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Jett didn’t know how to react to it, his mind went red; his rage that he had suppressed had gone wild, his breathing got erratic, as she sunk under him; he went along with it; rolling over her; and increasing his momentum right as she did, an instinctual move he was aware of, and had pushed even further; his hand went to the cap of his gun, and he pointed it at her as his feet touched the ground.
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”Drop what you have.” He had lost, as a man, as his ideals, he had lost; even if this would count as a win in a fight, he had lost the argument. ”They’re my ideals now…But I’m a piece of trash, so I’ll lose them every once in a while, like right now. So, if you don’t want your future-tarded brain to be painting these cave walls, give me any info you have.” His voice was even, level, low.
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The fact he had lost had made him feel that rage even more.

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Jett shook his head. ”What? Primitive ideals? What is a primitive ideal?” He said as he bent his knees and smashed into her shoulder, a charge against a charge; his gun was ready to smash, but he was sure it was the same for her sword, he felt an anger bubbling through him.
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But that was something that would only hold him back, push him back, squish him down, a problem.
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So he exhaled, and took out his anger in that breath, it didn’t dissipate completely but he felt it beating in his head. ”Haah, if everyone could hold my ideals, the world would be a better place. But, I’m stuck with blockheads like yourself, everyone else, too naive, too stupid, too silly, too primitive.” He said as he pushed forward, but there was a disadvantage for the taller man pushing down compared to the shorter woman pushing up.
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”But…An ideal that revolves around giving a hand, and no longer taking lives, I think that’s beautiful. Regardless of what everyone else thinks.” Even if they were his enemy, he would push them down, and he’d help them up. He would help, and he would pull away.

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Jett couldn’t agree with such an idea, he didn’t like it, he disliked it, he hated it. The more his mind sat on those words she spoke, the worse is scowl got, until it was functionally a snarl. ”Those…Are the dumbest words I’ve ever heard? You’re the only one with answers? The only one that knows how we need to step forward? The only one that knows just how things should be used?” He said as he pushed back against her sword; a lock, the sword had a greater leverage, but Jett held more muscular strength, a deadlock.
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It was an issue, but this deadlock was perfect in some sense. ”That’s so…Arrogant. So stupid. I hate it. Other primitives? You don’t have the slightest idea. Ideals are the only things that separate us from being robots.” He said as he pushed back; his anger empowering them.
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”I can’t agree with something like that, being human is the same as having ideals to me.” Even if he was only following the promise of another, it was something for him to strive for. It was better than the man who hated the world, the boy who had a chip on his shoulder, and strived to create the ugliest world around him.

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The sword moved for him, but Jett was a man who had been using it in such a manner all day, he aimed for the tip of the blade as if to deflect the judgment of this cruel woman, there had never been a moment to talk. ”Sorry, I promised someone not to kill anyone else with this gun.” He said as he whipped the barrel in return, but had come to a stop.
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There was a lot at play here, his Cyclizar shifted gears and jumped for the poison-type pokemon, he could trust his trainer to fight properly, he didn’t worry about such a thing. The bond between him and Bubby were proper.
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”Whether you agree or not is up to you, but; murder is the real primitive act.” He said as he leapt back. ”Well, what makes a primitive to you anyway?”

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”Don't worry, I won't let you live.”
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Jett understood before his body did, that this person wouldn’t go down to something like pain, but at the same time, he also understood that the same was true of him. He didn’t mind getting torn up, ripped at, having chunks of him removed…They were extra, he didn’t need those parts, people just taught themselves to require it. Everything was extra, he only needed his mind, and the ability to end the life of another.
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Everything else was just dirty, disgusting, unneeded, fat.
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But that Kingambit had taught him otherwise; the metal screech had forced his Crawdaunt to release his maw from it, and jump back, a loud cry that hurt its ears, resonated within its body, and created cracks against its tough carapace. It was a strong strike, a metal screech, and he didn’t want any more of it, pulling up a protect, a barrier to protect himself.
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Jett didn’t have that option, the room for it, and so he was forced to stop, stall in his place as blood forced itself from his nose, ears, and even more, he didn’t need to hear, he just needed to move. His body, he forced it; he pressed the trigger before the bile made its way up his throat. His left hand was extra, and so he shot a hole through it.
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The pain brought his mind back into the present. less fat. He charged forward again, for Hitoshi, to strike the man again, to shoot him, to put him down.
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For Good.

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”P-Primitive?” Jett seemed to be taken aback at the statement itself, long enough for him to stop and stare at the woman that had dropped such a line at him. ”What?” He didn’t know what to make of such a line, but he did know what to make of a sword; if it turned into a melee fight, then well, he took out the gun of his, the barrel was sealed with a strange substance, but he held it by the barrel itself; treating it like a blunt instrument.
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”Look, we can avoid the fight, talk shit out, and maybe, you’ll be walking on a brighter path.” He said as he looked at her, the ability to stand one’s ground, with that of speech. It was just that he was lacking in the latter case. He dismounted his Cyclizar and raised his two hands, a show of peace.
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”If you’re calling people primitives, I’m sure we can chat a little bit.”

