[center][h2][u][b]Route 117[/b][/u][/h2][/center][quote]Credit: [@c3p-0h]
    	Droplets pounded against the forest floor. The sloshing of mud and wind in the leaves deafened shouts and cries. Thunder pounded out sounds made by wild Pokemon and the sounds of the earth. The chaos of the chase was just the slightest murmur in the growing wrath of the skies. Despite the cacophony, the scent of life and of water and of earth filled the air. The edges of the grass and reeds sharp, the shell of trees coarse and jagged, the soil soft and a vacuum, nothing could release the grip of focus to play savior of a helpless egg or the greed of wanting what others possessed.
    	"Fury Cutter!" a sharp voice called through another crash of thunder. 
    	A Scyther whizzed through the trees to the left of the man and Weepinbell. Its razored limbs sliced down at the vines gripping the man, blades cutting almost entirely through. A pained cry came from Blink and the vines released immediately. 
    	"Blink!" Haven shouted, two pokeballs already in hand. Blink wasn't meant for battle. 
    	"Head Charge!" 
    	In the next moment, a Tauros stampeded from the left and directly toward the Weepinbell. Blackened dirt splashed up from under the beast's hooves. It kept its target despite the unreliable surface on which it trampled. Haven's heart was in her throat as she watched the Tauros charge at Blink. That attack would end him.
    	With a desperate arm outstretched, and the other holding the egg, she clicked the center buttons on both pokeballs. He returned to her in a flash of light. At the same time, Lace materialized a scant foot in front of the rampaging Tauros. 
    	"Iron Defense!" The Corsola was small, but she was tough – she could take the knock. Lace immediately did as commanded, trusting Haven. She hunkered down on her little stub legs and braced herself, rocky body ready to act as a landmine.
    	The Tauros acted as if his target hadn't changed. His legs rammed into the ground, crashing all around the coral and then past. Paces away, it stumbled and slammed into the mud, picking up what small patches of grass and leaves were around the tree it collided with. Its legs were torn up from the Corsola's pink branches. Combining that with the collision meant it wasn't getting back up. 
    	The clumsy beast was the perfect distraction for the Scyther to then descend upon Haven directly. If its trainer couldn't have the egg, the Scyther would destroy it so that none could possess the apparent treasure. Its arm swung like a guillotine down upon the girl. 
    	"Yes!" the voice without a body cried out in some kind of sick pleasure.
   	Haven barely had enough time to turn away from the blow asthe Scyther appeared before her in a blur of green and a lightning flash of blades. The egg was pulled tight to her chest as she tried to shield it. Her eyes were slammed shut, bracing for the blow. But any attempt to ready herself couldn't possibly prepare her for the lines of fire that seared across her back. Her eyes snapped open wide and her lips parted in a silent scream. A halting, strangled sound was all that could escape. 
    	The Scyther's blades had cut an X through the filthy robe and into her back. Haven's blood poured out of her, hot and slick, mixing with the rain and mud. Haven was blind to everything save for the pain, the blind panic of being sliced open. She could feel herself falling forward. She was going to collapse. But suddenly she heard something over the sound of the storm: an angry, pained hiss as the Scyther turned from her to look at Lace. She'd begun pelting it with rocks, furiously trying to defend her trainer. Haven chanced a look over her shoulder to see the Scyther trying to glare and hiss but flinching when it was interrupted by a rock beamed at its face. Lace was unrelenting.
    	Just when the Scyther seemed ready to charge at Lace, Haven grabbed another pokeball from the robe's pocket and Dagger was back in the fray. The Granbull didn't even look at Haven before she pounced onto the Scyther, climbing on its back and attempting to maul it. Pink electricity once again began crackling from Dagger's jaw. She barely flinched when a stray rock from Lace hit her instead of the Scyther. Haven turned so her sliced back was no longer exposed, and took a few shaky steps back from the battle. She wanted to fall, she wanted to rest, she wanted to cry at the agony etched into her very flesh. But adrenaline forced her through. She tried to look beyond them to see the man.
    	He now stood facing her with a grin cartoonish and vile. Something about his smile made her blood numb in her veins – or maybe she was just going into shock. His hand held a Pokeball that he rolled off his hand and allowed to release when it touched the ground. The beam of energy slithered out of the ball, turned a sickening devil-purple, and transformed into a terror of an Arbok. Its eyes straight at the girl and its body low, it prepared to lunge its fangs at the girl, or the egg, if she was smart. 
    	Another rumbling started to pound in sync with her thundering heart. The Rhyhorn from before had made its way out of the swamped stream. It pointed its long and sharp horn toward the ground, looking to impale the Corsola that was attempting to fend off the thieves. It wouldn't be tricked so easily this time. 
    	There was too much to keep track of. The frenzied brawl between Dagger and the Scyther, the man's sickening smile, the viper lunging, Lace – [i]Lace[/i]. Terror gripped her throat as she watched the Rhyhorn, furious and soaking loom above the little Corsola. Lace hadn't even noticed, so focused on pelting rocks at the Scyther as she was. 
    	"Lace, Endure!" Snapped to attention by Haven's voice, Lace followed the command and stealed herself – just in time for the Rhyhorn to descend. Haven couldn't see beyond the explosion of mud and rain that erupted at the impact. At the same time, two different sets of fangs flashed in the storm. 
    	The first was Dagger's, fairy energy finally fully charged as she bit into the Scyther's back, just where its two sets of wings attached. It let out a pained, angry cry, a horrible shrieking noise that pierced even the cacaphony of the storm. Dagger roared between her teeth as her wicked electricity popped and crackled. Enraged, she ripped her head from side to side. The Scyther's wings tore away, a shredded mess lost in the mud below.

