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Open The Grand Kalos Festival: De La Vie Et La Mort

Dust, trailing along the stands, caught a pair of lazy eyes, spectators to their mindless dance, clouded sparkles twirling, dashing, drifting through the air, a snail trail on a dying sky. Lifting one heavy paw, Ai flicked a few of its specks off of his fur, a surge of energy straining out of him at the decree of the battle's end. And oh, how silly of him, to yearn for it to go on, even at the expense of a dragon's life or friend's health, and yet he wished more than anything for it to go on forever, caught up in a swell of heat that stifled the air of moisture, surrounded by dust and the enemies cries, tactics turning, veins pulsing, blood rushing to his head, feeling utterly invincible...

The creature swallowed distaste, like bile, coating his tongue, and spread his fangs in a disappointed yawn, tail waving slightly from side to side. As before, he stood slowly from his sprawled seat, stretched his legs, and ambled down from the stairs, brushing feet with swathes of thick, bristled fur. He noted sourly that his trainer was leaving from a different side than before, and so, begrudgingly, the Skuntank turned to cross the mass of seats, unable to hear the clang of his footsteps beneath the torrent of noise that was the crowd, tail tip waving slowly from side to side.

It was such a long away across these stands. Perhaps he could... stay for awhile. Watch the next match, feel the blood rush through his ears, the poison seep into his veins, his heart to beat massively, all at once, again and again, pushing venom to every extremity with an invigorating fire, feeling thoughts and actions alike, the undeniable exhilaration of life and death and loss and fight, to become ensnared, every tendril of life, to a conflict of such tremendous proportions, with the crowd roaring, heart pulsing, beat by beat, venom veins-!

Oh, but Phi would not sit with him- never dream of it, engrossed too greatly with the well being of the Pokemon she had just sent in to fight. And he saw, too, the stress in her eyes every time he was left behind- oh, no, he couldn't do it, not another time that day.

Ai ambled through the stands, heavy, bristly coat brushing against foot after foot, leg after leg, eyes rolling in slow observation, resisting the nectar of battle for Phi's caring flower, slowing his pace so as to meet her just as she left the field. As his coat rubbed, oily, against people and Pokemon alike, fleeting cobwebs enveloped his mind- would anyone recognize him, the lame Skuntank of the dreamy trainer who'd fought two slow paced battles 'round noon and evening time? Surely, they'd been nothing to cheer for, nothing to remember at all, just a bulk of a beast standing still, sending waves of darkness and sludge, waiting patiently for that perfect moment to summon a strength for a four foot dash. Disappointment grew brash in his belly at the thought. Oh, to be admired.

He paused, swinging his head out towards the field where the trainers were shaking hands- or at least, it appeared the boy was trying to. Oh no, he'd better hurry. The girl was getting lost again, enveloped by thoughts and words, by beauty in the fierce and the simple alike that he'd never understood. It took her a moment to realize he'd cast his hand out for hers, longer, still, to bring her own to shake it, blinking with an apologetic smile as her stained, calloused fingers clasped his with a firm grip unbecoming of her lost stature. Was it just him or did she appear... sad?

No, wait- there was a gleam in her eyes. She was beaming, brighter cheeked, removing her own goggles and stashing them safely in the bag beneath her coat. He caught her words, drifting slowly, as if they'd almost forgotten to respond.

''Yes. Again.''

He turned away, and the four Pokemon made good with friendly faces, although it was clear that Velvet appeared lost now that the battle had ended, and her world had ended, a reaction almost mirrored in Sans, although his fangs shined with a sort of delight missing in hers, for he had grown to love the lulls in life as much as the chaos he so missed. The bird mirrored his trainers words with a soft hiss.

''Again...''

Before he turned away with a a gurgling call, wings, awkward, folded at his sides, hopping, bird like, away from the field.

Phi had bent down even before their opponents had fully turned away, presenting her hand to the iron-eyed dog which was met, in a moment of respect, by the velvet pawed beast's cheek. This was the green flag for the girl as she moved it further, velvet like touch, to clean away the sand and grit from Velvet's folded ear with a nervous frown, for his girl had never forgotten how prone the closed space had become to infection, something they'd learned on the very first day of meeting, for, he recalled, it had bolstered a rather sinister sickness since months before their meeting. And Phi's frown turned darker still as she neared the finish of her task and the boulder-like dog grew restless, trying with great might to stay still. No one touched Velvet's head- no one except for Phi.

Poor girl, Ai ruminated as he neared neared his destination- right at the door where she would have to cross-, for she worried herself sick over the most minor possibilities. Could her fret for their safety be his fault? Except- she'd always been that way, right? Why could he never remember who she was when they were young- before she was the adult and them, her kids? And why, even now, did he not care to ask who they once were, ruminating on the sorrow of the present?

Wind, calling for the nearing of the night- although there was surely enough time for a battle or three-, picked up with a cold chill as Velvet escaped Phi's care, her swift, shadow-gait falling in line with Sans' slow hop, neither of them acknowledging the others presence but finding some satisfaction in standing side by side, in the way that lone wolves will. They passed him, swift as a lazing wind, with a nod from the coal hearted and a distant gaze from the iron soul. Eyes drifting lazily, Ai scowled, padding slowly closer towards the girl as she stood and, as if forgetting their handshake and goodbyes, called back towards her opponent with a ''Curt- thank you!'' before turning to leave herself.

Ai, fallen bland by the lack of commotion, hurried to meet her, a sudden tingle at his spine raising his thick, gristly fur. The two shared a look, and once again, undeniably, he caught a sorrow in her gaze, one only meant to be shared with him, as if he, too, would understand its source, and although nothing came to mind the skunk fell sick with a sort of longing. He recalled that they had come here for a reason- not to fight, nor to tour, but to satisfy a sickness clinging to their dripping hearts, to search for something lost in the endless, clouded, foggy folds of time, almost as if... almost as if to come home.

He was searching for something- She was searching for something. What was it? They couldn't remember.

Dust drifted past the two, spinning through her fingertips.

There was something in the air...
 
Deo reeled back slightly to the chain reaction he appeared to have triggered as Gerald's visitor. The Braixen, memorable from previous matches but whose name had escaped him, rolled up the magazine she- from the looks of it- was reading and whacked it upside the head of the Lopunny without a noticeable reaction due to the rabbit hiding behind another newspaper. The Shedinja was...doing absolutely nothing, but the redhead himself had been staring towards Deo with a seemingly disgusted but intrigued expression for several seconds until stuttering his way into a question.

"Uh. Hey, you're, uh, Deo, right?"

Deo delivered a delayed nod, a confused, awkward smile forming as Gerald nervously introduced the three pokémon alongside him. Empty's...emptiness both unnerved and fascinated him, while Puff's facade of a smile aroused suspicion. Strangely, June's smile and wave had actually caused Deo to blush. Sure, he supposed he could consider himself easily flattered; yet, the vacuum created by the Braixen's calm and casual demeanor in contrast to the others' had been filled by an air of tolerance and acceptance towards him that had intensified her simple friendly gesture.

Although, Deo hadn't questioned the others' concerned reactions, for it, oblivious to himself, felt natural when bothering people in some way from his presence. Ironically, Deo received a sort of explanation anyway as Gerald hinted at a wound on Deo's head, and at that same moment a blotch of a dark fluid slowly streaked down the lenses of his goggles- which already made everything appear red. Quickly yanking them off to ensure that the blood didn't stain them further, he released an unsurprised "Blaagh", as if this sort of thing happened often. His compact, dark Yellow-Green eyes squinted in reaction to the new colors, displaying oddly-shaped wrinkles along their corners that might confuse one of the man's true age. His hands blindly shuffled through his sports-like trainer bag, eventually pulling out some tissues. Deo grinned widely and shook his head in disbelief that his over-preparedness actually paid off before wiping away at the protective eyewear and next the lesion on his forehead- which had already begun to stain red the frontal area of his hair. Deo paused before releasing a loud sigh intended to be heard- part annoyed, part embarrassed, and part accomplished. Expressing no signs of pain from the wound, Deo appeared to view the situation as more the cleaning-up of a mess rather than the treating of an injury.

Once his face was hazard-free, Deo put on a pair of small, thin, elliptic glasses with bronze rims, expanding his eyes behind the lenses. The improved vision that followed caused him to need to remind himself why he typically wore the goggles in public instead, which were purposeless most of the time. This small adjustment of attire often alters one's perception of the already peculiar man drastically; before, Deo could be described as still and unreactive. However, his revealed eyes were now darting around his possessions for additional chores to do despite there being none, as if a state of no occupation would feel unnatural.

"Huhuh...Imma dumb", Deo mumbled as to subtly continue the conversation, yet his eyes lied on Gerald for mere fractions of a second before shifting back and forth between his Pokemon and then away into the distance once more. Deo was aware of this habit and wasn't proud, but for him locking eyes with someone was embarrassing; it implied a more serious discussion, a developed relationship, or an otherwise more intense scenario, and these things caused him to shiver and recoil inside like a child with cooties. People would be more likely to interact further with him, more likely to remember him, more likely to request an exchange of contact information. This would simply not do. Unlike his spiked-rodent elder, Deo ignored the information and experiences of others- not because he didn't care, but because he did. He worried that this odd disparity- this unconscious starvation for something still a mystery yet pathetically obvious- would prompt him to cling himself onto people too strongly too quickly, and any relationships would later be discovered forced, plastic, and/or shameful once Deo reveals his strange behaviors. Better just to provide good help and company whilst simultaneously keeping his distance before leaving without a trace- a twisted variant of the "cool act".

He remembered times when he did in-fact reach out...when he reached out to Echthra in tough times. To the calm, nearly emotionless but concerned considerations of Sorex the Breloom reacted with a mild, confused annoyance, but in the wake of Deo's compassion she screamed in both terror and rage towards that which she doesn't understand. Yet the horror, disgust, and rejection...the hatred she nurtured in her witnesses...the ability to CONSISTENTLY morph others' perceptions of her into EXACTLY what she intended...this granted her incredible power, and she became gay and drunk in her own execration. Her hate of love and love of hate- her conception of love and happiness as clashing ideas- was truly tragic. Yet Deo never grieved like he thinks he should have, nor did he pretend like it was all well, nor was he downright heartless. In his helplessness, he simply didn't know what to do or what to think or what to emote. So, Deo decided to move on until an explanation one day presents itself, yet he was left with a sense of failure as a friend and caregiver, a failure that hindered his confidence socially.

Such is Deo, but the idea of forcing himself into ignorance and loneliness to simply avoid becoming a bother was difficult and conflicting, and the young, red-haired, soon-to-be opponent wasn't making it any easier. Along with June, Deo was already being drawn towards Gerald's expression: simple, earnest, containing an honesty apparent even in his failed attempt to politely hide his astonishment towards this bleeding man in a hood and his sudden blabbering. Not only that, but then he goes on to immediately introduce himself and his pokemon as if Deo's initial introduction had been formal all along (which it certainly was not).

"Well-lat wuz a form'l introdux'n..." Deo said somewhat incoherently, as his use of language has a tendency to fall apart when embarrassed. Nevertheless, he felt that he got the sarcasm across.

"Yeah, I uh...don't feel pain in some areas of my body. It can be a problem sometimes...," he continued before realizing immediately afterward that this information NO ONE had asked for.

"Uhh...thanks for the heads up," he added with an embarrassed smile, copying what Gerald had told him earlier. Believing the dialog was going nowhere, unfortunately, Deo switched tactics: Lifting his head and opening his mouth for an 'Oh yeah, I forgot!' gesture, he reached for a magazine in a nearby stand as if it were what he had come for all along and thus had no reason to stay. "Welluhh...good'ta meet y'all," he slurred again, a representation of illiteracy clashing with the stereotype perceived by his glasses. Shooting one last glimpse at Gerald, Deo delivered his trademark parting symbol- a low thumbs-up at the waist- but this time as a subtle sign of good luck for their approaching face-off.

