(ACE) The FORTREE Team

((OoC; Just skip me please. Glacia relly don't got anything to do right now ._.))

Acht had reacted perfectly, desperately insisting that he remain with the safety of the group – albeit a group now reduced to just the two of them and the quiet Glaceon. Moriarty’s satisfied smile remained hidden as he faked an expression of upmost guilt. His eyes had moistened to produce fine tears that had begun to dribble down his slender face – a trick he’d picked up back in the company of the humans, proving to be a surprisingly useful technique.
“I...” The feline struggled to find the words, his eyes momentarily darting back to the building’s entrance at the sound of fighting in the distance. Apparently the Raichu, Ursaring and Wartortle had located the pack, taking it upon themselves to protect the injured and the “damsel in distress”. Fair enough – if they wanted to get themselves killed out of some desperation to be viewed a hero, Moriarty wasn’t about to argue when he was sitting comfortably out of harm’s way.

Turning his attention back to Acht, he shook his head slowly, forcing a half-hearted smile at the dragon.
“... Do you think they’ll be okay?” He asked in a sigh, gesturing with his head to the door. His brown eyes fell onto rain clouds hovering over a patch of the forest, efficiently locating the source of all the action. Admittedly, the three of them looked strong enough to make quick use of the undead... but then again, that was one hell of a big pack. Moriarty’s body shuddered slightly at the thought, memories of the terrible attack flooding back to him – the snarls, the fangs, the blood... his blood. Quickly snapping himself out of the thoughts before they could evoke further fear in the already fragile feline, the Persian reached for the one of the berry’s Acht had previously offered him. His head was beginning to ache again, his eyes blurring somewhat as he realized that he was teetering dangerously close to unconsciousness. No – he refused to succumb to it. Beginning to gnaw on a Sitrus berry, Moriarty watched the doorway uneasily, a gradual oozing of blood beginning to pool around his limp body.

Acht heard the patter of rain from outside, and the Aerodactyl rose a brow in curiosity. The weather was fine just a few moments ago... Was it Lumiere coming back? Hope rose inside of her, but this was a different kind of rain than the pretty Dragonair had brewed. Perhaps it was one of the others using Rain Dance, yes, that was probably the case. The dragon sat down, sorting through all the berries.

“... Do you think they’ll be okay?” she nods, her expression firm as if she already knows the outcome. "They'll win." she murmured. "No matter what." For a bunch of strangers, she noted, she had put a lot of faith in them. They were not only strong but were helpful, and Pokemon like that deserved respect. She faintly considered heading out to help them but with her injured feline friend she knew she couldn't.

The pool of blood that surrounded Moriarty was haunting her. "I-I'll go look for some cloth to path that up." she mumbles, before going to the back rooms of the center. Everything's a mess, shelves broken and tables flipped over. Perhaps she could find those 'bed sheets' that humans used...

McChu, in his dancing, didn't even see the other two make the trap he'd unknowingly help set up. As the rocks held the pack into place, he allowed himself a snarl; those limey bastards just made him work in a team-- with teamwork! He reserved teamwork for only those he respected, and niether one of them had made that cut. Especially the goodie-two-shoes froufy-tailed bald Brit. However, this was in an effort to impress and woo Chickie Poo -since his beautiful Sweet Cheeks had... gone missing- and... he supposed all was for the best.

Even if he did hate them.

On cue, -and not admitting he'd just technically followed the wartortle's orders- McChu unleashed his Thunder, cascading down lighting at every infected within the circle, roasting them. He cackled triumphantly; these puny dip-wads had nothing on him. There were berries harder to chew than these guys. With no where to run, each mightyena soon fell to his powerful lighting, and soon, all were roasted to foul-smelling crisps. He scoffed with pride, his tail curling behind him victoriously. "Ha! Stupid dogs." He then looked to the other two and made a face. He wasn't thanking them. He wasn't thanking them. He wasn't thanking them...

"...Thanks," he grumbled, beginning to waddle back to the city. "...Is that all? We should get back, if so. Those bastards' stink is putting me off my appetite." He turned to head back as the rain began to lighten.

The Wartortle watched from a safe distance as the Thunder attack fried the whole pack. He cringed as he walked towards the Raichu, surveying the damage. All of the canines were dead, with some of their fur on fire and black charred puddles of...something...around them.

