(ACE) The HEARTHOME Team

"You better, Rocket! Don't you dare go dying on us."

He couldn't promise that, of course. Nothing was written in stone, and the odds were certainly against him in this instance; at least half a dozen of them were charging and hollering down the street towards them. But he knew who he was and what he was capable of; he'd defeated foes twice his size as a young Gabite. Rocket was a warrior, and he'd show these bastards exactly what that meant.

"I'll see you later," he called behind him as the others disappeared into the rubble behind him. He faced his foes, raising his claws as they glinted in the dying sunlight, the blood of his previous foes still staining them.

The Pokemon at the front of the group, a Liepard, hissed as it lunged at him. The feline was fast; Rocket would give him that, but not strong enough to withstand a claw through the gut. He gagged on his own blood, writhing as he was impaled on the Garchomp's scythe. Rocket tossed the Liepard away, grinning as it landed in a blooded heap on the side of the road.

"COME ON THEN!" Rocket bellowed, slashing his other claw at a Staravia who thought he could sneak up on him. The group, enraged that they were clearly losing against just one guy, roared their fury and charged for him. One of them, Rocket noticed, disappeared into one of the side alleys. "WHO ELSE WANTS TO DIE?!"

Michael bounds after the Krookodile; the large female shoves aside the concrete and debris that he would not have been able to even budge, had he tried it himself. He admires her strength, knowing full well that without Rocket around, she was the real muscle of the group-Halloween may be strong, but paws are much less dexterous. Their escape has to be near; Michael can almost taste the outside air already, the kind that lacks the stale city atmosphere and the suffocating feel of crowded buildings. They'd be far away from this place in no tim...oh. That's a game changer. The exit is blocked by a good chunk of the caved-in roof (or was it part of a wall?), and like with all the other debris, Michael isn't going to be able to push this one out of the way. He watches the Krookodile try to move it with a wary eye, and wonders whether taking the concrete out of its current spot would further destabilize the already damaged building. Well, you'll probably die if you don't move it, so... Yeah, he's aware. Goddamn brain. "Quick—who's good at breaking boulders?" Michael runs over to the obstruction, and looks the debris up and down for any sort of vulnerable spot where he can possibly break it apart with a Flame Wheel. They don't have time for this, but what else can he possibly do? "We might have to break it apart, if pushing it doesn't work," Wait a second. Goddess, he's an idiot-there was another he can depend on for a job like this, someone far bigger and far stronger than himself! "Halloween, could we-" Michael begins to say as he turns his head to face the Arcanine, but the words lodge in his throat, and green eyes widen.
Halloween is gone.

Unfortunately, a certain small Eevee easily catches on to what the still-strange Growlithe's sudden stop and a distinct lack of a second orange dog means. It couldn't be true, could it? Halloween wouldn't just leave them, and there'd been nothing to take him away...it didn't make sense. It can't make sense. First Penelope, and now Halloween, both of them just...left. Connor would never find his sister; he'd be alone, surrounded by these strangers forever, with nobody to call family. Penelope's coming back, she is, she's just-she's just taking her time, that's it. It was a hollow thought, no matter how many times he repeated it; they were both gone for good, weren't they? Who would take care of him now? Connor remembers something else in his whirlwind of terrible thoughts that focuses him a little bit more-the fact that they were trapped. Trapped, without Halloween to help out...but, but they had Fran, and the new one too! Both of them are strong enough, probably, especially if they broke that boulder together in an awesome way, like Penelope in one of her stories. Oh, and there was Michael too, even though he didn't look that big or strong, not like Halloween had. Connor looks from the Krookodile to the Lucario and then to the Growlithe, a hopeful look on his face; if they wanted, they could kick that boulder into space. They didn't need Halloween or anyone else, not for this!
...Right? Connor doesn't know how to break boulders.

(I tried, rip)

[ooc; skip please. ;m; i don't think i have enough to make a full post. orz]

"Stop talking start walking—discussion can be had when we're not in immediate fucking danger." Pol gave an idle nod, straightening up as best as he could. The wounds were taking their toll- and of course, the toll was becoming cumulatively more dangerous. He felt as though weights were strapped to his limbs as he takes a step in the direction of the gate.

"No time! Here they come. You guys head on through. I'll see if I can keep them busy long enough to find a safe place." Pol looked over his shoulder, taking a combat stance. Rather, attempting to. As he tries to settle his center of gravity, the floor seems as though it vanishes beneath him for a moment... his legs gave out. He catches himself on one foot, landing on his free hand as well and yelping.

"Goddamnit..." The fool wanted to fight, and sure as hell didn't want to leave a group member behind. Bastard or not, the dragon wasn't weak. The lucario heads the rear of the retreating group, and cursing with Francesca at the sight of the immediate end of the road... but damned he would be before giving up. He braces his shoulder against the thing, but yelps once more and falls to the floor. He gasps for air desperately as he stands, mind racing. "Francesca...!" He lets go of his side, holding both paws out, closing his eyes. Getting his own aura to a matching wavelength was an impossibility, but he could do his damned best. Hopefully she would understand what he was trying to do- without another healer, he was almost useless, and still cant shake the shadow looming over his life... but Francesca was a high attack pokemon. Polnareff hoped this could translate into brute strength, if she is in good enough conditions. The air around his paws shifts, but is visibly more erratic than before as he focuses energy, preparing a heal pulse. Not directed at any one part of the pokemon before him, but instead aimed for the entirety of the aura present. That is to say, he is trying to soothe her whole body- likely temporary, but it would last long enough to get out of the city... energy flowed from his extended limbs, a soothing feeling sent into the Krookodile's muscles. This has to work...