    	The second set of fangs was the Arbok's. Haven had given up her time to defend herself. As the serpent attacked, unhinged jaws wide with razor teeth glinting at her, Haven could only raise an arm to defend herself. The Arbok clamped down on it, fangs sinking into her flesh, venom thick in her blood. This time she [i]did[/i] scream. 
    	The Arbok's momentum pushed her backwards and she toppled over the snake still attached to her arm that looked like a toothpick in its massive jaws. The egg was finally dislodged from her grasp and rolled pitifully in the mud. The movement of the fall jostled the Arbok's teeth in her arm and she cried out again. 
    	Haven lay in the mud, her slim – [i]fragile[/i], she thought distantly – arm still in the hissing pokemon above her. It took a strength Haven didn't think she still had to hold it a mere inches away from her face. Its eyes glared down at her and she found herself frozen in them.
    	Suddenly the Arbok released her in a pained hiss and reared back, her blood oozing from the holes it'd left in her arm. Even exhausted as she was, she knew her blood shouldn't have moved that slowly. 
    	Apparently Dagger was done tearing into the Scyther. The Granbull was climbing on the Arbok, scratching and snarling. Haven tried to push herself up, but could barely manage to support herself on her uninjured arm. Her vision was beginning to haze. She could feel her heart, once loud and frantic in her chest, begin to slow. 
    	Her fingers crept to her pocket to fumble with her two remaining pokeballs. It took her an eternity to find the center buttons and call out Cloak and Blink. Her Weepinbell looked alarmed at the state she was in and immediately moved to fret over her.
    	"Get Lace," she mumbled to him. She didn't have the energy for further explanation.
    	For Cloak's part, the Scrafty had already sprung into action, pouncing to join Dagger in attacking the Arbok after giving Haven a startled once-over. He'd taken in the situation and evaluated who needed hurting. 
    	Haven forced her head to turn towards where the egg lay on the ground. She dragged her arm towards it, stretching her fingers out to just barely brush its shell.

