The ALPH Team

((Might as well skip me this round; Buck is just watching the scene. I'll have them both do something next turn.))

Calamity noticed her Razor Leaf too late, quickly trying to summon a Razor Wind to try and deflect them but true to his Ability his bad luck caught him once again. A few of the leaves caught the wind and in fact gained speed, one easily imbedding into the flesh of his neck and into his windpipe as several others made thin slices across his body. He tried to cry out in pain but his severed vocal cords only made the attempt turn into a gargled scream. His throat and lungs were quickly filling with his own blood as he began to choke and swallow the crimson fluid pouring from the puncture, the embedded leaf the only thing keeping it from flowing out onto the ground.

He struggle for a moment before coming to the realization that if he was going to die she was going with him. Readying his Bite one more he lunged, clamping down on her tender neck and tasting her own blood mingling with his as it ran down his throat. Not caring for breath or pain he kept crunching down with all his might and refused to let go until either his own strength failed or she stopped moving.

______________________________

“… I’m sorry, I… can’t stay,”

Lalita whimpered pathetically and lay down beside her friend, curling her tails over his form like a protective blanket as she nuzzled his injured chest. His blood began to stain her face, her own tears mingling with the life giving fluid and causing red streaks to run down her cheeks until they began to speckle her forelegs with crimson. She couldn't lose him too. She couldn't. First Little Miss, Max, then Gormlaith, Silver...and now Clyde? Why was everyone leaving her?

Why?!

Sobs began to wrack her body as sorrow flooded her heart and soul, staining them forever and making her feel as though an icy wind replaced the warmth that once filled her. His paw fell from her leg to the ground and Lalita knew he was losing strength, painful twitches easily recognized as her body pressed closer to his to try and comfort him. ”It hurts…” She nodded her head, eyes downcast as she fought to not look at him. She didn't want to remember him like this. She wanted to remember that happy Vigaroth she met back at her old home, the fuzzy male that followed her down the hidden slide to the backyard and helped her get over Little Miss upon rediscovering her body.

But he kept pleading her and finally she had to look up into his eyes, her heart breaking as she acknowledged for the first time the bright red that was beginning to swirl among his once deep blue irises. “Let me rest… Please,” She knew what he was asking but it was just too painful a request. He couldn't really expect her to kill him could he? She hadn't even been able to kill Garth and she had wanted to. How could she kill someone she loved? He was family to her, the closest thing she had in a long time, but...he was suffering. Could she really let him writhe in agony until death finally claimed him and he rose again or could she in fact spare him that devastation? Could she?

“Please,”

As fresh tears poured down her face Lalita made her decision and nodded slowly, swallowing hard as she rose to her feet. Looking down at her friend she leaned down and gave him an affectionate lick on the cheek before leaning down to whisper in his ear. "I'm sorry..." Stepping back she had a faint pink aura begin to glow around her before the energy began to spark as a Psyshock slowly took power. As waves of energy pulsed and crackled the lavender Ninetales choked back a sob before offering one final farewell to her friend. "I will never forget you Fuzzy...Clyde...You are probably the best friend I have ever had. Please, please forgive me..."

As her last words were uttered she closed her eyes and let her attack loose, allowing the super effective move to wash over her friend and prayed that, at last, he could find peace.

((Jesus Snitch I couldn't stop crying as I wrote this. I am really going to miss Clyde, so much. You seriously have no idea.
I am also going to raise Calamity as an Undead for a few rounds just to get to 25 posts, but feel free to go ahead and let Circe die Sil. I didn't realize how close he was and I want that badge.))

"I'm sorry...”

Clyde heaved a great sigh of relief at her words, treasuring the loving gesture until she finally drew away from him. For a minute, he was lost. He reached out instinctively, the warmth of her form gone from his senses to leave him slipping into a fearful isolation. In that moment, he doubted his decision, desperate not to be alone and yet it was the image of Garth behind heavy-lidded eyes that reminded him of his inevitable future were he to live on. He couldn’t allow that. Letting his arm to drop to the ground, the pain now a paralyzing blur that rendered him entirely helpless; Clyde was adamant that everything would end here. He didn’t want to live if it meant endangering Lalita, endangering anyone for that matter. He wouldn’t be a monster.

"I will never forget you Fuzzy...Clyde...You are probably the best friend I have ever had. Please, please forgive me..."

