The OCEANSIDE Team (PLOT)

Being a young woman in an apocalypse was never going to be an easy task. Janine had known this right from the start, but being the owner of a massive katana and an impressive set of ninja skills had set her apart from the rest. Still, that did not exclude her from the occasional attack by bandits or vagabonds; the only difference was that she sliced their damn heads off before they could get their hands on her.

Shortly before dawn, she had awoken with a start as she felt herself being dragged off of the bench she had been sleeping on. The man reeked of alcohol, drugs and sweat, and had clearly wanted more than just to rob her. His hands had reached out to grab her, but before he even knew what was coming, Janine had grabbed her katana and hacked them straight off his arms, followed by the head before he could even scream.

It was still almost completely dark as she and Akane, her Ariados, got to work in wrapping up the body. The concrete loom of Cycling Road above her blocked the view of the dawn in the east. To her left, the west, lay the ocean. Underneath the bridge sat her pack, weapons and the old wooden bench she'd spent the night on.

Now, Akane was busy sealing the man's body in silk. She had done this many times before; the iron-hard silk tucked the body in closely and reduced the chance of it floating in the water. Let it sink to the bottom so he could be a lucky undead's breakfast; she didn't want to think about what he'd have done to her if she hadn't stopped him.

Janine sat back as her Pokemon began to finish up her work, staring at the waves gently hissing up to the shore. What a wonderful start to the day ... maybe Giovanni would stroll into her little camp and make it complete; then he could rot at the bottom of the sea as well.

One day. Patience.

"You fucking bitch!" A tall man with dirty, greasy hair raged as a heavy fist slammed into the Bayleefs' beaten maw, knocking it to the ground. Three figures held the grass type down as its' beaten body  weakly struggled, protesting in raspy cries.
"Please! Don't kill me! Please don't kill me!" He squirmed under their grasp, but the infection that spread and discolored his skin made sure he couldn't get up. The men only laughed at its' pleas as the dirty blonde unzipped his pants. "You're gonna like what's coming next, aren't you, little bitch?" The Bayleef struggled, managing to swivel his head around. "N-no! Please!-"
"SHUT UP!"  One of the men roared, before back-slapping his face hard. Tears and blood began to flow as he whimpered, preparing himself for the worst.
"Your ass is---"

-SHIK!-

A sudden silence filled the air, before a low thud sounded, then a body collapsing as it screamed in unbridled horror. The Bayleef opened his eyes, just as one of the stunned men began to scream next to him. A terrifying roar, guttural and garbled filled the air as scythes flashed, then a sudden gushing of blood and organs sprayed him and sloshed across his arm. He screamed and scrambled over the convulsing body, only to see the other man reach for a shotgun.

SQUIRLSH!
"...TAG." A ragged female voice muttered. "You're IT." With a gut wrenching cry, she twisted the blade in the mans belly and let him fall to the ground. The Bayleef watched from the corner in transfixed terror as a human with a mane like fire walked up to him and stared.
He shuddered and began to tremble hard.
Her eyes were...

"You cunt!" The man with the unzipped pants wailed behind her. "My arm! AUHHH!" He looked back up at the human, whose stare did not move from him. What....what WAS she?...
Taking a breath, she turned to the bleeding man. "If you hadn't been using it for your sick fucking pleasures, you might have kept it, shitstain." She snarled, the words venomous and livid. The thin woman was dressed in black, her skin covered in scars. She was grimy and her clothes were ragged. Casually, she strolled over to the unconscious man with the knife in his gut. Gripping the handle and twisting, the man woke, screaming. "Don't leave just yet baby, I'm just getting started." The dark- haired man cried and writhed under her as she carved him up slowly. Blood spurted onto her as she worked, intestines slithering out of his belly. She quickly tied them around his neck, turned him around and started pulling. With her boot on the small of his back, she pulled harder as he struggled to scream and pull at the slimy organs.
"What's it feel like to be powerless? Unable to move? Unable TO SCREAM!" She belted out, dropping the bloody things and smashing her heavy boots into the back of his skull.
Crunch!
Crunch!
Crunch!
CRUNCH!
SQUELCH!
CRUNCH!
Gasping for air, she stood over the silent body, her boots covered entirely in blood and destroyed gray matter. Hissing, she picked up the blade she had dropped. It was crooked, serrated and still had flecks of flesh stuck in its' teeth.

Behind her, the armless man whimpered in terror. "P-P-lease! No-! M-mercy- MERCY!" He dragged himself with his good arm away from her, leaving a gushing trail of crimson. The blonde man was already gray from the loss of blood and convulsing from the shock. The fiery valkyrie followed him, laughing sardonically as she wiped the bloody blade off on her torn pants, revealing orange and brown rust completely saturating the metal. "P-p-p-w-eaase! Don't kill me!" With a vicious snarl, she kicked his chin hard. His neck cracked as his head lashed back against the concrete. "Where was your mercy when your victim was screaming the SAME THING, COCKSUCKER!?" She spat on him, swinging her arm back and pointing at the Bayleef with the gnarled blade. "You're all the fucking same! You think that you can do whatever the fuck you want because you live without law. You think you have power because you live in the dark..." She grabbed his collar and stared hard into his eyes. "Surprise, motherfucker. Here's someone who's not afraid of you...because I am the darkness, and this is MY LAW." With a quick slash, the knife found the mans' exposed crotch. Blood poured from him as he howled.

Misty let go of the man, letting him writhe as he bled out. She nodded at the ancient beast, crouched atop the broken roof. "You know what to do, Kabs." She watched in detachment as the Kabutops dropped down, put her knee on the mans' chest, opened its' mouth and released an Aqua Jet into his screaming face. "Call it poetic justice!" She shouted over the choking and gurgling. She glanced at her hands, which was drenched in red all the way up to her elbows. Her nose wrinkled in disgust before she picked up some tattered rags and wiped it off her arms and face. As the body ceased to move, she put her hand on the Kabutops' shoulder.
She ceased her Aqua Jet, stepping back from the mutilated body. The dead mans' face was twisted in a permanent state of horror and agony, with skin as blue as the ocean.

"I think he's learned his lesson."

Well, they finally did it. The lifeless host bodies of previously living Pokemon finally managed to drive him out of the ruins of his stomping grounds. Like a cloud of radiation, the infection was concentrating too much in old Pewter to be able to be inhabitable. At least not for the living.
The entire forest around the edge of the water was shrouded in a mist. Condensation clung to the trees from the morning dew and the permeating soup of the fog bank swirling through the trees. The ground sloshed under Brock's feet with his steps, side bag rattling with items as the grove was mostly quiet. By calculation and memory, he should be somewhere near cycling road. The forest was not a normal path wanderers take to Celadon, but it used to be a popular place to camp a bit far away from a city but with the comfort of a city a few miles away. Brock finally emerged from the trees to a cliff right above the tainted bay. A few corpses of the forest Pokemon floated by, rotten flesh acting like a bobber. Brock only glanced at them, before the shadow of his fossilized companion Pokemon slunk up beside him, it's reaper-esque dual scythes catching the beginning rays of the sunrise. The east side of the sky was still asleep with purple and blue as the west faded in with yellow, only small paintbrush strokes of clouds dispersed through most of the sky. The mountains were a faded purple, the outline that met the sunlight was a off-white green tint.