(OOC: If I need to edit the interaction out, lemme know. Tried to ask but couldn't get a hold of you min, sorry ;-;)

The body count was rising, but so was the pain on his scales. Nicks, gashes and bite marks covered Rocket's body, the blood drizzling down his neck and belly and onto the floor beneath him. But he was far from defeated yet; these bastards would have to rip half of his guts out before he'd fall.

Ripping off a Poochyena from his arm, Rocket roared to the few Pokemon that remained. Some still looked confident, almost like they were enjoying themselves, but others looked near enough to pissing their pants. Rocket still had not forgotten about the couple that had slipped off down the alleyway before, and was ready for whatever reinforcements they were no doubt bringing. A ripple of agony shot down Rocket's shoulder where a Golbat had bitten him. Just a little longer ... just enough time to let the others get through, and then he would follow.

"Is this it?!" the Garchomp bellowed, heaving out a strained laugh. "I'm fucking bored! You morons couldn't kill a Magikarp in a coma! Come on! Give me a real challenge!"

"How about this, then?"

Before he could even turn, a huge blue fist slammed into the side of his face. White stars flashed in Rocket's vision as he felt himself crash to the ground, a paralysing throb surging through his cheek. Sweet fuck, that hurt. He wouldn't be surprised if he'd dislodged his damn jaw or something.

"Pff. You wanted a fight, big guy? Come on then, get up!" He could hear the Swampert mocking him, a strong foot kicking him in the ribs. He couldn't open his eyes just yet; he was sure that the ground would start tilting if he did, and he couldn't pass out on this guy; not only would he kill him, but he'd no doubt go after his friends too.

"Hey, you two. His buddies apparently already went through the gate. Follow 'em, and if ya find 'em, kill 'em.

No! Rocket's eyes snapped open, and through his blurred vision he saw what looked like a Primape and a Manectric dash through the gate in pursuit of the others. He leaned up on his elbows, shaking at the effort and glaring up at that bastard's smug face. He spat out a glob of blood and snarled; he'd kill him. He'd bury each and every one of these assholes before they hurt his friends. If only he could ... get up ... everything hurt. His legs weren't cooperating. Come on...!

(I really don't want to, but I'm afraid I'll have to skip.)

"Thanks, bud." Nice and short. Like the old guys- communicating with rather short phrases, and half the time a grunt sufficed. The time to reminisce was not now, however. Two auras were slipping past the dragon's aura- Pol grimaced. He didn't expect the lone dragon to take on all the bastards at once, but that didn't make this any more comforting. There was a deep shake as the boulder was demolished, Francesca turning to greet the other two as well. "Go through!"

Tch. How many times would he have to be painfully aware of his uselessness? He turned towards the exit, a few meters away, waving the child and unevolved one along. "Go!" He took the lead, speaking without turning back as he limped along. "Kick some ass, get the dragon, and get out! See you soon!" He proceeded to the exit, dragging his whole body with each step, or so it felt like.

As the light of the evening lit route settled apon the Lucario, he looked around. Nothing was stirring- no undead immediately around. Not now, at least- the noise may change that. The fuck did that arcanine go...? He turned his head towards the entrance and stepped to the side of the gate as to avoid any attacks randomly hurled their way. Hopefully the kids would do the same as he spoke... "Here! Either of you hiding a berry away? Or see one?" Pol was searching the immediate brush and bramble for a berry, a potion- anything.

This was strange ... the punches, strikes and kicks that Rocket was expecting weren't coming. Instead, the Swampert simply stood there watching him try to get up, a big, smug grin on his stupid face. He was enjoying this, the bastard ... he wouldn't be smiling by the time Rocket finished with him, that was for sure.

"You sure take your time for someone as eager as yourself," Fatso smirked as the Garchomp finally found his feet. "Not so tough when you're not doing so hot, are you?"

"What is your problem?" Rocket blurted, frankly sick to the back teeth of this guy and his group. "We've done nothing to you--"

"NOTHING?!" the Swampert suddenly exploded, slamming his fists to the ground with enough force to crack the concrete. "You come into our city, eat our food, you KILL US--"

"You attacked us first, you dumbass! What did you expect us to do, roll over and say 'Oh shit, that's it, they got us'?"

Swampy shook his head then, and Rocket saw the agony flash across his face of what could've only been months of hardship, struggles, sacrifice ... he understood then, and would've felt sorry for the guy if he wasn't constantly trying to murder them all. "We've suffered too much," he finally said. "We can't risk it. Intruders die on sight! That is our way! And you and your buddies are NO EXCEPTION!" And he lunged.

Rocket rolled out of the behemoth's way, wincing as the bite mark on his shoulder shot more pain into his arm. Swampy swung around with a roar, his fist flying through the air. Rocket's tail shone with white light as he countered it with an Iron Tail, their attacks colliding with such force they both flew backwards, Rocket dug his claws into the concrete and managed to stay on his feet as he skidded to a stop, looking up to see Swampy looking more murderous than ever. He was still covered in blood from their last battle, his mad eyes almost bulging out of his head.