Deo opened up and pretended to read the magazine as he walked off towards the stadium, merely noticing giant headline reading, "Ace Trainer a Fraud? Gym Badges Confiscated!" But he soon dropped the act and began to bolt when he began questioning how much of the current match he was missing, cursing at himself for potentially missing such an important battle as he rushed through the stadium doors.

~~~~

Despite being weakened by the mighty dragon's unsuspecting command over the elements, the sandstorm never failed to stir up its witnesses into a frenzy, but within the sea of claps and shouts lied a motionless blue figure, sticking out like...well...like the icy spikes of an Alolan Sandslash. Stationed at the front of the balcony for a better view, Sorex tracked the clashing pokemon in the battlefield the best he could, but their speed made it difficult. Serene in the presence of such conflict, the little frozen shrew peacefully wondered if he had ever possessed such willpower, such incentive. All four gladiators fought with such intensity, such focus, seeming to shut out all else of the world as of it were at stake itself. However, that was where the similarities ended. Whips attracted the most eyes from his presence alone, and he came out as a sort of knight to Sorex: seeking glory in battle yet straightforward, above resorting to dirty tricks, far from being in denial of the others' strength. Sans was harder to read but carried the most intensity by far, making every move with the urgency of life and death, and he might have even believed that. With understandable reasoning, Sorex didn't expect Embertail to last long. However, as underdogs often do (as well as several of Curt's Pokemon already seen), the oversized Charmander was full of surprises, performing flashy but daring actions as if he had something to prove. He somehow managing to detect and even keep up with his opponent who should have had no trouble running circles around him given her ability, something Sorex familiarized with and thus noticed immediately. What he couldn't explain for a while was Violet's constant risky glances towards her trainer, and it took the majority of the battle's duration for him to finally piece together the possibility of a hearing impediment.

Silence was the immediate aftermath of the battle's epic climax, so the Sandslash's abnormally-long ears perked and twisted at the fast approaching, familiar voice that broke it, a "Dammitdammitdammitdammit!" rushing down the aisle before halting next to him, nearly tipping over the balcony edge. Deo sighed as the participants met in the area's center, realizing that he had missed it. Sorex hadn't noticed, but apparently his trainer had left for a time, and he feels somewhat guilty.

"Who won?!" Deo asked frantically, understandably lacking the patience to use the obvious context clues. Sorex couldn't speak, but luckily the boy was obnoxious enough in the quieted crowd for people nearby to inform him that it was Phi. Due to association bias he had been rooting for Curt, but he was left unsurprised that the young woman claimed victory instead. As he observed her, he supposed she fit the stereotype of a strong and silent type, a person of many thoughts and few words. He soon shook away these idiotic, insulting interpretations, reminding himself that people aren't that simple.

As Deo's name blasted out the speakers and echoed throughout the stadium, Sorex noticed his trainer's body shiver, although whether or not this was from nervousness or excitement was unclear. The boy turned towards him, striking a quick smirk. "Heh, you're as chill as always, huh?" He then squinted his eyes, cringing at the joke. "Sorry...that was lame. Let's just go." Deo yawned before squeezing through members of the crowd- some of which were cheering or tapping him for good luck. Sorex followed from further away than usual, however, as if attempting to analyze a bigger picture. Deo left him clueless more often than not, but he knew the man well enough to realize that the sudden puns and casual tiredness were signs that he was using his external environment to distract from something he was fighting inside. From Deo's slow pace and straying from the fastest path to the trainer platform, Sorex was confident about what it was, and even as he made it into the arena Deo obsessively cracked his bones, a blank, far-seeing look apparent on the eyes which the audience had seen for the first time.

Sorex wanted to comfort Deo, but he hesitated. A gut feeling was urging him to not do anything, as if he would steal something away if he did. So, the Alolan native simply stood there, both pity and admiration infecting his mind as he soaked in the overwhelming reality of his friend's circumstances.
 
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It smelled like roses.

Sweet, pure, budding roses wreathing the air in the scent of rubies. Sweet, pure budding roses, and there had been a field of roses echoing the laughter of children despite the thorns in their tiny hands. A field of roses, just budding, invaded by love as children groped large handfuls and brought them to their mothers. A field of roses bent by the force of the wind as a quick ball spun within their stems to capture a small, childish creature spying on the children's love.

It smelled like roses.

Sweet, pure, budding roses with a sharp, metallic tang.

Phi sunk into a thoughtful haze, staring blankly at a fast ball in her hand, rolling a small, bent spoon in the other. Touching the cool metal of the fast ball upon the tip of her nose had struck the girl out into the deep zones of recollection, unable to resist the scent of roses that clung to its hard skin.

It seemed almost impossible, but the one creature who had been nagging her thoughts for a good portion of her return journey to kalos had been completely swept out of her mind for a good week at the least; a whole week without smelling the dwindling scent of roses that betrayed where the pokeball had captured its mark. Now, with a touch of her finger upon his ball, the girl was surprised to find the wave of longing redoubled, a mist to her thoughtless haze.

Something about roses.

Blinking rapidly, the girl relinquished herself from her deteriorating train of thought, staring through the pokeball as if it were a foreign object of sorts. Phi had quickly healed both Velvet and Sans, a process she much preferred to do herself, and now had a good two seconds, give or take about twenty minutes, to either relax or watch the battle that had been about to begin when she'd left the stadium, depending on how long it would take. But the girl had wanted a relief from the heat of the crowd in the stadiums, so she remained on the path outside the arena, although she was amiss to find a good crowd still milling around upon it. Since she had some time, Phi had decided to retrieve the fast ball on a whim, longing just slightly to see the creature within it once more.

As always, a flash of light preceded the release, but this one was different from the simple style of its pokeball predecessors, neatly evading the soft and pure beam of light with a barbaric tint to its blinding flash. And this, it appeared, was no exaggeration, for the girl blinked rapidly to scare away the dark spots in her vision, briefly considering the possibility of a broken pokeball. In addition, the flash avoided the simple beam, zigzagging within the air as if the trail of a creature struggling to escape, betraying the brief span of time this creature had been in her possession. Yes, possession- she hated the context of which such a word was used, but the girl couldn't deny its truth in the moment.

She just couldn't connect with such a creature.

Such an eccentric, and wild, and beautiful, and.... and.... and.... sentimental of a creature- no, no, it wasn't he that was the sentimental one, but rather she. But she had memories- memories of being a child.

And then- and then- and then there was him, as soon as she arrived back into the Kalos region, and the girl was guilty of the curse of possession, of the possession of a child, of the possession of a memory. If only he could respect her, then it would be something different- then it would be something beautiful, then it would be something powerful, something worthy of respect to even the strongest of people and pokemon alike.

But no.

Possession.

Ownership.

And the guilty girl grabbed the strap of her bag, the one she kept safe beneath her cloak, and soaked in the fading scent of roses as the erratic beam settled on a branch and the Pokemon finally materialized.

His skin, threaded with minuscule shards of fur, was a sharp, reptilian yellow, bordered in places by a softer, deeper brown that held a rougher texture, like scales or phanpy skin. His large, constantly flicking ears contrasted with the stillness in which he held his head, while his long, brown banded tail rolled lavishly in the air, betraying a consciousness hidden by his talon-like feet that twitched as if sucked into an unconscious dream. He moved in the manner of a Salandit or a Treeko, walking on all four legs in quick, skittering movements interrupted by teleportations so fast that for a split second he existed in two places at once. He'd pause without warning, twist and dash over the branches of the tree, cock his head as if observing the world from constantly closed eyes, then vanish, reappear, and resume the motion again.

Although a small brown bag was leashed across his neck and floated slightly over its surface in a display of constant, unwitting psychic power, the admittedly small creature had little to tie him together. No theme yet resonated with his existence, except, perhaps, that of youth, for he displayed the unpredictability of the young and the curiosity of the child- yet the creature held a wisdom as well, a saturated yearning for knowledge intoxicating the creature into a constant chase of the crowds around him, evaporating into thin air only to appear on a trainer's shoulder, within one's bag, or between their legs. Yet the trainers of which he invaded, the girl knew from experience, were not random- each had some sort of curious stone upon them, whether it be an evolution stone, a simple pebble, or, the girl recalled with a sudden shock in her fingers at the memory, a key stone.

But it wasn't his youthfulness that tied him together, nor was it his geological obsession. She'd tried over and over to figure it out, but the creature was just so... unknown, reptilian, erratic, eyes always closed in a manner that suggested he never awoke, or perhaps just never had sight to use. He was, in a manner, the ungraspeable; foreign, erratic, powerful, vanishing before you fully realized his existence, so fast that it was as if he existed in two places at once. And he was young, powerfully so- childish and beautiful, so much so that he seemed to exist in a different reality all together.

He was, in word and meaning, an Abra.

Abra, a twisting of abracadabra- the word used almost synonymously with magic spells, tricks, and illusions, changing the definite into the non definite, reality into a dream. Yes, perhaps that was what tied the creature together- he was always in a dream. Or a nightmare. Or both, threaded with the scent of roses.

Phi sighed as the erratic Abra seemed to have cleared his inspection of the area and vanished from the belt of a surprised spectator to the ground beneath her feet, clinging to her clothes as he climbed around her chest and beneath her coat. He vanished and reappeared on her shoulder, threading his thinly furred hands through her hair. The child-like creature's tail curled lavishly behind him, feet twitching as if trapped in a dream.

''Out, damn spot, out,'' the girl murmured. It seemed such a crime to be in possession instead of being a friend- as much a crime, perhaps, as that that ruined the mind of Lady Macbeth, who had spread the blood of Macbeth's knives upon the king's two attending Pokemon, rendering them guilty in a timeless tale of power, nature, and the struggle of justice in people and pokemon alike.

It was, to her, an almost ultimate crime- the crime of memory and possession. But she had no simple reason why- no reason at all, but for a crippling desire.

''I knew a trainer once,'' the girl began to the Abra, voice light and thoughtful. ''She'd found a Vulpix in the Johto region with an extremely lustrous coat and seven, curled tails, who was as sneaky as- well, as a Vulpix. She caught him, even though he was a rather... unrighteous fellow. Said something about how he was two devils, and he resembled a... darker part of her, for lack of a better word.''

Phi paused, drifting slowly away from the stadium and center alike as she spoke. The Abra froze, staring with closed eyes, then curled around her neck to scurry atop her head, oblivious to her words in his dream of a reality.

''She said it was because he filled a part of her.

A part of her that had gone missing.''

And the dreamy girl and her childish creature drifted away from the chaos in the air of cheers and announcements as the next battle began, her long, dark coat trailing against the evening sky like a shadow over the sun, eyes bearing a hazed tinge.

''Child of a tired night
Void of heart and void of sight with

Coat of satin, seven tails
Spry for the devils of the hail,
trickster of unbridled power.

With her, something dark yet pure
Sweet laughter, filling voids of tears
Feeble words, unable to describe such power;

It took two to find the truth
of the soul of a lost youth
two to love and two to hate
two to run away from fate

two to cry and two to laugh
two to emerge from the past
pairs, changing over the years
courses of tributaries,
molded by tears''

Ai's tail tip swung slowly over the air with a worried flick as he trodded slowly beside her, the only creature of the trio that appeared to be watching where they were going. The scent of roses echoed in her brain with the sharp cry of a child who'd been pricked by their thorns, watching blood bead upon the skin of her thumb,

too entranced by the flower to notice the pain of the thorn.
 
Markus entered the Kalos reigon, seeing it was his first time to be in there, where he heard about some good things about it. He was from the Unova Reigon, where he left after the recent defeat of the Kyurem-Zekrom fusion, and the Champion of Unova. As he entered the place, he marveled the sights, sounds, and smells of the festival, and is enjoying his stay.
#
But that happiness would never last long, since two theives captured his beloved Arcanine, running away. Markus ran after them, determined to get his friend back. "GIVE MY FRIEND BACK YOU THIEVES!" He shouted as he ran towards them, the distance getting shorter by the minute. The thieves stopped, and looked at the teen. "You want your doggy back, well... you have to find us..." They said as they dissapeared. Markus sighed, and looked at his pokeballs. He heard there was going to be a tournament, so he decided to spectate the said tournament, just to ignore the sadness he feels about his stolen Arcanine. He looked at one of the pokeballs, before throwing it. A Luxray popped out, looking at his trainer. "Welp, we might have to find Rover later, so, let's see the tournament shall we?" He said as he entered the spectators area for the tournament, seeing it unfold in fron of his very eyes. 'Well, i do remember being in a tournament once....' He thought, as he watched the pokemon battle against each other to the fullest.



(OOC: Im just new to this, so if I make mistakes, please help me improve.)
 
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After his little encounter, Verum had resigned himself to just sitting and watching, but as the battle reached its end, the crowd all began to stand up, yelling and cheering. Quickly, Verum’s hands shot up to his ears in an attempt to block out the noise. It wasn’t the best strategy, but it was effective enough in cancelling out some of the noise from the crowd. Phi had ended up winning, which was, in all manner of ways, somewhat of a surprise to the teen sitting amongst the crowd. Despite one of his Pokemon only being in its first stage, it was clear that it was immensely powerful, and on top of that, Curt having a Dragonite, and the immense diversity his team possessed in terms of their movesets . And yet, he had ended up losing. Phi was an impressive trainer. That much Verum could tell. Her command over her Pokemon was unique to a level that Verum had hardly ever seen. At some point, he’d have to ask her a few questions, maybe even challenge her to a battle. That would be an interesting experience, no doubt. Though, the more he considered it, Verum realized that he would want to challenge most of the competitors here. That could wait for a while though, after all, he had come to research some of the ruins and other important sites in the region.

The trainer sighed, thinking briefly of the reasons he had initially come to the region. He doubted the stones would really present him with any information that he hadn’t already learned, granted he was fascinated by the story behind the large stones right outside of Geosenge. He sat there as the noise died down, and the two opposing trainers had walked off the field. Suddenly, the voice of his partner popped into his head again.

‘Verum?’ the Gallade began, ‘You alright there? Normally you’re a lot more active in watching these battles, right up to the last moment. Unless of course,’ Galladus briefly chuckled, ‘You’re still lamenting getting up late.’

Verum quickly snapped to attention, and turned his gaze to his psychic partner, before responding once again in his own head. ‘It’s just…It’s been years Galladus. Years, and yet we haven’t found anything. It kinda sucks, ya know? But oh well. I won’t give up looking just yet. For now though, I should be paying more attention to the battles going on in front of us. Especially if I’d like to challenge any of these trainers at a later point,’ Verum finished his thought just as the intercom blared out, calling for the trainers Deo and Gerald to come to the field for the second semifinals match. He jumped down off of his seat and towards the railing to watch the two trainers enter into the battlefield, while Galladus shot a worried glance towards his trainer and friend before jumping down gracefully beside him.

Verum pulled up his scarf towards his face, staring out at the battlefield until he heard voices walking towards the seats. He turned to look at the approaching person, and noticed quickly that this was the trainer who had battled against Phi. Against his better judgement, knowing that he didn’t possess the best social skills, Verum decided to speak to Curt.

“Hey, you’re Curt, right? I just wanted to say congratulations on making it so far into the tournament. It was amazing to watch, especially seeing all the variety that you and your team employ,” Verum finished as he looked from Curt to the abnormally large Charmander that stood beside him. As he stood there after he finished his sentence, it took him a few moments to realize that his voice was muffled and his scarf was still over the bottom half of his face. He quickly clawed at his face to pull down the scarf, his face flushing as he did so. Meanwhile his partner had simply glanced over, observing the scene and sighing while he shook his head.
 
"No Embertail, I think Whips has a point, I don't think June and Puff are a couple just because....Hmmm!?", Curt said, his train of thought suddenly interjected by a sudden voice in his head, "Uh, hold on guys, we gotta take a detour to check up on you know who." Curt said to his two companions as they took a sharp turn to head to the outside of the stadium, passing a boy and his Luxray on the way out. The roar of the crowed faded from ear-shot as they stepped out into the almost suburbian like outskirts of the stadium, if one were to replace all the vendors and stalls with houses. The out-area was mostly vacant, with most of the festival go-er's having headed inside to watch the battles, still, there were a good number of people outside enjoying the non-battling related activities the festival had to offer. But the group wasn't out here to enjoy a game of "whack-a-Bidoof" or play "dunk the man" (at least not at the moment), they had stepped outside to randevu with the large, nine-tailed fox the was coming out of the brush to meet up with them.

Hey Nine, we were hoping you'd contact us soon, so....any luck with that lead?". Curt asked the Ninetales, though the somber expression on the fox's face told Curt he had anything to give but good news. Nine was the beloved partner to Cassie, a good friend to the group who they had gotten separated from and was, according to Nine, captured by Team Rocket. Ever since then the fox had been traveling with them as they searched for any clues that could possibly lead to her where-abouts, but any solid info about Team Rocket's location was hard to find to say the least, however, they did manage to luck out recently. A few weeks back the ran into and managed to subdue two members of Team Rocket who were attempting to make a quick score by kidnapping some poor souls Pokemon. Rocket grunts were known to be ruthless and in some cases even skilled, but mostly thier power came in numbers, and just the two grunts, even together, couldn't over come Curt and his team! Before turning them into the authorities, the Rocket, to their surprise, actually claimed to know where Cassie was, apparently she heard her being taken to this small holding area in Kalos, "near the old Team Flare base", she said. It was more then enough to for them to go on, plus they could take part in the festivities while Nine scouted out the lead.

"(No, I couldn't find anything, between the massive crowds the festival attracted...I couldn't pin point any place that could possibly be related to Team Rocket...or Cassie)", Nine said, looking toward the floor clearly crestfallen.

"Damn, I really thought we might have something there...", Curt said, also sounding upset, but not nearly as much as Nine.

"....Rhembye rehl rhenave rhetra luhk rafter de fhesitval!", Embertail exclaimed, despite also being upset at Nine's search turning up nothing, the Pokemon was also one to always try to stay optimistic.

"Yeah, Embertails right, why don't you join us to watch the rest of the tournament and take part in the festivities, then once the festival blows over when can do a proper search for Cassie!". Curt said, echoing his brothers words. All of them believed Nine could use a bit of fun to help lighten him up a bit and relieve a bit of the stress caused from working constantly to find Cassie. Nine however, didn't look so sure, normally the Ninetales was fun to be around, but losing his trainer had understandably dampened his mood quiet a bit.

"(Thank-you, all of you, but I just don't feel like I shou-H-HEY, WHIPS STOP, L-LET ME DOWN! I-I"LL CURSE YOU I M-MEAN IT!)". Nine screamed as Whips picked up the Ninetales, threw him over his shoulder, and began carrying him back into the crowed. Curt and Embertail exchanged a quick smile before following Whips and Nine back to join up the rest of the group. If there was any left over bitterness over their recent loss, it was washed away with that comic display. It seemed like a clear shot to the arena, till they were stopped by a man, his Gallade, and their kind words.

“Hey, you’re Curt, right? I just wanted to say congratulations on making it so far into the tournament. It was amazing to watch, especially seeing all the variety that you and your team employ,” Said the man, the Gallade beside him giving a short nod to show his agreement with his trainers words. Curt took a quick peak at the Gallade behind him, like Zeph's, it seemed to be in great shape and perfectly capable of dishing out some punishment. Curt didn't recall seeing this guy inn the tournament, though if the rest of his team was like that Gallade, he felt he should be at least a bit thankful. He wasn't entirely sure if they could defeat guys this tough, though it would make for one heck of a match!

"Oh, uh, wow, um ... well, you guys could probably, that is to say..errr-"

"T-THRANK YOU!", Embertail said cheerly, extending a claw to shake the mans hand.

"Yeah, thanks, like Embertail said, thanks, we just try to do our best, um, I guess you know my name, the massive Dragonite over there is my buddy Whips, and the angry and flailing Ninetales is Nine, we're....watching him for a friend, he's sworn to another trainer you see...", Curt said. Whips gave the two a quick nod, while Nine lifted up a paw in a "hello", he might have been a bit grumpy being dragged along into the arena, but that was no reason to not be polite!

"So anyway's, I didn't see you in the tournament, did you skip out on entering? Kinda a shame, you probably would have done just as well as we did if the rest of your team is as tough as your partner over their, maybe even better...uh, I just realized, I didn't catch your names, if you don't mind me asking?", Curt said to the man and the Gallade. The man had complemented Embertail, Whips, and Curt despite losing, giving them a small praise to offset a bit of the sadness of defeat, but not so much that it washed away any resolve to learn or better themselves. Basically, they saw a potential new friend from the trainer and his partner, and they weren't going to pass an opportunity like that up.
 
Verum quickly recovered from his slight problems, his scarf now properly down by his neck to have a proper conversation, and he quickly collected himself, just as Curt began speaking to him, though it seemed as though he wasn’t really expecting any form of praise as Curt sputtered out, "Oh, uh, wow, um ... well, you guys could probably, that is to say..errr-"

Verum tilted his head ever so slightly in concern as Curt tried to find a response, but his attention was forced elsewhere as another voice coming from beside him piped up "T-THRANK YOU!"

Looking down as the Charmander finished its statement, Verum’s face turned to a look of shock as he spoke out, “Ah! Your Charmander can talk?! That’s…well…Amazing! It’s really not something I’ve ever seen. Except in psychic types I guess.” He paused for a second before placing a hand on his chin and contemplating out loud, “Wait. Would that even count as talking? I have no idea…A-ah! Sorry, I’m rambling a bit, aren’t I?” Verum finished, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck before noticing the Charmander’s outstretched claws. He kneeled slightly, outstretching his own arm and shaking it hands good naturedly.

Verum rose once more, looking at each of the pokemon that Curt listed as he directed to the different creatures alongside him. The Charmander that had spoken to him being Embertail, while the large figure that was a Dragonite was named Whips. There was also the Ninetails that was being lugged over Whips’ shoulder named Nine, who, honestly, looked a bit upset about his predicament, despite raising a paw in a friendly hello as well. Though, as Curt had said, this ninetails belonged to a different trainer, so Verum had to imagine that the pokemon wasn’t exactly used to being carried places like this.

Galladus nodded in a friendly manner towards each of the pokemon that stood before them. First impressions generally meant a lot when it came to meeting new people, and he didn’t want to seem cold or uncaring. Plus, someone had to pick up the slack when it came to those impressions, because Verum certainly wasn’t capable of doing it all on his own.

