The ALPH Team (PLOT)

“Buck!” The Weavile stopped at the sound of Latias's voice, and waited for her to reach his side before he looked at her, one claw still hooked into his earring. “Please, wait. We’re still coming with you. I’ll explain ev-“ She abruptly cut off, her eyes latching onto something in the greenery behind him. Buck quickly turned and followed her gaze, and struggled to repress a groan.

The creepy fucker of a Houndoom was back, and he'd brought a friend. Buck hissed lightly under his breath, his ears flattening at the sight of the emaciated dog. He'd actually forgotten all about this guy, and had been perfectly fine with that.

His new companion, a female Sawsbuck, stood awkwardly next to him, her eyes scanning them all individually. Buck could've sworn that her eyes narrowed slightly when they reached him, and he simply glared straight back.

"Hi," the dual-type muttered, looking as though she'd rather be anywhere else.

Buck simply scoffed at her, discovering that he no longer had the motivation to speak to any of these idiots, and turned to continue towards the gate. OK, he had to be fair - Latias wasn't too bad but the others ... the Houndoom was a weirdo, the Doctor had been keeping secrets and he didn't even fucking know the new girl's name. As far as the Weavile was concerned, he was on his own here.

The Ice-type began to traverse the ruins of the city gate, hopping over the lumps of concrete with relative ease until his feet finally touched down on solid ground. Before him sat a long street lined by trees, with ransacked houses lining each side of the road. Buck scowled as he wandered along, his scarred eye flickering as it began to itch again. Why was a shelter such a big deal - each new one looked as shitty as the last.

He finally stopped about halfway down, quickly wiping the pus that had started to ooze from his eye. It felt as though it had a needle stuck in it. "Don't care which one we go in," he stated with honesty.

Her awkward vomit-greeting hadn't been a good idea, just like Sil feared. The others were obviously more focused on... whatever had just happened -which was to be expected- so they mostly just dismissed her entirely. The strange red pokemon looked her over, however, returning the sawsbuck's awkwardness with her own uneasy “Hi." Her eyes glanced over Sil's form for a moment, causing the doe to go rigid. She was likely scanning for possible infection, which made sense, but it still caused her hackles to raise. However, despite Sil's obvious discomfort, it seemed she passed the red pokemon's test- her victory signaled by a small approving smile. ”There’ll be time for introductions when we find shelter. Right now, we need to start moving,” she announced, which only told Sil that this pokemon was the leader. The sawsbuck nodded quietly and was about to follow when the red pokemon addressed the wounded fox. ”Are you okay to walk?”

"'Course!...it's not so bad...!" Sil's brow raised at the bald-faced lie. There wasn't any way that it didn't hurt; any idiot could tell. But perhaps he had a reason to deny any sort of help? She didn't know, and it certainly wasn't her place to find out. "R-ready...when you are..."

As the others started shifting their way forward, Sil glanced down at the injured fox. The thought to offer her own back to travel on popped up, but was immediately quashed. There was a perfectly good... red pokemon right there who actually knew him and would be far more likely to get him help. She didn't know these people. It wasn't her place to butt in and be stubborn. But as the weavile called to them from afar and she started for the gate, she paused again, looking back to the tiny fox. Putting on such a bright mask in the face of all that pain... It wasn't right to make a pokemon suffer like that. Not a pokemon like him, who was trying so hard...

Cassius...

These were supposed to be her new comrades. Allies. There was no point in making one of them weaker.

Breathing in a long sigh, her motives now firmly placed into the logic spectrum (instead of acting out of guilt or weakness) she lowered her head slightly. "...You sure? It looks like a long walk... and you could obviously use some rest. You're no use dead, you know." She offered a small smile, only wanting to help. "Don't worry-- I've got a strong back."

The Doctor limped on with the group, following with a sullen and intentionally blank face. He couldn't go back for the others now, even if he wanted to. The ancient psionics' words rang fresh in his mind still, despite his strained efforts to push them away. And now that the entire group knew his torment...the harbinger left little room for his cheery facade to exist.

Drip!
Drip drip!
The foxes' low ears perked as he miserably looked up at the gray sky.
A sigh escaped him as a small rainfall began to patter on them, burning his open wounds.
It doesn't matter anymore. I deserve it.
As he tore at himself internally, his thoughts were interrupted by a sudden voice next to him.

"...You sure?" The doe said, offering a small smile. His fur bristled on his neck as he jolted, only hurting his back further. He looked at her quizzically, almost certain she was reading his thoughts.

"It looks like a long walk... and you could obviously use some rest. You're no use dead, you know. Don't worry-- I've got a strong back."