"I bet your friends are dead by now," he taunted, grinning insanely. "Those I sent after them are two of the best I have. They'll be bringing me their severed heads in no time."

Rocket said nothing, an enraged roar exploding from his throat as he charged again. The two of them clawed and bit and pummeled each other, their blood splattering across the floor. He could hear the cheers and taunts of Swampy's remaining comrades, who had turned up to watch the fight. Clearly murdering things was quite the enjoyable sport here. Bastards--!

A rumble shook the area as another section of the gate collapsed, Rocket's heart lurching as he hoped the others had made it through before the whole thing came down. The fight wasn't helping; several of their attacks had missed and had hit the building instead. It was weakening, and fast; Rocket had to disable this guy long enough to make a run for it before the whole thing came down. If that happened, there was no escape.

It only took a moment of distraction for him to miss the icy fist that was rapidly approaching his face.

Connor watches the Lucario with wide eyes; the other Pokemon has his eyes shut tight and his paws are stretched out, as if he was concentrating really hard. He's seen Pokemon look like that before; that nice Persian he and Penelope had stayed with for awhile used to get that same expression when all of the kids were talking at once. At least, she did before...Is he gonna break all of those rocks? Connor glues his attention to the Lucario, anticipating a powerful attack, but nothing happens. The very real time limit starts to hang over Connor then; they needed something big to get past this. But what could he do? I'm so tiny...and I always need other people to protect me. An image of Halloween flashes in his mind, and how the Arcanine had acted instantly to snatch him away from a jet of boiling water. Connor remembers their conversation about their sisters, how Halloween had promised to help him find Penelope, and finds his eyes drifting away from the others. I'm going to die here and never see her again and she might not even miss me.

"Thanks, bud." Connor lifts his head back up to see Francesca completely destroying the rubble with ease, ripping his mind away from dwelling on the recent past. Whoa! Where had she gotten the energy to do that, when she was so tired? Could it have been the Lucario helping her? His move didn't look like it'd done anything else, so that makes sense. If only he could have that much strength, like Francesca or Rocket-they must never have to worry about having to rely on other people. They could defend themselves from anything!
But as he's thinking of how cool it would be to be more than a foot tall, Connor catches the sound of nearing footsteps. They didn't really sound like Rocket; wasn't he heavy? Francesca must have noticed, because when she turned towards whoever was coming their way, it didn't look like a friendly gesture. "Go through!" Oh no. His heart's pounding up a storm again, and running away as far as possible to curl up in a corner sounds like a really good idea. But leaving Fran behind...

"Go!" the Lucario shouts, and Connor nearly jumps out of his skin as the Growlithe-Mikey?-begins to nudge him along. Seeing this still-unfamiliar person only reminds him of Halloween, and his fur feels like it's sticking out all wrong now. Some of it even stung a bit, from where the Growlithe's paw had roughly bent it back. Did he do that on purpose?
"C'mon, kid. Let's get the hell out of here," Mikey says, way more calm than Connor expects. He must be brave; the Growlithe's face has hardly even changed, and Connor can't understand a single thing about the canine just from looking at him.
Together, they follow after the Lucario, leaving Francesca to fight whoever it was that had come to attack them. Please be safe...and Rocket too. Luckily for them, there isn't anything outside that wanted to fight, or anything at all. There isn't any noise, and Connor looks around, uncertain. To the Eevee's ears, his heart sounds so loud, like someone hitting a bunch of rocks over and over again. Silence wasn't always a good thing, right? Never assume you're safe, that's what Penelope told him a million times over. Connor went in the same direction as their lead, his paws occasionally bouncing to avoid hitting rocks.

"Here! Either of you hiding a berry away? Or see one?" Oh, no, they didn't have anything for his injury, and there's no way Connor can hide berries in his fur. He doesn't see one from just glancing around, either; would the Lucario get mad at him? Surely the group wouldn't let his uselessness be excused forever.
"No, but I c-can look," Connor responds timidly, and hops over to one of the rather sad-looking bushes, pawing around the dirt. No berries near their base, and none actually in the leaves. Do berries even grow around here? He looks over at the other two Pokemon, wondering if they were having any luck. Sure enough, it looks like the Growlithe's found something.
"Hey, will these work?" Mikey asks, and Connor peeks at the berries he's found-a couple were dark blue, and one was pink. Suddenly, Penelope's voice speaks in his mind, a memory-Oran and Pecha! They're common, so don't forget them, you little dork.

(Kept it basic berries since I'm rushing a tiny bit. Let me know if anything needs to be changed.)

The commotion within the gate was moderately noisy, and Polnareff's reddened right eye was darting back and forth, the left one closed as he struggles to cope with the pain. The disadvantage of coming down from the adrenaline high? Dealing with what happened during it. He had pushed himself too far, and at this point he was only standing thanks to the wall.

"Hey, will these work?" The small growlithe brought three berries up- and they were all incredibly useful! The pecha could be saved for later- it would not be surprising if one of them ends up poisoned. The two Oran berries... Polnareff debates with himself whether or not to take one or both.