As Galladus gazed at Curt’s pokemon, Verum had shifted his attention back to the other trainer as the conversation trailed on more towards Verum’s direction.

Curt spoke again, asking, "So anyways, I didn't see you in the tournament, did you skip out on entering? Kinda a shame, you probably would have done just as well as we did if the rest of your team is as tough as your partner over there, maybe even better...uh, I just realized, I didn't catch your names, if you don't mind me asking?"

“Ah!” Verum yelled out before continuing, “I didn’t even tell you our names. I’m sorry about that. Well, my name’s Verum, and this here is my partner Galladus,” he said as he motioned to the Gallade that stood at his side. “And yeah, we didn’t even participate in this tournament. It’s…kinda funny actually. I just came here to Kalos a few weeks ago. Guess I haven’t spent enough time around civilization…I only learned about the series of events that happened here about a week after arriving in the region, and this festival certainly wasn’t in my plans to visit. I actually came to Geosenge to do a bit of research on the megaliths outside the town, and I wasn’t aware that the festival was happening,” Verum took a small pause, catching his breath, beginning to think that maybe he was talking far too much, but he had reasons to give and he was intent on giving them.

He continued on, “I just decided that I’d check out some of the battles in the tournament since I was here, and honestly I’m glad I did. It’s been a blast watching it all, and there are some really interesting trainers here too. And well, in terms of doing well, I’m ah…not so certain,” he muttered in a slightly quieter voice, before Galladus nudged him lightly. The psychic type figured that if he was gonna talk so much, his trainer may as well finish what he was saying. And besides, Verum was discrediting himself and he knew it. “N-not that w-we aren’t a capable team or anything!” Verum continued at Galladus’ nudging, “I just haven’t seriously battled anyone in almost half a year. We went back home and participated in the Sinnoh league actually. Those were some fantastic battles,” Verum sighed, almost losing himself in his memories before snapping back, “After that, I continued going to all the ruin sites that I could. Really, I just go wherever there may be strange happenings,” Verum finished. And then he paused. And his face went bright red. “I-I’m really sorry! You just asked for my name, and if I’d entered the tournament, not part of my life’s story!” Verum spoke out, nervously shrinking back into his coat.
 
This man...was something else. Or was he a boy? Gerald was having a bit of trouble discerning the age of the trainer, it usually wasn't incredibly hard to tell if someone was old or young, but...well, Deo seemed to be an exception of this. But asking for his age would just make things more awkward...Maybe he’d try to be ambiguous with it. Yeah, that could work.

As Gerald pondered ways to stay out of awkward situations, Puff continued to “read” his magazine, and Empty was...well, what else did he do other than sit silently for commands? This left June the sole person who was actually paying active attention to Deo, much to her dismay. The fox flinched at the way he dabbed at the rather bloody impact site, but yet the way Deo did it seemed painless and not bothered at all. How odd could this trainer get?

"Imma dumb." The trainer humored, swapping the pair of goggles for a pair of glasses. Darting eyes were revealed, piquing June's interest. Gerald wasn't really drawn to details, so it wasn't really noticed or dwelled upon with the red-head. Puff and Empty continued paying attention to looking away from Deo, once again leaving June to observe by herself. She considered giving Puff another wack upside the head, but Deo had begun to talk again.

"Well-lat wuz a form'l introdux'n..." The orange haired boy...man...person, expressed. While Gerald was tempted to say "Come again?" It eventually became clear to him it was not some blabber, but some garbled English. What Deo seemed to be saying was "Well, that was a formal introduction". So...a joke? Maybe? "Yeah, I uh...don't feel pain in some areas of my body. It can be a problem sometimes..."

"Uh..." Well. That explained a lot. And was somewhat scary. June was rightly unsettled as well, Puff briefly glanced up, and even Empty seemed to take some interest with this information...

"Uhh...thanks for the heads up," Deo said, probably aware of what his previous statement did. He quickly swiped up a magazine, as if that were what he had come for, and was beginning to walk off a bit, "Welluhh...good'ta meet y'all," He said, and Deo shot off a thumbs up.

"Err, yep, same to you!" Gerald said back, beginning to walk off the opposite way, Empty still clutched in his hands. Puff finally put down the old magazine from his face, which June quickly swiped, rolled up, and swatted him over the head yet again. Then, she stashed it away in here tail yet again, grabbed Puff's hand, dragging Puff as she followed Gerald.

"Well...That was awkward. But, I suppose it could be worse...He could've figured out who kicked that rock..." The trainer told his Pokemon. "Well, lets get going to the arena. If we're lucky, we can catch the rest of the battle."
-----
To make a short story shorter, they did not catch the battle's end.

"Oh well." Gerald told his companions, June and Puff, who were still locked together by June's forceful grip. Gerald had put away Empty awhile back, pretty much because people were giving him weird looks. Were Shedinja really that disliked? They weren't even native to Kalos...Maybe since no one really experienced them first hand? Despite living in basically the face of the Region for at least a year now, he still didn't understand the locals all too well.

As he walked down the halls, he noticed June had stopped dragging Puff, and they walking side by side holding hands.

"What're you two up to?"

The moment Gerald pointed it out, June dropped Puff's hand like a hot potato, and stared at her trainer as if she didn't know what he was talking about. Puff on the other hand looked disappointed, and a bit annoyed. Gerald snorted at the two, before speaking up again. "I wasn't thinking of anything romantically. I was thinking more family like...But now I can't help to think of you two as a thing." Gerald snorted yet again when June glared at Puff. As he looked forward again though, he nearly rammed head first into someone else.

"Oh man! Sorry, sorry, wasn't paying attention..."

Say, this guy looked familiar. Actually, wasn't this the guy from last night, and the fight that just ended? Curt, that was his name. Yeah, he was Curt, with the Charmander, and apparently a...Dragonite?! Jeez, he was not messing around...

And Curt recognized him too, somewhat! "Oh, yeah, from the cotton candy stand last night! How've you been? Well, I guess pretty good considering you've been doing really well in the tournament...uh...Uh, yeah, you've been doing great.....uh...."

"Rerald" Another voice pointed out. Gerald was briefly confused, before coming to the conclusion that it was the little Charmander. A Pokemon that actually talked, now that was pretty impressive. And extremely uncommon. Did he do that last night?...Gerald's memory failed him.

"GERALD! Yes, I knew that, yeah, and it's also nice to see you again as well June!" June snorted and smirked at Curt, half because of how he stumbled his words, and half because he remembered her name flawlessly. This was also something Gerald neglected to pick up on, along with Puff, who had shied away behind his trainer when Curt and Gerald had nearly collided. "You two have met Embertail of course, but you haven't meet Whips yet, he's that Dragonite of course, you probably saw him fighting in the last round"

"Oh, yeah! Yup, you two did pretty well out there I'd say..." The thing was, Gerald had missed that fight completely thanks to Puff. It was just a nice comment, and regardless of the battle outcome, they had to have done well, right? The mention of a Dragonite, and the fact it did well, brought Puff out of hiding. And what Puff wanted at the moment was to get an opportunity to fight that giant wall of scales and muscle. But he also caught Curt's attention in this emergence...

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't notice you there." Curt told Puff. In this brief moment, Puff took a moment to stand all proud. "She with you Gerald? I've never seen a Lopunny up close before, gotta say, she is adorable, what's her name?" The proud feeling in Puff immediately faded, swapping it for a purely emotionless face. As Embertail began chuckling, and June had a little giggle as well, a slight eye twitch also found it's way onto Puff's face.

"Err, yes, well, you see, that's Puff, she...I mean, uh, he..." Every time Puff's gender got mixed up, it was always a mess trying to clear his name. Luckily, Embertail was willing to do that for him.

"Curt... hehe, rhat's, hehehe, rat's a rhuye..."

Looked like Curt was pretty embarrassed at his own mix ups, and as the announcer called for Deo and Gerald yet again, he took this opportunity to get out of there. "Well I shouldn't keep you guys waiting, don't want to be late after all, good luck with your battle, come on guys!" He practically shouted, running off, Whips and Embertail in tow.

"UH, THANKS!" Was all Gerald had to shout back. "Well," He turned back to his Pokemon. "He seemed nice. Maybe he got a little confused, but he's nice."

Meanwhile, Puff continued to twitch and had added shaking to his reaction. "Hey there, Puff. Come on, it's not that bad. That's at least the third time this week. It's really not personal..." Puff's reaction to Gerald's consoling was an agitated cry as he nearly bounded off after Curt. Luckily, June caught him with a quick Psychic, and let Gerald grab him out of the air. "Let's save that for the fight, yeah? Just bundle up that rage, and use it on...Deo's Pokemon, whichever one he uses."

But Puff could not stop thinking about that man Curt. No, he was far from over with him. Some way or another, Puff would enact his revenge upon Curt.
-----
It was time.

Gerald stepped up on the field, followed by June. Puff still clasped in his hands. And when he reached the trainer's spot, he placed Puff down. At first, Puff was defiant. But with a little nudge and dragging by June, he was soon on the field.

The crowd was briefly stunned, before some shouting about the daintiness of these Pokemon, and most of it was aimed at Puff. Granted, Lopunny weren't exactly beloved for fighting capability, and Puff was even smaller than the standard variety. Plus, he was newcomer to the crowds. June had been established as no pushover, being able to take down a Machoke in one of the earlier rounds, but Puff? To them, he was just a rabbit that Gerald pulled out of nowhere This just was fuel to their hatred. If Puff wasn't angry before, he sure was now.

As Gerald stared down at his Pokemon, he was coming up with what to do. This was an odd move for him, Gerald was usually a very swing for it or miss guy, but he needed a plan to get past Deo and whatever intimidating Pokemon he'd pull out.

The best set up would be Puff using Double Team twice, and June landing a Will-O-Wisp and Attract combo. But Deo is smart. He'll catch on if he hasn't already. So spacing out the Will-O-Wisp and Attract would be optimal. If anything else, just sliding it with a Flamethrower this turn can't hurt. And optimally, Deo would move first. And if all else fails, June still has Overheat. But once she does that, she won't be in any fighting shape...

He looked up and at Deo. He hadn't even put a Pokemon on the field yet.

"Hey there. You mind going first?"
 
“Ah! Your Charmander can talk?! That’s…well…Amazing! It’s really not something I’ve ever seen. Except in psychic types I guess”, the man observed. Curt flashed Embertail a quick smile, and the Charmander blushed a little at the compliment, after his lack luster performance in their last fight, he needed a compliment right now. Embertail had worked hard to atleast attempt to mimic human speech, part of his desire of trying to integrate into human society in hope of replace the other one that had abandoned him...but he didn't like to think about that last bit too much. He just decided to taake the compliment and be happy he got one.

“Ah, I didn’t even tell you our names. I’m sorry about that. Well, my name’s Verum, and this here is my partner Galladus,” Verum said as he tilted his head towards the Gallade, Galladus, that stood at his side. “And yeah, we didn’t even participate in this tournament. It’s…kinda funny actually. I just came here to Kalos a few weeks ago. Guess I haven’t spent enough time around civilization…I only learned about the series of events that happened here about a week after arriving in the region, and this festival certainly wasn’t in my plans to visit. I actually came to Geosenge to do a bit of research on the megaliths outside the town, and I wasn’t aware that the festival was happening....”

Embertail couldn't help but chuckling a bit at the way Verum rambled on and on, he reminded him of Curt a bit in that regard. The man seemed to certainly be a capable trainer, to say the least, but seemed to carry the same well-meaning social obliviousness that Curt had inspite of all the crazy adventures they'd been through. Even Curt couldn't also help but notice the man way of going on and on, but that didn't mean he found the mans story uninteresting, in fact, he found the tale of how he got here mildly interesting. Curt had to admit, he only heard the vaguest of rumors of what exactly went down in Geosage, even Nine seemed to be mildly interested in the mans story (then again, much like Flare, Nine's curiosity was easily peaked). Whips didn't seem to care as much, but still attempted to at least try to pay attention to the man.

“I just decided that I’d check out some of the battles in the tournament since I was here, and honestly I’m glad I did. It’s been a blast watching it all, and there are some really interesting trainers here too. And well, in terms of doing well, I’m ah…not so certain, n-not that w-we aren’t a capable team or anything! I just haven’t seriously battled anyone in almost half a year. We went back home and participated in the Sinnoh league actually. Those were some fantastic battles,” Verum sighed. O.K, now that peaked Whips's interest, along with the rest of the party. Curt, Embertail, and the gang hadn't ever been to Sinnoh (Nine being an exception), but had heard quiet a bit of it from the fox,

“After that, I continued going to all the ruin sites that I could. Really, I just go wherever there may be strange happenings,” Verum finished, his face going a bright red with Galladus rolling his eye's at his trainer finally realizing his ranting, “I-I’m really sorry! You just asked for my name, and if I’d entered the tournament, not part of my life’s story!”

"Haha, n-no it''s alright, it was actually fairly interesting!", Curt exclaimed, wanting to make the best impression he could on the man, "I heard the Sinnoh leagues are actually very intense guess that explains why Galladus over there looks so battle hardened!" The man seemed nice enough, and it was clear he held an interest in battles, especially if he payed for the 10000 ticket to get in. Curt was willing to bet that the two had some impressive tales to share in the times before their retirement, who knows, maybe the reason Verum, Galladus, and the rest of their team was here was to re-ignite the spark for the love of battling? Who could say...

"Anyways, I'd love to talk, but the rest of my pals are expecting me, you can feel free to join us in the stadium if you want, we shouldn't be too hard to find, just look for the massive Dragonite, I'd love to swap some stories with you guys!", Curt said, tilting his head towards Whips, "either way, I hope to see you again after the tournament!" With a hearty good-bye from Embertail and a soft wave from Whips and Nine, the group made their way back to their seats to watch the fight.

"(Um, Whips...You can put me down now)", Nine informed the Dragonite.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The crew was waiting for them in the exact same seats when they left, albeit with a bit more somber faces. So much had transpired in the short time since they left the arena that they had to remind themselves that they had lost!

"It's alright guys, it happens, besides, all things considered we got pretty far in the tournament, top four isn't bad", Curt said with a soft but sad smile, trying to shine a little light on the situation. Embertail plopped down on his seat next to Jasper, the Cubone patting the Charmander on the back to assure the fire-type that there was nothing to be ashamed of. Whips just sighed and to back to the skies to watch the remaining battles from above. It looked as though Gerald and Deo were up, with Gerald sending out the Braxien June and the Lopunny Curt misgendered, Puff, as combatants. June may have seemed a little lofty to the untrained eye, but they knew from her previous bouts that the fox was ready to fight, Puff on the other had seem, aside from a look of mild anger on his face, looked completely calm and focused. Curt was fairly certain he knew that expression, that was the look of tranquil fury. Geez, did he piss of the rabbit that much? Curt tried telling himself that he'd forget about that little slip up soon enough, but a sinking feeling in his stomach told him that this was going to come back to haunt him one of these days.

"Yeah, anyways, we brought a friend", Curt said, motioning to the male Ninetales behind him, "his search efforts didn't prove fruitful, so he...O.K we decided to drag him along to relax a bit." Curt changed his implications upon catching Nine's eye, making it clear that his tag along wasn't entirely by his own volition.

"(Hello everyone)", Nine said semi-cheerfully, his disappointment at not finding Cassie dissipating a tad at the sight of his friends and the festivities.

("Nine, you decided to come! How wonderful, though I am so sorry to hear about the lack of leads on Cassie's location)!", Flare exclaimed, swaying a little in her seat, (Ah was worried that you would spend the rest of the week moping, I understand you miss her, and you want to find her, but she...she wouldn't want you to work yourself to death looking for ya...so tell you what, come grab a seat by me and lose your misery in the honorable combat that shall soon be displayed before us on the field below)!" Flare finished by dramatically extending a paw to the center arena where the fight was about to begin. Nine took a look at the arena, then at Flare, then at the arena again, and then at Flare once more.

"(...Flare, how much have you had to drink?"), Nine asked hi senior Ninetales
 
It was dark that night as he paced back and forth, but he memorized the path so he wouldn't trip. Somewhere in the room, the curtains blocked out the moonlight. He didn't know where. He didn't care. He enjoyed the pitch black--drowning in music, he could dream with his eyes open and his body with him as his visions came to life. If there was one thing nothing had that nothing else had, it was nothing...nothing to distract from what could be.

Suddenly, he heard a rapid clicking and the whooshing noise of an opening pokéball. His visions were soon invaded by several scattered, glowing dots, their golden light expanding and ripping apart everything that could be, leaving only what already was.

At least...that's what he thought. Despite the lights' overwhelming brightness, they never revealed their surroundings, as if they stole those away, too. There was only light and dark, two things rarely caught together in a void. He always hated quotes, poems, and songs about them. This wasn't because they were overused or carried a false sense of intellectuality, but because people mixed up their nature.

...Light was so much worse. It wins against darkness every time, just as reality wins over dreams.

From a distance of a few feet, away from the dots, a light, feminine voice let out a pained "Deo..." before something large from the lights' source grabbed him by the neck and slammed him into the wall, cracking it.

Now, normally, when abruptly being choked to death, one would widen the jaw, tighten the neck, and use fingers to escape or at least loosen the grip. However, futile resistance was what the creature wanted, so Deo lowered his lids and did nothing. Hey, maybe if he pretended to fall unconscious (or actually did), then he'd be released?

The creature snarled, as if insulted, his bellow crackling with static. Simultaneously Deo heard another voice, one purely in his mind--

“Don't give me that shit! Stop pretending you're weaker than you are!” Yet it was the same voice as the one carried through the air, except it was comprehensible. This was thanks to the third person in the room--Cyta, a Reuniclus. Acting as a translator, she carried on the creature's message, having learned to even mimic his voice as it reverberated in the boy's head. Deo supposed that in the past he would be heartbroken that Cyta didn't step in, but similar events have occurred frequently enough that both concluded that it hadn't yet escalated past their line of concern.

That isn't to say the psychic-type wasn't worried. He could sense the pain in Cyta's tone as she called his name, noting how she used her audible voice as opposed to telepathy, as if to separate herself from the Beast through the conversation. Damn...she was just as much a victim as himself, even more so in some aspects--forced to be present whenever Deo needed to speak with another member, and the only one to whom he could disclose all but his most unfathomable troubles. Yet the cute green blob of cytoplasm smiled more often than anyone he's ever known. She knew more about everyone than any other individual, whether she wanted to or not. She carried a heavy burden.

Still grasped by the throat, Deo's body was retracted and again rammed against the wall, yet this time it hurt far less. Deo wouldn't fall for this illusion of toughness so he would resist--his neck had been loosened before impact.

“Look at me.”

Deo opened opened his eyes to discover a giant red one staring right back. It was stretched wide and bloodshot, vibrating furiously. Deo couldn't see the other eye because it was located on the head's opposite end. He scanned the creature up and down to no avail...how strange that a creature bearing such bright lights remained invisible in the darkness.


“It's gotten worse over the last couple weeks. How long are you going to keep this up? Wasting away taking day jobs while we train by fighting random trainers who think we're wild Pokemon, hoping to get the chance to--I don't know--face an actual Gym Leader?!”

Deo somehow managed to fake a yawn in his position, pretending that thinking straight was impossible in such an unholy hour, when he'd just broken out of a trance. "Wh...why do you care so much, anyway? Y'all leave all the time; nothing's forcing you to come back. I'm not really a--"

“INCORRECT.” The creature twisted around the opposite direction of the arm holding Deo and, with a mighty thrust, hurled the short man. One second later he heard glass shatter...and was falling two stories. Cyta rushed to the window and extended her hand, obviously not in hopes of physically catching him. Her telekinetic abilities were extraordinarily weak, but she was at least capable of slowing him enough to prevent injury as he landed on the concrete.

"Ugh...A'ight, already. I'm up, I'm up," Deo joked as he pushed himself up, but he recoiled as he cut his hand on a piece of glass. Hopping over the pile that surrounded him, he was annoyed by how even the night's mild luminance blinded him. The Reuniclus, relieved, floated down to her trainer, unfortunately followed by the creature, revealed under the moon's light. Deo stated blankly at the Eelektross as he landed with a soggy thud, his serpentine form uncoiling until he towered over the man.

He was quieter now, yet even angrier. “Look at you, you shrinking old man; you haven't shaved in weeks. Why is it you insist on being nothing when you could be battling other trainers, making a name for yourself? Get your act together.”

Deo reeled back his head and lowered his brow, confused. "Get my act together? There was no act to begin with. Look, Cruor, we both know that what I do doesn't mean shit; if you're going to stay, it only matters where I go, and that's no problem. All you'd have to do is threaten my life and I'd take you anywhere! If I didn't I'd be good as dead, right?!" Great counter, genius. I-it was good, right, Cyta? Right? He thought as he turned to her with his literal inside joke, shrugging and frowning as if to request agreement.

She smiled sweetly. “I love how you always choose the worst of times to attempt lightening the mood.”

Aaannnd they were back. “ALSO INCORRECT!” The Eelektross's yellow spots glowed brighter and exploded with electricity as he lunged towards Deo, but he halted at the last instant. Deo hadn't budged. “The fact that you still value your own life means that you're not done living. You want more. We've all seen your face in battle, a face that displays no expression but harbors deep within it the fiery passion that fuels all trainers. The truth is that regardless of whether or not you possess even the most minuscule shred of worth, you desire to. You think you're different just because of one of your dumbass ideals? You yearn for the glory of that ideal just as a trainer yearns for the glory of victory through battle! I realize now...you hide not because you are careless but because you are afraid, afraid that people will shut you down along with your belief, that it was a false belief created only to vindicate you from your crippling helplessness.”

Over the course of the monogue, Deo felt as if he should be increasingly likely to explode, yet he had surprised himself for remaining calm. There was a long pause. Always needing to do something in such a void, he itched a hairy cheek, his emotional defense mechanisms overtaken by curiosity--or was this deterrence a defense in itself? He noted how the anger, this concern...it implied that Cruor cared for the man, empathized with him, and simply wanted the best for him. This is what it seemed like, yes, but Deo knew better than to believe that this was a revelation. No, that would be uncharacteristic--There was no anger in those red eyes, no compassion. The electric-type's intense urgency was something else: Paranoia.

"...Not as afraid as you, Cruor," Deo stated as a descending sigh.

The creature froze for several seconds before backing away, his body calming down. However, his eyes still quaked with utter terror.

“One day, Deo, you're going to use action to fight back, not just words. You claim that threatening your life will be effective? Thanks for the splendid idea. You see, there's a festival taking place in Geosenge Town four days from now, and it's hosting a tournament at a newly-built stadium. You're going to apply. If you don't win, you won't be the only one in danger.”

Strangely, as circumstances intensified, the man acted increasingly leisurely. "But like, bruh, isn't there, like, a Gym badge requirement for that?"