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”Because I promised not to kill anyone else.”
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Jett understood that promise fully, but at the moment his heart didn’t have the room to care, the place has pushed him beyond too much. That darned woman, who had torn his ideals to pieces, the action he had taken, this dangerous man in front of him. He’d kill those he had just made friends with, he’d kill his lifelong and first friend, that couldn’t be allowed.
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Ideals could be damned.
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He’d become the devil to protect those few things, and right now, he was that devil once more, his movements were like Giratina incarnate, there was a recklessness to his actions as he took the jab; it tore at his forearm, but he moved alongside the blade regardless even if it cut into him, even as he roared loudly in pain, to drive the butt of his gun into his opponent’s ribs.
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If he could take this man down, being cut into ribbons was nothing.
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Metal met water once more, they clashed; it was a powerful connection, the ground cracked as the pressurized water was pressurized even more, and then pushed away, into the floor around them, jets of water rose up around them. Crawdaunt was stuck in the air as he tried to force his weight onto the Kingambit, and the Shogun which showed the blades he concealed towards the shrimp-like pokemon.
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He was forced back, Crawdaunt released a low growl, he had been a kind creature once, a little goofy, a little silly…But that had ended, used by the assassin known only as 『』.
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The blood of pokemon and trainer alike had stained his claws, now he was once again doing the same, back out in the open, and he loved it. He wanted to taste it, even against this creature of steel, he jumped forward as darkness coalesced around his mouth, time for him to bite down on the pokemon across from him.

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Jett ran a hand through his hair, riding on his Cyclizar; he looked up, down, and across, he was tired, exhausted; a lot had happened in that period of time. There was a lot to be said for this entire problematic event, a war by any other name. ”Shit, we should’ve taken more food from kyle lopez.”
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But here he was, tackling a path he knew he had seen some of the rockets on, maybe he’d run into that monster hitoshi, maybe he’d run into the underboss and get his shit rocked again, and maybe, just maybe, he could just talk someone down. But he didn’t count on it, his eyes were sharp; yet the glint on his sunglasses in this dimly lit path didn’t give anything away as he drifted into a wider cavern, his eyes landed on the lone person.

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Jett still in motion found that kind of mantra stupid. ”You’re only saying that as someone who’s been a weakling. The moment you really feel strong, something like your life was never even at risk.” It was a difference perhaps, but Jett hadn’t lost a fight until this man had stabbed him, he had been routed, he had been beaten, but he hadn’t lost in a straight fight.
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That was why he had to cover up that mark, so he could live the ideals passed down to him, so he could choose the path of domination if that failed, to push others towards a better life even if they themselves didn’t want it. It was cruel, it was tyrannical, but Jett knew at it’s core it was just one thing.
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It was good
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He raced, and swung his gun down, ready to slam the handle into the head of Hitoshi, he pulled the trigger during the arc to use the recoil to aid that moment.
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As for Crawdaunt, Kowtow Cleave met Crabhammer, the two attacks clashed; darkness met water, and mixed together, a cursed spray of mud that spread across the cavern. The attack was stronger, but all the same, it was Kingambit that was the stronger of the two as pokemon. It was a difference that was met in the middle; and the two attacks canceled each other out.
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That just meant it was time to clash again, and Crawdaunt did just that as he allowed the waters to coalesce around his claw once more to throw it forward at the Kingambit.

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Jett didn’t remove his eyes from Hitoshi, there was nothing behind his eyes; the empty eyes that he concealed behind his sunglasses, eyes that had grown to hate the world, and then the heart that lost the hate that kept it beating. He was no better than a machine, perhaps that idiot girl was right, he was a mere primitive.
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”I’m not going to enjoy this…Is what I would’ve said, but getting you to shut the fuck up is the most satisfying thing I’m going to do all week. Crawdaunt, don’t hold back. We’re doing this old-style, kill if you need to.” That was the order he gave his pokemon, nothing more.
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The Crawdaunt nodded, a completed swords’ dance before it charged forward, jumping into the air and allowing water to coalesce around his claw, a raging water spiral that was his crabhammer; once it was complete, it was even further boosted by his adaptability, his ability which forced his same type moves to a higher plateau, as if standing above all those that shared it.
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”What’s the fun in this anyway.” He said as he dashed forward to close the gap, he turned; and swung his gun at the man; an extended handle; one he used as a bludgeoning weapon, he fired the gun as if to give extra strength to his strike with the recoil of the weapon.

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Jett smirked before he answered the question that mattered, he had been a different trainer at the start of the day to now, pokemon had evolved, some had grown stronger, and he’d been forced to pull back members of his own team.
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”As a trainer, I specialize in two v two’s. I switch between a Hyper Offense style based on disorientating my opponents, or a hyper defensive style based around gradually whittling my opponent down.” But right now, he was fitted for his Hyper Defensive style.
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"What are yours?"

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