The growing hum of a psychic attack pierced through the Vigoroth’s senses, a flicker of panic crossing his features at the realization of how close death truly was. As much as he wanted this, he couldn’t deny his fear. Would Arceus greet him with open arms or would Hell await a washed-out criminal? It was a scary thought, soothed only by Lalita’s heart-breaking voice. He relaxed, pained by her sorrows as tears slowly slithered from his own tired eyes. Forget fear; forget that selfish inability to let go of life – Clyde was ready.
“Thank you,” He whispered, voice delicate as he finally let his eyes close. Smiling lightly to himself, his bloodied and burnt face serene past the horror of the situation, Clyde let his mind wander. He thought of the day he’d met Lalita, their travels with Silver, Gormlaith and the tragedies they’d worked through. There was so much he wanted to tell her and yet, he was helpless; left only to resolve that wherever he was due to end up, he would be watching her. Clyde would never be far.

A rush of energy passed through him, enveloping him in cradling waves until suddenly, everything was black.

Bonnie was calling out to him.

(( Aw, Phoe your post just killed me. It’s strange how you can get so attached to a character, but I’ll certainly be missing him too. It has been an absolute pleasure writing on the team, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to be back with another character or two in due time. <33 ))

It had been a miracle-- her poorly aimed last resort Razor Leaf had actually hit! Circe watched with wide eyes as the ebony beast above her choked and gargled on his own blood for a few moments, shock enveloping them both. However, she was too awestruck with her own newfound abilities to realize that she was still very much in danger, and forgot to move while the absol was stunned. Not recognizing that his last movements were to finish her as well, she stayed where she was until it was too late. The fangs came down upon her, sinking into her vulnerable neck.

She tried screaming, but there was no sound, no air to pass through her now blocked windpipe. Panic quickly settled in as she realized his hold wasn't weak-- no, this bastard was going to hold on for as long as he lived. And while that timeframe was getting shorter by the second, her chance of outliving him was as well... and faster. Struggling weakly in vain, the leafeon couldn't pry herself from niether his weight on her nor his jaws and was left watching in horror as her own vision began to blur.

Her lungs ached, her stumach clenched, her mouth swallowed at the air, pathetically attempting to find air. There it was, all around her... and yet... Her eyes bulged with terror as her body began to shut down, her mind still active and aware that its host was already giving up. There was no hope for survival...

Her last attempt for air came with a shuddering twitch, one that grasped her entire body. Her pulse died away, the light no longer in her traitorous eyes. She was gone.

[[It's been fun guys; I wish I could have stayed longer. ;n;]]

Garth ran as far as he could from the main path until he was reduced to his knees, panting. His mind raced to try and piece together what had just occurred, and why. Clinging desperately to the tilting ground, he managed to crawl his way over to a tiny stream that ran from the nearby Mt. Mortar. Swallowing the bile growing in his throat, Garth took several deep breaths to try and subdue the dizziness. Dipping his bloodied lower jaw into the water, he took two big gulps and then got up onto his knees to wash himself; he was simply covered in blood from top to toe.

As he watched the remains of his two successful kills flow silently away from him, Garth started to panic again. Looking back, killing Clyde was almost a blur; he was having a lot of trouble actually remembering it, despite it only having occurred just a few minutes ago. One thing he did recall was vomiting a load of blood, bile and half-chewed pieces of flesh, which he had clearly ingested during his kill. What concerned the Grovyle the most was how Clyde's killing was now so vague within him. He had done it without even thinking or taking the time to enjoy it. What's more, by the way he had vomited so violently afterwards suggested two things: that he had eaten more than his stomach could handle, and that, perhaps, his body hadn't fully succumbed to the virus yet. His stomach had rejected the flesh. Garth paused from his wash for a moment to see whether he could feel the water that he drank rising back up. Nothing happened.

"Keep it together," Garth whispered to himself as he began to scrub furiously at the grey stains on his leaves. "Whatever that was, don't pay it any heed. Just focus on killing Lalita and that damned Absol before you-- damn it!" The grey stains weren't coming off, and neither did the purple bruise on his shoulder. His body was already decaying, but the Grovyle was determined not to allow his mind to do such a thing any time soon. He gave up trying to wash away the filth that was quickly taking over him and then sat back on his haunches by the water, staring into the depths.