"Oh! Ahh..." He trailed off, looking from Latias, the sky, then up to the deer. She was smiling- something that was rarely given to him. He couldn't help but force his grim countenance back and replace it with a warm but weary smile of thanks.
"Oh, you. I love you." He muttered, dragging himself onto her back with a strained grunt.

He slumped over a bit when the doe followed the group and he was finally given time to rest and examine his wounds. His shaking paw went up to his face, tentatively feeling the deep gouges across it. The burnt flesh was raw still, and it didn't take a liking to being touched. The Doctor gasped, taking his paw back as he flinched from the pain. Taking a deep breath, he lowered his gaze to his chestplate. The damage was extensive, without a doubt. He'd taken heavy blows to the weathered armor before, but this was...
This was bad.
Only dying, not a big deal. He growled to himself, not wanting to touch the shattered pieces of his armor and worsen them. As they passed through the city gates, his amethyst gaze turned to the streets, his senses picking up several undead in the distance. Worry began to eat at him; not for himself, but for the others. He would only put the doe and the rest of them in danger in such a state, and he couldn't have that. His ears strained in high alert, the sounds of hooves and paws on the hard pavement suddenly very loud.
We need to find shelter...!

"Don't care which one we go in," the Weavile finally said, exasperated.
The fox twitched in fatigued uneasiness, the others clearly unaware of the danger.
"Doesn't matter. How about that one." He pointed, not really asking but directing. The small house was in decrepit form, but at the very least it had its' roof nearly all intact, and it would not only protect them from the torrents of rain but hopefully from the eyes of the undead as well.

(sorry for the long wait, my muse is acting up)

"Doesn't matter. How about that one," the Doctor wearily muttered from the Sawsbuck's back, pointing at the house immediately to Buck's right. The Weavile slouched over to the door, hopped up and pulled on the handle.

It swung open, and the dual-type dropped down and stood aside to let the others enter first. "Go ahead," he said, blinking as a large drop of rain landed in his scarred eye, only irritating it further.

When everyone was inside, Buck pulled the door closed and made a beeline for the couch before anyone else could snatch it. He flopped down face-first onto a cushion, took one lungful of its unpleasant, damp scent and immediately sat up again, poking his swollen eyelid.

He leaned back into the softness of the couch, glad that he had gotten at least one thing he wanted today. His gaze scanned the doe as she trotted in, carrying the injured Abra. She was practically a stranger and yet here she was offering free lifts to anyone who needed it. Buck scoffed; maybe if he started complaining about the fact that he was slowly losing half of his sight he'd get a ride as well.

"So, you gonna tell us your name, new girl?" he asked, not budging from his side of the couch. There was room to put down the Doctor beside him but that was it - this side was his.

His eyelid flickered involuntarily as a tear slid down his cheek. He hoped no one would ask him what had happened to it; he had never talked about what happened to Norma Jean to anyone, and was quite happy to leave it that way.

---

Violet City, huh? Garth thought as he climbed over the wreckage of the gate and stood with the street stretching out before him. He felt uncomfortable immediately; there was nowhere near enough greenery here. Standing in the middle of the road like he was, he was sure that he was just as obvious as a Gyarados in a public swimming pool.

I think Violent City sounds much better, the Grovyle gleefully mused as he ducked into one of the side-alleys between two of the houses. At least here he wasn't standing out in the open waiting for an opportunity to holler, "I'M OVER HERE!" at the top of his lungs. He wandered into the back garden and hopped over the fence into the next, keeping his ears alert for any voices. Surely enough, a few houses down, he heard what he wanted to hear.

The group were just on the other side. Shivering with excitement, Garth swept towards the front of the house and spotted the Weavile standing alone at the door before wandering in himself and shutting the door. Garth covered his mouth and wheezed with silent laughter; he had them all where he wanted them - all in one place.

When he was sure the coast was clear, Garth crept back round to the garden, crouching low as he passed the windows, and slithered up into the tree. There was only one window he could peek through, and from his greater height he could only see a couple of pairs of feet. That was all right though - that meant that they couldn't see him either.

Now he could plan his assault in peace.

"Hi,"

Hannibal’s face softened at Sil’s awkward greeting, a single bout of word vomit that earned her a rather foolish first impression. It was an injection of nostalgia, a reminder that despite this newfound aloofness the doe he’d first known was still lurking at the core. He rolled his eyes, ready to offer an explanation but Latias’ reply halted him. She was curt in her reply, but not wholly unfriendly. In fact, her entire being was radiating exhaustion – both physical and emotional. Her manner suggested that she almost resigned to be civil for the sake of her own wellbeing.