"Damn right they- nngh... will... Good job..." Polnareff grunts, groans and winces as he lowers himself to a sitting position. He takes one of the Oran berries in his hand, maw open wide. He takes a hefty bite out of it, then presses the remaining half to his side, where the gash is. With a squeeze, and a tense, silenced growl, the stinging sensation rushed over him. The wound started to mend, deepest reaches first- some torn muscle repaired, tissue reconnecting. But it only did so much, and the wound remained to some extent- though not nearly as impeding to his movement. The chunk that he ate relieved a good amount of his sheer exhaustion, as well.  He stood up, slowly- "H-Hurk..." Well. Exhaustion was gone, yeah, but the pain and extreme soreness, as it could be described, pulsed throughout his body still. Nonetheless, he snagged a berry, starting for the door- Adrenaline was going to be addicting real fast if he kept getting pumped up as often as this. "I'm going to help. Stay directly at this exit- I won't let any of these guys get to you. If an infected comes, you scream. You scream fucking loud. I'll be back."

As much as he hated leaving the kids behind, if the other two were defeated, both Polnareff and the kids would be dead in the end anyways. He takes a moment- performing the stances as before. Swords dance- it was an apparently painful thing when wounded. Good to know. Bad to experience.

It felt like a lifetime had passed, but as the Lucario came down the corridor of the gate, it looked like things were just now heating up. Francesca seemed to be holding her own well enough, all things considered. Pol tossed the Oran berry to the side before getting directly involved- noting where it is for when it was needed. Francesca had just finished some savage blows against a Primape, and there was a Manectric getting ready to go at her again. He wouldn't be there in time to stop it...

But he didn't have to. Francesca was fiercer by the second, whirling around and using the Manectric as target practice for the Primeape toss. But she didn't stop- he wished she did. A little time to let her know he was there and to coordinate would have been nice. Yet, at the same time, it was wise- don't give them a single moment to recuperate, keep the offensive on! Polnareff bound forward too, gathering strength in his right hand- he rushes towards the Primeape, seeing that Francesca seemed to be going slightly aside, towards the other. With a wide smirk, he crouched, pushing his fist against the fur, then flesh... a solid hit to the chest. Sweet Arceus, it was satisfying to be back in the game. Almost as satisfying as the crunching coming from the Primeape's ribs.


(OOC: LOGIC DUMP (and some jumps) FOR BERRY AND HP- Polnareff was in Red HP, which as of gen 5 is less than 20% of max HP. Polnareff is in critical, but not at death's door, so we can estimate his HP to be ~15%. Looking at bulbepedia, a Lucario's  HP at lv. 50 is 130-177. It also shows that a Lucario's base HP at level up is ~70. Through various research on forums, I found that average (for apparent non-pros) level for riolu to evolve is 30. So, if we take the low median of the LV 50 HP range, 153, we can find the average increase in HP per level. 153 @ lv. 50, 70 @ lv 30~ difference of 20 levels. 153-70=83, 83/20 =4.15, round to 4. Pol is level 56, so an additional increase of 20 to the initial 153, making Polnareff's current max HP 173. Critical rate (red HP) is anything less than 20% of max HP: in this case, 35 HP. We're saying his current HP is 15%, calculated to be 26 HP. Add the Oran Berry, healing 10 HP, and Polnareff has 36 HP: Enough to be action capable again, even if hurting still. Some logic jumps because I am not a pro at breeding or knowing leveling stats, but yeah, here we are.

As the grand meme states: SCIENCE, BITCH!

Sky uppercut landed based on a 1d10 for the 90% accuracy.)

[OoC: Sorry for the hold-up, but skip. Too much is going on to know for sure where I could fit in Wolfe that isn't completely out of context. Might make up a post later if something strikes me though.]

He was dead. Of course he was; how could he be in this much pain and still be alive? If he hadn't sank into the void yet, he was certainly on his way.

The Ice Punch had struck him squarely in the face, and Rocket didn't have an ounce of strength to retaliate as he crashed to the ground. Blood swam around his mouth as the scales on his cheek started to numb from the pain. He just ... lay there. He couldn't move. He could hear the distant voices of Swampert's buddies, laughing, hollering and shouting insults and taunts at him. Had he just been one-shot by that asshole?

Everyone sounded like they were so far away. Rocket just lay sprawled on the ground like roadkill, floating in his own little abyss. He wanted to just give in and pass out, but knew he probably wouldn't wake up again; he wouldn't put it past Swampy to give his neck a good snap while he was out. He forced his eyes open, blinking at the blurry buildings around him, and began trying to hoist himself up.

"Whoa, what?" a voice called from nearby. "He isn't out after the boss's Ice Punch? What the hell?!"
"That guy's tough..."
"B-Boss, do something! Hit him again!"

He could only get about an inch off the ground before his shaking arms gave in and sent him flopping back down again, so he wasn't sure what they were getting so worked up about. He was expecting another hit any time now; likely one to the back of the head so he'd be instantly knocked out, but it didn't come. He managed to twist his head round over his shoulder to look at Swampy, and noticed with instant glee that he was stood there with his mouth agape, looking completely shellshocked.