Brock squinted down the cliff-side, spotting the solid concrete pathway sprouting out of the cliff. Some of the supports were stained with gore and other rancid fluids, but primarily untouched, save for a few chunks of bridge that had been taken out. Nothing important to the integrity. Kabutops thrummed at it's trainer, seeming to catch glimpse of the lifeless heaps of bodies in the water. He looked back at his friend, his eyebrows furrowing at the visible concern on the other's face.
"I know, buddy," he offered, turning enough for his shoulder to face it. They had not seen a living soul since before the infection started. No one had bothered to wander through Pewter, it was a relatively small town of tightly knit families. It wasn't necessarily a tourist attraction except for visitors to the museum. Most of the folk that came for Mt. Moon stayed in hotels near the mountain, a more luxury sort of way to spend their time. Now that there really was no one left... it could safely be said that no living human being has been to town since it was ruined. The only moving things were zombies and Brock with his Pokemon. But it didn't matter now. They had to keep moving from Pewter. They turned back into the trees, heading towards the cycling road. He had heard that other towns over had been destroyed even worse, especially Saffron. He could imagine Celadon would be no better. There was no set goal of their traveling except to find a relatively hospitable place to take up residence. Celadon had been their best candidate, with all the stores more than likely providing food and other essentials. But for now, crossing the bridge.

The bushes around the edge of the forest were thin and dying, and more often than not caught onto the legs of his pants. Finally there was noise above the sounds of their brush-trampling - and it did not at all sound benign.
"Where was your mercy when your victim was screaming the SAME THING, COCKSUCKER!?"
It was enough to keep his foot from stepping out from the shelter of the trees. He dropped like a rock, Kabutops did too. It was a human.
There was a human around and living.
Brock barely peeped enough through the bushes to be able to see further down the road. It came from the left, opposite side of the bridge from where he was. A girl with alarmingly and uniquely orange hair viciously grabbed a man missing his arm, pulling him up to meet her face with his shirt collar.
"You're all the fucking same! You think that you can do whatever the fuck you want because you live without law. You think you have power because you live in the dark... Surprise, motherfucker. Here's someone who's not afraid of you...because I am the darkness, and this is MY LAW."

With her browned machete-like blade, she sliced the man straight across the groin. Brock held his breath, simultaneously astounded and unfazed by her brutality. She would not at all accept his presence. Let alone the fact he was watching her from only about 30 yards away. She turned to look at the building - what was left standing of the visitor and help center - and her Kabutops made itself known. A water type. At this rate, the suspection was almost silly. The horseshoe crab Pokemon very much like his own immediately slipped over to the man, stomping on his chest to hold him down and waterboarding the man with a torrent of water from it's mouth. His screaming was muffled, water forcing itself down his throat and into his lungs.
"Call it poetic justice!"
The girl seemed calmer now, clearing the gore from her face and arms with a dirtied rag. Now that she faced him, he got a clear shot of her face. He could have gasped if he didn't consciously stop himself. It was Misty. Arceus, she's alive. His muscles began to ache, several emotions flooding him all at once. He had convinced himself she was dead - the fact she was standing alive and well in front of him was a shock to say the least. Completely still, he sat low in the brush, having no idea on how to even begin to approach her.

The eerie silence of breaking dawn can be mesmerizing, the darkness being pushed away by golden hues and streaks of color as they stretch higher and higher into the violet sky. On any other day the silence would have been broken by the triumphant sounds of birds hailing the coming sun, their glorious voices rejoicing as they awoke to a new day, but since the fall of the world such dulcet tones have long since been forgotten. Nothing stirs in these days before the full height of the sun crests over the horizon, too fearful of what waits in the shadows of the night, unable to be seen. Though the creatures that linger are as dangerous in the day as they are in the eve at least with the sunlight you have fighting chance, the ability to see your attacker and strike back. Or, at least you would, if you were not already running for your life.

Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap.

The sound of flat soles striking stone is deafening in the empty air, their pace rapid and frenzied as they carry their bearer swiftly through down the path. A flash of yellow and white rushes by a decrepit lamp post, long since having lost its ability to light the way, but the figure is not alone. Soon three dark shadows pass by the same fixture, hot on the trail of the elusive morning flower. The sound of metal striking stone echoes down the roadway, driving the panting figure further, faster as she tries to flee. She winces as the sound turned to harsh scraping, the metallic sound grinding into the stone with painful force, followed only by the sound of deranged laughter.

Her skirt is still torn from where they tried to pull it from her, her hoodie loose and stretched at the back from their pawing hands, and the slowly reddening imprint of a hand around her throat brings tears to her eyes from its sting. But she will not stop. She cannot stop. To stop would be to die, and despite being forced into a world where she now has no one the young girl does not want to simply die. She chanced a glance back at her pursuers and catches a quick sight of her Shield Forme Aegislash once again being slammed into the ground as he tries to stop one of the men from chasing her. She flinches at the sight and squeezes her eyes shut, tears threatening to spill from her conflicting emotions of wanting to help her Pokemon and wanting to escape the men trying to hurt her.

Her legs are burning, the muscles strained and beginning to spasm from the abuse of running so long with neither stretching nor pause, but she still cannot stop. She wills her legs to carry on farther, silently pleading with any deity that would listen to let her come away from this encounter unscathed, but the road seems to stretch on for an eternity. Realistically she wouldn't be able to carry herself much farther, and jumping over the side into the see was looking more and more appealing an option. But as she opened her eyes once more she saw a new shadow before her, walking slowly her direction and blocking her path. The young girl slid to a halt, causing the muscles in her legs to lock and drop her painfully to her knees, yelping in pain. She looked up pleadingly at the shadow as it stopped in front of her, eyes watering in fear and spilling down her cheeks in small streams as she realized there was no saving herself now.

"Please..." she begged, hanging her head and sobbing. "Please don't hurt me..."

[[Post count continued from [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.]. What fond memories.]]



Steady footsteps echoed in the large observatory building that marked the beginning of Cycling Road as their owner strode confidently over tile and old corpses. Their stride and tempo rarely changed, each ringing clack of his soles against the dirty tile a defiant stand against the new state of the world. He paused as something caught his eye on a corpse so old, it looked more like a paper-mache art project rather than a body. Intrigued, the man sauntered to the body, pondering on what that familiar shape could possibly be. He squatted down, placing his heavy bag on what was likely the cleanest part of the unkempt flooring, and flicked away some dried gore. A Hyper Potion, still mostly full, sat in the corpse's hand. An impressed grunt sounded from the man as he plucked it out of the gore. "Hmm. How generous of you," he mused to himself. "Don't mind if I do."