He continued to watch the legend as she spoke quietly to the beaten Abra, a slight crease in his brow as he recognised a development in their relationship. There was a newfound tenderness in the female, something that seemed almost exclusively reserved for the Doctor. It not only confused him – the question of what had happened gnawing at his brain more than ever – but also evoked a pang of jealousy. This was the first legendary creature he’d met, and to see her preference and blossoming connection to another snapped at his ego. She was interesting. From the offset, Hannibal had recognised the unstable female as a potential plaything, but now he saw he’d been too late to claim her mind for the Doctor had slipped in and stolen her heart instead.

It only added further insult to injury when Sil trotted over to the wounded psychic’s side.

Whilst the bloodied state of ‘Mr. Popularity’ enhanced his mood somewhat, Hannibal’s face turned sour when the doe stooped down, offering her assistance. He knew not to be surprised by Sil’s charity – she’d always been a bleeding heart, not to mention she’d likely want to immerse herself within the group via good deeds – but the sight evoked a vicious pang of jealousy regardless. It was a shameless possessiveness that Hannibal had failed to realize the intensity of. There was a bitter taste in his mouth as he watched the exchange; eventually forcing him to tear his gaze away when the venom got too strong.

Roughly attempting to dismiss the matter – so trivial but alarmingly hard-hitting – Hannibal hobbled on after Buck. His mangled foot had forced him back onto three legs, his gait awkward and somewhat sluggish as he trudged a safe distance between both parties. Part of him urged him to catch up with Buck and satiate his curiosity on what he’d missed, but he kept his distance remembering that subtle little hiss the ice-type had offered him upon arrival. Obviously, Buck wasn’t his biggest fan.

Begrudgingly accepting his state as a loner within the group – deciding it best to keep a low profile for the time being – Hannibal focused on his own wellbeing. The pain of old injuries was flooding back, further tainting his mood and leaving him silently seething. He limped to the town in silence, head low and back hunched.

"Don't care which one we go in,"

My thoughts exactly. Hannibal gave no indication he’d even heard, let alone considered offering any kind of advice regarding suitable shelter. They were all the same in his eyes, and as long as he could get off his aching paws and out of the rain he was satisfied. His thin coat provided little insulation from the miserable weather and despite himself he had begun to shiver.

Eventually, a decision to which decrepit house to hole up in was made and Buck moved to hold the door open. Hannibal slipped into the building with an unnerving obedience, momentarily catching the Weavile’s eye as he passed and dipping his head in thanks. Regardless of his current state of sulking, he could seldom escape his manners. Upon entering, his delicate nose explored the room for any signs of lurking inhabitants, relieved to find only the region’s familiar scent of decay tinging the air. It was – as far as the hound could tell – safe.

Making himself comfortable in a corner of the room, Hannibal all-but flopped onto the floor. He didn’t care for the luxury of a couch, content simply to have a roof over his head. He lay slightly curled in a vain bid to preserve some body heat, attention fixated on Sil and her passenger when they finally entered the room. He kept his expression muted, unreadable, as he distracted his upset by inspecting the Doctor’s injuries from a distance. It looked painful, the gashes deep and bloody. It almost brought a smile to his face.

"So, you gonna tell us your name, new girl?"

Buck eventually piped up the question once everyone was settled, drawing Hannibal’s attention back to those that surrounded him. He allowed the doe time to answer before speaking himself.
“Sil’s an old friend,” He added in a purr, almost smugly as his maroon eyes rested on the doe in question. He was curious to whether she would elaborate on the nature of their friendship, but something told him that their shared history would remain vague, if not a complete mystery to the group. The matters of Unova were nobody’s concern but their own.

(( Hannibal is so pissy, the Doc keeps stealing his friends, lol. ))

"Oh! Ahh..." the fox trailed as his eyes glanced about, likely searching for an answer. Sil's own attention was distracted as she felt the familiar pitter patter of drizzle lightly tapping her back. It was a refreshing feeling, but apparently, she was the only pokemon there with that opinion. Finally decided, the fox clambered aboard with a gentle, almost playful "Oh, you. I love you."

A small chuckle escaped her, his light humor almost as refreshing as the rain, despite her back now being dyed into a target. She kept her strides long, yet even to keep up with the others rushing into the city and out of the rain, not wanting to jostle her injured passenger too much. It was odd that she had so readily trusted the fox without even knowing his name, but honestly, what was he going to do? He was half-dead anyway, and a simple shake would rid her of her passenger.