"I'm gonna get you." The Grass-type's eyes widened with insane delight as he imagined the look on Lalita's face as he returned; her screams as he sliced the life out of her. Giggling with glee, his finger drew a shape in the dirt in front of him: a narrow head, a canine's body and nine long tails. "Oh yes I am. I'm gonna get yooooou!" Shrieking with laughter, Garth swiped his hand across the image, replacing the image of Lalita with deep trenches where his claws had gouged it away.

---

It was just ... so heartbreaking.

Buck didn't know why this was so hard for him to watch. He didn't even know these Pokemon, but as the Ninetails curled herself around her dying friend, the cold-hearted Weavile could feel his heart cracking. He wasn't sure whether it was just the sheer grief that simply poured from the scene or whether it was because Buck had done something quite similar not too long ago when Norma Jean was quickly getting weaker from the virus. He himself had been a wreck, refusing to leave her side for a moment until she had almost taken his eye out. Watching from his tree, Buck felt a tear trickle down his cheek as the memories returned in a way he hoped they never would.

He had been so busy musing to himself about the days since past that the sudden wave of energy from down below nearly shook him off his branch. Steadying himself, Buck looked down to see that the Ninetails had put her friend out of his misery. Sighing woefully, Buck surveyed the surroundings for a moment - he needed plenty of time to scramble for cover should that mad Grovyle come back - and carefully began to descend. He had been a coward and a fool. Nothing there was new, but the Weavile felt that now was the time to make up for it. The Ninetails didn't have to know that he had been there the whole time and done fuck all to help, so as he slid down the last few feet he figured out what to say. A 'white lie' as he often heard them being called.

"Erm..." Stepping out from the shadows, Buck suddenly stopped. What did you say to someone who's just watched their friend being torn to shreds by a maniac and then had to kill them themselves? He felt like the world's biggest idiot as he carried on towards the Fire-type. "Sorry, um ... I was just passing by and saw that, well, there's been an, er, an accident ... of sorts?" You fucking moron. Buck wanted to give himself a good smack as his mind raced to try and take back the hideously stupid, insensitive thing that he had just said. "What I mean is..." Buck's ears raised themselves as he had an idea. He raised his hands and clicked his claws together. "I'm good at digging. Do you ... want me to help you bury him? Or ... if you need time or whatever then I'll ... just go," he added, pointing over his shoulder.

Well at least, if the Ninetails let him help, he would be doing something to make up for his cowardice. He let his arms flop back down to his sides as he waited for the female's reply.

As he felt Circe's struggles fade Calamity finally allowed his grip to slide, her limp form barely dangling from his jaws before dropping in a dull thud to the ground. He was so tired...so very tired. He turned to try and go back up the hill, to try and get to Lalita, but the hill from before seemed almost mountainous now. His lungs were slowly filling with his own blood, the leaves from the grass type still stuck firmly into his neck as his hundreds of sharp cuts started to crack open and bleed from his efforts to move up the slope.

Claws dug into grass and earth, his chest heaving with exertion as he climbed, until finally he could see over the top. He could just make out the lavender fox's form as she broke down crying, the body of her friend laying next to her. Calamity eyed the pair sadly and realized that the beautiful fox had already forgotten all about him. Just as well, his unending curse would have harmed her eventually. It had already caused the collapse of her entire circle of friends, at least if he died now he could spare her the same fate.

So with heavy heart he allowed his claws to loosen and his eyes to close, feeling the blood in his lungs begin to choke off the remainder of his air. His chest tightened and squeezed trying to get oxygen into his system but it wasn't to be, the struggle on his heart simply too much as it finally gave out. His body fell softly against the hillside, sliding gently down until he came to rest just against the Leafeon he had only moments ago taken the life of.

Eternal rest seemed such an easy escape from a life like his.

_____________________________

It was done. And it was killing her.

Broken and sobbing she lay next to Clyde, not really sure what to do now that she was alone. Even Calamity had gone off to who knew where with Circe. She had never been so alone in her life. Her soul felt empty and hollow, like an icy vacuum had sucked everything good and happy out of her. Laying there, her best friend's blood soaking into her fur, she silently wished Garth would come back and kill her too.

"Erm..."

Her ears slowly perked up to the voice behind her, barely raising her head enough to turn around and see a Weavile coming out of the trees. Eyes glossing over sadly she said nothing and merely lay her head down atop Clyde's chest as the Weavile came closer. "Sorry, um ... I was just passing by and saw that, well, there's been an, er, an accident ... of sorts?" Accident. Yeah, her killing her only friend left in the world was that. An accident. So was her still being alive. All just a happy little accident.