Brushing the dried blood and dust from the potion with the corpse's cleaner clothes, Giovanni quickly placed the medicine in with the rest of his findings in the camo duffel. He easily rose from his crouch and continued on his merry way, easily stepping over more corpses that were lined against the doors. A passing thought occurred to him that they were likely trying to get out when they were killed, but Giovanni didn't let it bother him too much. Now that his business in Fuchsia was over and done, he was free to wander wherever he pleased.

Giovanni stepped out into the golden orange rays of dawn, his lungs drawing in a deep, invigorating breath of the sea-scented breeze that swept away the rot he'd just left behind. It was a glorious morning, to be sure, even if there weren't many around besides himself to enjoy it. But as he put his attention back on the long bridge ahead of him, he soon saw flashes of bright color against the dull gray of the concrete. A young girl was quickly making her way towards him, obviously panicked, with three laughing men giving chase behind her.

Giovanni narrowed his gaze as he calmly stepped forward, dropping his camo duffel to the side as the girl quickly closed the gap between them. She skidded as she attempted to stop, but her legs buckled and dropped her unceremoniously to the ground, right at his feet. His eyes coldly analyzed the situation: Glasses askew, neck bruised red, skirt torn and jacket messy. Very out of breath. That meant that these lowlifes were little more than disgusting thugs. Leaving the girl, his gaze went to the Aegislash that trailed her, stubbornly taking blow after blow from the attacking men. Hers, then. "Please..." His eyes flicked down back to her, his mind making note of her accent. Kalesian? "Please don't hurt me..."

Wordlessly walking past her, the three men laughed and kicked at the Aegislash, which looked like it had taken quite the beating. While Giovanni normally didn't participate in acts of philanthropy, especially ones that likely wouldn't yield any lasting benefits for him, he was never a fan of gangbangers. Cracking his knuckles, he coldly looked over each of the laughing morons. He wouldn't need his pokemon for this, nor any of his own weapons. Though it had been some time since his encounter with Koga, he could stand to use the practice, even if it'd be fleeting.

The first of the three ran at Giovanni with a reckless abandon he hadn't seen since he'd last been on a college campus. He only had to jut his hand upward, the heel of his palm connecting with the thug's nose and breaking it, shoving the splintered bone into the brain. He was dead before his useless meatsack hit the asphalt. The second rushed forward with his knife, which Giovanni easily avoided. Snatching the man's arm with his own hands, he took the appendage on either side of the elbow and brought it down hard on his knee, snapping the elbow. The knife clattered to the pavement, but the sound was overridden by the man's loud cry of pain. The Aegislash seemed to have realized that Giovanni was "helping" and made to trip the third from attacking with a club of some sort. As he faltered, Giovanni took little time to grasp the man's head with his hands and snapped the neck in a single, fluid motion. He turned to see the last of the three, the one with the very broken arm running back over the bridge. Frowning, Giovanni snatched up the dropped knife and threw it, the blade flying through the air to land squarely in its owner's neck, dropping him to the ground.

He smiled at his aim, then turned to the girl he'd just saved. He never liked to pass up the opportunity for companionship as he was a social man, but also because allies were one of the best and rarest resources in the world. Though the girl was meek and obviously frightened, having another pair of eyes certainly wouldn't hurt. He gave her a warm smile and walked back up to her, extending a hand to her. "Well, that was certainly unexpected. Are you hurt at all?"

[[Permission was given to manipulate the Aegislash.]]

With one mighty swing of his arm, Masaru, Janine's Drapion, tossed the wrapped corpse far out into the ocean. The ninja watched silently as it soared and then fell, landing with a heavy splash. The extra weight of the many layers of silk it was wrapped in near enough doubled its weight, and it sank to the bottom like a stone.

The shock and numbness from the experience was beginning to subside, recklessness and bloodthirst soon replacing it. She needed some random undead to come along so she could vent her frustrations by hacking it to ribbons. Her sword arm twitched as she retrieved her bloodied blade from the ground, staring as the crimson liquid drizzled down to its tips. It was time to move on.

With every sunrise came another day, another chance, to obtain her revenge.

Masaru suddenly growled, swinging his massive form around towards the north. "What is it?" she mumbled as she gathered the rest of her belongings, only mildly interested until she heard what could only be a man screaming.

Not many people were worth saving these days, but Janine never passed up an opportunity to sate her curiosity. Who knew, they could've had some useful supplies on them. The people themselves were merely extra baggage, but a few clips of ammo or some food was never anything to pass up.

She set off at a steady pace along the shore, enjoying the azure waves as they cascaded around her feet. She wondered how long the blue would last; it was only a matter of time until the crimson took over.

"Hmph." Misty grunted, looking down at her very blue victim, throwing the bloodied towel on his soaked chest. She picked up her rusted machete and turned to where the Bayleef had once been, only to find him missing. She glanced around at her surroundings, before relaxing and sheathing her blade. "Smarter than he looked," She mused, before walking back to her scythed pokemon. "Good job, Kabu. Pike 'em, will you?" The enormous fossil creature nodded and stabbed one of her scythes in the body and proceeded to drag the blue one off.

______

Flynn had been coasting on thermals all day, his hawk-like gaze searching for dinner, without much success. His stomach growled and whined, making a grimace form on his delicate and elegant features. "Ugh, whatever." He groaned under his breath as he turned around to head back. Misty had always sent him on such BORING tasks. Flynn, scan for threats. Flynn, go gather useless human garbage. Flynn, carry this. Flynn, carry that. He could feel the frustration growing in his chest. But he didn't want to deal with an angry Misty, so to satisfy her orders, he did a quick circling around her location when something glinted in the morning sun.

Nothing glinted anymore. Everything was a disgusting rust brown and faded gray. As he glided closer, his eagle vision found the source. A large brown and gray scythed creature stood at the edge of the forest, along with a dark-skinned raggedy human next to it...and they were spying on Misty, who was having too much fun in an unfortunate and disgusting bloodbath.
This bitch, though.
Flanking them, he dove into an opening in the dense forest and expertly, his dual wings carried him silently under the canopy towards the unknowing human. Okay. Quick. Quick. He ensured himself, knowing full-well how deadly-fast  the shellfish pokemon were. Closer and closer his target became.

Taking a deep breath, he plunged forward and grabbed the human, before opening his wings and flapping them hard to get as far away as he could from the enormous blades he knew were right behind him. He darted, narrowly avoiding the attacking creature with each loud slash, the slicing blades ringing in the air centimeters behind him. There, ahead, he saw KabuKabu and the giant orange target that was Mistys' head. Heaving the human towards her, he dropped him and flew past. Misty gasped in surprise at the sudden flurry and lashed the blade out, as her eyes went from the human to the speeding and raging Kabutops about to slash her in two.

SHINK!

Sparks flew as scythes met with scythes, the grinding of the opposing blades feeling like nails on a chalkboard. Kabu had appeared in a split second, face to face with an equally large male of her species. Flynn landed next to her, his voice thick with distaste.
"Eww Misty, looks like you got a stalker. Can we eat him?" The togerens' voice was smooth and melodic-like a bright red lily in the midst of a smoke and concrete world.