    	Then the ground began to tremble with her frozen and blood-drained fingers. Further away, where the Rhyhorn had managed to stop itself, stony hooves dug into the earth below and made it ebb and flow into a violent quake. None in the area weren't affected. Perhaps the Tauros and the Scyther couldn't feel as much as they were already unconscious. 
	Arbok lashed itself at the Granbull and Scrafty, though the two worked with a cooperation that wouldn't allow an upper hand to be reached. When the giant asp began to decline rapidly in stamina, a piercing crow struck through the roll of a distant thunder. A Fearow descended in a frenzy of talon and beak at the Scrafty, knowing it'd have the upper-hand. Cloak was thrown from the Arbok, splashing down in the mud. He scrambled to pick himself up and face his new opponent to see a Fearow circling back for another attack. He tried in vain to hit it or fend it off, but it was too evasive in the air, too quick and razor sharp. It grabbed him by the scruff and threw him at a nearby tree. Cloak slid to the ground, unconscious.
    	Meanwhile, the Arbok splashed all the venom it could at Dagger, now that she, too, had been thrown from its bloodied back. She roared as the venom seeped through her fur, burning her. A sizable portion had found her eyes. She shut them tight, trying to claw or rub or find [i]any[/i] way to stop the burning sensation. The Arbok took the advantage at last and wrapped its thick body around her, squeezing. She tried to roar again, but couldn't draw in enough air to do so.
    	Blink lobbed colorful, glowing leaves at the Rhyhorn, sending it back with an angry growl. It stumbled away from the wet crater it had created, trying to bat them away. But their aim held true, and kept the Rhyhorn at bay as thick vines, slice marks still unhealed, shot forward to wrap around Lace at the bottom of the crater. She was passed out and coated in mud. Most of her horns had broken off with the attacks she'd suffered. 
    	He pulled her back, cradling her body close to his. Blink continued to shoot leaves at the frustrated Rhyhorn. A cry pierced the air again and the Fearow swooped around to slash at Blink with its talons. Immediately Blink stopped, flinching back towards Haven. The Rhyhorn fell to the ground with a wet thud.

    	Haven was still looking at the egg. Or at least, she thought she was. It was hard to tell when her vision swam with a blurry mix of colors. Her arm was now lying uselessly on the ground, just barely short of touching the egg. Midnight seemed to be taking a hold of her. Closer and closer, she felt a creeping darkness seep through her mind, her vision, her bones. It seemed to be replacing her very blood, as that drained into the ground.
    	She was so [i]tired[/i].
    	Haven wondered how long it would take her family to find out. She hoped Rose learned first. Their mom needed someone to break the news to her gently. Rose was good at that sort of thing. Would they find a body? Haven hoped they did. They wouldn't have to wonder that way.
    	Her last thought was of her team. She hoped they'd somehow get away.
   	And then all Haven knew was black.
	And that black was so warm.
	The warmth tugged at her, caressed her softly.
	The blackness of a dream surrounded her mind.
	The shouts and explosions muted by comfort.

	Her mind stretched to the Granbull, toxins and filth seeping into her bones. Rain fell around her as if an umbrella was raised high. The Medicham hovered just over the grass and weeds by the riverstream.
	Her elegant body encircled the Scrafty, raising him above the ground with her as she exuded energies meant for rejuvenation. Head to tail, Milotic was a ring in the air of purification and beauty.
	She hovered over the girl and her egg, the Weepinbell and the Corsola. Around them formed an orb made of the rain itself. Within, their wounds slowly healed and their protection from the elements greater. Masquerain watched on as the rest of her Party-mates drove the girl's assailants away.
	