Picard nodded at the electric mouse as he stopped in front of him, watching as Riker approached.
"...Thanks," the Raichu grumbled, beginning to waddle back to the city. "...Is that all? We should get back, if so. Those bastards' stink is putting me off my appetite."

Jean Luc looked to Riker, who nodded in response, his brilliant blue eyes falling on the rat.
"Yes, that's all."
Riker looked to the dead pack before he fell to all fours to follow the rat back into town.
Picard grinned.
That was exceptional.
And he even showed some decent coordination.
Hmm.

((Meh, skip ._.))

"They'll win. No matter what."

“You seem confident,” The Persian commented, following Acht’s gaze out to the thunder plummeting from the sky. Moriarty smiled to himself, envisioning the monstrous battle that lay beyond – the weather was obviously being manipulated; it had to be a sure sign that Acht’s new friends were giving his attackers a run for their money. Shifting slightly in his lying position, the constant stinging of his open wounds abruptly escalated at his subtle movements against the dirty ground. On reflection, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to be in such a position. As well the risk of normal infection, the feline noticed that the floor was flecked with blood already – who knew who it belonged to... Suddenly uncomfortable, almost alarmed, Moriarty quickly struggled back to his feet, instead opting to lean on the closest, cleanest section of wall. “Don’t want anything getting in the wounds,” He hastily explained to the Aerodactyl with a week smile.

"I-I'll go look for some cloth to path that up."

Moriarty nodded, grateful of the female’s determination to patch him up. At least she seemed optimistic – the feline on the other hand was beginning to doubt his chances of surviving this. He looked a mess. He’s lost god knows how much blood and his sudden sprint to safety had near enough tripled the pain coursing through him. He mentally cursed himself for letting himself slip into such a state – if the pain wasn’t enough Moriarty knew that his appearance was forever tarnished. Another twenty odd scars to add to his single, scarred eye.

Watching Acht disappear into the back rooms in search of makeshift bandages, the feline’s attention soon fell onto the other pokémon in the building – the Glaceon. His eyelids heavy as the room began to rotate, Moriarty offered his signature crooked smile, albeit somewhat half-heartedly.
“I believe we haven’t met...” He purred as charming as ever given his current physical state. It was hard to believe such a distinctly upper-class voice had emerged from a creature tempting death. “My name is Moriarty, ” He gave a slow nod of his head, not wanting to disorientate himself further but reluctant to neglect formalities.

The Aerodactyl stumbled through the rooms, stepping over piles of debris and steering clear of any liquids puddled on the floor. Her anxious eyes slowly surveyed every nook and cranny that her sight caught, wary of the looming darkness that as slowly consuming her the further she traveled. Eventually she was blind in the shadows, face contorting with a frown at the disgusting stench around her. The scent of disease was even stronger here...

Then suddenly a massive figure leaped at the dragon, jaws snapping and snarling with rage as it tried to tear off Acht's head. She shrieked with fear, eyes going wide. "Help! Help! Someone, help!" the Aerodactyl was completely immobile, pinned down to the tile floor by her tattered wings and one of the attacker's paws slowly crushing her stomach. She could only jerk her head away in panic as the Mightyena lunged at her.

As little as McChu moves on his own accord, one would not think him a fast sprinter. However, as the rain ebbed and the sounds around him became more apparent, the scream that erupted from the pokemon center cut through the ambient air, making him tense. "Chickie Poo!" He called, knowing that that was the only girl around for miles, at least, that wasn't trying to eat him. He bolted, his chunky form slowing him somewhat, as he approached the center.

He soon spotted the Mightyena on top of Chickie Poo, its snarling maw drooling with blood and gross. McChu let out his own snarl; what was it with this fucking world that kept taking -or trying its damnedest- his girls?! "THAT'S MY CHICKIE POO, ASSHOLE!" he roared, shooting out a thunderbolt to knock off the mightyena.

OoC-skip please. My fngers hurt too much. ;-;)

Glacia was sad when he heard something sounding like thunder. That meant dead infected, witch meant no meal. He would have frowned lightly if it wouldn't have been for the fact that he didn't want to blow his cover.