~~~~~~~~ 4 Days Later


An advertisement of families and pokemon enjoying some sweets at the local malasada restaurant had ended on screens throughout Alola and even beyond. Following the brief pause of blackness was the emergence of a new image--a man and a woman in her middle years sitting next to each other over a straight, thin desk, their ears covered by speaker-bearing headphones.

The lady was speaking, her age contradicted by her youthful eyes, enthusiasm, and the speed of her words. "--impressive how a Pokémon could do so with only..."

The camerawoman signaled, cutting the pair off from their conversation as they turned towards the screen.

"...And to you viewers back home, welcome back to the Grand Kalos Festival, De La Vie Et La Mort. I'm Sola Keene, here with Douglas Arit--" The dark-skinned man did but a little nod at his acknowledgement. He was known to be low-key for a spokesperson.

She continued. "--And as we were just discussing over the break, things are really beginning to shape up near the end here. We've seen so many incredible trainers and have felt the bonds they share with their Pokémon during these battles. Despite the tournament taking the entire day to get through, it's almost impossible to believe--at least for me--that all but three have left the path to ultimate victory. Doug?"

Douglas paused in between words as he often did, likely to make some analytical or witty remark. "Well...Sola, by taking a...a look at the stadium, I can assure you who hasn't left...the crowd."

Doug and Sola shifted out of view as the screen switched cameras, the new one overlooking the noisy stadium. The sun--while not yet engulfed by the horizon--had just about disappeared behind the high stadium walls. Night lamps kept the arena bright, but not so much as to overwhelm the remnants of light from the dark ginger sky.

"They've...kept the place packed all day...and show no signs of tiring...They're the true winners of this tournament, I say!" Douglas chuckled. "Geosenge is a small town...I almost felt bad...about the residents who might be trying to hit the sack...until I realize that...most of them are either watching at home or here with us."

"No one should want to miss such an important event, after all," Sola responded cheerfully.

"You're right, and...uh, for those just tuning in, would you mind...explaining once again the significance of...not only the tournament but this entire festival. Why is this event being hosted?"

She replied almost immediately. "The Grand Kalos Festival here in Geosenge is an annual event celebrating historical Geosenge sites and Kalos culture overall, as well as the brave souls who prevented the criminal organization Team Flare from utilizing the destructive Ultimate Weapon two years ago. That said, there was actually a festival last year as well, but it lacked the tournament event. So it comes to no surprise that the massive scale of this year's festival trumps the previous by far."

"And what a success the tournament has been," said Doug. "This match before the final battle is a doozy: Gerald versus Deo. From Deo's...extremely narrow victory in the first round using his Breloom, many were...convinced he wouldn't make it far...yet his Swampert swept through the middle rounds and carried him all the way to the semi finals. On the other hand, Gerald has been one of the favorites from the start...outwitting his opponents through clever usage of status moves and repeatedly switching out his pokemon to make preparation difficult. Sola...do you think what Deo has done in previous battles will be effective against Gerald, or should he try something else? Additionally, is there...anything Gerald has to consider going into this battle?"

The camera zoomed into Deo, who was casually shuffling about as he waited for his opponent to arrive.