Mistys' wild gaze met with the human before her, who had leaped back from her, scootching frantically away on his hands and rear. But the redhead couldn't scrounge up any words as she stared incredulously at him. Her heartbeat was erratic and her palms began to sweat as her mind raced.

"Misty?"

How could he be alive?! She had gone to Pewter, and found the entire town butchered. Many of the bodies were unrecognizable piles of meat and bone. The gym was demolished. Even Brocks' old home was just...gone. She had assumed that he had either been evacuated or among the many bodies in the town nestled between the mountains. Back then, she was still making markers for her fallen friends, and had left a small pile of stones next to his home, with a smooth rock that had his name carved into it, lying on the top of the mound.

"Hmph," she glanced around, seeming to search for the ghost of something there, but apparently found nothing. "Smarter than he looked. ... God job, Kabu. Pike 'em, will you?" her Kabutops immediately on command kabobbed one of it's scythes through the guy, dragging him away.

Before he could even comprehend his next moment of thought, there were talons digging into the fabric on the back of his vest. He was competent enough through his shock to not yell as he was picked up from the ground. Within milliseconds, Kabutops took a slash at the blurry white attacker as his trainer was swooped up. His scythe barely missed the tail by a single inch and Brock went flying horizontally as the Togeren flung him right towards Misty. Brock grunted as he hit the ground rolling on his side, throwing his arms up to barrel roll on the ground. He finally came to a stop on his back, immediately propping up to look at Misty with disgruntlement clearly splayed across his face. Kabutops, with lightning speed, charged straight for Misty with a lethal slash. As the blade sliced inches away from her face, Kabu's scythe came up and looped his scythe down to redirect the shot.

SHINK!

All four scythes locked, screeching bone hitting bone and trying to break either of their slice. The white dragon swooped gracefully down next to Misty and curled around her, a slyness about it that made it almost possessive. Brock locked eyes with her, panting slightly and crawling backwards a hand or two. Surely, she wouldn't kill him. She couldn't, right? She wasn't so mentally lost that she couldn't recognize him under all the dirt on his face?
"Eww Misty, looks like you got a stalker. Can we eat him?" the white feathery creature mused in a voice that was silken enough to truly match his appearance. Brock glanced at it very quickly before looking back to Misty. Her lack of a response sent a shiver up his spine but somehow didn't convince him she was going to brutalize him. By his gut instinct, he knew she would have already gone for him by now. That's who she was, there was emotion behind that silence. It was safe. It was still Misty.
"Misty?"

The scratch of the bone blades brought him back to attention of his Kabutops. There was no need for them to face off at this rate.
"Tops, back down. It's ok." His Kabutops grunted in confusion, through his grunts of held force. Eventually, his claws swung inward to unhook from the other's evenly matched strength and he leaped back cautiously.
"S'okay, buddy." he assures him. Kabutops, now a few feet behind Brock - both parties were about 10 feet apart from each other - relaxed and his scythes lowered to his sides in a neutral-submissive position.

Brock wet his chapping lips. Wow, he never would have thought to see one of his best friends still alive in this hell of a world. Misty has always been tough as nails, though - it wasn't too terrible of a surprise to see her still kicking. Brock many times considered dropping by Cerulean to check if she was alive, secretly hoping she'd come by Pewter at one point or another. Then again... he may have secretly wished that anyone he knew would have come by to check if he was still existing. Ash, Dawn, May, Max... any of them could still be alive... but horrifically, probably dead. It was too likely. For now, there was enough gratefulness in his heart to spill over just to see one of his most loved friends in a living form.
Well, if there was any time to speak up, it'd probably be now.

"Misty." Brock starts, out of breath from equal parts of exhilaration and glee. His face pulled into somewhat of a grin, "I'm glad to see you." That's about as much as he could muster from his emotions. They were going to be hard to try to dig back up again, after not using them for who knows how long. A sense of calm swept over him, knowing she wouldn't do anything to him - she was harsh but she wasn't about to cut one of her best friend's throats, that wasn't Misty and it would never be.

Miranda's heart nearly stopped when the man before her moved without a sound, only finding her breath again as he moved past her and took up position between her and the three assailants she was fleeing. She turned her body and watched from the ground as he casually took on the trio on his own, not even hesitating as they came at him. His quick movements flowed as smoothly as water, each strike confident and assured as it brought down his targets. The young girl's eyes went wide as the first man fell in just one blow, blood pouring from his nose as he hit the ground and didn't move. The second fared no better than the first as her savior twisted his arm and snapped it, tossing him to the side. It was like watching something out of a Holo Caster novel.

Durandal noticed the new human and, at first, tried to block him from attacking. Yet when he saw the two men that had already been dispatched he shifted tactics, flipping himself on his side and sliding underneath the foot of one of the men to trip him as he rushed the newcomer with a club. The Aegislash was impressed when the human quickly took advantage of the assist and snapped the assailants neck with one swift movement. Durandal moved to Miranda's side as she sat in awe and horror at the continuing display, flinching when the last man's own knife was sunk deep into his neck as he tried to flee, dropping to the ground without a sound. She closed her eyes tightly as the victor turned back towards her, sure that he was now going to claim his own prize, as her Aegislash put himself between his charge and the stranger.

"Well, that was certainly unexpected. Are you hurt at all?"

The gentle voice was warm and soothing, like warm tea laced with honey on a cool winter's morning, and she couldn't help but open her eyes in response. She was greeted by a handsome smile and an offered hand of assistance, both of which she blinked at for a moment with widened eyes as her brain tried to comprehend exactly what was happening. Was she, was she dreaming? Did a random, handsome stranger really just appear out of nowhere and save her life while caring nothing for his own well-being and instead asked if she was okay? Miranda swallowed the nervous lump that had formed in her throat and nodded mutely, blushing as she reached out to delicately take the gentleman's hand, helping her back to her feet. "I-I think so," she finally replied, wobbling a little as she tried to ignore the pain shooting up her legs. "At least for the most part. ...Thank you."

The girl blinked at him dumbly for a bit, which was more or less expected. After all, he, a complete stranger, had just shown up in the nick of time and saved her. Still, his pride swelled at her awe; he doubted he would ever tire of that expression. Giovanni's smile broadened slightly as she ended up taking his hand, her own soft and frail. He nearly felt like he was about to break it by simply helping her up. "I-I think so," she stammered, her legs threatening to collapse as she stood. "At least for the most part. ...Thank you."

He nodded and took their contact to shift into a handshake, his posture straightening to its full height as he continued to beam down at her. He hadn't been mistaken then; that accent certainly was Kalesian. Christ. It would be a miracle if this were the first time gangbangers or any other lowlife had tried their hand at her body. "I'm glad. It seems I arrived just in time, then. And you are certainly welcome, Miss...?"