	With a simple and unvoiced command, the five of them rushed to erase these heartless thieves from the earth. 
	A bomb blew upon the Arbok. Mud and grass sprayed all around, but the orb of the Masquerain repelled the debris. Out of the explosion roared a particularly aggravated Flygon, by the looks in his eyes.
	In the chaos, fronds sliced through the air across the Fearow swooping down to protect its ally. The bird cried a caw and began to tumble through branches. The Shiftry remained high in a branch, its yellow eyes piercing through the stormy woods for other possible threats.
	To this, the man originally tied by Haven's Weepinbell was rushed by a Breloom, as quickly as a Breloom could. His hoof pointed toward the man's chin and his leg pushed off with too much power to rationalize such slow speed. Both went toward the canopy, with the man crying in distress.
	From a dark pocket in the woods, another terrified scream covered the area. Wide and razored thorns were pushed deep into his flesh deep enough to cause immense pain, but not enough to fell. The Cacturne smiled wide, satisfied with his punishment.

	Below each foe, eerie rings of violet began to form. Their centers turned darker than black, threatening to drop each villain into an abyss, a black hole. From their bodies rose a gray smoke that seemed to stick to their skin. It was as if their souls were being lifted from them, exorcised. Then the plasma was violently sucked into the voids, placing each of their souls in a dimension they'd have to fight from which to return. Their bodies now lay in comas upon the rain-stained dirt. Banette then appeared from that dimension, purposefully abandoning the now-sorry souls trapped in a realm they didn't belong.

	The breeze was soft and warm against his skin. The sun coated his body with dew, the air light and slightly moist. The sun after a storm always smelled sweet, like Noonblossoms and Catpurs. Forrest took a deep breath, filling his lungs that burned as he worked against Medicham's mind. A simple push-up was made exponentially more difficult with weight applied.
	Milotic bathed in the riverstream, all other wild Pokemon having been frightened away even now. Shiftry and Cacturne stood in the sun as they did after a battle, however brief. That, and both enjoyed the sun more than any other organisms unlike themselves. Flygon soared high above, a speck in the sky. Banette was, as usual, unaccounted. Breloom sank his feet into the ground where tree trunks didn't litter the soil. Unlike the other two Grass-types, he enjoyed the shade and moisture. 
	Just as Forrest was about to fail his final press, Masquerain hovered over with a hum and chirp. She alerted the man that the girl was finally roused from her sleep. Masquerain looked exhausted, having been performing Aqua Ring from that night until now. She seemed adamant for neither Milotic or Medicham to heal the girl. She seemed to know the fragile state she lay, believing she wouldn't cope well with a change in healing methods, despite the fact Milotic, too, could perform Aqua Ring.
	Forrest rolled to his feet, grabbing his shirt on the way up. He wiped his face enough so it would no longer drip and slung it around wide neck. His face was touched with rose, and his chest rose with heavy and burning lungs. He strode quickly to the site of the girl. Her Pokemon gathered around her, the Weepinbell cradled the egg in its vines. He took a spot next to the Granbull and looked upon her with concerned eyes. 
	"Do you know where you are?" he asked. His voice harsh, low, but somehow gentle, caring. He wanted to make sure her head wasn't injured in a, clearly, intense brawl.
	It couldn't have been a battle, clearly from the state of the girl. It was a fight for her life, it seemed. The bodies of her attackers still remained where their souls were dragged into the Other Realm. He looked at them after he asked.
	"I'm Forrest," he introduced himself. His face youthful, though aged. His brows heavy and jaw wide and sharp. Though he was hunched over her, his stature was clearly large. His arms larger than legs, his chest rounded squares of strength. His back a V of power. His legs columns of stability. Hair coated his face and torso thick and even. The hair on his head shaved on the right, but long on the top and left. It fell in shining brown waves released from a tight braid. His eyes, though, were dull and gray, but soft and warm. They smiled, his mouth hiding behind his beard. [/quote]