"Let me tell you this, Doug...each of them is comin' into this battle with their own advantages. On one hand, note how Deo's Swampert, Eego, has already fought two battles. If he truly is Deo's last resort--and that's a real possibility since it wouldn't be a smart decision to use the same pokemon in consecutive matches otherwise, then he's in trouble, not only because Eego won't be at a hundred percent but also because Gerald's team is well-equipped for primarily strength-reliant enemies. Additionally, Eego hasn't displayed any moves that might aid in double battles. I think using Eego now would be a terrible idea." Sola's tone changed. "Now, on the other hand, Deo retains the element of surprise in that we don't know three of his team members, or maybe his Alolan Sandslash following him is his real trump card; no one is sure---oh, and here comes Gerald."

~~~~~~~~

The man adjusted his glasses with one hand and itched his chin with the other, admitting that he could have shaved a bit better. He took a quick glimpse up ahead of him. "Oh, here we are," he mumbled quietly as his opponent entered the trainer area of the field, followed by two Pokemon he recognized as June and Puff. Although, the Lopunny...appeared resistant to follow his trainer. Deo hadn't recalled seeing him battle thus far, and wondered if there was a reason. Actually, was Puff battling at all? Was June? It seemed that way, but there was not yet confirmation. It didn't matter either way. Deo had already chosen his gladiators.

Gerald shouted to him from across the stadium, easily heard since crowd had quieted. "Hey there. You mind going first?" Deo didn't understand the question. Go first as in simply sending out his Pokemon?-Or as in making the first move of the battle? Although, the latter made little sense considering that the first move is decided by the referee only...right?

Deo simply nodded in response and clicked open this silver case, grabbing two pokeballs. He held one out in front of him and pressed the button, releasing Cyta. He placed her ball away and proceeded to do the same thing with the other one, but he stopped as his finger rest on the button. Suddenly, his body felt hot, and breathing became uneven. He turned to the Reuniclus, who nodded in comfort and reassurance. She knew what was happening. When one both mentally and emotionally avoids the context of a situation until it piles up high at the very last moment, it is the most severe form of procrastination.

He inhales deeply and presses the button. The jerky red light fell to the ground and materialized into the electric serpent, who rose and indulged in the atmosphere of battle, aware that chaos would soon ensue. This creature was the cause of the man's greatest suffering, but at the same time the single individual to which he owed the most. For better or worse, Deo wouldn't be standing where he was without the Eelektross, nor would he likely even still own a trainer card at all.

It was a strange thing, Cruor and Cyta working together in a double battle, yet it has been astonishingly effective in the past. The moment of truth has arrived as to whether or not the pair will carry him today, to the end of it all with Phi.

"A'ight, I'm good. Gooluck, mate!"

The referee finally began. "THIS IS THE SECOND SEMIFINAL MATCH OF THE KALOS FESTIVAL. ON ONE END, DEO. ON THE OTHER END, GERALD. THE WINNER WILL GO ON TO FACE PHI IN THE FINAL. DEO WILL HAVE THE FIRST MOVE. GOOD LUCK TO BOTH OF YOU--"

Pokemon on both sides prepared themselves. Cruor cocked his upper body back and forth as if locking onto prey, while Cyta simply rose slightly and extended her arms.

"--AAANNND, BEGIN!"

A moment passed. Deo was still and silent as he always was, but his pokemon were as well. Neither moved; however, those sharp enough might notice that within the Reuniclus's body, strange bubbles were growing, filling up with a strange glowing energy.

The ginger stuck his gloved hands in the pockets of his cargo and vibrated his lips.

Lets see what he'll do with the initiative kindly handed over to him.
 
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Verum sighed, slightly relieved that his rambling tendency hadn’t made a completely awful first impression as Curt laughed along in front of him.

“Haha, n-no it's alright, it was actually fairly interesting!" Curt began before continuing, “I heard the Sinnoh leagues are actually very intense guess that explains why Galladus over there looks so battle hardened!”

Galladus gave the man a quick smile before settling back into a neutral expression, though, internally, he was quite amazed by the fact that someone wasn’t telling Verum to be quiet during one of his ramblings. And that they had enjoyed a large amount of Verum’s small recount of his life. It wasn’t often that Verum found another trainer who would be interested in the other aspects of a trainer’s life beyond just battling and, well, training.

Before long, however, Curt had to finish off the conversation, exclaiming, “Anyways, I'd love to talk, but the rest of my pals are expecting me, you can feel free to join us in the stadium if you want, we shouldn't be too hard to find, just look for the massive Dragonite, I'd love to swap some stories with you guys!”

“Likewise. That’d be really nice. It was good to talk, and I’m sure we’ll see you in a little bit. After all, a new battle is about to start!” Verum stated with a twinkle of anticipation in his eyes, despite their shadows from many long nights. With that, Curt had gone back to the Arena, and Verum had decided to hang out for just a little longer before making an immediate return as well, coming to a wall and leaning against it for a minute before slumping down and sitting cross-legged against it, sighing out into the air.

‘It seems we’ve made some new friends here in Kalos, huh?’ Galladus’s voice popped into his head once more, causing Verum to look up and smile brightly at his partner.

“Yeah! Can’t say I was really expecting that. Especially with…ya know…me. And my,” Verum drew circles in the air around himself, “Me-ness.” He chuckled to himself as he sat there. Never had he been good at this kind of thing, and yet he’d somehow managed to make an at least halfway decent first impression on someone. But now that the nervousness and embarrassment from the situation was gone, he was left to think about the things he’d said, and doing that wasn’t something that would end well.

‘Went back home, huh? I suppose Sinnoh is home. At least it is now. I don’t know enough to make any other conclusions about this whole thing.’ With that though, his thoughts shifted to the cold region and all its spectacles. It truly was home to him now. His gaze shifted to his side, where Galladus was sitting next to him, staring at him intently, trying to judge his state of emotion. Something between the lines of confusion, frustration, and yet a small amount of acceptance was what the pokemon saw within his trainer.

‘We will find something eventually. We’ll have closure. But for now, we should just focus on the things we enjoy. Honestly, Verum, you’re still young. Such an issue is important, but you shouldn’t focus everything you have towards it. You don’t have to constantly be searching for your truth,’ the psychic-fighting type finished in his head, placing a reassuring hand on his trainer’s shoulder. Honestly, Verum acted so much older than he really was. It was somewhat interesting, though often times worrying. Verum tended to treat his own health as though it were a joke, sometimes so invested in what he was doing that he wouldn’t stop to eat or sleep, and while Verum laughed about it, the majority of his team worried for their trainer, and at almost every opportunity, would try to get him to relax, at least for a little while.

Verum looked blankly at Galladus for a few seconds, but his face quickly transformed into a small smile. “You’re right. I’m sure we’ll find something, but for now, we should just enjoy life for what it is,” he finished, with the Gallade giving him a single nod of approval before Verum felt a small rumble from one of the pokeballs on his person. He wasn’t surprised by who it was. After all, the aura around his body in his tumultuous state of mind must have been doing all kinds of weird things. He pulled out the ball that had been rumbling and tapped his finger to its release switch. Thank goodness she wasn’t like Igni and constantly bursting out. Then again, it probably wouldn’t have led to as many bad situations.

The red light that shot out from the ball burst into a form that quickly ran up and enveloped Verum’s lower body in a hug. She was small for her species, only standing at three foot nine inches, but still strong nonetheless. The hug was a comfort that didn’t come often due to her nature, but it was always welcome. The Lucario stepped back, looking up at Verum with concerned eyes before he smiled down at her, and her face softened into a relaxed state.

Galladus watched this display fold out before him, smiling his own soft smile at the heartwarming scene in front of him. Alia, next to himself, was Verum’s closest partner and friend, and that was clearly evident in front of him. Though he turned his head at sounds coming from the arena, and coughed lightly to gain the attention of his trainer and Alia.

“-honestly Alia, I’m okay now. Galladus definitely knows what to say to break me out of these little downs that get me-“ Verum’s speaking abruptly ceased as he looked towards Galladus, who was pointing in the direction of the arena, where voices were beginning to emerge from.

Verum laughed, and looked back towards Alia before deciding to ask her, “So, you want to watch the last few rounds out in the open?”

The question was responded with a quick and rapid nod of the head from the aura pokemon, and Verum chuckled at her excitement to see the battles. “Well, alright, let’s get over there so we don’t miss anything, huh?” And with that, the group walked back towards the arena.

Verum, Alia, and Galladus made their way back into the arena, and, to not one of the group member’s surprise, found that there were pretty much no seats remaining in the crowded stadium, which, for once, was mostly quiet as the announcers’ voices rose through the stadium, explaining who the competitors were, and telling of some of their exploits in the festival today.

They stepped towards the railing, looking over it, though Alia wasn’t exactly comfortable, jumping up and having to hang there to see over it due to her short stature. At this, Galladus found himself chuckling slightly, but was promptly shut up by the icy glare that was shot in his direction.

Verum, however, noticed this, and seeing her discomfort, posed a question to her that, to most, wouldn’t make a lot of sense, “Like old times, Alia?”

The Lucario looked down in slight embarrassment, but nonetheless made a small noise in confirmation, which lead to Verum bending down somewhat, prompting her to jump up. She ended up on his back, looking over his shoulder at the battlefield comfortably, if not slightly embarrassed that she had to do this to see. Curse her species and its short height.

` Verum, for his part, did little more than chuckle good-naturedly, as Galladus stood beside him doing the same. They were a team, but more than that, they were a family, and even for the most minor things, they’d have each other’s backs. As soon as Alia was up, he looked out into the field, and saw one of the trainers from earlier, Deo, releasing his pokemon. A reuniclus and an elektross. Neither were pokemon that Verum and his pokemon saw often, so this would be interesting to watch as he stood there, gazing out at the arena from behind the railing.
 
Well, that was embarrassing.

Gerald decided to ask Deo to move first, something the referee calls. Even after all these rounds... Well, he had some apologizing to do later. At least that blunder wasn’t caught on national television...He hoped. But the man could worry about that later, for now he just needed to strategize for the battle ahead. Two Pokemon emerged on Deo's end- An Eel and a jelly...cat...cell thing. Neither of which Gerald was acquainted with. Though, they were...familiar looking. Maybe he had see something like them before...Solcyst and Eelectric? Something like that. If he had to put bets on what types they were, he'd say the Eelectric was an Electric and Water type, given it was an eel, and it didn’t take a genius to recall that eels lived underwater. The yellow jagged lines reminded him of lightning and such. The Solcyst was a little trickier, but he doubted that Deo would be dumb enough to bring another water or electric type, and given it was a very pale sickly shade of green, and wasn’t on fire, it probably wasn’t a grass or fire type either. It was floating in the air and was rather cute, so perhaps it was a fairy or psychic type. Those were usual characteristics of those types, right?

He’d just have to experiment in the fight ahead. His opponent wished him luck, Gerald returned the favor with a smile and nod.

The referee called the match into order. Deo was slated to move first. Gerald's mind rushed with possible counterattacks and dodging techniques...Just to come to a sudden stop upon realizing neither of Deo's Pokemon were moving. Well, there was something with the green one, but...He couldn't quite determine what was going on with it.

As Gerald stumbled to figure out what to do, Puff slowly slouched out of his pouting on the ground, standing at his full height of three feet. His mouth was locked into a frown, and his pale pink eyes stared down the behemoth of a sea creature on the opposite end of the battlefield. He hated how it towered over him even from so far, a infuriating reminder of his size. The rabbit's muscles tightened, prepared to fly into action at any moment. June, on the other hand, looked stoic and plain. She casually glanced at her opponents, and only awaited her necessary commands from Gerald.

Their trainer, however, was still having a bit of a conundrum. At a glance, It's pretty tricky to tell what these Pokemon use to attack. While it wouldn't be unrealistic for that eel to use it's mouth, if my hunch is right it'd probably go for something like Surf or Thunderbolt. Surf would be horrible for me right now. June can only take two of those, most likely. The cell is trickier, but if it is a Psychic, it would probably have some telekinetic attack like Psychic itself. He pondered for another moment. Play it safe for now. Puff will set up with Double Team first and then he'll pull something off on the eel. June can focus on the cell for now, and sneak in a Will-O-Wisp when either of them are vulnerable.

"All right." Gerald said. "Puff, Double Team!"

Puff jumped to life, hopping a foot to his side, kicking up a cloud of dust where he once stood. A new Puff appeared where once there was dust. The Lopunny repeated this once more, spawning yet another of himself. The three rabbits glared down Cruor, fists raised like boxers, in a completely identical way. And yet, two were compromised of the arena floor. They squeaked, almost as if taunting the electric eel to come at them.

"June," The red head continued, "Flamethrower the green one."

Despite the admittedly vague description of Cyta, June got the message loud and clear. The fox pulled out her beloved stick, which ignited upon being pulled from her tail. She was never sure how it did that, yet it never ignited anything else in her tail. It was odd really. Perhaps it was some magical retention. She put one leg forward, and one back, raised the stick reminiscent of a gun, and barked out something that sounded almost like a chant. A jet of orange flame blasted out towards the Reuniclus.

Gerald watched intently, preparing his counters for whatever his foes would throw out next.
 
Though the battle had only just began, the crowd already seemed to be on the edge of their seats, like they couldn't wait to see how the fight would unfold. Despite going with Pokemon that appeared to be native to Unova, Curt surprisingly recognized both of Deo's Pokemon! One was a Reuniclus, a Psychic-type Cell Pokemon that Curt and Embertail fought in another tournament not too long ago, Embertail leaned forward a bit, also clearly recognizing the Pokemon and remembering the intense battle with the powerful creature, though this one looked a good deal stronger then the other one.

The other one they recognized, not because they've seen it before, but because of the legends surrounding it; Eelektross, the Pokemon with no weaknesses. It was known far and wide through-out the world as an extremely powerful, rare, and legendary creature, almost on the same level as a Pseudo-Legendary Pokemon. Curt had to admit, even though he knew Deo would have some rare and powerful Pokemon, he was stunned to see the man with a creature such as that!

Gerald had decided to go with his anger-filled Lopunny, which got a mixed reaction from the crowed, Lopunny were about as intimidating as an Eevee, which is to say, not very much at all. But if one meeting with Puff told Embertail, Whips, Curt, and Nine anything, was that this little rabbit had fury enough to spare, hell, Curt still couldn't shake the feeling of dread when he caught Puffs eye. It may have just been a gut feeling, but Curt got the impression that Puff, adorable as he was, was actually quite a force to be reckoned with.

And lastly there was...

("AH YEAH! YOU GET'EM JUNE AND YOU TOO PUFF!") Flare said, both with her telepathy and by barking out to the arena before turning to the rest of them, ("Gotta root for my fellow magic fox"). Yes, June had mad quite the name for herself among-est the audience of the Kalos Festival goes, quickly becoming known as a powerful psychic and manipulator of flame. Even before she started drinking, Flare had felt her interest being drawn to her fox-kin and had begun rooting for her, at first being fairly reserved, but after a bit of wine she had begun cheering as loud as she could along with the rest of the crowed.

("I must admit, I am surprised to see you let Flare drink so much...at all actually...she seems so much more..excited")
, Nine asked, mildly concerned, yet also interrupted at the teams dynamic.

"Hehe, well Nine, I know you, Cassie, and the rest of your team probably did things differently, but no ones the "boss" here in my team, we're all equals, when it comes down to it, everyone has equal say in this group", Curt replied to Nine. They relied on each others opinions as to what was best for the team, such as when Curt insisted Flare give up her wine, it was only when everyone else expressed their concern over her drinking did Flare, albeit begrudgingly, hand over her bottle.

"(Really, what about battles?)", Nine said, cocking his head a bit.

"Well, they trust me to make the best decision and think that, usually, I'm the most capable of leading them in battle, but there have been more then a few times they've give ME advice in a battle, and almost as many times that I've followed their advice", Curt said, shrugging at Nine as though this sort of thing was typical.

"(Huh, that is....interesting, I don't think anyone of us have given Cassie any advice as far as battling goes...she just seems so ontop of things that it seems any input we could give is unnecessary...)", Nine said, his voice filled with thought.

"That's because, Nine, Cassie's a better trainer then me, or at least a better battler", Curt said matter-of-factually, with a small smile on his face., "heck, I think I owe half my progress to Flare, she's given me more tips then anything else!" This seemed to take Nine back a bit, as the Kitsune remained in silent thought for a bit, before turning to Flare.

"(Um, Flare, uh, would you mind if I try some of your wine, you've made me curious and I want to try some, j-just a little, you've made me curious)", Nine asked the aged beauty of a fox.

"(Huh? WWeeelll of course Nine, you help yourself you adorable little foxxy!)",
Flare exclaimed, giving the younger fox a wink, elicting a blush from Nine.

"(Um, yeah, uh, t-thank, uh, Curt, do you mind?)", Nine said hurriedly, looking at the bag.

"Not my wine, if Flare's O.K with it, help yourself!", Curt replied. Nine gave them a grateful smile before pulling the bottle and a red solo cup out of Curts pack, pouring a cup, and taking a drink. They watched, a smiled a bit, as the Ninetales gave a visible pucker.

"(Yep, that's the reaction I expected from a first time drinker, just becareful not to over do it!"), Flare said with a big smile on her face, just as amused as everyone else.

"(Yes, well, actually, it has a plesent after-taste, I rather like it, initial bitterness aside!)", Nine exclaimed, before taking another sip from the cup.

"Dis ghunna beh gud...", Embertail whispered to Curt before returning their attention to the battle.
 
There once lived a school of Tynamo. Individually they were weak, but together mighty. Unfortunately, not mighty enough to fend off the swarm of Basculin that invaded their waters one day. Countless Tynamo were eaten without much resistance, and soon their home became the new yearly feeding grounds for the insatiable fish. One day a Tynamo noted how they were practically feeding the enemy and making it stronger. The others knew this fact but argued that they were helpless to change it.

The single Tynamo begged to differ. "Why don't we use our flesh to feed our own?" He suggested. The others shared looks of shock and confusion. "This is happening to us because too many are weak, yet they carry on their filth to their children just to get eaten. If we don't begin eating the inferior members of our species, we will only birth more weaklings and attract more enemies. If we don't begin eating the feeble and carry on our superior genes, those Basculin will eventually be capable of wiping out even the strongest of us. This is for the survival of our species."

The others universally rejected the idea with disgust, some threatening to offer the individual as a sacrifice in protest.

"Then...let me give you all an example of how your crippling helplessness leaves your threats empty."

A nearby Tynamo spoke up. "Crippling helplessness? Isn't crippling a verb only? And don't those words mean the same thing? Then why use both of--" The rogue, in a white blur, swooped and collided with the grammatical smartass and a second later he was slicing and dicing on the soft flesh of its neck with his efficient mandibles, his eyes as still and lifeless as those of the head which was being slowly decapitated. The fact that no blood spilled from the floating corpse made the scene all the more graphic. Horrified, the crowd fled in all directions, but not all would get away.

Throughout the days, weeks and then months, the cannibalistic electric-type hunted his own kind. Perhaps within the first week he could have been ganged up on and stopped. However, having evolved into an Eelektrik after a year, he had become unstoppable. Of course, it was impossible to kill all the Tynamo alone, but that was never his intention. The few that managed to flee were either fast or strong enough to tangle with him for a time. They would mate and produce powerful offspring, the maniac thought to himself, satisfied at his valiant deed. He had realized that it was survival of the fittest and always would be. He had found hope when it was lost in all others. He had formed a brilliant idea and defended it honorably. He had saved his species. Yet he received no praise in return.

He was too good for this world.