Janine hadn't walked far when she began to hear voices; two, to be exact, and both of them human. She tensed when she heard the male one, grabbing the handle of her blade as she tried to identify it. She wasn't sure, but it certainly wasn't Giovanni. Not yet. It mattered not, though; that time would come another day.

She recalled Masaru back into his Poke Ball and instead released Rin, her Crobat, and requested that she stayed beside her. The two moved silently along the shoreline, Janine's hand remaining on her sword handle just in case. A human voice did not necessarily mean it had a friendly owner.

But the voices sounded conversational; a man and a woman by the sound of it. It wasn't until she stepped into their view that she recognised the man; just barely with his overgrown hair and torn clothes, but that strong physique and dark, squinted eyes ... surely this was Brock? The Gym Leader of Pewter? She hoped it was, or else she was going to look pretty stupid.

The woman, on the other hand, Janine did not recognise. One half of her head was draped with messy, red hair and the rest of her ... well, she looked like she'd been mauled half to death, with torn clothes and a gaunt, pale body. If either of them were going to be dangerous, it was her.

Peeking around them, Janine noticed the horribly mutilated bodies of several men. Those must have been the screams she heard. Judging by the state of the woman and the blood she was covered in, no doubt she was the killer.

Should she approach? Janine melted into the shadows, Rin perched nearby on a wall. There was a chance they'd already seen her, but she wasn't about to just stroll in like this was a social club. She had to find out more ... were she and Brock working with each other? Janine hadn't put Brock down as the type to hang around with crazed murderers but then again, this was the apocolypse. Anything was possible.

She waited in silence, one with the darkness, for her answers.

((One of you can spot Janine if you wish; she was visible to them for a moment. If not, I'll have her reveal herself next round.))

"Tops, back down. It's ok. S'okay, buddy." Mistys' wide, overwhelmed gaze lifted to the two ancient beasts as her own Kabutops allowed the other to back away, but held her scythes up and ready for an attack. The redhead swallowed hard, her mouth feeling like the deserts of Orre. "Kab, come back." She said in a hushed tone, her aqua gaze returning to the man before her. The prehistoric beast hissed at the two as she cautiously tread back to her trainer, her bloodied scythes glinting. Mistys' eyes narrowed and blinked hard at Brock, as if to make sure her eyes weren't playing tricks on her.

"Misty. I'm glad to see you."

Flynn watched the two stare at each other, shocked at the mention of her name from the strangers' filthy face. The Togerens' head turned from the man to Misty, and back again until he huffed in indignance.

"Um, bitch? Excuse you...What. What. What are you doing?" He snapped at Brock, His long tail coiling around Misty even closer as he stepped between them. "Okay, creepy stalker-man that looks like a homeless child molester lurking in the bushes, who do you think you are exactly?" Flynn flared up his wings in an elegant and dominant display to block the humans' view from Misty, with not a single gorgeous, untarnished, ivory feather out of place. "You can't just Aqualung yourself up in here and expect a warm welcome, sweetie. Why don't you take your crab from hell and go kill yourselves before you lick anymore childrens' panties, okay? Thanks." Flynns' mouth began to glow as he spoke, flames licking at his teeth as he stalked towards Brock. Kabu followed Flynn, edging towards them as a unit.

Misty shook her head and forced herself out of dissociation as she ran under the creatures' impressive wingspan and pushed her hands against his neck and chest. "No," She muttered firmly as she gazed up at the brilliant amber eyes that widened in confusion. He blinked, his gaze going from her eyes to her hands as he slowly backed up a few inches. "Misty, why? This man is obviously a disgusting predator. If we let him go, him and his knife monster will rape us in our sleep. And goodness knows if he's alone or not..." The redhead pushed him back further, her gaze demanding obedience as she leered at the both of them. His perfectly sculpted brows furrowed as he lowered his wings and head in submission, but only enough to allow Misty her space. He jealously hung by her side, his untrusting gaze on the human and the male Kabutops. Kabu lowered her scythes as she scolded the Togeren, and cautiously scanned their surroundings for any signs of an ambush. A dark flutter of what looked like wings disappeared into an alley, like a hallucination. She blinked and sharpened her gaze, the shadows inpiercable at this distance. Glancing at her frail human, she silently crept back from them and stalked into the shadows, scaling the dark sides of buildings to try and get a better look.

__________

"Flynn, this is Brock." She scolded him through clenched teeth, motioning towards the human on the ground. The togeren looked at her in confusion, before realization flashed across his face. He stared at the dark haired man in incredulity, his head lowering as he studied him hard. "Get up...please." She mumbled to him, her body language awkward as she held out her hand, coated with grime and blood. It had been a long time since she had to be civil towards another human. Almost every one of them were psychopaths and lunatics. She was convinced that they were the only ones to survive the apocalypse because of their insatiable palate for violence. Turning to Brock, she anxiously wrung at her calloused, bloody hands. "I'm uh....sorry. For...all of that." She mumbled, looking at the ground as she motioned to her pokemon. "You know. Nothings' safe anymore."

___________

Misty put a hand on Flynns' neck as she listened to his voice, still entranced just to be hearing it again. But the momentary calm was broken by a quiet shriek above them. She snapped back and lashed out her blade, scanning the crumbling, mossy buildings' walls.
"There!" She shouted to the others, pointing at her Kabutops, hanging from a windows' edge by one scythe. She followed the fossil pokemons' gaze towards the shoreline and leaped into a sprint. "Come on!" She barked out at Brock and Flynn, her eyes once again alight with a bright blue fire.

Flynns' wings pushed his body gracefully towards Brock, eyeing him as he spoke. "Whatever is up there better not be a partner of yours, Aqualung." He growled as his dark gaze turned towards something not far from them, the shape of a man speared by a large piece of rebar from bottom to top.

"No matter who you were, no matter how smart you think you are, Misty always wins."


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In an display of arrogance and protection, the white bird-dragon swiveled his head between them in disbelief before scoffing. Brock only managed to catch his glimpse for a second before he scathingly hissed.
"Um, bitch? Excuse you...What. What. What are you doing?" His long tail crept up around Misty's skinny body like a vine, "Okay, creepy stalker-man that looks like a homeless child molester lurking in the bushes, who do you think you are exactly?" The ruffled-up bird spread its wings in a display worthy of royals. His feathers gleamed iridescently in the sun. Brock stared speechlessly through his messy bangs, his mouth hanging barely open with visible appall. The state of the world left him rough, but surely he was distinguishable between garbage. "You can't just Aqualung yourself up in here and expect a warm welcome, sweetie. Why don't you take your crab from hell and go kill yourselves before you lick anymore childrens' panties, okay? Thanks."

