and Iron Valiant seem to be fairing better, but you can tell that fight won't be lasting much longer.

You can tell. The gigantic insect is locked in. From the bristling of its fur to the slight shivering of its wings, you know. He's locked in to the highest gear. This speeding car is heading straight towards that brick wall, and whether it smashes through or slams to a halt, it doesn't much care. It's riding high off a primordial kind of adrenaline. This next hunt will be the last, because it's not going to let up and break it. Come what may, it'll fight until the end, be it joyous or bitter. And, really, who are you to deny him that?

So, the dinosaur charges forther, and for the last time, Slither Wing and Iron Valiant clash.

Two paradoxes of vastly different eras. One, a beast of the past. The spitting image of Volcarona, one fuelled by sheer, overwhelming physical might. A monster so fierce, so dominant, that it could only be described as an apex predator. The other, a machine of the future. The echo of Gallade, a knight not armoured in steel, but made of it. A warrior that was unstoppable, driven by a code incomprehensible to the modern era, ever onward to its goal.

Claws meet blades as Close Combat meets a Psycho Cut. It's a blur of violence, so fast the naked eye can barely track it, and obscured further by the sand, the static, and the heat. It almost feels like you're watching shadows playing on a wall, rather than an actual fight between actual creatures. Yet despite your perceptions, the fight is very much real...

...And of the two silhouettes, it is the knight that lands the critical blow first, leaving the shade of the monster to crumple and collapse, defeated, slain, and conquered by his opponent.

Paradox Pokemon Study, Slither Wing, Note #3 - Despite everything, he's not invincible.

But of course, the battle isn't over yet. No, that might've been the insect's final confrontation, but there's still one challenge left to overcome before the Iron Valiant claims its victory.

BANG! After a hard-fought battle, Tyranitar hits the ground, and the endless stream of sand finally comes to a halt. Standing over him is Toxtricity, battered and worn by vicious combat and extreme exertion, but nevertheless the winner of his particular one versus one. He must've learned well from his last loss, though as he pants and gasps for air, it's clear his wasn't quite a decisive victory. Perhaps another day, he might've been the one laying unconscious on the battlefield? Not that it matters. Hypotheticals are all well and good, but Toxtricity won this time, and this time is what counts right now.

Kept upright by the crackle of lightning that has filled the arena, Toxtricity turns wary eyes towards Iron Valiant, and raises a claw that's still dripping with venom. Seems like he's got one good attack left in the tank, one last move before he's done.

And that's fine with you, because one move is all you're gonna need.

"So, Navidson, ready to put it all on the line?"

---

Navy

What does having long hair have to do with you going first? Is that some kind of superstition thing? Honestly, this guy keeps calling you old, but he's the one busting out phrases and sayings from the 1800s. For all you know, he could be some kind of immortal vampire from aeons past, seeking to hoard long lost treasures to store in his ancient tomb...

...Actually, scratch that. If he had an ancient tomb full of long lost treasures, then he wouldn't keep complaining to you about how he spent next month's rent on funerary urns from Orre. No, if he was some kind of vampire, he was definitely some kind of new-age bloodsucker who subsided off eating dead rats and licking hospital floors. Nevermind the fact that you've seen Howard standing in broad daylight and handling silver and eating garlic bread; You can't let that get in the way of whatever the hell you're pondering about right now. It's a good metaphor, you just need to look beyond the surface, okay? Look, it really isn't important. You'll come back to this later. There's some good content there, and you're not abandoning it, but you need to focus on the matter at hand right now.

"Yeah, yeah."

Grumbling, you manage to push yourself through the crack in the wall, coming out the other side and immediately tumbling down ten feet and landing on your stomach. Luckily, your non-existent pacemaker remains intact. With a groan, you pull yourself to your feet, and immediately look around your surroundings.

Gigantic crystals, shimmering with strange light, giving off a weird energy. Bingo. If these aren't Tera shards in the making, then you don't know what the hell they are. Course, the problem is that they're not exactly easy to reach. You were expecting them to be out-of-the-way, but you weren't expecting them to be hanging over a chasm so deep that you couldn't see the bottom. That was an unexpected setback. You were hoping this would be like a normal cave, but it seems more like a winding disaster than anything sensible.

"So..." You begin, taking a few steps towards the edge of the sloping stone walkway and closer to your prize (but not too close, mind). "There it is. You know the deal, bud. Go do some archaeology or geology or... What is it you do again?"

---

Tch. Well. That was a massive waste of time. Gregory really threw you under the bus here, didn't he? Still, it wasn't like the diplomatic approach was getting you anywhere fast. With how things were going, it would've taken you days, if not weeks, to actually convince him to "sign up" for your little "protection service". No, really, you should be thanking him. Now, you have an excuse to stop beating around the bush. What option did you have except cutting to the chase?

"I'll be blunt, bud - Agree to the terms, or we're gonna beat the shit out of you."

With that assessment, you take a step back. Now that it's all out in the open, there's no way he's dense enough to try and reject this deal. What is he going to do? Actually say no? He's not going to win a fight two against one. He's a rat in the corner now. He's got his back against the ropes. He's done. He's finished. He's in checkmate. He's--

"FIDOUGH, GETTEM!"