"Heh ... you're not ... taking me down that easily." With each word, Rocket gradually found the strength to stand. He thought of Francesca, little Connor - who reminded him constantly of that poor Eevee back in Blackthorn that he failed to protect - that ... dickbag of a Lucario; asshole or not, he was still under his protection. He only had to last as long as it would take him to get through the gate; he could pass out as much as he wanted when he was safe. But how to stop Fatass following him...?

The air rumbled as another section of the gate collapsed. Glinting in the dying light was a steel beam leaning against the half that was still standing. Rocket grinned as he had an idea.

"Not until you're down on your flabby ass." Swampy looked stricken as Rocket managed to stand, swaying a little as the world spun. Steady. So long as he could conjure just enough strength to make one final dash, he could do this.

His body shook as his muscles threatened to give in again. He had to do this now.

"Just gonna stare at me all day, Tubbo? C'mon, come at me. You wanna be all big and tough for your little buddies, right?"

Swampy glowered at him for another moment before letting out another roar, and charging. This was exactly what Rocket wanted. Springing what was left of his energy into his legs, he sprinted in the opposite direction. Fatass was too pissed off to do anything except keep up the chase.

Rocket limped over the gate's threshold and spotted Francesca battling the two assassins Swampy had sent in after them. No sight of the others ... surely they'd gotten through safely? There was barely any time to lose; Rocket clambered over the rubble, shouting to the Krookodile. "Fran! Leave them and run through to the other side, and do it quickly!"

He reached the beam propped up against the wall, and paused to check that Swampy was still giving chase. Mustering what was left of his strength, he delivered an Iron Tail to it, instantly knocking it down. The building groaned and creaked as it began to topple, stones pelting Rocket's scales as he ran for his life. "RUN, FRAN!"

"Damn right they- nngh... will... Good job..."

Michael nods. Praise...that's a strange thing to hear nowadays, especially from someone who had previously come off as incredibly belligerent and preachy. Perhaps he is not as bad as first impressions made him out to be; the same can be said for Rocket. After all, Halloween has ditched them, whereas Rocket turned to fight out Goddess knew how many Pokemon. His initial biases and assumptions towards the dragon may have been...wrong. Yes, wrong.Good boy! I'm very proud of you.

"Sure you should be pushing yourself so hard?" Michael mumbles as the Lucario begins to use a single berry to heal his wound, albeit partially. His voice is far too soft to hear, but he doesn't bother to repeat himself. If this Pokemon wants to drive his body to the breaking point, that's his problem, not Mike's. You know, with those injuries, it might not be so difficult to..."arrange" an accident. Nothing to do with us, of course. Michael's mouth twitches, and he shakes his fur off as if trying to throw off crawling bugs. No, they can't do that. If things went wrong, they might end up in a ditch somewhere with their throat cut. Besides, he doesn't really want to hurt any of these people...right? While not exactly friendly, they are not trying to kick him out, and haven't attacked him. Of course you do. You know you want to.

Shut up. Shut up, brain, and focus on something else. What is the Lucario saying...?

"-infected comes, you scream. You scream fucking loud. I'll be back." "Back?" He's seriously going to go fight whatever unwashed bastards are still lurking in that hellhole of a city, with a partly-healed injury? That's crazy talk. Mike's full of crazy talk, but he's not suicidal. If this guy is, he's not about to follow and get himself brutally disemboweled. He turns to the only remaining Pokemon, the tiny, shivering Eevee named Connor. His paws are bleeding...has nobody bothered to fix that? The kid might very well die from infection at this rate, and he'd probably get saddled with the blame.

"C'mon, kid, let's get out of sight," Michael says, beckoning the Normal-type over to his side and out of the view of the gate. Connor looks from left to right rather rapidly, as if expecting a zombie to pop out of nowhere and immediately devour him, before meekly tiptoeing over to him. Well, at least the Eevee isn't the rebellious, "I wanna fight" type...because Michael probably wouldn't try to stop him if that were the case.
"Not the talkative type, eh?" No response, except for a nervous (and incredibly fast) shake of his head. Connor then begins to paw at the ground nervously, making tiny swirl patterns in the dirt. "That's fine." Michael scans the area with narrowed eyes, his nose twitching. No smell of rot...or anything other than some sort of foliage. Maybe he isn't the right guy to leave to protect a small child, considering he's borderline useless. By the look on Connor's face, the kid must be expecting to get shredded at any moment. Yeah, not helping.

No infected show up...thank the Goddesses. But then, Michael hears it-the creaking of a structure ready to collapse. Oh, this isn't going to be good. His eyes widen as the already unstable building they passed through only about ten minutes ago begins to break apart and fall, tumbling down. Rocket's voice is clearly heard as the building crumbles.

"RUN, FRAN!"
Oh. Fuck.
"Rocket! Fran! Polnareff!" Connor shrieks, his voice shrill as he tries to run towards the falling building. Only the slightest hesitation slows him down enough for Michael to react and stop him in his tracks, keeping the Eevee from running to his inevitable crushing under debris. The others could make it out. They would make it out. He meets the child's tear-filled eyes, silently wishing he didn't have to see them.
"Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

(go me, forgetting Connor knew Polna's name until the end of the post)

It felt as though everything was moving in slow motion as Rocket mustered what little was left of his strength and leaped the rest of the way, landing roughly on his front as the gate crashed into ruin behind him. He lay sprawled out in the dirt, panting, as the echoes of the destruction died away and the faint but panicked voices of Swampy's subordinates reached them.