"What I mean is...I'm good at digging. Do you ... want me to help you bury him? Or ... if you need time or whatever then I'll ... just go," She looked back up at the Weavile and saw how pitiful and lonely he looked, and almost guilty. Raising up she looked down at herself and Clyde and agreed that he did need a proper burial. But burying him herself would be as heartbreaking as ending his life had been. She couldn't do it alone. "I...I could use the help..." she conceded, still sheltering herself from the male for fear of killing him too. Everyone she cared about vanished or died, why would this guy be any different? None of them had ever come back either.

But she couldn't see the twitching of the black furred corpse down below, or she would have known just how very wrong she was.

((Calamity is dead, sorta, lol. I am switching his ticket to Undead as soon as I post this.))

"I...I could use the help..." Buck released the air trapped in his lungs into a relieved sigh; he'd thought for a moment that she wasn't even going to answer him. His eye began to drip with a liquid again at the sight of her; he knew how she was feeling and almost wanted to hug her - that had been what he had wanted when Norma Jean 'died'. He'd never got it. He raised his hand to wipe his eye and grimaced when he noticed that it wasn't a tear; his scarred eye was oozing again. Half of his vision began to blur as the eyelid flickered involuntarily, and Buck had the feeling of something sharp stuck in his eye as he quickly covered it with one hand. "I'll ... I'll start over here then."

A section of the decorative fence that lined the pathway had been torn down, leaving a gap of several metres that connected the concrete to the grass. Buck decided to keep his bad eye closed while he worked. He found a soft patch of dirt in the middle of a cluster of trees and started to dig, his long claws making short work of the earth beneath them. Within a few minutes, the hole was large enough to fit the Vigoroth inside.

Wandering back onto the path towards the Ninetails, Buck quietly cleared his throat to attract her attention. "I've done it. When--" He stopped, realising that his eye was still closed and that he must look kind of stupid, or worse, look like he was winking at her. He forced his eyelid to flutter back open just as another glop of pus drizzled out and fell down his cheek. "Whenever you're ready," he continued. "Don't want to rush you or anything..."

Limbs shifted as joints cracked, legs contorting in ways they hadn't before as they protested the effort to move. He felt...nothing. His formerly crimson eyes slowly opened to reveal darkly glowing orbs nearly the color of the blood that painted the ground around him, the sinister light seeming to come from within the Disaster Pokemon's very soul.

He couldn't place what he was doing or how he came to be there, all he knew was that something was waiting for him at the top of the hill. There was something he was supposed to do...something he couldn't remember... Maybe once he climbed to the top he could remember.

________________________

"I'll ... I'll start over here then."

Lalita merely nodded, turning her eyes back to Fuzzy as she lay down beside him once more. She didn't care that her friend's blood was soaked into her fur, that his cold body pressed against hers was a constant reminder that he was truly gone, nothing mattered anymore. She was alone...and it tore at her heart to know that it was all her fault.

"I've done it. When--" She looked up to see the Weavile standing before her, one eye strangely closed. He kept blinking his eye like something was wrong with it then she saw something trail out down his cheek. It didn't look like a tear but she had no idea what else would come out of someone's eye like that. A brief thought passed that it might have something to do with the large scratch but she let it go, not really up for asking questions right that moment. "Whenever you're ready. Don't want to rush you or anything..."

There was no reason to delay giving Clyde a proper burial, something she hadn't been able to do for Max. Standing up slowly she sighed began to nudge her way under his back. "If you could get his legs we should be able to take him there..." she murmured quietly. "Please...Be gentle..."

"If you could get his legs we should be able to take him there..." the Ninetails said as she nudged her head underneath his back. "Please...Be gentle..." Buck suppressed the urge to scoff. Of course he was going to be gentle. What, did she think that he was going to grab the guy by the legs and swing him round above his head like a helicopter blade? The thought made him want to laugh, so he quickly lowered his head towards the ground as he nodded and took hold of the Vigoroth's legs. A shudder ran through him as his fingers grasped the cold, lifeless flesh. When he had a good grip, he said, "OK ... now."