~~~~~~~~

That moment of Deo's rugged black finger pressing against the cold pokéball freed not only the Serpent, but himself of all responsibility. He felt lighter as warm relief cloaked his body, as if the blanket of a bed that would accept his retreat and return him to his other existence. He slowly sunk his head, his orange curtains shutting away the world while his eyes headed way upstairs, into the depths of his consciousness.

Where he ended up next could be roughly compared to a beach. The shore was of not sand but of maroon ash, light and flaky, constantly rising in streams before dissipating, as if carried by a sluggish yet powerful gust that only travelled up. These were the remains of his hopes, goals, and loves long lost--forgotten, rejected, or outright destroyed. Occasionally, two or more streams would merge in a circular dance and form a small twister, all in a futile attempt to be flinged closer to the wild, silver sea, which composed of all his active dreams and mares not yet washed up. Blurry images animated under the thick liquid’s surface, not quite recognizable unless one dipped his or her head, just as a dream is often only recalled in sleep. Above it all, a black sky somehow illuminated everything. Well, it wasn't really black--it was the colors of closed eyes, colors existing only in darkness. Like lightning, they slashed across the sky before swerving into it, forking over and over and over until the now distant streaks became countless. If a storm could be simply defined as a cluster of disruption and chaos. Then, this was one. Lightspeed nearly froze in this storm of infinite size and complexity, yet after veering away for mere seconds, one would return to an entirely different shape when looking back. Yet, the original was still there.

Every shape was there, really. Every image. Everything.


Truly what one were to find with closed eyes.

Arms dangling at his sides as if unresponsive, he unevenly dragged his bare feet through the rusty dust, toward the shoreline.

He leaned in and met his reflection.

But it didn't mirror his body.

It mirrored his heart.

Old. So old. A balding head tired of thinking of a long life wasted, a sagging face tired of holding up a label, a bloated stomach tired of consuming regret, and the legs of sticks tired of carrying it. The man weakly raised his arms, revealing that it wasn't just a reflection--bony hands of wrinkles and sores, sick of reaching for what they could never grasp. The only thing that hadn't changed were his olive eyes (Arceus, he loathed olives), tired of viewing what he was and what he wasn't, what existed and what didn't. Yet they were too tired to express tiredness, abandoning conveying emotions altogether. Shot wide open, they devoted what was left of their ever-dwindling focus toward scanning across the shoreline.

Where was that bed? Ah, there it was.

Several feet away lay more of a crib or cot, suited for a infant or young child. The old man shuffled over to his ride, but pushing it in the silver sea proved quite challenging. The liquid resembling metal was thick and viscous like syrup, but once he hoisted his naked form aboard, the crib floated atop the surface effortlessly. He lowered himself into a sitting position with his arms around his knees (That's all he had room to do without pressing against the cage) and it even began moving on its own.

A crib was, after all, the most powerful vessel in such a place due to its profound connection with the 'before', a time where a youth spends the most of which in a crib--before taking for granted every corner of a room, before bearing the restraints of society and culture and bias...and not long after another before, the eternal mystery of unbirth. Did it feel like death?--Because he swore he could almost seize the memory of the feeling...Yes! It was a vibrating, tingly sensation of infinite intensity! So powerful as to fill the void of everything that didn't yet exist: thought, consciousness, time, a body.

Nevertheless, that feeling did exist! Limitless pleasure and limitless pain! And it was the colors of closed eyes!

He spotted a white light on the horizon of "black" and silver--the gateway to his other existence, one where things happened the way he wanted (or didn't want, in a sense). He waited for the babbling boy's cry to grant him access.

"Shit has to happen to become the shit!"

Wait...that couldn't be right. The echoing voice babbled, all right, but from back the way he had come, opposite the gate. Suddenly, the crib had shifted direction, or rather, the entire ocean. The silver syrup oozed toward the shore at increasing speeds, but it was also sinking. The geezer placed his hands on the cage rims and pushed himself to his knees before twisting around, bewildered by what he saw. On that maroon beach, another ashen whirlwind had formed, but this one flurried with unforeseen fury, an ever-growing whirlpool as it sucked up the sea. Even the wind became a gale from the storm, powerless to escape like light from a black hole. This violent chemical merging of lost and remembered memories dragged the crib ever-so closer to it and away from the light on the horizon, which soon faded into nothing.

It felt as if his remaining hair would be torn off all at once. As he carefully brought himself to his feet, he wouldn't have been surprised if the tornado snatched him up that instant. Staring it down, he protested in shock and anger, his hysterical but weak tone echoing over everything as if alone in a cave.

"Wh...why're da dead dreams comin' back? Why is mah...other me calling from the present world? Why is the other place gone?"

Then it struck him. Did this mean they were coming together?! His perfect, unattainable existence by a child's twisted faith somehow correlated to his life? How? Why now? Too soon, not enough shit! Too soon, not enough shit! Then he saw the glowing yellow dots, and the twister came alive. It stretched as if shedding skin and shook its hips back and forth, its gaping maw descending to devour him. He decided to make a swift escape from that plain and shoot open his eyes.

...But they were already open, and had already caught the light from the lamp-lit battlefield. It was just now slowly sinking into his consciousness. The creature already there was the Eelektross straight ahead, back to him and paying no mind to his existence. Deo scowled at the allusion of his vision, which now seemed like a mere dream--a film in his mind being replayed in fast-forward whilst burning away.

So Cruor's the key to my salvation, huh? He questioned, unsatisfied. This source of much of his angst was now present; like a shadow, he had always been, but now, visible and unignorable, Cruor had been released by Deo's own hand--the very last action over which Deo had any control. Now he was the shadow, but he had always been--bound to the creature and could not tear away. Against his will, he was forced into this event, and had likely committed an unforgivable crime ignorant to him; his actions were not his own. He was a puppet, and Cruor yanked his strings. Sure, Deo enjoyed the tournament--who doesn't upon learning he/she had climbed to the semifinals? However, those past victories were bittersweet because they were not his own. They were Cruor's--essential to satisfy his lust for violence and war. It could be said most Pokemon shared this trait, but to the serpent this was both an addiction and a fear, a fear of being weak or on the side of the weak and one day losing out to natural selection. This survivalist paranoia has pushed the creature so far as to not only threaten his trainer's life to participate in an empowering contest but practically take over his role, to steal his clothes and trainer card and role in society, if there ever was one. Might as well rip off his own skin and wear it as his own. It would suit him better, anyway.

At least that's what it seemed until he recalled the serpent's words four nights prior.

~“Y'all didn't have to come back. I'm not really a-"

"INCORRECT".~

~"If I didn't I'd be good as dead, right?"

"ALSO INCORRECT."~

Come to think of it, why was he being personally urged to win the tournament at all considering he contributed nothing to his victories? If Cruor was simply playing mind games to stir him up, then it sure as hell worked; Yet, if so, why even bother to do that? It just made no doggone sense. All he could do is look on like a crowd member towards his own match, a fact that made his position in the trainer box uncomfortable.

His thoughts were broken by the energized commands of his opponent. "Alright. Puff, Double Team! June, Flamethrower the green one."

The short man had made two assessments as the bipedal rabbit spawned multiple clones and the Braixen released her stream of fire. The first was that the entirety his vision had apparently only encompassed a few seconds in real time despite feeling like several minutes within it. The second was, of course, how Gerald had addressed Cyta, for Deo was admittedly shocked that such a skillful trainer couldn't identify the Unova Pokemon. It was a reminder of how rare being able to memorize most species actually was and was by no means a measure of intelligence, especially in his case. Deo couldn't brag, however. Although he had attended the prestigious Rustburo Trainer School, he had performed horrendously (for some reasons more convoluted than others), and the one he had learned the most from since had been...he glanced to the Eelektross, still where he was before, likely contemplating the series of events with depth far beyond his comprehensibility.

Now regarding the battle as a whole, save for a few initial rules and guidelines with certain matchups, the man was clueless of his team's battle tactics. Lately he's been better at understanding the logic of his pokemon while they fight, but the decision of Cruor and Cyta to remain in place and hand their presumably faster opponents the initiative seemed risky. Then again, if slower, there would be little point in chasing down those they couldn't catch, and should instead lie in wait? Yet June and Puff kept their distance whilst still able to be productive, with June launching a ranged attack to interrupt Cyta's move as quickly as possible while Puff spawned clones and was returning Cruor's favor with his own "Come at me!" Did that mean their bait had failed miserably?--Or was there more to this?

In the back, Sorex cracked a smirk at the way his trainer's hand twisted dramatically back and forth whilst in strategy mode, as if the teenager had arthritis. Yet sadness immediately followed, coupled with a hint of guilt. How desperately this human pressed against the glass dividing the scent of battle yet could never push through, while he ambled in and out as if taking it for granted. He supposed he was a bit odd, being a Pokemon not thrilled from battle. He deemed this an insult to his trainer and any others who had never relished the flavors of conflict: to attack, to defend, to follow, to lead, to fight.

