Continued from this post.

Oscar sat himself down and started polishing those stupid Tera Crystals. He expected Navy to be able to manage the work himself, he seemed cognitive enough to do so. Yet Oscar would glance over as the Elite mumbled something nonsensical, and only then would he realize how absolutely fucked Navy was. He seemed mentally sound earlier, but now he looked as vacant as a one star motel. Oscar could not help but stare, an unexplainable wave of worry falling over him.

Oscar forced himself to look away, what did he care if this stranger--this enemy could complete his work or not. Maybe the warden would do him a favor and take him out right--

The sound of a swinging blade broke Oscar's concentration. He looked over to find the warden standing over them, having used its razor sharp wing to knock Navy's stone aside. Oscar found himself protesting immediately, standing up and exclaiming "Hey!" As he met the warden's gaze. This thing was--different up close. It looked so strikingly beautiful that Oscar found himself instantly losing his nerve. Its glare followed Oscar as he slowly sat back down, returning to his polishing without another word.

The warden departed, and as Navy was thrown back into position Oscar would feel that horrible urge take over him once more. The urge to help.

Oscar began polishing more quickly, passing every other finished crystal to Navy. If Navy added them to his pile, it would look like he was doing more. Oscar did not acknowledge the sick man as he did this, he expected Navy to accept his offering without further comment. His life depended on it.
Michael Navidson

Oscar looked up, rubbing his chin as he pondered how to answer Lulu. It was true that Tera Crystals had proved to be a tenacious nuisance, but he also saw value within its possible applications. "I do believe that Tera Crystals are dangerous and should be treated with caution. However, if given the choice between sending them back into space or learning to utilize them--I would choose the latter in a heart beat. It has not been properly displayed yet, but Tera Crystals have opened a door that we would not have been able to traverse within our lifetime. They have accelerated us into the far future, and I look forward to finding a way to harness their power."

Oscar sounded confident, as he truly believed that mankind could find a way to enhance their current technology with Tera energy. They just needed to stop handling it with kid gloves.

During one of its glances toward its kin, Prime caught the other Genesect's gaze. While the other Genesect quickly looked away, Prime kept its eyes locked upon its relative. What had it to feel nervous about? Was it not also curious about Prime? Prime recalled its encounter with Tempest Quinn's Genesect, and how it was able to understand Prime's makeshift binary language. It decided to try that again, letting out a series of melodic beeps that would form a phrase that only its fellow Genesect would understand.

"GREETINGS GENESECT!"

Lulu Flint

Continued from here...

Oscar nodded lightly, letting out a impressed whistle. He was playing it cool, but if he were not wearing a mask it would have been fairly obvious that he was freaking out. He was sharing a cell with an Elite Four member? A deathly ill Elite Four member? Oscar could not decide if this meant he was lucky or unlucky; on one hand this provided him a superb opportunity to provide a devastating blow to the League but on the other...

It was not right, taking advantage of his current state. Oscar had what could be charitably called shit tier values, but even he had lines he did not cross. Yet he somehow remained undecided, open to the possibility of taking out such a valuable League asset to reinsert himself into Rocket's power structure. For now, he would continue to play the guardian angel.

"I was wonderin' who was gonna replace Callan." He said casually, not skipping a beat in the conversation. His training was serving him well. "You know, I've been meaning to challenge--" Oscar was cut off as a thunderous noise came from the center of the ward. Oscar twirled around, watching carefully to see what was transpiring. It took some time, but eventually the center platform descended to reveal their warden. Oscar relayed what he saw to Navy in a hushed tone.

"Their leader seems to be--a large bird pokemon--or at least the megalopolans are treating it like their leader. I don't recognize it. It bears a resemblance to our masks though." Oscar took note of the crates, balking as he read their labels. "Ugly ward--ugly? Ugly!?" Were they implying that Oscar was--no that was not possible. I mean Oscar was not conventionally attractive by any means but he certainly was not ugly. Perhaps they meant the actual physical appearance of the ward, which was indeed very ugly. Yes that must be it, they were simply being literal. Oscar almost felt silly for getting flustered.

Trays of bizarre pastries were brought to each cell. As they were delivered, one of the megalopolans would provide an introduction. Oscar would simply let Navy listen to the spiel himself, his ears still worked fine after all. As angry cries rang out in response, Oscar took a closer look at their food. They were not pastries it turned out, but rather large helpings of mochi ice cream. "How curious..." Oscar said while rubbing the chin of his mask. How come they looked both enticing and revolting?