With a grunt of effort he lifted Clyde off the ground, shuffling backwards towards the hole in the fence where his grave was. Once they were there he suddenly remembered something with an unpleasant jolt, and he laid Clyde down near to the hole. "Hang on, we should ... his arm." Quickly turning back the way they had come to hide his sickly expression, Buck approached the Vigoroth's severed arm that still lay on the path. Easy ... easy. He belched, feeling the acidic liquid rise to the top of his throat as he grabbed hold of it at the elbow and held it at arm's length, his face pale as he carried it back to where the Ninetails was. "Th-There." He swallowed his growing nausea as he turned to the grave, feeling an urgent need to just get the guy in there before he either threw up or ran off screaming like a loon. "Here ... I'll do it."

Placing one hand underneath the Vigoroth's back and the other on his belly, just underneath the complete mess that the Grovyle had made, Buck gently dragged him into the grave, arranging his body into a comfortable position. Holding his breath, he took the arm and placed it inside as well, aligning it along the Vigoroth's right side and, roughly, connecting the severed bone to the shoulder. Bet you never expected to do a jigsaw like this one, he joked darkly to himself as he stood up tall, examining his work. The guy still looked a complete mess, but at least he wouldn't have to look at his tattered corpse for much longer. Unless the Ninetails had other plans.

"You need any time before I ... you know...?" He half-hoped that she would just want to get it over with as well, but another half of him wanted her to want to stare at him for a bit or whatever, just so he could hide behind one of the trees and try to keep his stomach contents down.

Latias had followed that beast to what seemed like the ends of the earth, and still she had failed in her attempts at avenging the deceased. That monster had slaughtered her brother; ripped him limb from limb before scoffing, proud at having torn both the victim’s body and Latias’ mind apart. She had no time to mourn, rage clouding her vision with the promise of extracting bloody vengeance upon Gyarados.

But again, she had failed.

She couldn’t find it; that demon.

And now, defeated, the legend travelled through Johto in search of purpose.

The Eon Pokémon’s mind had crumbled and gradually rebuilt itself in those passing days. She had lost track of time, escaping to bask in memoirs of a better world until reality forcefully intruded upon her haven. Latios, the only thing she found worthy of her love, was dead; the image of his corpse quick to infect whatever comfort she could salvage in fragmented memory. The undead were responsible and her fellow legends had just sat idly by, watching with macabre curiosity. She couldn’t decide who she despised more. They were as equally abhorrent as the other, both loathsome forces that sought to shape the world when they had no right to tamper in the first place.

Latias could not trust anyone, each and every being standing corrupt in a truly cruel world. That is, all but one; a single species that the dragon had heard tales of in her youth. They were an ancient and mysterious race that promised knowledge to those determined enough to seek it. Some would call her delusional, mad even, but the promise of their presence alone was the only thing guarding her sanity. Latias sought the Unown.

Lost, the legend wandered the region aimlessly, the fabled location ringing clear in her mind despite darker thoughts keen to corrupt her sense of hope. The wound on the back of her neck had expanded in accord with her cynicism, a discoloured puss now seeping from the blotchy slash as she floated onwards. However, her curiosity was soon ensnared by the scent of blood. Her barren eyes were momentarily alighted with a dangerous spark, determinedly repressed as she neared what appeared to be an abandoned, blood-stained battle scene.

"You need any time before I ... you know...?"

Latias hadn’t noticed the pair of figures until she caught the male’s hushed voice. Raising her slender head, she watched the duo a moment with cold indifference until registering what exactly they were doing. They stood before an open grave. There was little denying that some poor fool occupied the hole and a flicker of sorrow momentarily touched her heart. Despite her better judgement, the legend quietly approached; a stranger at the funeral.

Not wanting to disturb the ninetales and weavile in their mourning, Latias stopped aside the female, eyes momentarily flitting to the disfigured corpse. She couldn’t look at the creature for long, the image of her brother’s bloodied head naturally taking shape over the vigoroth’s own. Instead, she kept her eyes firmly ahead, expression dark as she awaited the memorial’s completion before speaking – her voice flat and void of her old emotion.

“Was it the undead?”

It was so strange moving Clyde around like some sort of doll. His body was still warm...like he was merely sleeping. If she wasn't looking at him Lalita would swear that was the case, but the crimson painting his fur definitely told another story. Her tears ran dry as they worked, her body still trying but her tear ducts long since swollen shut. She had literally cried herself out and it was creating an even sharper pain in her heart to no longer have an outlet for the misery she felt.

'Clyde...'