The spiked shrew couldn't afford to pity the man, though, as he had to remain emotionally cold and distant to maintain a clear lense involving things important to him. Besides, aware of it or not, Deo WAS fighting...with himself, with his identity, in particular. And quite frankly, Sorex wanted to see how that battle would play out in the long run more sorely than the battle out on the field.

~~~~~~~~

It was finally his turn.

As he materialized from the red light of the pokeball, the Serpent uncoiled violently, as if breaking a hold. Even once free, he swung and twisted, not one part of his body remaining still as he analyzed his enemies before him and Cyta. With his biological will to survive perhaps the cause, Cruor was a truly massive Eelektross, capable of towering over most people with plenty of tail to spare. Practically Serperior-sized: not as long, but heavier, more compact, and bearing a far-reaching pair of arms nearly half the length of his entire body. He dwarfed his partner, a Reuniclus three feet in diameter, although this measurement excluded her arms, also disproportionately large to her body.

Size was an important thing in survival, both physically and mentally, Cruor thought as he tried to measure the Lopunny and Braixen on the other side of the field, concluding that they were roughly Echthra's height, perhaps smaller. Being big, in the most general cases, resulted in high strength and toughness but lower speed and evasiveness, while the reverse was true for smaller beings. Of course, regarding Pokemon, this was hardly a reliable baseline. After all, Cyta's smallish frame could fly yet had abysmal speed, while he--essentially a giant fish out of water with no legs--could catch a sprinting human. Still slow for the standards of magical beasts, but his point stood. Unfortunately, it was a race against time until the ref initiates the match, so assumptions have to be made in order to form a gameplan; thankfully, based on Cruor's knowledge of the nature of their opponents' species, he could safely assume that both he and Cyta were outsped. This was likely more so the case for Puff: Lopunny were gifted with a powerful lower body built for agility and jumping ability, and their experience in close combat practically made them fighting-types, with quick reflexes for dodging and countering attacks at point-blank. As for June, Braixen had light, fragile builds, usually preferring ranged special moves to physical ones. However, the thin foxes were known for being quick and difficult to hit. Even given the low possibility that his top speed was comparable with June's, Cruor was a much bigger target who couldn't shift directions as quickly.

He moved on to a far more important factor in battle: the movesets, of course. With what Sorex and Deo had informed him about Gerald's previous battles, the boy's team utilized several status moves, from ailments to buffs to specific tech options. They often cripple their opponents to win; this was extremely useful information, but not enough. There haven't been enough battles, and each of Gerald's pokemon had distinct moves which made it difficult to increase one's predictability simply from comparing it to another. Additionally, Puff had only then made his debut in the tournament, so it was unknown what had in store.

Alright...Cruor was going off of what he did know, being all he could do. He sent mental messages to his partner, who was thankfully listening. See, as a psychic-type, Cyta could relay and receive telepathic messages. However, she didn't simply hear the thoughts of all who were nearby, nor could she read minds. This kind of communication was more difficult than audible speech because it required extreme focus on both sides, meaning that such a conversation would be very risky to attempt in battle. It was essential that Cruor and Cyta reach the same page as soon as possible, while they had the opportunity. This was one of the disadvantages of never receiving orders from a single source, the Eelektross reminded himself. You had to think for yourself, and in double battles you weren't sure exactly what actions your partner would take next, nor them yours. Each battle they share is, obviously, a testament to their ability to work together, arguably truer for Cruor and Cyta than pokemon of traditional teams--whose synergies are determined by the trainer. Brainstorming for the logic in the trainer's decisions meant little, as it didn't affect what the pokemon did, and to disobey would be considered unwise. Although, Cruor prefered the way things were, as he trusted his own judgement more than all else's, and Deo was blatantly incapable as a trainer.

The Reuniclus nodded in response to her ally’s plan, also trusting his judgement. This was how their experience as teammates typically played out at first, and she was okay with it. When Cruor had an idea, it usually worked, and even when it didn't still revealed useful information. She might have had negative feelings towards his cruel actions towards Deo, but this was battle, when such feelings must be swept aside, when she and him were for once comrades against a common enemy, when she could whole-heartedly refer to him as a talented tactician.

Suddenly, it happened: the referee's call, initiating the match at last. As planned, neither of Deo's pokemon forwarded toward their enemies. Going "first", they had a sliver of extra time to work with, but it made little difference. Cyta's raised her arms, causing bubbles to grow within the gelatin-mimicking substance of her torso, each filling with a mix of pink and turquoise energy. Meanwhile, Cruor, doing nothing else, ran through the logic of this opener once more: Traditionally among the team, even the slower members, they would act as aggressively as possible, charging straight for the opponent before unleashing an attack when near. This was due to their ever-present element of surprise. The opposing trainer can't prepare nearly as effectively for an enemy attack not instructed and thus has to draw out any signs as they presented themselves, but by then it might be too late to order a countermeasure before their pokemon is struck. Unfortunately, such a reckless action was too dangerous against trainers of Gerald's calibur, and the nature of double battles provided more backup eyes. Additionally, one of the core rules Cruor had set in place was that the clearly slower pokemon should not be the initial aggressor under most circumstances, which was the case for both Cyta and himself. Thus, part of the reasoning for staying put is to hope their smaller, faster opponents would come to them. Of course, the serpent wasn't relying on them being that dumb. There was another layer to the plan, one that would hopefully play out any second now...

"Alright, Puff. Double Team! June, Flamethrower the green one."

...They could work with this, perhaps even more so than initially thought. Cyta's bubble-growing caught Gerald's attention, and now June was using a ranged attack in attempt to interrupt it, just as planned. Predicting such a specific scenario may seem miraculous, but Cruor had found a way to narrow down the possibilities. People fear what they cannot understand, and it was unlikely Gerald could identify the Reuniclus’s activity. He would want to cease it in the case it was a stat-raising move or charged attack--cease it quickly before the opponent gained the advantage. Given the great starting distance of the competitors, a ranged move would be the most effective at reaching a target in the shortest timespan, and the fire fox was more likely to own one. Additionally, Cruor hadn't even considered the off-chance that Gerald hadn't recognized the Cell Pokemon's species, potentially driving him further to prevent whatever she was doing. Could it be that he couldn't identify Cruor himself, either? If so, his aquatic appearance only further explained Gerald's decision.

It was fortunate, then, that Cyta had prepared specifically for the Braixen, as her bubbles contained more practical uses than just distracting. The instant upon overhearing Gerald's commands, she did something odd. Similar to the process of exocytosis in a cell, the pink-blue orbs left Cyta's body like vacuoles from a cell membrane, even turning inside out in the process. There must have been a dozen of them floating around from what she was able to conjure in that time, likely more than enough for how she planned to deal with the oncoming attack. However, she wasn’t going to risk observing the flame expand as it approached just to help estimate how many she needed. No, as June's stick ignited and blasted a stream of fire straight towards her (It seemed that poor aim would not factor in this battle), Cyta, with a powerful psychic thrust from the swing of her arms, hurled a cluster of about half of the blobs to meet the flame. Stretching into ellipsoids from their speed, they weren't launched all at once but rather rapid succession, one not far behind the other. This attack, labeled as Psyshock, was handy for bypassing physically frail opponents who would otherwise resist her special moves. On top of this, the Reuniclus had made the technique her own. Storing the orbs within her body over time allowed for later use, and sacrificing bits of her body accelerated their formation and arguably increased their power from the additional weight. Now, severe downsides were evident from this, but Cyta could ignore these incremental losses of mass...for now.

Considering the impressive speed of both attacks, in was unclear to the Reuniclus where exactly on the field they collided. She was just relieved that it was a considerable distance away from her, especially after catching a glimpse of the rapidly swelling blaze moments before impact (Cyta expected no less from the fox who had become quite a favorite in this tournament). An explosion half the field's width of smoke, heat, and excess psychic energy ensued, blocking June's and Cyta's view of each other. but the action was far from over. Cyta had merely stalled, for Flamethrower was a continuous move, only its face negated. However, the fire stream's mass and density were practically non-existent, and it was thus easily forced back by the blast temporarily. On top of this, the explosion was not one but several caused by each orb one after the other, increasing the longevity of Cyta's attack and further delaying June's by up to several seconds. This was a considerable time frame in a battle, but she had to act quickly. The moment she believed she was out sight of the fox, the floating psychic type drifted a few meters to her right before charging as swiftly as she could toward the wall of smog and debris, beginning to create more orbs inside her for another Psyshock. All this was her method of dodging the fire attack; it approached from far enough and with enough warning that she could have evaded it without requiring further action...except she did require it. If Cyta hadn't concealed her location before moving, June would have simply tweaked her aim and the sluggish cell would have been engulfed. Additionally, she had shifted right instead of left to more quickly escape Puff's field of view as well, in the precaution that he had the opportunity to ignore Cruor long enough to reveal her whereabouts to his partner.

Granted, she didn't possess X-ray vision either, leaving her as blind as her opponent. The good news: She had a compass. As she neared the cloud, the Flamethrower had regained its momentum--emerging from it and heading to where Cyta once was. The stream hurtled past her, its intense heat felt on her core through her gelatin exoskeleton. The damage such high temperatures could cause...but she didn't have time to be impressed, and she traced the stream's angle back the other direction to obtain a rough estimate of June's location. Next, she stretched out her arms and fingers once again, several blobs erecting from her body to join the ranks of those already present--such quantities unattainable without sacrificing parts of one's own body. Realizing that performing the attack in heavy concentration would reveal her own location as well as make it easier for the already-existing Flamethrower to cut them short, the Reuniclus spread them apart from her and from each other before unleashing the Psyshock through the cloud, around the horizontal column of fire and hopefully in the direction of the small target.

Well, not exactly. If all the blobs were released towards the same area at the same moment, there was a high risk that area was the wrong one, so Cyta developed a system: Like before, they'd be released in succession, this time about three per second. Coming from random directions, some orbs would hone in on June's estimated position, while the rest would gradually scatter outward from that point. In this manner, If the fox avoids the first few, whichever direction she dodges, the hope is that more will be headed her way.

Taking into account the lack of the traditional forewarning of the Psyshock from a trainer command, the fact that the globs appeared from a debris cloud halfway across the field, and that June had just initiated an offensive maneuver instead of a defensive one, she had considerably less time and opportunity to react to Cyta's attack than she had her's, and the pure psychic-type couldn't help but feel a hint of confidence from this. Of course, only time could tell what would actually transpire. Hearing the sounds of orbs repeatedly crashing into the ground with bursts of psychic energy on the other side of the stadium, she stopped conjuring them, noting how dumb it would be to invest too much in striking an invisible target and concluding that if June had evaded all of them at this point, she would continue to do so. As she waited for the cloud to dissipate so she may engage with the fire-fox once again, she took advantage of her last few seconds of cover and placed her large hands on her torso. Her beady eyes and palms glowed a bright green, and she commenced to regrow pieces of her missing shell, a cell in self-repair. This was Recover, a technique requiring extensive amounts time and focus when heavily damaged or when forcing her body to its limits during an all-in Psyshock barrage. Fortunately, this was just a checkup, and Cyta would regain full mass in a matter of moments. Regardless of how safe she may feel, however, she could pray the price if she doesn't pay attention. Thus, even if not fully healed, the Reuniclus was ready to stop at a moment's notice and react to whatever comes if possible.

Gerald's order to Puff instantly triggered Cruor to shift all his focus onto the rabbit. Double Team was frustrating to deal with if not prepared, and its users all performed the technique in their own fashion. The Eelektross observed closely as duplicates emerged.

"Jumps to the side...another is born from dust. Heh, how poetic. Also obvious...Hm? Only two? I've faced worse."

He was surprised at the Lopunny's method of using the move, as well as the fact that there were only two fakes to deal with. By hopping sideways, and by the clones being so distinctly created, the original Puff hadn't even mixed with them yet and was thus plain to see from Cruor's perspective. Just to be safe, he glimpsed at their feet--all owning shadows as expected. It wasn't going to be that easy. As the triplets taunted him in unison, the Serpent's blood sparked to life. Ah, yes, this was a reminder of war--where such gestures drove him to rip his foes limb from limb, not to qualm anger nor retain pride but to prove gloriously wrong the enemy! Oh, how satisfying it was to witness the devastated, horrified faces of prey defeated! Oh, how overrated it was to fight for something! It meant nothing for the side that loses, for the side whose values and beliefs are erased from dying minds and dying hearts. It mattered little why Puff had provoked him; he would regret it, and what a treat that would be!

"Alright...I'll play your little game of Chase the Lopunny."

The giant eel began slithering towards Puff, dampening the ground below and sinking it from his weight. Aware that his opponent was much faster, however, Cruor did not approach his top speed, as there was no need. Moreover, if he kept it a secret, he could risk trying to catching the Lopunny with a surprise burst of aggression if given the opportunity. His eyes locked on to what he believed to be the original Puff, determined to follow him if he began switching around with his duplicates. As he advanced, Cruor shut his toothed, round maw, reeled back his head, fired a large glob of foul-smelling, purple liquid toward what he believed to be one of the duplicates (He was almost convinced into using another ranged attack, but if countered it would explode and potentially form a dust cloud similar to the one on Cyta’s end of the field, allowing the Lopunny to mix and the real one to be lost). If it was struck by the poison attack and disappeared, he'd shoot another Acid Spray at the other clone. If the first clone dodged, then his second attack would again be aimed at it. The latter of the possibilities actually favored Cruor in this case, as investing two attacks in one duplicate would make it seem as if he believed that one to be the original Puff potentially persuading Gerald to have the actual original “take advantage” of the distraction. Regardless of whether or not one or both of the duplicates survive, the Eelektross was playing minds game of his own, and he would be ready for the Puff that mattered as he continued to charge in. Even in the scenario where he is incorrect in his initial assumption, it would mean that the true Puff was the one in danger of being scorched by boiling acid. It was theoretically a win-win situation for Cruor, but hence, theoretically.

And maybe he was the fool all along.
 
Markus walked outside the stadium, as he felt a chill on his back, signaling something was wrong. He then walked along the fairgrounds, as he heard a distant whine. It came from an alleyway, as he knew something was awfully familiar with that tone of whining. It was Rover, the Arcanine, badly wounded, and near him, were 2 goons. "Wow, this boy's Arcanine is useless." They said, as Markus appeared on the scene. "Oh look, its the little twat again." One sniggered. "Ha! You are so weak, even your Pokemon is weak as well." The other one taunted. Both took out an ultra ball, and tossed out a Cryognal, and a Unfeazant. "We got these from our Unova Pokesteal operations." They said, as a battle ensued.

Markus brought out his Lucario, and Luxray, both ready on the battle. Markus started it off with a Colse Combat. The Lucario ran towards the Cryognal, and gave a barrage of punches. The Cryognal crashed to the ground, fainted. He then tells his Luxray to use Wild Charge on the Unfeazant, the Luxray tackling the Unfeazant, sending electricity to the Unfeazant, dealing a type and STAB damage, causing it to faint too. The goons escaped, cursing the player, leaving the Arcanine behind.

Markus ran to his Arcanine, crying. "Rover, I'm sorry, I should have looked for you in the first place." He cried, the sounds of crying echoing along the whole fairgrounds. He carried the wounded Arcanine to a pokemon center. "Is he going to be okay?" Markus asked a nurse. "He will fully recover, but it will take a few weeks. Good thing you brought him here, or else, he may not remain in this world." The nurse answered.

A few hours later, Markus approached the resting Arcanine on his bed, his head resting on the Arcanine's chest, muttering sorry repeatedly. The Arcanine placed a paw on top of Markus' head, growling softly, in the form of "I'm okay. You are not at fault." The Arcanine's fur was damp from Markus' tears. And it went on for long.
 
Gerald didn't like this situation.

He had that pit in his stomach, as if he slipped up and made a bad decision. Probably because he did, and he saw the results slamming June repeatedly. It was Psyshock- it was an attack that June had once known, but was long forgotten in exchange for the "superior" Psychic. He was lucky he even was able to identify the attack- because the side effect was really going to screw over anything relying on resistance to those types of attacks, just like June. It put him far too much over the edge, and that's what he didn't like.

In reality, Gerald was over exaggerating just a tad. Yes, it was bad thing to have against her. Yes, June still was hit quite a few times. But, she was still standing. That was the important thing. Gerald was so absorbed about this attack though, he hadn't even realized one of Puff's clones just burst.

Well, burst was a bad way to put it. Dust doesn't "burst", after all. Disintegrated would be a better term. But Gerald hadn't even taken note of it, before Puff squeaked in response to his fallen clone.

Gerald, stop being stupid! He told himself. Do what you have to do. 1,000,000 Poke Dollars. That's enough money to pay twenty years of rent! Not that you'll even have to pay for that, because you can buy your own house! It's time to do what you've wanted to do for a long time! Is June or Puff on the ground? No! Come up with a plan, you tool!

Right, right,
He reassured himself. All Gerald needed to do was step back, breath, and look at things he could take advantage of. Puff, he had a strategy that had worked in the past. The eel seemed slow enough to become an easy victim to it, and the fact it seemed to used ranged moves (Well, he had never seen a physical moves that left a puddle of acid on the ground) would make it even better.

"Puff, Swagger on the eel!"

The rabbit gave a sly grin at his command. There was nothing like infuriating an opponent into seeing nothing but red, to the point of hurting themselves. And Puff was already an agitator in the first place, making it a perfect move for him! He and his remaining double jumped in front of one the beast's eyes. He began exuding this red aura (Which his clone lacked), keeping his sly face. He rose his hands, and basically gestured for Cruor to "Bring it". He was a juicy worm on the end of a fishing rod, and he just had to see if the eel would bite.

With Puff out of the way, that left June. June is trickier, but perhaps a burn could help out. It obviously doesn't ride on physical attacks, but the damage will still stack up over time. Gerald was slowly becoming more confident in his battling once again.

"
June, Will-O-Wisp on the cell!"

Her stick once again ignited. However, these flames were a dark violet shade as opposed to an orange color. And unlike the previous attack, it split into five separate embers as it burst forward from the stick. June had to note how Cyta had barely moved from her starting position. She was obviously not a sitting duck, but she was still an easy target. Besides, it looked like she was doing...self assessment? Oh well. There wasn't much the green being could do to get an attack that June wouldn't see in. It actually made the fox smirk, just a bit, out of confidence.

This is good, Gerald monologued to himself once more. Keep this up and you may win. He could feel confidence pulsing through his team members. While the Psyshock had been a shock, it just taught him to be careful with the types of attacks he threw out. Seriously, other than Psyshock and the whole lack of commands thing, Deo had probably pulled all his tricks out of his hat. Sleeve. Gerald wasn't extremely good with sayings, but that was beyond the point. The point was, Deo and his Pokemon wouldn't surprise him, June, or Puff anymore.