Then the bird made an example out of one of the prisoners. Oscar looked up just in time to watch the gruesome scene, gasping as he watched the poor fucker turn himself into a human pretzel. Oscar was rightfully horrified, being able to do nothing else but mutter "Holy fuck..." as a reaction. If that was what awaited dissenters, Oscar would make no attempt to rebel--for now. As he saw others eat the mochi, Oscar would pick up their cell's tray and push it onto the desk in front of Navy. "Our warden just willed a man to break his own body, so we should do as they say. Eat up." Oscar grabbed a mochi and ate it without hesitation. It was sickeningly sweet, satisfying yet it left a heavy feeling within his stomach. As his chain morphed into the bars, Oscar began making movements to help Navy over to their work.

"Come one, I'm guessing you won't be getting any special treatment for being sick." As Oscar prepped Navy, he would briefly try to get a roster of recognizable allies going. The only person he could name was Zev Harcourt , whose voice was unmistakable. Perhaps other Rockets would be able to pick out Oscar and they could all form a plan to escape--eventually.

AQort1fK

tl;dr
--Oscar freaks out internally about Michael Navidson 's identity.
--Oscar watches the introduction and is Not down with the sickness.
--Oscar downs the mochi yum yum.
--Oscar helps Navy get over to their work so he does not get killed.
--Oscar hopes other Rockets within the ward will be able to recognize him.
--Ugly ward is ugly

His cellmate motioned toward the stool, and even as they attempted to reach for it himself Oscar would walk over to help them along. As he helped get his stranger acquaintance situated, Oscar would be asked about his role within the League. This could only lead to trouble, but Oscar would answer truthfully. His civilian persona had nothing to hide.

"Worse, neither. I run a corporation out of Mauville. Probably isn't hard to guess which one." Oscar stepped away as he finished propping up the man, folding his arms as he admired his handiwork. "Fuck it, that basically gave it away so I'll just introduce myself. My name's Oscar Clayton, ceo of GMH. Nice to meet you."

Oscar did not expect an introduction in return, he let his cellmate decide whether to maintain anonymity. Oscar returned to his position by the bars. "As to my attempted involvement with the League, I keep wanting to help but the commissioner never returns my calls. I don't think she trusts me for some reason."

Michael Navidson

The League's intel huh? So his cellmate was affiliated with the League, and perhaps not a civilian due to his access to 'intel'. Maybe a ranger? Oscar's head fell against the bars, did it fucking matter? Sides and fractions did not mean shit when everyone is behind the same bars, trapped by fucking aliens. He had to stop thinking like a Rocket and keep thinking like a human being.

Oscar turned and leaned his back against the bars, concluding that there was nothing more worth seeing beyond them. "Damn League doesn't tell me anything. This is what I get for giving up on asking for intelligence briefings." Oscar tilted his head, "You don't seem comfortable. Maybe there's something in here we can prop you up with."

Michael Navidson

"Uh huh..." Oscar looked to his own chain, feeling silly for having not seen such a thing before. He had pretty much locked himself in his lab all month working on a new arm for Shred Zeppelin--guess he missed more than he thought.

"Another day, another crisis in Hoenn." Oscar said dismissively as he stood back up. He walked back to the bars, once again trying to be the eyes for his cellmate. "I don't suppose you would know why the megalopolans are here..."

Oscar nodded at the man's thanks, looking to his arms as his cellmate coughed. Only now did Oscar question whether the man was carrying some sort of virus, and whether said virus was easily transmittable.

"Uh weird question--you're not contagious right?" Oscar looked around as if searching for a buffer to his awkward query, which of course was unsuccessful. He decided to just quickly change the subject.

"Um right, I remember coming home--making dinner--pouring a glass of wine--turning on the tv--then I guess I knocked out. Maybe my wine was drugged? No I had just opened it. Maybe my food..." Oscar started to mumble to himself as he attempted to solve this unfortunate mystery, before eventually realizing that he was being weird again.

"Oop, sorry. Uh, what about you?"

Oscar glanced backward, once again pitying his cellmate as he failed to sit up. He would not answer his question at first, instead walking toward the man and kneeling over him.

"How about I help you sit up first. Then we can chat all you want, alright?"

Oscar would offer his thin arms for stability, should the man accept his help.