"Boss! BOSS!
"Is he-- oh legends, no, he can't be--"
"Oh shit. Oh SHIT this is bad..."

They'd done it. They'd not only escaped the city and beaten the tyrant that ruled that vile gang, but they'd dropped a building on him as well, not to mention those two assholes that were taking on Fran and Pol. Victory had never been sweeter, and listening to the survivors' frantic cries only made it better as the Garchomp floated in and out of consciousness.

But he couldn't pass out yet. Shaking at the effort, Rocket lifted his head to look around. They were all there; Francesca, Pol, Michael, little Connor ... they hadn't lost anyone. He'd done it; he'd rescued them all. The pain that he was feeling at that moment ... it was all worth it.

"Rocket—" Fran was next to him, propped up on her elbows. Rocket's vision hazed as he grinned at her, white stars dancing in front of his face.

"We ... did it," he said, his head flopping down into the dirt as he finally fainted.

Michael backs the kid away from the falling building; by some miracle delivered from the very heavens, all three of their companions make it out before they can be crushed by debris. Polnareff seems to be the only one left on his feet, but judging by how dead tired he'd been only minutes ago, that can't last long. Michael finally lets Connor move again, confident that nobody else is coming through that gate. He grins, showing off his sharp teeth in triumph-even after a good chunk of their group have ditched them, they still won. Despite their not-so-friendly first meeting, Michael knows now that he sorely underestimated the extent of Rocket's abilities. Sticking with his people, offering to stay behind to fight, crushing their foes underneath concrete like insects..isn't that what a real leader does?

And you so hastily disliked him in favour of a runaway like Halloween. How embarassing.

Michael's grin lowers a bit, but not even the cynical babbling of his ever-present companion can snatch away the feeling of victory. The panicking voices of the remainders of the gang drifting towards his ears only sweetens the flavour, and there's not a single stirring of pity in his heart for the Pokemon that had so readily attacked them. Bunch of assholes is all they are, and all they will ever be; such garbage doesn't deserve any of his condolences.
"Boss! BOSS!
"Is he-- oh legends, no, he can't be--"
"Oh shit. Oh SHIT this is bad..."
That's right-all of them deserve to drown in their new suffering. You play with fire and attack other Pokemon, you get burned-that's the way things work. You know, you didn't really do anything to help. Yeah, well...hey, Michael kept the kid from getting himself killed, so that's something. Ha! Fuck you, brain, trying to take from this moment that they all could share. He trots over to the other Pokemon, noting that they'll be needing something to get everyone back on their feet again. Damn, they look roughed up.

Contrary to Michael's upbeat demeanor, Connor is practically shedding fur from the sheer amount of stress flying around him. Everyone is okay but they don't really look okay-Rocket and Fran can't even stand up! He keeps switching focus from one Pokemon to the next, and then to the ruined gate, and then back to them. Nobody could follow now, right? No, there's no way-but maybe such mean people could find a way? Connor didn't think he could beat them up like Rocket or Fran had, but maybe Polnareff could. He looks really strong, like Penelope, only nothing is actually stronger than his sister. If she'd been here...well, Connor would feel so much happier. Everyone would be okay and happy with Penelope; nobody could be sad with his sister around. That's the truth.

"We ... did it," Rocket says right before his face plops down onto the ground, causing Connor's fur to fluff up in alarm. People fell over when they were hurt, and now he isn't even moving-what's going on? Those awful Pokemon from before must have hurt him bad. "I-is he okay?" Connor asks Fran in a trembling voice; in the same few seconds, he also turns to Polnareff for answers. "What's-what's wrong with him?"

"We ... did it." Damn right we did! Pol picked himself upwards until he was standing pretty damn straight and tall- all things considered, that in and of itself is a victory. Rocket, however, was proceeding on the opposite direction, falling downwards and fainting.

”Don’t you fucking tell me…” Polnareff closed his eyes, and quickly breathed a sigh of relief. Just as he was about to state his finding, though, a concerned Francesca did equivalent for him.

"Oh thank Arceus..."

”Well, guess we’re not done yet… gonna have to figure out a way to move him…

"Polnareff—are you, are you alright?" Oho, the lady was showing some care for him! He waves his hand dismissively, smirking ever so faintly.

Yeah, not a scratch on- hrk…!” He bends to his side, the mostly healed, but still visibly present and pained wound on his side, giving him a throb. ”At least, no new scratches…” He straightened up again, looking around. Halloween… he really was gone. What kind of bastard abandons kids? Let alone… kills them. He shoots a disdainful glare to Rocket’s fainted lump of a body, but lets out an exasperated sigh and shakes his head.

The Krookodile states something that, while it should be fairly obvious, most may not think of in the immediacy of a victory. Polnareff looks around, nothing looked immediately ‘safe’ though… ”Safe may not be a luxury we have right now, Francesca. But there should be some at least defendable locations… Anyone see anything?” With the apparent leader down for the count, Polnareff, not really conscious of his stepping up, makes a push to lead for the time being. As he’s looking around though, his eye catches a saving grace.