Probably.
 
"June, Will-O-Wisp on the cell! Puff, Swagger on the eel!"

With those ten words--coupled with the sight of the lopunny and the remaining copy hopping to one side of him--the shrewd Serpent's thoughts detonated, birthing countless permutations of future actions and reactions. However, as with all sparks, the weakest of them faded as instantly as they were born. Cyta was always awed by her teammate's ceaseless exercise, his ability to create, tackle, and eliminate so many strategies at once. This explained why he was so skilled at chess: he played like a computer. Sadly, he was most definitely not a computer, and thus his gift was also a hinderance, often times causing him to think a tad too long before taking action by the standards of battle.

Regenerated to her full mass once more, Cyta finally had a clear view of the braixen--as well as the quintet of violet flames headed her way--through the now-dissipated dust cloud. An idea of her own jumped at her, one which could exploit so severely June's mistake that she needn't bother considering alternatives, one that would narrow down Cruor's decisions as well. Whirling around, she made a panic-ridden break for her partner as if in a desperate attempt to avoid June's attack...which immediately stuck the cell pokemon's freshly-turned back. As the purple orbs of fire sunk into her jello-like exoskeleton, Cyta let out a high-pitched shriek in pretend agony. Given Gerald's unawareness of her species, the hope of the crafty redhead attempting such a status move on a holder of the Magic Guard ability had been realized without much incredulity from the reuniclus. Cyta's thick gelatin shell rendered the Will-O-Wisp--and all indirect attacks--ineffective, but her opponents needn't be aware. Drifting crookedly towards Cruor as if in shock, she was playing mind games of her own, aiming to provoke Gerald through false information to further guide his decisions in their favor.

Cyta also utilized this brief time to inform the scheme to her partner. Concentrating, she delivered a quick telepathic message as she slowly closed in on the other two competitors. Meanwhile, as if a virus ignored by her immune system, the scorching wisps inside her remained, beginning to migrate down her right arm. A filthy rat, a host, a carrier of a dangerous plague, the infected cell intended to transmit the burn status to the far more susceptible rabbit. If successful, Puff's newly crippled physical attacks would pack half the punch as before, on top of progressive damage. Where the uncertainty lied was the likelihood she wouldn't reach him, either from his own swiftness, June's intervention, or both. Her brain having done all it could, Cyta left the rest to the other one.

An individual of Cruor's character hearing in his mind the voice of the sweet, baby-faced Cyta declaring "Burn him!" was so powerfully ironic that he would have done a double take if not currently being bombarded with loads of crucial information at once. Then again, the eelektross doubted she noticed in the heat of the moment. Unlike him--whose body thrives in chaos, whose paranoid mind interprets every puny detail of the Earth in the context of survival and war--the reuniclus leaves much of herself behind upon entering the battlefield. Peaceful and optimistic, Cyta holds few emotional values regarding combat, and this can be a strength. All she says and does is purely strategic, void of pride, hastiness, curiosity, thrill. Cruor reckoned the Swagger currently being used to influence him would have no effect on her. Not at all.

More importantly, would HE fall victim to Puff's taunting? He wasn't going to risk finding out. At Gerald's words Cruor instinctively lowered his head and narrowed his central vision on Puff's torso alone, doing his best to ignore Puff's facial expressions, the loudest voice in body language. Swagger seemed to be quite a desperate tactic, especially in a large tournament setting, as hardened battlers shouldn't give way to goading. And yet, it was that very fact--as well as poorly-hidden danger signals early on--which provoked the eelektross to avoid making eye contact at all costs, and assume that the Swagger must have been far more powerful than what his current knowledge let on. The first indicator was the triple-taunting of Puff and his clones early on. The second was moreso speculation but regarded his use of Double Team. He created only two clones (far fewer than expected) and in such a way which still distinguished the original. Additionally, once Cruor had approached and erased one of them, the real Puff hopped close to one side of him and to bait him with Swagger, which completely contradicted what Cruor had believed to be the lopunny's goal originally. Could it be that the true purpose of Double Team was not to hide Puff within doubles but to increase the effectiveness of his early taunts, lure him into a Swagger, and cloud his judgement? If it were to succeed, Cruor's resulting confusion would be even more detrimental to Deo's chances of victory than even Gerald would realize due to the eelektross's role as the tactician.

Thankfully, while the suspected plan was great, the execution was poor. For one, the warning signs were obvious. From his mockery at the very beginning to his smirk Cruor had spotted just before dropping his eyes, Puff had made it quite apparent that breaking one's focus was a specialty of his, especially since Cruor had been successfully tempted the first time. The flaw in it all was that he had to be fooled a second time in the same fashion, giving up on subtlety. Another issue was that while utilizing one move to set up for another can be effective, the downside was that if the second move failed, the success of the first one was irrelevant, and this was exactly the case for Puff's Double Team.

Now, there was the chance that Double Team HAD failed in its original purpose, and, realizing that Puff had been exposed all along, Gerald was forced to improvise and head in a different direction. In the end, however, none of these theories changed the fact that Cruor had simply, well, ignored Puff's attempt to agitate him.

The oversized eelektross noted how near the unexpectedly small lopunny had come to him, just a few meters, possibly to increase the effectiveness of Swagger. Regardless, it was a risk he could take advantage of. Even at such a short range, Puff could most likely dodge another Acid Spray. He had seen it already and was likely aware of its charge time. Cruor's angle relative to him would make it difficult to aim anyway. No, he decided to do something else, something that would hopefully catch his opponent by surprise.

Smashing his palms into the ground, his thick claws, facing Puff, pierced the dirt as they were designed(Others of his species used them to yank their bodies onto shore before pinning and dragging their prey back into the depths). His shape and sheer size made it virtually impossible to halt his momentum, but with his fixated claws acting as pivots for the rest of his body, he was able to redirect it instead toward his target. Then, with all the might in his triceps, the eelektross launched himself with a sudden burst of speed. Not revealing his top slithering speed in the beginning of the match, the Serpent had hopefully deceived his opponents into believing he was sluggish. Although, in this case he wasn't slithering at all. Now he was a flying projectile just inches off the ground, and his trajectory had locked onto Puff's coordinates. In addition, the lower half of his body, instead of being behind him, was now whipping in front of him from the centripetal force of his sudden shift in direction. See, Cruor intends to get a hold of the lopunny, but his arms, having outstretched behind him when throwing him, claws raking up clumps of earth upon release, wouldn't be capable of pulling back all their lengths in front of him upon reaching Puff in mere fractions of a second. Thus, the predator planned to seize his prey not with his arms but with his long tail. Not bearing deathly eyes, protruding teeth, or talons, and swinging in from the side, the tail was the limb that hopefully caught the least attention. It was also the limb that approached at the greatest velocity, and was aimed straight for Puff's midsection, balancing the difficulty between both leaping above and ducking below it. Neck, tail, arms, and fins flailing every which way, Cruor was a highly-disorientating, flying bundle of giant-sized noodles that had been shot out of a cannon, but within the chaos was an act of precision.

If he managed to wrap his tail around his victim, he'd then hurl the rabbit with all his strength to his partner, for she is truly slow and could more surely transfer the Will-O-Wisp if the target was brought to her upon convenience. Additionally, while airborne, Puff would remain in the trajectory of a Flamethrower from June aimed at Cyta, thus complicating her choices if she were to get involved and potentially pressure her to further leak her moveset.

The surface of the reuniclus’s burly arm radiated violet from the blazing wisps seemingly boiling it inside. Her fingers curled into a boulder-shaped fist harboring boulder-crushing strength, a quality unheard of in other psychic-types. She would cripple the rabbit with more than just his own partner's status move alone, and she would deliver the blow with the same child-like indifference in her expression.

Hands in his pockets and lips curled inward as if searching for something to do, Deo couldn't provide much insight into the battle since the pace was so fast, but it seemed as if his teamates were working around Puff's and June's tactics unscratched. If they kept this up, their path to victory seemed smooth-sailing.

Head still dipped low, he took a glance at Gerald, whose demeanor remained calm. At the very least, the boy appeared to work extremely well under pressure. Deo wasn't surprised, of course, accustomed to observing impressive qualities in other trainers which he lacked. They needed them more than he did, anyway.
 
What should we do, sir?
Well- climb the mountain, I suppose.
And when we reach the top, sir?
We go back down, I’m sure.
What will we find at the bottom, sir?
I don’t think I know.
Well- we’ll just have to find out, sir.


The sound of cheering ricochet off of the darkening, interrupted skyline, fiercely engaged in the beats of battle like the bellows of a drum, dutifully declaring how the moment was spun. It started feebly like a wisp of a cloud, a slow, subtle decrescendo of held breaths and heartbeats, and the stage was empty, the battlefield cold. Then, lauder, haughtier, heavier, breathing itself seemed to be the crowd’s voice, interrupted by the huge cymbals of the players’ entrances, one, two, three, four, five, six bodies on the field, and the noise cheered and crashed and roared and hushed just as suddenly, muffled by the voice of the wind: a long, trilling drum.

If the crowd was a bird, Phi supposed, it would be a foolish bird, lashing out at the predators and goading the prey, cheered on by chaos and hushed by silence. Its voice would croak the longer its life waned, shilled out by the constant rigour of being, as if life always had to be this way. It would grow thin and gaunt by hunger, for its prey would flee from the rash, haunting calls, and its feathers would splinter, rough and harried by predators, always called upon it for reasons no more necessary than the drummer’s practice after the competition was done. But the crowd grew no more quant, not duller, not harsher, it didn’t croak nor did it die, it was not a bird; yes, the crowd, the mechanical, thrill of the crowd, was just fine raving when the bird was already done. Distanced from the thrill of the battle, escaping from the stitch across her heart and the rope around her ribs, breathing with the breath of everything that was gaunt and masterful and holy, torn from the hurricane winds of a fight, Phi breathed slowly to the beat of the drums, wondering if it was somehow necessary to crow with such mechanical pleasure. She enjoyed its consistency, its life, its blood, yet it had none; aside from the beat, a battle was as chaotic as a storm, and a crowd as rampant as a wave against the shore, its voices as harsh as a wind-up toy, click clack click clack, roar, cheer, hush.

Nevertheless, as a trainer, it seemed it was her duty to enjoy it- and no, not just her duty, but as a human it was her thrill to engage in the mass of tense euphoria and as a writer she was tied to it like a twine around the throat of a Snubbul, always pulled back the way she’d came, there was always something new, something grand, something enticing, there was always words- yes, that was it, it was the words that drew her in. She recalled the first battle this long, harrowing, bountiful day; chains, black, shadow-like chains, she could hear them rustle as they were whipped to the ground, and fields- fields of electrical energy, words rushing, mind blowing, heart freezing, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight eyes in the battlefield, eight eyes in her mind. And the most recent- yes, the battle stood jaded with precious stones in her memory, springing to life of the wild and the chaotic, new and fresh as a petal in the breeze, before it had fallen, cascading down in an immaculate plummet, crisp and fresh and free, wintering in the stew of dust and debri, sight obscured but heart as bright as summer, and, yes-! It had encompassed all, writhing with the fury of four seasons, coal eyes and a wind master, stone heart and a cheerful grin. How recent it had been, yet how far away it felt. Months, perhaps. She was already forgetting the details. Oh, how fleeting was memory.

Phi was staring at the skyline again, dreamy eyes obscured in the shade of thought’s drought, staring emptily at its broken form. The sun inched further down, and the drums of battle trickled down her back as if the faint cheers wielded icicles down her spine, beating them subtly against her bones until her body reverberated faintly with the chill of a fight. And for a moment, she grew hyperaware of the creature within her arms, rough, salamander-like sulphur skin chafing her hands, wide, triangular snout burrowing into the side of her coat, eyes closed, feet twitching in an everlasting dream, fine brown hairs pushing past the heat of her coat and brushing the edge of the bag within. She was trapped by the skyline. She wouldn’t dare look down.

Could you become addicted to battle, to fighting? Could it drive you insane? The colors, the chain, the field, the wonder… how much of that was real, and how much of it was… poetry, mere words? Words- those she was devoted to, words… but sometimes they seemed so flat, so unable to capture the essence of time, and anything they couldn’t grasp was gone forever, leaving them to scramble fruitlessly, mad with frustration, mad enough to strike and tackle and grapple without restraint, consequences ignored, trying so desperately to capture-
… of course, there were no words for it, was there?

Phi’s cheeks grew cold, arms bristling like the back of a wolf, staring, shaking at the breaking sky. He hadn’t a name. The creature in her arms, he hadn’t a name.

There were no words.

And the girl- the young girl, she realized, the dreamy girl, she’d forgotten, felt an image break upon her brow. An image of a field of roses, ensnared by a presence she couldn’t grasp, an image of a maddened woman, as fierce as a beast, chest surging, mouth wordless, hand clenching at a fast ball, peering through the thorns to the flash of a yellow tail, waiting, wordless, tense, heavy, lost, furious, for it to vanish. Smoke, mirrors, clouds, dirt, the sound of metal scratched by thorns, a horrible, retching, riiitch, riiiitch, and Phi grew guilty with the burden of being, and Phi grew guilty with the burden of words, and her heart in her throat and her mind in her heart, Phi saw, for a moment, a monstrosity. She saw her.

Truly, wasn’t it, that the only mistakes in life could be made by one’s self? For you were one mind, and all you felt and all you heard and everything was pieced together inside it. You were a conscience- you and no one else, yes, you and no one else in your mind. The world didn’t revolve around you- oh, that’s what they said, but it did, it always did. You are not anyone else. You are not we, you are not you, you are me, and in the world there is only me.

Why did it hurt to think that? What’s so wrong about the truth, that she must obscure it with a thousand words; was she scared she’d forget it?

Tick, tick, tick, tick,

It was true, wasn’t it, that her mind wasn’t anyone else’s but her own? And if you can only perceive the world through the mind, than truly there was no one more than me. At least, to me.

Tick, tick, tick, tick,
Words on pages, flat and still and
Tick, tick, tick, tick,
Clocks like drums counting down and
Tick, tick, clash, reeeech-
Boom.


When had she written that? Was it just then?
Oh dear, she musn’t forget. Musn’t ever forget.
Breath in and out.
There, there. What was a world without words? You musn’t blame them, and you musn’t blame me. Goodness, everything was circular, thoughts and words and clouds and such. It was time to return.

Phi drifted towards the battlefield, an abra clasped in both arms, her gaze returned to that in which she’d come to the city that day. Obscured by clouds, flat and still, gazing, ever gazing, a loyal heart at one heel, eyes as clear as window panes, and Kebnia stared upon the girl and, leg twitching, tail flicking subtly from side to side, walked right by her feet.

Watching.

One, two, three, four, five hearts on one soul.
His and his companions and hers.
It was the heart that acted emotionally, the soul that acted dutifully, the mind that was just a puppet, controlled by a heart and soul. When the heart pumped, life flared, emotion rose, blows were struck, chaos, power, calculations-! battle, battle it was, as rhythmic as a thousand wind-up toys. And all of it on one soul- all the battles of her five beasts, twisting, writhing, grinning, crying.

Kebnia stepped a pace ahead as Phi drifted back, like a wind, her chaos spent, her mind, once torn in a cyclone, once dwelling in its aftermath, now ceased. Through the drums of battle, the Skuntank could just hear her mutter,

''There was a steaming mist in all the hollows, and it had roamed in its forlornness up the hill, like an evil spirit, seeking rest and finding none.'' [A Tale of Two Cities, Charles Dickens]

And Phi returned slowly to the battlefield.
 
Mmm.

Mhm.

The Will-O-Wisp scorched the cell with it's violet flares, and a pained call confirmed it's hit.

The Swagger didn't fair so well though. With a simple flick of the eye, Cruor managed to avoid being enraged by Puff. Granted, the Lopunny didn't understand the meaning of "subtle", and quite enjoyed showboating himself, so it didn't really take a genius to see the Swagger coming. Not helping was Gerald's announcement of the move.

That was the thing that made this tricky. Deo, for whatever reason, never announced his attacks. It's not like Gerald really needed him to, but...It was very obnoxious, especially considering basically every trainer Gerald had faced before this had used vocal commands. Sure, he had fought plenty of wild Pokemon before, which did not call out their attacks either, but they also didn't pair up on him, nor did they employ strategy more than "Fight or Retreat". It also lead to a question as to who was pulling the strings here. Unless Deo was somehow using his mind to relay instructions, they were probably working on their own. And if they were doing this on their own...Well, that would be actually impressive.

There was something about the green floating critter though. The Will-O-Wisp began coagulating within it's jelly exterior, moving through the thick liquid, straight up to the arm. It was rather odd, what purpose would that fulfill? Limiting the area of damage? It very much intrigued him- intrigued him enough to look away from the eel. It took a squeak from Puff to drag him back to the battle.

When the Eelektross had jumped at Puff, the rabbit locked up. He hadn't expected such speed- He simply expected the lumbering eel to just a bit faster than his companion. June didn't even know what to do, she shocked at the sudden burst of energy as well. Had Gerald been paying attention, he could've told her to ready a Psychic, but he wasn't, sooo...

Puff had been bracing for an attack, not even anticipating the tail. But when hit with the cold tail wrapping around his waist, it really unnerved him. Enough to make him cringe and cry out for his inattentive trainer.

Being whipped back to the fight, Gerald thought that the serpent may of been slamming Puff into the ground, but he caught the view just in time to watch the rabbit be flung away. Then, it all clicked together- the flame transfer, the fling, and all that.

They were going to burn Puff.

There was no time for strategy! He needed a workaround and quick. He just needed a second-

Ice. Fire. Stop it. That'll do!

"Puff, Ice Beam, arm!" Gerald desperately hoped his command wasn't too vague.

Thankfully, it wasn't. Puff shot out a blast of frost at the cell's burning limb. The point was less of damaging it, more dampening the flame and impact. If Cyta tried to use something like Protect or Reflect, it would definitely stop it, but would also probably block Puff too, ruining the burn attempt. And not to mention she was slow, so evading it would be tricky for her as well. At least, assuming that she had no more tricks up her sleeves. But the eel...

He'd need to be occupied. Just in the case it had a ranged attack. June was still available, and there wasn't much she could do to help Puff out. Psychic would take too long to set up, and Shock Wave was her only other attack. Well, except Overheat, but that was a last resort.

If it is a Water type, that Flamethrower is still going to stun it. If it isn't, well it hurts more. It's still may not be expecting an attack either, as its probably thinking that June will help Puff.

"Now June, Flamethrower the other!"

While Gerald's comment was vague, she got the message. If she fired one at Puff, that would probably hit both him and the cell. The eel would be on the receiving end of this burst of fire. He was a big target too, plus he was still recovering from the whole tossing Puff too. Unless he was once again faking things out, he was probably going to be hit. So, June took one step towards the serpent, raised her stick yet again, and blasted out another jet of fire.

Probably. That word was what Gerald's strategies relied on. That things would probably go to plan. That they probably wouldn't have many more tricks. That Deo probably wasn't giving commands. He didn't like having to rely on those words, but it was all he could rely on. There was no point in being cocky and knowing he'd hit. There was always a small margin of possibilities for failure, no matter what.

...But he probably had this in the bag.
 
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