But he was gone. By her own paw. And there was nothing more she could do for him now except give him a proper burial rather than leave his corpse to be ravaged upon by some creature or other. "You need any time before I ... you know...?" The Weavile's words barely registered to the fox, merely nodding lightly as she stared down at the lifeless form below. A strange presence made itself known and set itself down beside the mourning fox, though it made no move to speak or attack. Lalita finally broke her gaze from the beaten Vigaroth and looked to the Weavile, nodding her head at him before walking away to leave the ice type to his digging.

“Was it the undead?”

The voice of the new presence startled the shiny somewhat, her steps pausing abruptly before turning to look at the strange red dragon. "Ye-yes. I- I mean..well...s-sort of..." How does one confess to a total stranger that you killed your best friend?

_______________________

After several minutes of struggle Calamity finally gripped his claws to the top of the hill and dragged himself onto the level surface. His nose immediately picked up the heavy scent of blood, the life giving fluid painting the area. It tingled in the back of his mind that something happened here, something he knew, but he dismissed it. The scent was making him hungry.

As he followed the trail he soon came upon three living beings and his mouth began to drool. What would they taste like, he wondered, and slipped into the shadows of the trees to get closer. The lavender fox looked tasty, maybe he should start with her?

All Buck got from the distraught female was a slight nod as she walked away. Glad that he didn't have to endure the sight of the bloodied, beaten corpse a second longer, Buck wasted no time in filling the hole. He found that he could scoop up more dirt at a time with his extra claw, and was halfway through the task when another female voice sounded from behind him.

"Was it the undead?"
"Ye-yes. I- I mean..well...s-sort of..."

Buck scoffed under his breath as he continued. Just say yes! The Weavile wondered just what the hell he was getting himself into as he piled the last clump of dirt onto the grave. If that maniac from before was still around here, watching the whole scene from the trees, the Buck was no doubt a new addition to his list of intended victims. Jacques was a fucking Skitty compared to that guy... Shuddering at the thought, Buck got to his feet and stretched. Wiping the glob of pus from his cheek, he turned to face the two females - the newcomer was a strange-looking dragon - and fixated instead on a horrible sight.

The black Absol from before was back, except this time he possessed the ever-familiar pair of red eyes ... and he looked hungry. "Shit ... er, ladies?" Buck's body began to tremble from top to toe as he scrambled backwards until his back hit a tree. "We, er ... have a problem."

Latias did not dwell long on the female’s response, dismissing her hesitation with a curt nod of the head. The shiny fox could have said that they had slaughtered the victim in a mindless act of violence and Latias would still convince herself that the undead were responsible. In her eyes, there was no species more loathsome. Each murder she witnessed, each corpse she passed, was simply another reminder of their insatiable cruelty. The dragon had come to relish in picking off the miserable kind, murdering them with raw sadism rivalling their dastardly leader’s own.

Watching as the disgruntled weavile filled in the grave, the legendary felt a pang of guilt for neglecting the corpse of her own loved one. So entangled in her rage she had left his headless body for the world to see – no burial, no memorial. No peace for her valiant sibling. Suddenly the image of his rotting form now little more than a perch for the diseased birds of this world took form over the grave. Latias stubbornly banished such dark imaginings, bile rising in her throat, as she reminded herself this wasn't real.

"Shit ... er, ladies?” The dragon turned at the male’s call, only half-aware that he had moved out of her vision altogether. She found her attention slipping more and more these days, yet remained unwilling to acknowledge the deterioration of her mind. Frowning, she followed his gaze to an approaching figure. “We, er ... have a problem."
“That is a problem?” Latias almost scoffed at the sight of the infected Absol. In the past, she would have feared such a creature – but not any more. She had looked into the eyes of a demon and now everything seemed pale in comparison. This was no problem.

However, what succeeded to irk the legendary more was the male’s response to the situation. He had backed away, scared; like a coward.
“What are you doing?” She hissed, disgusted to play witness to such behaviour as her glare affixed on the dark-type. “Deal with your problem,” Moments prior Latias would have sped into battle, torn the undead limb from limb in a matter of minutes, but now she’d had a change of heart. These survivors would rather run, cower away from the challenge rather than face it. The very notion was something Latias could not condone, her mindset screaming that these pokémon had survived out of sheer dumb luck, and thus she had no obligation to help. She was a legendary after all. The legends had a history of playing the spectator. They sat high on their pedestal, indifferent in the face of slaughter.

No...not him too.
There before her stood Calamity, the dark furred Absol she had only known for a few hours, turned and eying her hungrily. His formerly deep red eyes were now a glowing horror striking a deep fear into her heart and turning it to ice. What was to become of her if everything she touched fell to the infection?