”Ooooho, no fuckin’ way…” He trots off towards the rubble, where a battered, but still ripe and useable oran berry lays, covered in dust. He picks it up, rubs it on his fur, and smiles bright, holding it proudly towards everyone as he comes back! “Francesca, mind assisting me in doing the deed?” Pol kneels down, taking a chunk of the Oran berry and holding it in his hand, finding wounds on the surface and applying the berry as makeshift ointment, and especially taking care to treat the… burned? No, a cold burn, or something akin to it, smacked into the side of the guys face.

It had been a lazy, wonderful day. Earlier, when the sun was at its peak, Leto had even seen a flock of bird Pokemon flying peacefully as if the Epidemic didn't exist. There were no disturbances, meaning he had been granted some much-needed relaxation. During the intensity of the prior daylight, he had climbed the outstretched, welcoming limbs of a towering honey tree. Its branches swayed in the wind like a dance, and the sight of that made him absolutely giddy. Once his back was set firmly against the trunks' mighty girth, it was time for a nap. But now, night was beginning to rear its sleepy head (as Leto was), so, to put it simply, it was time to party.

It was going to be totally rad.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Leto bellowed, his tiny arms outstretched as he addressed the imaginary crowd below him. "Have I got a song for YOU!" He gripped his headphones and pressed them tightly to his ears, and when their position was secure and satisfactory, he cried, "Let's ROCK!"

He tapped his foot to the beat that was pulsing in his head. "A ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR!" The Servine spiraled around on his heels, striking a pose as he began his 'concert.' "I WANNA BE THE VERY BEST, THAT NO ONE EVER WAAAAAAS."Leto attempted to clap his hands to his rhythm, but his limbs wouldn't reach, so he settled on hitting his sides instead. "DUN-DUN-DAH-DUN!" As the performance continued, he felt his heart soar. There were noises in the background, but he ignored them. It was just the screaming of his many fans, right? He fantasized that Jennifer was down there too, and he knew that somewhere out there, she was listening. In spirit, at least. That's why he was here anyways--to search for her. She still was trodding on this Earth, he just knew it.

When it came time for the songs' climax, he scurried up towards the top of the tree. His legs firmly planted so he could stand safely, he was set to sing (or scream) the final score. He coughed to open his throat, then caterwauled, "POOKEEMOOO---"

CRASH!

His head whirled in the direction of the noise, his wide eyes reddened with concerned. Something was wrong. A fair maiden was in trouble!

With the dexterity of an aristocrat, he scampered down the trees' length. Once he hit the ground with a dull thud, he turned to the 'crowd.' "Ah, don't be upset! Technical difficulties, friends! I'll be back to sign many autographs!" He held up his hands in a mock salute, then he was off towards the source of the clamor--the neighboring town of Hearthome.

But he didn't have to go far. Right at the gate, of which still stood to beckon the visitors of times past, were some Pokemon. Like, a bunch. They were all encircled around a behemoth of a reptile...of whose species that Leto, surprisingly, didn't recognize. His lips were pulled up in a sly grin as he approached them with a slight skip in his pace. He loved meeting new survivors, and maybe they knew where Jennifer was! "Hiya, guys!" he greeted with the smallest of waves from his flabby arms. "I'm Leto, nice to meet ya! Ciao!" The Servine sashayed towards the center of the throng, where a rather attractive Lucario (of which he assumed was female due to the earring) was dabbing the big guy with some type of poultice. "Woooow, this guy sure took a beating. Is he uhhh...," he stretched his neck to inspect the wounds, and took a sharp intake of breath through clenched teeth. His heart lurched when he withdrew (as he recalled that his trusty headphones were no longer upon his head) and he frantically palmed his body until a finger tapped against them. During his brief sprint, they must have settled around his neck. He breathed a sigh of relief before continuing. "Yeeeowch. Well, at least he's still kickin'!" He turned to the Lucario of which had caught his eye. "Hey, so uuh, how ya doin'? Need any help with that, ma'am? I could forage some more berries for ya, I saw some over there." He jabbed a limp, leafy digit towards the route behind him.

[[OOC; okay first of all i'm super excited to return to this team. Secondly, once Leto realizes Polnareff is a boy, he'll back off and get really quiet and awkward. I thought I'd make him a kind of comic relief sort of thing, since I'm new to that.]

"He's...he's ok. Just...fainted...he went through a lot..." Francesca's reassurances are enough to bring a visible look of relief to the shaking Eevee's face. Halloween is already gone, and though Rocket still kind of scares him, Connor doesn't want him to die...he doesn't want any of them to die. Fran and Polnareff are hurt, too, and Connor timidly looks over at the awful burn on Rocket's face. What would happen if someone else attacked them? He suddenly feels exposed, as if there were other things, worse things watching them than the Pokemon in the city.

"We...we need to go. We need to...find a good place...to rest..."
”Safe may not be a luxury we have right now, Francesca. But there should be some at least defendable locations… Anyone see anything?”

Connor can't possibly agree more with finding a place to hide; he's still not done shaking from the stress of everything that had happened. And his paws still hurt so horribly...were they still bleeding? With an air of triumph, Polnareff brings back a berry that looks like the one he'd used to heal himself, and Connor wonders if he should speak up about his poor, hurt paws. But wouldn't that be selfish? Rocket was hurt protecting them-no, Connor can't just try to steal away all the help. Penelope always said he had to be strong, and complaining about little injuries was the exact opposite. So the Eevee kept quiet, trying to ignore the spikes of pain that went through his legs every time he moved even a little bit.