Such a display of pure hatred and ignorance left Brock almost reaching for the ground under his hands. The apocalypse must have hit their cynicism harder than he thought. This creature was emotionally damaged to the rotting world around him and... Brock couldn't honestly blame him. It was a world full of rapists, killers, and the insane. They were the only ones who could have the lack of humanity to survive such a horrid world. Even as his mouth lit up with gushing streams of fire, it took a minute for Brock to start backing up on his hands and rear, almost attempting to roll enough to stand up. The other Kabutops slunk closer, following the hive-mind mentality of 'kill the people, stay alive,' and Brock's Kabutops made a quiet growl of anger and stepped forward with it's prepped scythes. Misty suddenly snapped out of her trance and flung herself underneath the wings of her beast to press him back with both hands.
No," she nearly growled, and her pet was stunned. Brock huffed in relief - he knew she would come around. Her empty staring was a signal that she was almost entirely suffering from shock. And he did not blame her for that, either. The Pewter gym leader also thought she had died too. In this damned world, the more accurate question to ask is 'who wouldn't be dead?' because the list would have been cut into a fraction.

"Misty, why? This man is obviously a disgusting predator. If we let him go, him and his knife monster will rape us in our sleep. And goodness knows if he's alone or not..." Gee, this guy almost seemed set on murder as a cure-all for everything that even looks remotely like it had been in a zombie apocalypse for months.
"Flynn, this is Brock." Misty was set on him. Good... Good Arceus, she was still somewhat intact. The dark-haired trainer felt the cement brick lift off his heart just in the slightest. Misty looked him in the eyes, the storming of her oceanic eyes seeming to calm. His own earthy eyes lit up with sun. "Get up...please." A hand shoved into his face close enough to make him lean back. Obviously unintentional. Brock offered nothing more to it than accepting her hand and allowing her to pull him to his feet. A quick glance at Flynn and the jealousy already pierced into his frontal lobe. "I'm uh....sorry. For...all of that. You know. Nothings' safe anymore."
Brock's tongue practically punched his uvula when the words he had been thinking fled from his mind. His face became more troubled, the current situation coming back after the few moments of fleeting memories before this hellhole of a reality existed.

"No, of course.... I... I completely understand," his face twisted into a grimace, already hating the effects of the world on the psyche of one of his best friends. If she were any colder, she'd be frozen. Poor girl... isolated without civility for anyone or anything.... Brock definitely had it lucky that he had avoided most of that damage. The only times he was forced to kill things without mercy in Pewter were few and far between. Most of his kills came from mindless undead scraping on the walls and doors of wherever he had been housed. Not anything of equal magnitude to the inhuman heathens Misty had dispatched for who knows how long--
A shriek, a familiar cry of one of his own breed of Pokemon, rang out like a chilled wind from the buildings just behind them.
"There!" Misty barked, her Kabutops dangling from the wall of a building by one arm. It turned towards the shore, and in a nearly telepathic way Misty knew what she meant by only a glance.
"Come on!" Misty took off galloping, roughly inviting the two she left in the dust. Tops looked at her leave, before moving next to Brock to look for an answer. Flynn immediately snaked up to Brock's side and relished in this prime opportunity to prey on him while alone. Brock tensed, ashamedly considering reaching for a weapon before he quickly wiped the thought from his mind. The amber, bestial eyes of the Togeren bore into him with a laser-like heat.  Kabutops hissed in anger, threatening him with his glinting scythes in front of his horse-shoe head.
"Whatever is up there better not be a partner of yours, Aqualung," he motioned to the corpse, stabbed right through from head to crotch like a grotesque version of a shikabab. Gore was spilling out of the speared human, a sight not unfamiliar but just as chilling to Brock as anything he'd seen before.

"No matter who you were, no matter how smart you think you are, Misty always wins."
Brock almost could scoff at how bitter and meaningfully that was said - in fact, small puff of chuckling laughter came from the shallow ends of his lungs and the slight crook of his grin bent into a smirk. Oh believe him, he knew that for certain. A glimmer of ferocity appeared in his eye as he stared the creature back in his sand-brown eyes, then simply walked forward enough to get out of range. He kept his pace long enough to spill out a delightful little jab at the creature, for what it was worth now.
"I know that probably better than you, friend." He picks up his pace, picking up a running gait. Kabutops doesn't give the dragon a second glance as he prints off after his trainer.

Miranda smiled warmly as her savior shook her hand, reveling in the notion that she had found a proper gentleman out here in all this madness. "I'm glad. It seems I arrived just in time, then. And you are certainly welcome, Miss...?" She blushed as she realized she hadn't even introduced herself. "Oh! LeClair. Miranda LeClair. It's a pleasure to meet you sir!" She released his hand and began gently brushing the loose filth from her skirt and leggings, pausing a few times to evaluate the tears in the fabrics. She would have to stop somewhere soon and repair the skirt before it began to unravel.

She looked back up at the stranger's warm smile and felt her own forming in response, completely at ease around him despite only knowing him a few moments. "Your timing was most welcome. Durandal and I haven't been on our own long and this region is quite unfamiliar to us. But it is nice to see that not all civility has been completely lost."

"Oh! LeClair. Miranda LeClair. It's a pleasure to meet you sir!" she replied, her voice perky and sweet. Giovanni was almost nauseated by the sheer weight of her innocence; he almost felt bad for her. He definitely would have were he not so preoccupied with the ever-important question of how did a girl like this survive for so long on her own? Even now, she had her eyes off of him, fussing over small tears in her clothes. Did she not suspect him at all, simply because he'd killed three other men trying to attack her?

His answer came soon enough as she beamed up happily at him, the look of trust in her expression immediately shining through. Either she was a remarkable actress -in which case, if she did try to kill him after this, he wouldn't even be upset- or just... incredibly naive. More so than one should be after four years of an apocalypse. "Your timing was most welcome. Durandal and I haven't been on our own long and this region is quite unfamiliar to us. But it is nice to see that not all civility has been completely lost."

Giovanni gave a small nod, his smile unwavering as he mentally went over her words with a fine-toothed comb. "Haven't been on our own for long" meant that she'd likely lost whatever protector she'd had, meaning whoever it was had kept her from needing to defend herself. With her life now much more arduous, Miss LeClair was far more likely to attach herself to the first powerful entity that didn't wish to harm her. Himself, for example. But since she had just nearly been gangbanged, Giovanni felt that suggesting her company would have too much risk of turning sour. It was likely true that she was little more than a wide-eyed child, but she still had eyes. Eyes were always welcome. And truth be told, he'd gotten lonely on his travels. No longer having Koga trail him left him bereft of human interaction.

So, the best way to secure Miss LeClair's company was easy enough: leave. "I'm simply relieved I could be of some use to a young lady such as yourself," he answered in a smooth, warm tone. "But I won't keep your time. Farewell, Miss LeClair." And with that, he rolled the dice, his gamble worth the risk. He gave her hand a quick peck and turned away, walking in the direction she'd fled from after picking up his bag.

Janine didn't move, barely breathed, as the woman's Kabutops crept towards her. It was her own fault for near-enough bumbling into their view before diving back into the shadows. Such was unusual for a ninja master like herself; maybe the incident from earlier had upset her more than she cared to admit.

She crouched, motionless in the cover of the early morning darkness, expecting the prehistoric Pokemon to simply pass her by. But unfortunately, its eyesight was more acute than she'd anticipated, and it spotted her with a loud screech.