[center][h2][u][b]Naval Junkyard - Slateport City[/b][/u][/h2][/center][quote]	The boy clearly worked on his alias background. The man shifted slightly, the lack of surprise unsettling him subconsciously. The passion of Pit Fights was stronger than the sense of legality, for this lot. He hoped he would keep this alias well enough to succeed in his personal vendetta against whomever it might be. He also hoped the boy didn't unravel their whole operation at the same time.
	"No," he said in a flat tone and leaned back in his chair. He waved his hand at the girl still standing beside him attentively. She pressed a spot on the desk far enough away from Dicky, himself, to warrant such a voiceless command. 
	He finger rose, the tip pointing behind Rai's right shoulder. A Chingling silently hovered over him, producing a constant stream from its mind to the boy's body. Despite the fact Chingling were known to constantly produce a faint ring, this one seemed to have been trained out of its natural anatomical feature. Or, perhaps, it was born without the ability. Still, it performed Heal Pulse upon the stranger rather effectively. Dicky wasn't surprised the boy confused the sense of relaxation with depleting health rather than calm.
	"But I know who would," he continued.
	He shifted to his left and collected something to put in front of him on the desk. A pen appeared in the delicate hand of the "lady" of which was then grasped by Dicky's thick and short hands. He scrawled something upon the small parchment, something quite uncommon in this age. He folded it tightly and slid it toward Rai across the desk. His reaching showed both how large the desk was and his lack of size.
	"Make sure you burn that before you leave the Pits," he commanded rather calmly. "For now, rest."[/quote]

[center][h2][u][b]Briney Marina - Route 104S[/b][/u][/h2][/center][quote]	"Oi!" Wah'chyur fuckin' mouth, kid!" Briney's voice boomed from up the old and warped staircase to the visitor's right.
	The man was no mere visitor, however. He walked straight forward where the entrance simply opened to the small kitchen. There was a familiarity with the layout that the man new where to look for a mug and pour himself a coffee before the start of, what looked to be, a dreary day. Once the coffee was poured, he lit a cigarette in his mouth and took a drag before taking a sip.
	This shit's weak as yur balls, Briney," he complained through the cloud forming around his head in a kitchen that wasn't his.
	Fredrick was down the stairs in time to catch him mid-drag and leaning against the counter with his favorite mug in the man's hands. "Sonuvah-" he began to say under his breath. "How many times have I told ya?" he scolded rhetorically. "Take the fag outside or I'll take ya outside."
	The threat didn't seem empty, but the man didn't budge from his position against the counter. Instead, he took another drag and another sip and fell his eyes on Fredrick in a look of boredom. He flicked some ashes into the sink and barely shifted. "No need to get your dick in a twist, ya bastard," he said through a half-chuckle.
	Fredrick paced around, gathering a few things into a pack in preparation for their commute to Oldale. He picked up tickets to get them from Petalburg to Oldale by the time the demonstration would start. It would take them almost 4 hours to reach Petalburg on foot, but the demonstration didn't begin until the early afternoon. Still, with the stranger, Cloud, wishing to join them, he'd have to pick up another ticket.
	"Change in plans, Honnings," Fredrick said, ignoring the offense from the man as well as his own threat. "We're all going to Oldale."
	"So, you starting your own Pokemon Adventure, pops?" the man, Mitchell, asked this "Cloud." 
	
	Instead of paying for another ticket, Mit offered to bring Cloud to Oldale with his own Pokemon. Manectric was tame and loyal, proving calm and sturdy under the man. Mit chose to wade along a stream deep enough for his Sharpedo. His Ninjask darted through the air above them both. The bug enjoyed roaming around outside his Pokeball.
	There was some small talk between the two, not quite racing fast enough to not hold a conversation. They reached Oldale soon enough and Mit invited Cloud to his fouse where he lived with his grandmother, wife, and two kids. Mit had removed his shirt, or ragged torso-cloth, when he was atop his Sharpedo and didn't seem to bother putting it back on despite the weather. Cloud was given weatherproof garments to prevent the need to change once more.
	"Ah, Mitty, who's this?" a snow-topped woman asked as they entered.
	"Oh, just some poor vagabond bastard the old man found," Mit replied through a wide-smiled laugh. A warm hand fell on Cloud's shoulder and gripped it with quick familiarity.[/quote]