“What are you doing? Deal with your problem.”

Lalita was a little confused by the red dragon's outburst, wasn't it normal to be afraid around the Undead? It did not occur to her that the female was in fact speaking to the Weavile behind her. The Undead, they had already taken so much...and now Calamity. She had failed him too. Clyde had begged not to become what Calamity now stood as and she didn't know what else to do but give Calamity the same absolution.

After all, would she want to be one of them?

Readying a Flamethrower the shiny female unleashed it towards the dark type, instantly terrified when he slid underneath the jet of flame to charge right for her. Calamity moved like his limbs were gelatin, a straight line only achieved by turning his body sideways, but his intent was clear. He was heading straight for the Ninetales. His fangs glowed darkly with his Bite attack as he drew nearer, eyes trained on the narrow neck before him.

Pouncing on the female he barely registered her scream of terror before lowering his head to taste the rich blood he was sure was underneath that silken fur.

((Permission for Latias to knock Calamity off of Lalita, even do a little damage if you'd like.))

Garth was on the move.

Leaping professionally from one branch to the next, the Grovyle was in hot pursuit of a Rattata on the ground. The little creature screamed for help, barreling his way through the undergrowth in a desperate attempt to flee from the demented Grass-type that was intent on murdering him. Garth himself only had one thing on his mind at that moment: Food. Despite the fact that he had vomited Clyde's flesh and he had promised himself not to turn cannibal again until after his task was complete, the Grovyle could not ignore it any longer. The clawing, aching hunger that tore his belly apart was too much to bare. Just a bit more ... won't hurt... Guttural growls of delight rumbled from his throat as he gained speed, almost on top of the screaming Rattata. Just a little more... Crimson eyes wide with insane glee, Garth jumped. Mine.

Landing directly on top of the Normal-type, Garth easily held down his thrashing, screeching body with one hand as he briefly watched his vain struggles to escape; his frantic, terrified screams for mercy. This was what it was all about - the pure, unbridled terror that his victims felt in their final moments. They feared him with every fibre of their being, every instinct within them screaming at them to get away, to live. He was a force of nature in himself; a hurricane spiraling out of control, waiting to tear himself into those who were too weak to survive him.

"Oh, do shut up," Garth muttered dismissively before slashing his other hand at the Rattata's throat, killing him instantly. His prey's body twitched, the back of its throat gurgling as it regurgitated the blood that had spilled into its throat. Garth's nostrils flared at the strong scent of the blood, and without hesitated he dug his snout into the Rattata's open neck wound, tearing out bloody chunks of flesh, which he took care to properly chew before swallowing. Grabbing a firm hold of the Rattata's spine with his jaws, he tore the whole thing out of the creature's body with a snap that would've made anyone else violently sick. Not Garth. The crunch, the snap and the splatter of all sorts of bloodied matter was just another day at work for him.

Tossing the removed spine to one side, Garth happily continued his meal, consuming the rat's insides and skin in a matter of minutes. Raising his head to a distant sound, the Grovyle froze. Hold it. A female scream echoed over the treetops, one that Garth immediately recognised, and in an instant he had left the remains of his supper behind and was darting back through the trees. "Oh no you fucking don't ... she's MINE!"

---

"That is a problem?" Buck still had not moved from the tree, his back firmly pressed against its trunk as he stole a glance towards the strange dragon. "Er ... yeah!" Pointing a trembling hand at the demonic Absol, Buck actually spluttered out a terrified laugh. "I-In case you n-never noticed before, th-those things like to k-kill you." What the hell was up with this chick? So, she was some tough, butch lady who could look an undead in the eye and see nothing but a fucking Jigglypuff looking back at her? Was she mad or just stupid? Either way, Buck wasn't stepping another foot closer to that thing; he'd had more than enough trouble with people trying to kill him - one was his best friend and the other wasn't even infected!

"What are you doing?" the dragon hissed, glaring daggers at him. "Deal with your problem." It took all of Buck's willpower to remain on the ground at that moment; the tree's highest branch seemed like a highly desirable location. Or perhaps some other tree a hundred miles away would've served him better? Disbelief at the red female's words kept him on the spot, however, and that quickly escalated to anger. "Me?! Why me? If you're so fucking tough then you do it!" The nerve of this bitch! To emphasize a 'I'm tough, I don't give a shit' attitude and then make him do the fighting? Buck had the right mind to give that cocky bitch a good claw to the face, but the Ninetails's scream reminded him of what was important here.