Quietly, she followed the group, keeping her eye on the weavile leading the group into the ruined city. He gestured to the wrecks that were once houses and said gruffly, "Don't care which one we go in." Sil glanced at the houses, her expression grim. No, it didn't look like it did matter. They were all pretty much the same sort of awful.

"Doesn't matter. How about that one," the fox on her back suggested, pointing enough for her to see his little tan fingers in her peripherals. With no need to argue and the decision made, the weavile hopped up and pulled the handle, opening the door for their strange, strange group. She was the last to enter, being careful to not damage either the doorframe or her antlers as she strode in. Once inside, the weavile closed the door behind her, then moved straight for the couch while the others were still sniffing about the place. Well, it's not like you could fit on it anyway, Sil... she bleakly reprimanded herself, striding over to the couch to only drop her passenger off. He at least looked like he could use something decent.

The weavile, though, took the opportunity to strike up the conversation now that they were somewhat settled for the night. "So, you gonna tell us your name, new girl?" Sil glanced at him a moment about to answer, when his very puffy, tearing eye caught her attention before the answer actually managed to come out. Confused, she tilted her head a little when Hannibal's voice broke her reverie.

“Sil’s an old friend,” the muzzled mutt purred from her left, causing her to glance at him, an eyebrow arched. "Friend"? Lying little shit...

"You could say that, I guess," Sil replied, her tone holding only a hint of terseness she knew the damned houndoom would pick up. "We traveled together for a time, before getting separated. Not much to tell." Still, she wouldn't allow Hannibal's "friend" comment to ring true with these people; she strode to the other side of the room, lying in the corner opposite Hannibal while still keeping near the group itself. If she were his friend, she would have taken off his stupid muzzle, wouldn't she? "So... you have names too, I'm guessing," she continued, eager to push the conversation away from the subject of herself and her time with Hannibal. "Mind sharing?"

"'Course!...it's not so bad...! R-ready...when you are..."

Latias didn’t believe a word of it, watching incredulously as the Doctor shakily rose into a standing position. Whilst concern was her overriding emotion, the legend’s scowl was creased with a soft-simmering anger. Don’t lie to me. No more secrets. It was a gentle warning destined for the Abra’s mind only.

Before she had time to offer any kind of assistance, the doe seemed to materialize aside her.  "...You sure? It looks like a long walk... and you could obviously use some rest. You're no use dead, you know. Don't worry-- I've got a strong back." Latias watched the newcomer carefully, amber eyes searching for any signs of underlying corruption that might mar what otherwise seemed a pleasant initial impression. She found nothing, only a kindly smile that soothed the dragon’s unstable mind. Whilst she didn’t reciprocate the gesture, Latias made no move to protest as the Doctor accepted the lift.

Despite her natural distrust of the stranger, Latias could admit she was thankful of the Sawsbuck’s kindness. She herself was exhausted, sapped of energy and left weak from a day of internal turmoil. It was nice to be allowed a moment’s break – a moment when she wasn’t carrying another weight on her shoulders, literally or otherwise.

As the group made their way to the city, Buck heading the pack with a keen sense of direction, Latias drifted silently alongside the doe. Despite the warmth radiating for the newcomer, the legend was unwilling to stray too far from the Doctor. He was tempting death in his current condition – that was obvious – and she lingered, immovable in her aims to battle the reaper away.

"Go ahead,"

She had lost time again, startled when she found herself staring at what would be the night’s lodgings. The journey had been a blur – not disorientating, but a slow-moving haze almost as if she’d been sleepwalking. Waking at Buck’s words, Latias took her cue to follow. She managed a tired smile at the Weavile, softly touching his arm as she passed. Thank you. He’d got them to shelter in one piece despite an obvious agitation born from Alhoon’s appearance; his value in terms of navigation skills as well as a patience for his companions was quick to resonate in the dragon’s head.

As the door was closed, their haven temporarily shutting out all the evils that lurked beyond, Latias’ attention returned to the Doctor. She glided to his side with a quiet attentiveness, offering a hand as he dismounted his steed.
“Sit,” She spoke with a maternal firmness, ushering him towards the unclaimed couch. ”And don’t argue,” No doubt he’d find some reason to sacrifice the privilege of this particular perch, offering it up to one more deserving when it was he who fit the description. Latias wasn’t going to tolerate his generosity – not this time. She met his gaze, amber eyes first hard then suddenly tender as she took in the sight. There was so much blood. It hurt her to see him in such a state; the upset strong enough to override a nagging hunger constricting her stomach.

"So, you gonna tell us your name, new girl?"