Michael Navidson

Sailor to the lead as Oscar held the door for them. While they crept further down, Oscar stayed a short distance back. He looked to the ceiling and then to the floors below. It would seem that the museum did not bother setting up cameras in the upper floors, probably because they did not think anyone could get here other than maintenance. He figured they would not be so lucky outside of the stairwell.

Sailor peeked out onto the first floor they came upon, nodding to Oscar that it was clear. Clear of guards maybe, but Oscar was too paranoid to proceed without further investigation. He peeked from behind sailor, taking in what he could from their position. They were looking out onto the third floor, which was reserved for office space for museum staff. The new aquarium was on the first floor, it'll be safest to get there by elevator further in.

Eventually Oscar would speak, "Emma, clear our path to an elevator." Perhaps to Sailor's surprise, a discolored ariados would suddenly emerge from Camouflage on the wall to crawl in through the door. She jumped from the wall to the floor, skittering through the office in search of an elevator. Whenever she would catch a glimpse of a security cam, she would fire purple webbing from her abdomen to disable it. She would disable three cams in total before discovering the elevator, backtracking to find her master and his companion to lead them to it.

Oscar nodded as Emma turned to guide them, "Alright step carefully, we don't want any guards further down to hear our movements."

Sailor de Laurierwylle

Oscar looked back at his cellmate, who weakly claimed that no one in charge would care about his condition. Oscar frowned behind his mask, knowing deep down the man spoke the truth. If they wanted him to feel better, they would have given him treatment before throwing him in here--fuckin' bastards. Oscar decided to focus on the man's inquiry: Who was out there? Oscar focused himself, trying to absorb as much of the sights and sounds as he could.

"Megalopolans. They're patrolling the cells, they all got chains like ours. They don't seem bothered by them though." He wondered why megalopolans were here at all, but that could be answered another time.

"I can hear some voices I recognize, but there's too many of them at once. It's impossible to tell who the other prisoners are."

Michael Navidson

Oscar looked over to Zev as the devourer declared the operation's success. At first he was stunned; he half expected nothing to happen, as per the norm of these spur of the moment experiments. His uncertainty would quickly morph into twisted satisfaction, at last he had revealed new insight into the nature of the dreaded Necrozma!

Oscar laughed with hysterical triumph, raising his fists into the air as he let the transfer proceed. "I fuckin' knew it! Now we know that Necrozma can absorb both Dynenergy and Infinity Energy!" Oscar flourished toward the lever, pushing it back up to shut down the machine. Zev's restraints would unlatch themselves, allowing the admin to sit up if he wished.

Meanwhile the tubes within the capsule would detach themselves from the floette, allowing it sweet relief from the torturous procedure. Yet it would have no time to rest before Oscar would startle the poor thing by slamming himself against the capsule's door. "Do you realize what this implies!? If Dynenergy poisons and Infinity Energy empowers, then they are conceptual opposites within nature! One saps life while they other grants it! This is a remarkable discovery!"

Oscar opened the capsule, quickly withdrawing the floette before it could react further. Tossing the ball up and catching it with flare, Oscar would casually make his way over to Zev. "So, how are we feeling now?"

Zev Harcourt

Oscar nearly jumped out of his skin when a voice spoke out behind him. He spun around, attempting and failing to cover his legs with his arms. His priorities were realigned when he got a better look at the sorry creature that was his cellmate. The stranger was in far worse shape than Oscar, barely able to even sit up.

Now Oscar was nowhere near a good person, if he had known who this was he probably would have relished the chance to take him out while he was weak. Yet for now this was a struggling stranger, and that pesky thing called empathy ignited within Oscar once more. Forgetting his own discomfort, Oscar gingerly moved toward his fellow inmate.

Standing over his ill compatriot, Oscar reluctantly bent down to get a better look. Poor guy was nearly as pale as Oscar, what happened to him. Eventually, Oscar gathered the courage to speak.

"Uh hey there um--pal. You don't look so good. I mean that's obvious but uhh--shit I can't help." Oscar looked around, trying to locate something that would help. Of course there was nothing, so Oscar just embellished a shrug. He stood back up and went back to the bars. This probably won't work but there was jack-shit else he could do.

"Hey this guy's sick! Like, really sick! You got some fuckin' Tylenol or--whatever!?"

tl;dr
--Oscar feels bad for poor sick Michael Navidson
--Oscar tries to get Navy medical attention to likely no avail.