“I believe we haven’t met...” It was the cat, purring at him now. How funny he would choose to begin to speak with him now. “My name is Moriarty, ” He looked over at him as he bowed his head. A formal cat, that was amusing. "Well, nice to meet you Moriarty. My name's Glacia." His voice was still more the one of a female. He guessed that when he had been lying in the cold room his throat was iced over once more. He lightly bowed his head at the cat before looking as the rat ran thought the pokémon Center. But he didn't care what he was doing.

"Well, nice to meet you Moriarty. My name's Glacia."

Moriarty managed a weak smile at the Glaceon, somewhat surprised at the feminine voice the male possessed. He seemed amiable enough though, albeit a little quiet – in fact, Moriarty preferred the quieter ones. The loudmouths rarely had anything useful to say anyway. Before he could continue, the sudden sound of screaming sent a shiver down the Persian’s spine. His body froze up a moment at the realization that the shriek was feminine and far too close for comfort – it had to be Acht. His stomach dropped, his mind affray as he looked helplessly to the Glaceon. He didn’t understand the sudden feelings rushing through his aching body – he wanted to help. For the first time in years, Moriarty had developed a need to protect someone other than himself. It was scary. His heart leapt to his throat, his eyes frenzied. He was on death’s door, showing his face to whatever had found Acht would place him as an easy meal. Every fibre in his being was screaming at him to stop; but despite himself, he hurriedly trudged towards the source of the sound.

The pain of physical movement sapping his energy, Moriarty appeared at the doorway, his body relying on the wall’s support as the scene was revealed. A Mightyena had Acht pinned, snapping threateningly at her fearful face with a bloodstained maw. The Persian was winded, a sudden familiarity hitting him. He knew that Mightyena. Darth had been one of the feline’s ‘body-guards’, a dim-witted but powerful canine that Moriarty had scarified to develop his understanding of the infected. Ever interested in the capabilities of the undead, Moriarty had watched the Mightyena become infected, ushering him to slaughter his own brother in a vain bid to try and control his personal monster. Of course, it had failed – Darth had turned on him as soon as Caspian was disposed of. Now, staring at the monstrosity he had helped create, Moriarty felt physically sick. Rendered immobile, the Persian was only snapped out of his trance at the sudden appearance of the Raichu.

"THAT'S MY CHICKIE POO, ASSHOLE!"

It had made the feline jump to say the least; the Persian stumbling backwards as the enraged rat launched an electric attack at the canine. Fear gradually overwhelming him, Moriarty hurriedly retreated like the coward he was. His injuries alone should have been reason enough to stay out of the fight, but the fact some undesired emotional reaction had spurred him onwards filled the creature with guilt. He had tried to help – but ultimately, he was never going to endanger his own skin. Returning back to the previous room, panting as the pain struck him once more, Moriarty’s expression was one of pure panic. They had to kill that Mightyena , quickly. He wasn’t sure of the undead’s abilities of recognition, and there was no way in hell he was going to risk finding out. If the canine remembered him, he was as good as dead. Shuffling towards the Glaceon, hoping to use the Eeveelution as a living shield if required, Moriarty near enough threw his weight against the wall. His legs were threatening to buckle beneath him - the combination of pure fear and physical pain leaving the feline helpless.
“T-The R-Raichu’s got it covered,” Moriarty stuttered weakly. It was the best excuse he could offer the ice-type, and whilst he was clueless to the rat’s abilities, there was no way he was returning. He’d made an idiot of himself in a burst of misplaced chivalry, and was already paying the price. His chest felt like it was on fire – the gashes screaming, brutally stretched wider at his erratic movements to leave him trembling behind Glacia.

(( I hope you don’t mind my giving the Mightyena an identity. It doesn’t make much difference – he can still be killed off easily etc..., but I just wanted to mess with ol’ Mori a little! xD ))

((As Lute's away, I'll just fight the mightyena a while))


His attack struck true, knocking the dumb dog off his baby Chickie Poo. "Chickie Poo, you ok?!" he called, but saw no reaction from the aerodactyl. He snarled and his cheeks sparked with angry electricity. "Of course you'd attack the ONLY GODDAMNED CHICK WITHIN MILES YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!" the fat rat roared, lunging over the recumbent form of his beloved Chickie Poo to further attack the stupid dog.