"There!" the woman cried, breaking into a sprint in their direction. From overhearing the conversation, she was indeed Misty of the Cerulean Gym, as Janine had suspected. She probably wouldn't have figured that out on her own; she was damn near unrecognisable. "Come on!"

Janine heard Rin flutter lightly on the wall behind her; clearly they were both anticipating an attack from the Kabutops on the wall. Gritting her teeth, Janine stood up, and pointed up at the fossil Pokemon and ordered, "Rin, Confuse Ray." Her Crobat dashed out of the darkness, firing a dark blob at the Kabutops. At least this was a way to repel its attacks without doing any actual damage and pissing off the duo any further.

"There's no need for hostilities," Janine said calmly, lowering her blade to the floor. These two were once her friends ... well, she'd considered them to be a little more than acquaintances since she'd attended more than one of the Gym Leader gatherings that were regularly held, and she had spoken with both of them at least twice ... surely they remembered her?

"We mean no harm. Forgive our rather sinister approach; I heard the screams and couldn't be sure whether it was safe or not. We take no chances." She looked at them both then, trying to find the willpower to smile at them and not quite managing. She was pleased to see them, sure, but not that pleased. She couldn't let them think she was prone to weakness. "Good to see you again, Misty ... Brock."

(I'm dumb and I posted for Snow cuz i was too excited to post, thinking i could post for this too but...uh...yeah. body lied to me.
So essentially, Misty runs up with her blade ready to slice and dice. Her Kabu screeched covering her eyes. Misty was leery and pissed that she flashed her Kabu but she won't attack. After she mentioned her name though, she lowers her weapon to her side. Flynn is hovering in the air above them, at the ready to attack her crobat. She looks at Brock as he catches up and asks how long she's been following. Oh and she def remembers her. sry guys for skipping i just...body, can u not)

(I'm sorry, I have to skip. I'm in a very busy situation and I need to go into Safehouse to avoid another potential death warrant. I will definitely post next round, sorry for the lack of action on my part, Nightfall.)

His smile was infectious, and Miranda found herself beaming back at him as he offered it. But that smile fell when she heard his next words. "I'm simply relieved I could be of some use to a young lady such as yourself. But I won't keep your time. Farewell, Miss LeClair." This man, who had saved her life and so graciously accepted her thanks, was leaving. A moment of panic struck her as she realized that it would be just her and her Pokemon again, the very idea nauseating her to the point of feeling faint. She had already proven in just two weeks that she wasn't prepared to survive on her own, and she really had tried.

As he began walking once again down Cycling Road Miranda opened her mouth to call out to him and realized that she didn't even know the man's name. He was a ghost to her, and once he was gone she would never see him again. Without thinking she felt her feet moving, slowly stepping after him faster and faster until it was a near run to catch up to him. "W-Wait. I-" she reached out and grabbed the strap of his bag, trying to catch his attention. But once she had it what was she going to say? I'm sorry I'm scared to be by myself please don't go? That kind of pathetic begging would drive most people away, much less garner the sympathy of a gentleman. She had to play it smart if she wanted to gain an ally. "I was going that direction when I ran into those men. They have a camp about halfway down the road. If there are more I...I need to get across. Is there any way I could go with you since you are heading the same direction?"

3...

2...

1...

Giovanni grinned at the sound of rapid footsteps, her delicate weight clapping cheerfully against the asphalt beneath them. Of course, it could have been a last-ditch attack, but it was another gamble to keep his reflexes from snatching the girl. After all, he didn't think this girl much of a survivor, and the odds of her being a fantastic actress or a desperate girl making a strike to get his wares were pitifully low. Still, he was aware the possibilities existed. But his instinct proved correct as a hand went to the strap of his bag and she caught up with him, breathless once again, as her body hadn't yet recovered from its excursion.

"W-Wait. I-" she gasped, earning his attention. He kept his expression carefully surprised, as if he hadn't expected this turn at all. "I was going that direction when I ran into those men. They have a camp about halfway down the road. If there are more I...I need to get across. Is there any way I could go with you since you are heading the same direction?"

Ah, so she was trying to save face? Adorable. He allowed the gentle smile to return as well as a bit of honesty escape him. He generally liked to be as honest as he could when possible; the truth was always more reliable than a lie. "Travel with me?" he echoed, his voice light and pensive. "I... can't say I've traveled with a young woman such as yourself before, but it would certainly be no imposition. I'm rather fond of company."

He held out his elbow for her to take, aware of the customs of the higher class in Kalos. Getting her was easy enough, then; she practically jumped into his arms. But that wasn't the true hurdle he needed to jump. Since her home region likely kept her ignorant of his name and crimes, he felt confident enough that she wouldn't know his rather nefarious reputation-- especially since she hadn't recognized him on sight. He would need to give her his name soon, though, and he needed to decide whether he should be truthful or give an alias.

Decisions, decisions...

She waited with bated breath as her savior turned the question over in his mind, her face a mix of apprehension and feigned nonchalance as she waited for a response. "Travel with me?" he pondered aloud, making Miranda nervous with his reflective rephrasing. "I... can't say I've traveled with a young woman such as yourself before, but it would certainly be no imposition. I'm rather fond of company." She let out a sigh of relief and smiled warmly up at her savior, happy that she had managed to secure a formidable yet compassionate ally.

He offered his arm and once again she was amazed at the level of culture the gentleman displayed, despite the current state of the world. Back home he would have fit in miraculously well despite being a native Kantonian. She slipped her arm in his easily enough and he compensated well for their difference in height by slowing his pace to match hers, he was so well groomed. How was it he managed to find himself without a companion these long years? Maybe he had one, like her Papa, but she/he was gone now. The poor man. "Um..sir?" she questioned politely. "I hope you won't think me rude, but I realize I have not even gotten your name. May I inquire as to what it is?"

Miss Miranda LeClair eagerly, almost giddily, looped her arm into his, causing his grin to widen. Every moment with the young girl was enough to give Giovanni pause as to how a creature such as herself could have possibly survived in the world they walked. Even by normal civilization's standards, she would still have been some sort of statistic or cautionary tale for children to not trust strangers or go into darkened, seedy alleyways. How was she still alive? He kept his eyes trained on the road ahead of them, watching for any signs of those other men she mentioned-- despite them likely being nothing more than a convenient lie for her to play the pity card.

"Um..sir?" He timid voice brought his eyes down to her. "I hope you won't think me rude, but I realize I have not even gotten your name. May I inquire as to what it is?"

There it was, the last hurdle. What should he tell her? Surely she wouldn't recognize his name if she couldn't recognize his face. But there always was a chance... He weighed the thought. Really, how much of a threat would she really be, even if she knew? As much as it would to disappoint him to have to kill his new companion, he was easily capable. The girl was still winded and really, her only saving grace was the equally tired Aegislash at their backs. Any one of his pokemon would be able to dispatch the ghost with ease.