He wasn't a coward anymore - no more hiding and no more running away from friends. He'd learned the hard way that only striving to save his own skin would do him no good in the long run - he needed to become a better person, or else he'd be alone forever.

Taking one step away from the tree, Buck inhaled sharply and fired an Ice Beam at the demented Absol. "Leave her alone, you piece of shit!" At least he was close enough to the tree to dart up to safety should the situation demand it.

 
 
Latias felt her blood boil at the weavile’s sharp response, his own rage quick to fuel her own dangerous temper as she shifted her entire body to glare daggers into his small form. Whilst part of her could admire his guts for defying the commands of a supposed ‘superior’, such respect was swiftly overwhelmed by his blatant cowardice. The undead’s presence slipped from her mind altogether as she squared up to the dark-type, something taking the reins of her psyche as she found herself unknowingly in alliance with the decaying absol. Forget the feline; she wanted the coward’s blood.
 
But then, a scream.
 
The ninetales’ cry dragged Latias back to reality, breaking her concentration as instinct drew her attention to the victim. The bloodlust that had momentarily overcome her was forgotten, something clearing in her eyes as they instead affixed themselves on the struggling fire-type. For a millisecond, she had seen Latios in the fox’s place.
"Leave her alone, you piece of shit!" Latias, abandoning her early prejudice in the sight of peril, was quick to follow the coward’s attack. Chasing the beam until the ice chilled her face, the legend’s head was soon glowing a dull shade of pink as she neared her undead target with a Zen Headbutt. Whilst the Eon Pokémon was yet to salvage any morsel of respect for the male, the ninetales had heeded her command and leapt into battle – albeit with little skill – to evoke a pang of guilt for the fox’s current predicament. Latias would help, just this once.
 
Knocking the undead back with surprising brute strength, the dragon took up a protective stance before the fallen female.
“Get up,” Latias’ order was detached; the legend unwilling to allow emotion to interfere with the situation as she adopted a notoriously blunt approach. Cold perhaps, but not wholly aggressive, as her red eyes followed the absol’s every move. She was no guardian, no heroine, but she had seen enough bloodshed to last several lifetimes. No matter her disdain for a pair of cowards, the dragon simply couldn’t sit back and watch them die. She was no legendary, and she would no longer obey their twisted rules.
 
Latias would take matters into her own hungry claws.

He was so close, so close and yet it was all taken away. Barely managing to avoid a beam of sharp cold Calamity found himself on the wrong end of a Zen Headbutt. His typing made damage from the psychic move non-existent but the sheer weight of the dragon as she slammed into him still sent the Absol flying off the lavender fox beneath him. Away from his prize. Calamity rose back to his feet and snarled viciously at the red dragon even as she stood protectively before the Ninetales. "Mine..."

Lalita gasped in shock and alarm as the weight on top of her was suddenly gone, rolling to her side as quickly as she could before jumping to her feet. She turned to see the new female in front of her, blocking her from the dark Absol, but from her vantage she could see a strange wound on the back of the female's neck. What was that thing? Lalita stepped closer to investigate but Calamity's hungry words took her focus, her eyes trained on the bright red orbs staring back at her. "Calamity..." she whispered, not out of fear but out of almost detached memory. Her eyes glazed over as something in her mind finally broke and soon the shiny fox was aglow with the brilliant light of her Return.

As the undead Absol tried to figure out the strange glow he soon found himself on the receiving end of it, the soft pelted female slamming into him with a force he didn't think her capable of. It knocked him back a few feet but with a quick swipe of his claws he was able to catch her foreleg and sweep it out from under her as she tried to charge again. "Mine!" he snarled, pinning the girl once again only to find a Flamethrower in his face. Howling in fury he jumped back, clawing at his face to put out the flames. As chunks of skin came off in his claws the pale bone beneath began to show through, adding to his already haggard appearance.

Lalita once again shifted to her feet and stepped back to try and ready another attack. She had lost everything, everything, to the infection. It needed to end. Now.

But the Absol was quicker than the Ninetales had imagined, easily skirting her new Flamethrower and charging right into her. As his teeth sank into her shoulder she could feel the flesh tearing from her bone, letting out a horrific scream of pain as his head began to thrash. Oh Arceus would something please end this torturous pain?