He pinned the assaulter down, and even as it tried to bite and claw at McChu's soft flesh, McChu's giant feet and weight, partnered with gravity, held the mightyena down pretty well. He punched the stupid dog's stupid face, getting satisfaction out of the way the dog's head went with the force of his punches.

"STUPID. ASSHOLE. COMING. IN. AND. TRYIN. TO MOVE. IN. ON. MY. CHICKIE. POO!" he strained, punching the dog's face with each staccato word he gritted out of snarling teeth. "THIS IS. WHAT YOU. GET!"

Picard dashed towards the Pokemon Center as he heard screaming, Riker bounding ahead of him. He saw the Raichu pounding the canines' face viciously with his nubby paws and his tail flying behind him.

Riker roared, his gutteral cry reverberating through the building as he charged towards the Mightyena.
"GET OOOOUUUT!"

(guh, sorry for shitty post)

Moriarty send a weak smile at him. He smiled back politely when there was a scream coming thought the pokemon center, just like some of them he had heard from killing. It send a plesant feeling though his whole body. Oh, how he missed killing something right now. To just cut open the throat of someone... It was a dream he wanted to come true once more. Moriarty was already standing over at the doorway. Then a voice witch he would wish only was in his nightmares yelled up.

"THAT'S MY CHICKIE POO, ASSHOLE!"

He suddered with irritation as the rat ran though the center, going directly at the one attacking whoever it was. The cat then came limping back over to him, walking up behind him as if he was a shield. “T-The R-Raichu’s got it covered,” He had to restrain himself from laughing. That was just too funny. He then looked at the cat's wounds. There where many of them. And they where bleeding. It was very hard not to lick at them or arround his mouth at the sight. But he didn't. Instead, he carefully used his Ice Beam to stop the bleeding at some of the worst bleeding wounds. Then suddently, someone else roard at someone. Glacia couldn't really figure out who he was roaring at.

"GET OOOOUUUT!"

Moriarty’s gaze never left the doorway to the other room, his heart thumping furiously in his chest as he felt his body tremble. There was still sound of a struggle. He was hoping that the Raichu would have disposed of the canine by now, but perhaps the little rat wasn’t quite as powerful as the Persian had initially thought. Subconsciously moving closer to the wall, practically peering from behind Glacia, Moriarty felt utterly helpless. His physical health was disgraceful, his blood now smeared throughout the ramshackle centre as the possibility of fainting became more and more likely. His eyes were wide, bloodshot, as he held his breath, his mind equally as weakened. If the monstrosity in the next room hadn’t been a previous acquaintance whose life he’d intentionally destroyed, the feline might’ve felt a little better. And if said monstrosity had chosen to attack anyone other than Acht, Moriarty would be free of the immense guilt weighing on his conscience. He liked the Aerodactyl – she had helped him on more than one occasion, even welcoming him back when he had chosen to abandon her. He felt queasy, ashamed at his own nature.

Brought out of his emotional turmoil at the sudden drop in temperature, Moriarty emitted a hiss in surprise, stumbling backwards as he hurriedly sought out the source. His eyes fell onto the Glaceon, the canine directing a mainly harmless ice beam at his injuries. Frowning at first, the Persian shuddered at the uncomfortable, freezing sensation against his body, looking down to inspect the canine’s work. It had stopped the bleeding, though Moriarty was dubious to the ice’s effectiveness. It certainly didn’t feel particularly soothing. Ushering a smile regardless, the Persian was about to offer his thanks when a flash of blue followed by a monstrous roaring rendered him speechless.

"GET OOOOUUUT!"

Moriarty visibly shrunk at the bear’s shouting, cowering behind Glacia as the two vanished into the room with the Raichu, Acht and the monster he was had created. Licking his lips, his expression one of pure concern, the Persian held his ground. Whilst part of him wanted to help, protect, the feline’s flicker of valour was hideously overpowered by his rationality. If he went back he would die. Besides, there were now four creatures ready to tear Caspian apart; this whole predicament would be over in a matter of minutes with their combined strength. At least, Moriarty hoped so. Eyes unmoving from the doorway, the feline waited.