At that moment, however, something new did decide to greet their ragtag band. Michael was perfectly ready to start searching for a new hidey-hole when that 'something' strolls up to them with an almost insulting casual demeanor. It is...a leaf snake. In other words, Michael has no clue what species the Pokemon is, only that it is smiling like a complete fool and approaching them in a way to suggest that they haven't given two thoughts as to whether he and the other Pokemon might have been, you know...bandits. Murderers. Thieves. An assortment of bad people that you don't merrily approach like they are your closest friends.

...Well, it wasn't like he thought about such things either, but still.

"Hiya, guys! I'm Leto, nice to meet ya! Ciao! Oh, boy. The newest Pokemon, in a rather rude disregard for their personal space, inspects Rocket's wounds before promptly messing with some strange, seemingly useless contraption around his neck. They've just survived an attack and several of them are visibly exhausted, and the Growlithe is loathe to bring anymore unnecessary excitement until they've got a place to stay. This new guy isn't helping matters. Michael glares at the stranger in a silent warning to back off, but he might as well be invisible.

"Woooow, this guy sure took a beating. Is he uhhh...,"
"Gee, I dunno Mister Obvious. Why don't you figure it out?"

"Yeeeowch. Well, at least he's still kickin'!" Michael feels a brush of fur against one of his forelegs, and sees that the trembling Eevee is trying to hide behind him, blue eyes staring at the serpent. Goddess, the kid's been through enough, and now he's going to freak out again because of some random dude. Unfortunately, this "Leto" doesn't even look in Connor's direction, instead pouring all of his attention towards Polnareff. Jerk. Michael bets that the guy doesn't even know where they can find a decent place to stay.

"Hey, so uuh, how ya doin'? Need any help with that, ma'am? I could forage some more berries for ya, I saw some over there."

Wait, wait-ma'am? By the Goddesses, this weirdo thinks Polnareff is a woman? This is...this is just too good! Michael finds himself snickering, on the verge of full-out laughter. What a joke. Of all the people to come sauntering out of nowhere, they've been delivered an oblivious, cheery snake with some weird contraption around its head. Seriously, did a Goddess looking down upon them decide to test her sense of humor? It is highly likely that this guy was one of those annoying, "I'm-so-cool" types, so Michael figures he'll give him a little humiliation as payback for scaring the kid.

"Sorry man, but that 'ma'am' is a 'sir'," Michael says with a half-smirk, "Unless you're into that?"

"Hiya, guys!"

The Lucario had been so focused on what he was doing, carefully coating what wounds he could get to upon Rocket’s tattered body, he hadn’t even noticed the aura approaching. The words bring him leaping forward, in front of Francesca and trying to get between the newbie and the kids, only to see this weirdass green fucker approaching so lackadaisically that Polnareff could already feel his temples throbbing in sheer annoyance. He stops in his tracks, shoulders sagging and losing his defensive pose… this thing didn’t have an air of Violence about it. Nor did it have an air of intelligence, wit, or common sense… Though the latter three were based off of observation and already forming bias, not aura. He takes an astutely fucking stupid notice of the Dragon’s  wounds, and even more astutely and more incredibly FUCKING stupid, an observation that he is indeed alive. Ooh, boy. First impressions were not going well.

"Hey, so uuh, how ya doin'? Need any help with that, ma'am? I could forage some more berries for ya, I saw some over there."

Ma’am?

Ma’am?!

Pol has is own toothy grin now. Though less of a smirk, and more something that even The Joker, whoever that is, would be offput by. His reddened eye twitches repeatedly as this think keeps flapping its soon-to-be dislocated jaw… Anyone looking at Pol would likely see the ticking, nuclear timebomb.

"Sorry man, but that 'ma'am' is a 'sir.' Unless you're into that?"

Francesca's snort made Pol whip his head around, cheeks flush with embarrassment. Looks like the Krookodile was no longer the reddest thing around here... hell. If Pol was lucky, she would find it cute. He turned slowly back to the leaf fucker, remembering the reason for the snort.

”Thank you, Micheal…” Polnareff’s words come out through gritted teeth, low and infested with a nigh irate irritation. ”Yes, you- Polnareff resists the urge to unleash a wave of angry slander towards the walking vegetable. “”If you want to be of use, go get some berries. Oran are what we need most… but being a grass type, I assume, if you have any lovely intelligence on what other berries may help, and see them… just, fucking get some berries.” Polnareff could hardly form a coherent thought, and that odd sentence, jumping around in a way, was a wonderful display of that.

In spite of how aloof the vegetable seemed to be, Pol was not sure he wanted them anywhere near this group. Something that lackadaisical could be a detriment to the group… He shoots a look towards Francesca. Trying to communicate though a worried look that he wasn’t sure how he felt about it, in reality he’s showing a face expressing how ready he is to stab this bastard child of broccoli and cauliflower.


((OOC: OMG FERN NO like any other character could have brushed this off omg XD im so stoked to be on a team with you aaa <3 I look forward to not actually stabbing him in the face))