A small pudgy-looking dog-thing leaps out from behind the counter, landing directly on your face. It might've hurt you, if it wasn't such a light and fluffy creature. Was this his master plan? To defeat you using this silly puppy?

"C'mon now, Luigi." You chuckle at his feeble attempt as resistance, though given that there's still a Pokemon latched on your face, it comes out rather muffled. "Did you really think you could get out of this by--"

CRUNCH!

"GYAHHHHHH!!!"

You fall down to the ground, wrestling with the Fidough, trying to rip it off your face. Yet, for such a delightful-looking beast, its teeth have sunk surprisingly deep into your face, and its grip is surprisingly tight. You pull and push and shove and drag, yet really, all you've managed to do is knead the dough. Turns out, busting this pooch is going to be surprisingly difficult. You can only hope that Gregory is holding down the fort while you're busy removing this canine facehugger...

---

Grigori Sokolov

The speakers of your phone crackle and groan and plead and beg. They're asking for you to venture deeper inside, to walk into the darkness, to find the heart of the ruin. They're asking for you to fulfill some promise you've never made, to rescue somebody who isn't even in danger. A sweet song of nothingness.

You're almost tempted to follow the siren song. Almost. But your phone battery has been dead for the past six hours, and though you're not particularly knowledgeable when it comes to technology, but even you know that isn't possible. You've got a sixth sense for bad vibes, and it's going ballistic right now.

You glance away from your phone and up at the darkness. Yeah. No. You're not falling for this shit. Whatever demons are lurking in the shadow can go fuck themselves, because you aren't wandering blindly into that dark alley. Lucky you, because your partner on this little mission seems to agree with that assessment. That's good, because if both of you can get out of this "simulation" in one piece, then it'll save you a whole lot of explaining to the Rocket higher-ups.

"Yeah, fuck this place. Let's get out of here."

---

BARNABY FINCH

Finally, you've gotten all the leeway you need. You can't say it was easy, but after plenty of fighting tooth and nail and such, you've got the distance you need, and Gallade is on the backfoot. This is the situation where Skeledirge is meant to excel. At close range, they might struggle, but with range by their side? They have all the advantage they could ever need.

The blazing bird is blown to pieces by the psybeam, but it isn't gone for long. No, the disparate embers quickly coalesce once more, reforming the bird back on the tip of the crocodile's nose with a puff of smoke. Despite the wound they should have suffered, they seem no worse for wear than they were before. Well, except for how irritated they seem by the whole "being attacked" affair. They're hopping up and down, chirping with extreme irritation, letting out a tirade no doubt filled with the most heinous bird-profanities known to mankind.

Skeledirge, for his part, remains unbothered. It doesn't even really seem like he's that invested in the fight he's currently participating in, even after watching his companion take that hit. Still, he knows what he has to do, so much so that you don't even have to say a word.

His jaws open wide, dark energy coalescing within his gaping maw, taking the form of a roiling orb of gloom. It stays there for a moment, pulsing and yawning, growing larger and larger with every passing second. Then, when it seems to reach the peak of its size, the crocodile slams his jaws shuts, and a Shadow Ball is launched forward towards the Gallade, rushing towards him at high speed, ripping through the air until the moment--

BOOM!

--of impact.

---

onyx straub

You don't trust these dolphins.

Seriously. It feels like every time you turn away from them, they vanish from your sight, replaced by a larger, more muscular, less dolphinesque form of a dolphin. They don't even act like fish, either - They seem to act more like people than anyone else, making eheheheh-noises at one another as though they were talking to one another. Who do they think they are? It's like they think they're some kind of aquatic man or something. It's pretty fucked up, and you don't like it, not one bit.

But, hell, you're not picky. Doesn't matter if they're a weird fish or a weird fishperson, you've got Pokeballs to spare and a crippling lack of water types in your merry cavalcade. So, time to plug that gap.

Welcome to the party, you damned weirdos. Now get in the ball.

---

ZHeGG8Ie

"You're robbing me."

"Well, that's a loaded term, y'know? It's not like taxes, we're not stealing from you. It's just a small monthly fee, and in exchange, you're getting twenty-four seven property protection. Really, with rates as cheap as these, you'd be the one robbing us here."

"And if I don't pay it, you'll wreck my shop."

"No, see, we're not vandals. We're just normal men. We're just innocent men! Just a couple of salesmen trying to protect your business from misfortune at an affordable price! What's so wrong about that?"

"What's wrong is you're robbing me."

Oh boy. This is a pain directly in your asshole. You're not the diplomatic sort at the best of times, and the propreitor of Luigi's Pizza isn't making it any easier for you. The stout, heavy-set Unovan man hasn't so much as budged an inch in the last five minutes, while you've been standing here trying to convince him to accept the worst deal known to man. How the hell does anyone make this hustle work? The originators of Team Rocket must have been geniuses to make this happen, because this feels like pushing a boulder up a slope.

It doesn't help that your "partner" isn't much the talkative type. Grigori Sokolov is an brick shithouse, sure, but he's not exactly got a silver tongue. In fact, you're pretty sure it might be made of lead. Still, even if you're cooking a shit meal with worse ingredients and faulty tools, you've still got to make this work somehow...

"C'mon, bud, how many times do I have to tell you? This isn't robbery! This is... Well... What do you call it, Gregory? What we're doing right now? What's the proper name for it?"

---

Grigori Sokolov