Acht never thought she could've been happier when McChu's rang through the room and a strong thunderbolt knocked the hideous monster off of her. In only seconds was she back on her feet, ready to fight, albeit shaken. The dragon was trembling, witnessing the snapping jaw of the canine, they were like bear traps--once grabbed onto something it wouldn't let go. It's disgusting bile of a slobber was making mess on the floor, along with its stale blood that bled from every hit her Raichu savior did. The disgusting undead would soon die, with such a beating it was receiving, and for that the Aerodactyl was eternally grateful.

Acht couldn't help but cringe at the bear's roar, but as if on cue at the same moment she noticed the last little remnants of life fading from the hyena's glowing eyes. As the Mightyena slowly died, for good, the Aerodactyl tried her best to stay standing, legs trembling like mad. "Inhale... Exhale..." she muttered just under her breath, trying to regain composure. The dragon never liked close-contact, especially from an undead.

It felt good to beat the shit out of something. REALLY beat the shit out of something. With all the frustrations the fat little raichu had been going through, beating the mightyena below him was almost therepeutic, as if he was beating his own problems into a bloody pulp. The damn tail he'd been chasing being a boy, Sweet Cheeks going missing, the persian popping up that reminded him of an old teammate, which brought up the one he hated most; the residual guilt of leaving his team to die.

...Or rather, the fear of one of them returning from the grave to kill him.

With that thought, a Brick Break formed in his little nub paw, and the next punch became the last. It shattered the head of the mightyena, demolishing it beyond recognition. It rendered him panting, still, and slightly trembling as the horrible thought occurred to him that his old teammates might have survived long enough to try and claim him for Death, and that terrified him. The damn cat, the bloodthirsty charizard, the pretty dragonair, the stoic dragonite looming over him... The thought of the huge, bulky dragonite coming for him sent a shiver down his spine. That, of all his teammates, terrified him the most.

Torrent was always the one he could never beat.

"GET OOOOOUT!" The roar struck McChu out of his terrible reverie, and he turned just in time to see the bear dashing toward them. Oh yeah. He was here... He gave a cocky smirk, getting off the now limp corpse, nub paws on his hips in triumph.

"Relax, big guy, I've got it covered already," McChu purred, stepping away from the corpse toward Chickie Poo, who seemed awestruck with his prowess. Bullseye. He went to her, but kept asmall distance, seeing as how his hands were covered in gross. "You doin' ok, Chickie Poo?" he asked, his smirk fading with concern. "He didn't get you, did he?"

Riker skidded to a halt, his snarl disappearing and quickly turning into a deep frown as he stared at the shaking Raichu and the corpse it stood over.
"Relax, big guy, I've got it covered already." The rat sneered as he strutted to the Aerodactyl. Riker stepped back, his sharp gaze staying on the Raichu.

Picard silently walked up to the Ursaring, his face grim as he peered at the corpse in silent disgust.

"...Sir, he can't be trusted." Riker whispered, turning his back on the group so they couldn't hear or see them talking.
Picard said nothing as his ears flattened slightly, his claws clasping behind his back.
The Ursaring looked over his shoulder, quietly sitting down as he watched the others darkly.

I know that look...that look in his eyes when he turned...he knows how to cover it well, but he has something dark inside him...something he doesn't want anyone else to see...

"Is everyone alright?" Picard asked, his gray eyes looking about the small and battered group. His gaze fell on the Persian, who was bleeding heavily.

((OoC; Can't figure out anything for Glacia to do. Skip please ._.))

The sounds of struggling quickly silenced, instead replaced with quiet talking to confirm that Caspian had been effectively disposed of. Heaving a great breath, his body falling limp against the wall in utter relief that he was still alive, Moriarty made no effort to disguise his fear. Usually composed, calm on the outside despite the emotional turmoil within – this single event was the exception. The canine’s appearance had shaken him, his entire demeanour changing at the realization of what the infected were capable of – what a canine he’d once known was capable of. His body shuddered, his eyes wide, undeniably scared, as he stumbled forward to join the rest of the group.

Mouth dry, the Persian hesitantly approached, his whole, slender body trembling as he moved to stand beside the Ursaring. His brown orbs regarded Acht for a moment, thankful that she appeared mainly unhurt – shaken, but still in one piece. He managed a pathetic smile, his expression too swamped by fear to uphold his usual charming charade. As his eyes fell onto the gory remains of the Mightyena however, Moriarty’s heart stopped, the feline reminding himself to breathe.