She was thankful for the distraction, turning away from the Doctor and allowing her eyes to once again rest on the doe. But it was Hannibal who spoke in her place. “Sil’s an old friend,” It was a surprise; one that evoked a series of conflicting emotions that only succeeded in worsening her headache.

She’d spent little time with the hound, but couldn’t deny his appearance was quite the deterrent, unsettling beneath that crusted mask. Whilst she couldn’t understand what purpose such a contraption served – in fact, coupled with his emaciated form, she saw it as more of a torture device – it unnerved her. Sil was sufficiently lacking in this suspicion – begging the question to which individual’s appearance was the one working to deceive.

After a moment’s pondering, Latias decided that perhaps it was Hannibal. Despite his looks, she’d known him as only a quiet gentleman lurking in the background. He’d provided berries for the wounded, he’d fought alongside them; he’d helped. "You could say that, I guess," Sil’s reply, though not particularly emotive in any sense of the word, only strengthened the riddle of identities. They sat in opposite corners of the room, a peculiar tension erected as a wall between them. “We traveled together for a time, before getting separated. Not much to tell."

Not much to tell… Latias gave a quiet, but audible huff despite herself. Everyone had a story to tell. The Doctor had his past, she had hers, and no doubt there was something sinister lurking in a history shared between these two oddities. Whilst part of her was undeniably curious to this morsel, she decided that it wasn’t her place to probe. As long as they proved no threat, then Latias was content.

"So... you have names too, I'm guessing. Mind sharing?"
“Latias,” Too tired to elaborate, the legendary stated her name after a pause – voice fatigued but not unfriendly. Unaware of when exactly she’d moved into such a position, Latias sat aside the couch with her slim head resting on the arm. Her eyelids were heavy, threatening collapse as she breathed softly aside the Doctor’s ear. She had intended to seek out something to soothe his ailments, but her body was simply shutting down – detached from her mind as her own wellbeing intervened with her desire to help. Now, the thought was absent completely.

There was only the eternal, throbbing pain in the back of her neck keeping her conscious.

The Doctor sulked on the does' back as they crossed under the wooden arch. He watched the antlers in front of him bring him right up to the couch the Weavile was already sitting on. He disliked the cowardly thing, but it wasn't like it mattered anymore anyhow, and so he discarded it. As he pulled his leg over to dismount, Latias' claw was there at his side. A grateful smile crossed his face as he took her offer and grabbed her paw. She gradually ushered him over to the couch, when he stiffened and began to protest. He wasn't exactly ready to share a seat with the slimy creature, no matter how quickly he had forgiven him.
"W- I- ah-"

“Sit, and don’t argue.” Her firm command made him fall silent, his sullen gaze falling from her eyes to concentrate on the damp but soft cushions. Easing down with a grimace, he allowed himself to take a deep breath as he let go of her paw and let his head fall back. Yes, this would be just fine- much better than any woods.
He often wondered how others had gotten along, sleeping on the ground and in trees and the like, when they could very easily borrow things from the humans. Well. He thought to himself, blinking. I say borrow.

"So, you gonna tell us your name, new girl?" the crude Weavile perked up, turning the Doctors' attention to the doe. But to his surprise, it was the thin-framed hound that answered instead.
Old friend?...with an aura like that? The Abra sneered but was in too much pain to come back with any sort of reply for the dog. The doe didn't seem to like the response too much either, and responded with a curtness that left a chill in the air.

"So... you have names too, I'm guessing. Mind sharing?" she asked, looking to them for a change of conversation, undoubtedly.
“Latias,” came the fatigued response next to his head. A faint smile crept across his maw as he listened to her quiet breaths, tickling his ear.
"I'm the Doctor," He replied, keeping the smile on his face as he waved a bloodied paw. "Hallo."

(so sorry for holding up the team for so long OTL. I'm back though, so we'll see how this goes)

"Sil's an old friend," Hannibal purred, turning his sharp, crimson gaze over to the doe in question. Buck felt a few of his neck hairs stand on end; he just didn't like this guy.

"You could say that, I guess," Sil added tensely. Buck perked an eyebrow, not quite sure if 'friend' had been an accurate term. The Houndoom certainly didn't look the friendsy type. "We traveled together for a time, before getting separated. Not much to tell." Surely enough, she wandered off to the opposite side of the room, as far away from Hannibal as she could get, and lay down in the corner. "So... you have names too, I'm guessing. Mind sharing?"

"Latias."
"I'm the Doctor. Hallo."
"Buck. Damn I'm tired." The Weavile wrapped his hands around his knees, his damp fur shimmering in the dim light. "Don't know about you guys, but..." he paused to yawn, "I wouldn't mind getting some sleep"