[h2][center]Geralt of Rivia[/center][/h2]
[center]Twilight Town -> Nyakuza Metro [/center]
[center]Lvl 9 (131/90) -> Lvl 9 (134/90) [/center]
[center]Word Count: 1,375 words[/center]
[@Double] Roxas, [@TruthHurts22] Raz

A few people went after Geralt's introduction: Pit, the angel warrior that Geralt had sparred against. Claiming to be a direct subordinate of a goddess, with notable combat experience under his belt (specifically having saved a few worlds), Geralt nodded. He was no slouch in a fight, even if Geralt had given him a damn good fight before they wound up on the ground. With those magical arrows of his, and assuming he did actually have the backing of a sufficiently powerful being, he could see Pit having done some good work in his day. 

Omori came after, the young boy who'd unfortunately slain somebody in their last battle and was receiving no shortness of grief over it from Junior and the troop. Geralt felt a bit of kinship with the boy, looked upon poorly for killing in a fight when others thought it unnecessary. Not to mention that he was also looking for somebody-dammit, he didn't mention Ciri earlier. He'd have to do that when they were getting food, if only a brief description to give people an idea to keep an eye out and let her know he was around and where he and Yen could be found. 

Omori continued, explaining some...strange ability he had, to fight utilizing his emotions as a weapon. Very odd. But if they could alter one's capabilities in battle, it seemed rather useful. He was also growing a noticeable knife collection. Geralt might have to give the kid a few pointers if they got the opportunity. 

Next was a woman that had joined Yellow Team after the split, calling herself Jesse Faden. Telekinesis and a weapon that never ran out of ammo. A potent combination all its own, though he got the feeling that there was more to its weapon, between its obviously magical nature and the ominous warning she gave about it. She had people she had to help, apparently in the far north, but it seemed that it was more of a stalemate that needed to be broken than a dire emergency, which was minorly relieving. 

Finally, Bede, the arrogant Pokemon trainer. Geralt had no compunctions about that judgment, though he [i]also[/i] had no doubts that this young man was the most experienced in Pokemon training amongst them. Their best answer would be Junior, who only had spent a few days to a week at most learning how to work with his companions, compared to what he assumed was a denizen of their natural world. He had to be good if he was the chosen successor of one of his area's combat instructors (at least, that was what his mind replaced what Bede said with). He wasn't sure what Fairy of Psychic referred to specifically, but it gave an impression of an even wider variety of natures than he'd already seen from the scant few Pokemon he'd encountered so far. They were almost like Strikers, in a vague sense, but you didn't have to kill something and bond with its Spirit to work with them. Hmmm. 

After the introductions were done, the Seekers made their way up Market Street, some (Geralt being one of them) taking money from Peach to secure food for the group. Keeping in mind the extreme metabolism some of the Seekers had (himself only somewhat included in that), he got quite the array for them. He'd noticed the Troop clearing out a nearby store, though, so he made sure to hold back a [i]little.[/i] Not point in getting too much and having it go to waste. Thankfully, dealing with Lefwee had also been taken out of his hands. 

Once the group reconvened, Geralt used the fish he got from the recent battle to add to their food stores, hording his more long-lasting rations for another time, though he did eat one of his bananas during the picnic. He settled with a light ale and a pair of sandwiches to go with his banana, one using some of the fish he'd added to the mix. As the Seekers chatted and ate, Geralt kept mostly to himself, though he did ask a quick question to Bede about the nature of Pokemon, alongside Roxas. They seemed to be rather curious beasts, marginally intelligent and keen to battle, be it for fun or an actual fight. 

When their destinations were determined, Geralt gave the members of the Purple Team a nod, wishing them good luck on their exploration and in hunting down the Guardian. It'd be odd, not having the boss and his troop alongside him going forward, but there was some splitting up a bit early on when they formed Red, Yellow, and Blue teams. Still, they'd come together again when they did their jobs and dealt with their respective issues and Guardians. No point dwelling too much on it now. 

Geralt's first thought on entering the metro was that it was lively. Cats walking to and fro, hustling about to reach their trains, which were pulled by other, larger, cats. Not dwelling on that any more than it needed, Geralt looked around a moment before the group was interrupted by the loud, ominous announcement. 'But of wisdom, no clock can measure', huh? Geralt almost snorted, that sounded like something Vesemir might have said if he wasn't trying to lord his age over them. Otherwise, it'd be all about how much more experience he had than them and how he knew better. 

What followed had him scowling, though. "Whoreson..." he muttered, the technical inaccuracy not on his mind. Nadia was right. That cat had just put a hit on them! Quickly casting the Sign of Quen to protect himself before their attackers appeared, Geralt followed after the kid who called out that he knew the direction to the Black Line, Raz if he remembered correctly. Roxas went along with him and Geralt joined the pair, occasionally blasting swarms of felines away with Aard, but otherwise maintaining his stamina for the run. His long legs and superhuman strength helped him keep up easily, though he didn't miss Roxas being attacked by a sniper, and quickly came to a halt. "Damn!" 

Turning to see Roxas about to be executed, Geralt felt a surge of adrenaline course through him, and he grabbed his crossbow with blistering speed and lifted it, loosing a bolt at Panther, who dodged with ease. "Ah, not so fast, señor," the flirtatious assassin replied, "But I suppose two will do just as well," He smirked, firing his blaster at Geralt, who was already dodging to the side as he adjusted his aim, firing another bolt which was easily dodge. 

"Dodge this!" Geralt yelled, leaping at the assassin with claws bared and forming the Sign of Igni, masking his final approach in scorching flames as he raked his claws along Caruso's side, causing a hiss from the cat. Thankfully, the swarms of cats weren't quite willing to risk getting as close to this fight, even if one or two tried their luck, a quick lashing kick was enough to scare them off when the magic or Panther's reputation didn't do the trick. 

Still, Panther wouldn't be stopped by just a little scratch. He fired his blaster once, then twice, at Geralt in point-blank range, expecting the predictive dodges by the clearly-wizened fighter, before smirking and aiming his blaster at Roxas. Either suffer a crippling blow or let his ally be killed. Ruthless, but efficient. 

Instead, Geralt merely gritted his teeth as the blaster shot hit him center-mass, Quen shattering and dissipating the force of the blow (it still stung like hell and left a radiating pain in Geralt's gut, but he'd survived worse), Panther's red eyes going wide as a clawed fist crashed into, and broke, his nose, blood pooling down his face and covering his lips. "Yuu'll regrut that!" He snarled, swinging his blaster like a knife at Geralt, who took the blow on the arm, punching Panther in the gut and kicking him back. 

"You good, kid?" The moment of distraction was enough for Panther, though, and Geralt groaned loudly as a blaster shot landed against his shoulder, throwing him off-balance. [i]Stupid![/i] Geralt cursed himself, the concern for Roxas and anger at the situation having gotten the better of him. [i]Oughta know better...[/i]