Utterly absorbed in the bombardment of memories the sight of the canine triggered, the Persian hobbled to the undead’s lifeless form, cautiously peering down at the almost unrecognisable excuse for a face. He felt dizzy, his legs threatening to buckle beneath his tired form as he tore his gaze away. It was definitely Caspian.
“I’m gonna be sick,” Moriarty choked out, his face still lost to his latest traumatisation as he struggled away, keeping his eyes on the ground to avoid making contact with his company. They needn’t know the canine’s identity, or the feline’s participation in its infected state- all that mattered was that he was dead now. There could be no retaliation, no revenge. A somewhat maniacal smile suddenly flickered onto the Persian’s face, his eyes still erratic as he stalked to the closest exit, eager to escape the scene. He risked a glance to the Aerodactyl, unable to disguise his discomfort at what had just occurred. The sooner they left the better.

McChu watched as the bear and Froof conversed with each other in low whispers, and the fat rat couldn't help but think it was of him. His tail twitched with irritation; while he was fine with secrets and sleuthing regarding others, when the tables were turned, he couldn't stand it. The hell were they saying? Probably something bad, since Froof was a damn Boy Scout pussy. Still, the fact that they were so secretive put McChu on edge, and his mind started to roll.

He would find out what they were saying. One way or another.

The beaten cat managed to pry him out of his reverie, and he gave the other a hard stare as the persian gaze fell upon the very dead mightyena. Emotion after emotion played across the feline's expression in subtle tells, and eventually, the cat had to turn away. "I'm gonna be sick," he mumbled, all pretense gone. McChu couldn't help a scoff.

"The fuck's your problem, Pansy-cakes?" McChu mumbled, his disfavor with the cat not something he took much care in hiding. He sighed, then turned to Chickie-Poo, looking for what to do. "I guess we're not staying here much longer, huh?" The question was honest enough; McChu only wished he could venture out with Chickie-Poo on his own and leave the rest of the assholes behind.

“I’m gonna be sick,” the Persian replied to Picards' question, staggering away from the corpse and moving to leave the building. The turtle gazed at the others with a grim look on his face before looking back at the corpse.

The Raichu did quite a job on this canine...he's quite powerful. He must have been trained by someone, with the level of complexity in his techniques...

"The fuck's your problem, Pansy-cakes?" McChu growled at the Persian, annoyance in his voice as he turned to the Aerodactyl. "I guess we're not staying here much longer, huh?"

Picard sighed as he walked to the entrance of the Center, gazing out into the early morning mist as the sun rose higher.
"Daylight will be beneficial to us. It will give us adequate time to find shelter." He turned to the others, his gray eyes reflecting the warm colors of the jungle. "I suggest we move as a group, perhaps gathering all that is useful to us from here before we take our leave."

((OoC; Skip ._.))

"The fuck's your problem, Pansy-cakes?”

Moriarty chose to ignore the raichu’s retort, too engrossed in his own swimming thoughts to pay mind to the rat’s disliking of him. However, he found himself somewhat surprised at the creature’s tone, unsure why he had given the electric-type such bad first impression. Then again, the wartortle and ursaring duo didn’t seem overly fond of the gentleman either – perhaps he was just a git.

Keeping his gaze everywhere but the canine’s gory form, the battered persian hovered uneasily at the door way, only half-listening to the conversation that followed. He didn’t care where they went – as long as he wasn’t alone and that they moved soon. There was no way in hell he could survive this world alone, the fresh blood coating his body would already serve as a beacon for the undead and without the protection of this rather unlikely group, Moriarty knew he would be lost.

"I suggest we move as a group, perhaps gathering all that is useful to us from here before we take our leave."

The persian’s eyes wandered to the wartortle, a smile on his face as he watched the creature. He seemed to be the only one talking any sense – rational, level-headed with a certain air of authority that instilled a sense of trust in the feline. Moriarty found himself liking this guy more and more, though his companion still provided a rather intimidating face. He nodded his head lightly in agreement, hobbling across the room to hurriedly consume one of the berries lying abandoned on the floor. He felt rather rude to be scoffing what looked like a rather impressive feast, but he certainly needed the energy boost. Besides, who was going to argue with the injured? Despite the regular sting of his wounds, the dizziness and growing fatigue; Moriarty’s weakness served as a perfect means of manipulation.