So what did he have to lose?

He gave a small laugh as he diverted her question, claiming a few last seconds to cement his decision. "Where are my manners. Forgive my candor, Miss LeClair. I'm Don," he replied easily, his tone still warm and inviting. "Don Giovanni."

"Where are my manners. Forgive my candor, Miss LeClair. I'm Don, Don Giovanni." Miranda smiled up at Giovanni happily, not a trace of doubt in her expression. She had never heard of the Team than ran both the Kanto and Johto regions, nor of their exploits in the years of her childhood. She had barely even heard of Team Flare in her own region and they nearly destroyed the world. So, to her, Don Giovanni was a perfectly delightful name. "A pleasure Mr. Giovanni~."

He was very companionable, for an older gentleman, and Miranda didn't find herself disturbed by the quiet walk in the very least. But it wasn't long before a familiar outline of shadow began to surface in the distance. Four hobbled shapes morphed into being as they approached, the ramshackle tent work looking more like lean-tos held together by bits of tattered cloth rather than actual shelter. This was where she had encountered them, and where she had feared returning after Giovanni so brilliantly dispatched the men whom had chased her from it. Her quick attempt to persuade her savior hadn't been a complete lie, after all.

She truly wasn't sure if anyone had remained behind after their fellows hunted her down, but she didn't want to find out. Thankfully it seemed as though no one remained in the cobbled together camp, so it might be safe to try and fish out some supplies before they moved along. "Mr. Giovanni, do you think we might be able to find anything useful in all of this?" She questioned as she lifted a rather filthy jacket off of what turned out to be a pile of distasteful magazines featuring naked women in erotic poses. The sour face she made at the discovery would be more than telling of her opinion of the content. "I'd hate for anything decent to go to waste now that those dreadful brutes aren't coming back for it."

She had no idea.

"A pleasure Mr. Giovanni~," she swooned, causing Giovanni to have to suppress the urge to laugh outright. Here he was, in his home region, surrounded by the very people that hated him for multiple reasons -good reasons, by the way- and he had found possibly the only person still alive that had absolutely no clue as to who he was or what he had done. It was nothing short of a miracle to find someone as ignorant as her. Hell, he was beginning to become jealous of his own luck.

They walked in companionable silence for the rest of the bridge, the  route eventually opening up and leveling out on the north end. As they neared the point that connected to the larger Celadon City,  shapes began to loom in the shadows formed by the large, looming trees that currently served as a barrier between them and the rising sun. Giovanni slowed as he searched the area for other gangbangers, but it seemed quiet. Four shabby lean-tos were really all that encompassed the camp, as well as a few scattered piles of filthy supplies.

Miranda seemed to think them safe, however, and wandered into the core of the camp, picking up a dirty jacket to reveal a pile of... used... skin magazines. Both her and his expressions soured at the site; her likely for the content, and him for the fact that she was stupid enough to touch them with her bare hands. Surely there was enough genetic material spilled onto those pages that she could impregnate herself if she wasn't careful. "Mr. Giovanni, do you think we might be able to find anything useful in all of this?" Miranda called as she looked over the magazines. "I'd hate for anything decent to go to waste now that those dreadful brutes aren't coming back for it."

"I doubt they had much that was 'nice' to begin with," he mumbled as he drew closer, hand going to a poke ball. There was a mist clinging to the morning air, making visibility less than perfect. He wasn't... terribly concerned about a final thug lurking around, but neither did he like to be surprised. He pulled a ball from his waist, summoning the abnormally large Gliscor within it. "Scout." It was both her name and the command, to which she nodded and glided to a nearby tree. Her large eyes and ears would serve as their alarms.

He smiled at Miranda. "Since there's four structures, it would stand to reason that there's one more thug around here, yes? She'll let us know if anything decides to get sneaky." He crouched down to prod at the piles with a large hand, finding a half-empty box of wet matches and a roll of duct tape. "These could come in handy. Though I wouldn't touch those magazines if I were you, Miss LeClair."

The older man put his gaze to the nearby city as Miranda continued to scavenge among the tattered remains of the other men's lives. There was an anxiety, a tenseness in his stomach that was getting worse and worse the longer they stayed stationary. Normally, Giovanni was never a man to ignore his gut instincts-- those were what kept him alive the most. He turned his watchful eye to the path they'd taken, almost half-expecting someone to be following them. Nothing was there, of course, but that only made things worse for his bubbling suspicion.

Scout soon returned, quietly landing with an urgent expression. Words didn't need to be said. Whatever she had found had ended her scouting mission abruptly. They had to go. Calmly, Giovanni placed a hand on Miranda's shoulder, pulling her gently toward the large Gliscor. "Miss, it seems we need to depart." His voice was low, yet still oozing calm and order. "Unless you have a flying pokemon, I suggest you get on the Gliscor."

Once the girl obliged, Giovanni cast one last glance around them before mounting Scout himself, giving the Gliscor a small pat to indicate her cue. With that, they were off.

[[Leaving post. I look forward to the day I have the pleasure of seeing your shiny faces again.]]

"I know that probably better than you, friend."

The feathered dragon leered at the human as he strode towards where Misty had dashed, his upper lip and hackles rising. He wracked his brain for any memories of the dirty man but came up with only a scant few. His amber eyes flashed to the hellcrab as it followed its' master, leaving him to seethe. With a deep huff, he leaped forward. His delicate paws hit broken asphalt with each bound before his glimmering wings lifted him into the air. He shot above the buildings his eagle-vision finding the target Kabu had found.

There Misty stood, machete poised and ready to slash down at the woman who stood before her. She had dark hair, strangely purple, and more importantly, a Crobat that sought to defend its' master. Flynn streaked across the sky, looking more like a falling star in the sunlight. At the last second, he whipped his wings open and landed next to the redhead.
"There's no need for hostilities," The ninja-lady replied, her traditional sword lowered to the floor as she continued. Flynn hissed at her as his critical gaze snapped to her giant bat. "We mean no harm. Forgive our rather sinister approach; I heard the screams and couldn't be sure whether it was safe or not. We take no chances." From behind him, the Kabutops stomped forward, her guttural growls making her feelings clear. He eyed the girl, waiting with baited breath. After what happened earlier, he wouldn't step in again. Whether it was his wounded pride or not, he couldn't question her judgment. The womans' lips tried to curl upwards into what appeared to be an attempt at smiling. Flynn snorted inside his head as she finally gave up. Jeez, she acted like a robot.
"Good to see you again, Misty ... Brock." Flynn blinked hard in incredulity. "Wha-" His gaze darted to Misty for an answer. But she only glanced at him before sheathing her blade cautiously. "Janine," She muttered as she looked her up and down. "What are you doing here? Thought you were dead." Flynn glanced back at Kabu, but she only shook her head. Her blades had lowered, though she looked thoroughly confused. It's been years since Misty spared anyone her wrath. Some she had known but were mowed down for their uncouth actions. Flynn raised his head high as he inspected her face for any hints of deception. "Who are you?"