A Comedy of Circumstances [PG 16-17ish]

Name: May F. Summers

Age: 27

Nationality: Johto

Faction: Technocrat

Gender: Female

Appearance: Standing at about five feet six inches tall, May is not noted for her height, or her depth for that matter. Her frame is extremely slight, almost pixie-like, to the point where until she grew her red hair out some of her more dense co-workers mistook her for a young boy. Whil definitely feminine, May keeps her hair relatively short, the better to work in a labratory with. Her usual attire also reflects her consciousness of the dangers of some experiments she oversees, as her white lab coat is extremely flame retardant and designed to be resistant to chemical spills, etc. While May claims her most attractive feature is her eyes, none of her co-workers can verify this, mostly because May hides them behind a rather odd pair of glasses at almost all times- the lenses are almost entirely opaque as seen from the outside, and they're decorated with a pair of red swirls. May usually opts to wear said glasse in lieu of routine safety goggles, a trait that baffles some of her co-workers.

May's usual attire consists of the aforementioned glasses and lab coat, a pair of khaki slacks that are suitable for working in or taking a long walk, and a red shirt worn beneath the coat. While off duty she wears a golden necklace- a gift from her mother- and can be seen constantly fiddling with her Personal Digital Assistant.

Pokemon: Only one. Porygon-2, AKA Haro, AKA 'Rubber_Ducky", a Pokemon given to her for assistance in creating and running computer simulations of data. While May's expertise is in the field of mechanical engineering, Haro more than makes up for her sometimes hopeless programming skills. Able to communicate with her via Instant Messenger, Haro rarely appears in person, usually preferring to remain part of May's computer system by keeping himself within her laptop or PDA.

Intro Post​

"You're not serious."

Elwood G. Thatch, head of marketing and public relations for Silph, folded his hands on his desk. "Perfectly serious, Ms. Summers."

May stared at him, though since she was still wearing her glasses, the dramatic effect of this action was rather lost. "Mr. Thatch, I've been isolated from society for the past three years working on a top-secret project. I'm twenty-seven years old, I've never spoken to an audience bigger than my immediate co-workers, and I live alone. With my Porygon. I don't even have a Meowth to talk to. And you're asking me to-"

"To deliver a pre-written speech on behalf of the Engineering division at Silph because your supervisor is currently recovering from heart surgery, yes," Thatch replied impassively, removing his hands from the desk and resting them on his rather large paunch. "We need this speech delivered, Ms. Summers, and it is the opinion of the Marketing division that you are the best-qualified to deliver it. Unless you wish to terminate your employment here at Silph Co., I suggest you step up to the plate."

May couldn't believe the words coming from this man's mouth. In a rarely-seen move, she removed her glasses, the better to get across her point. "Mr. Thatch, I don't think you understand what you're doing. You're about to unleash a twenty-seven year old woman who hasn't spoken in public in the entirety of her life on a large audience to attempt to argue for the value of the technology Silph has introduced to the world in front of a large audience composed primarily of dignitaries from two major political factions, despite the fact that she has little to no personal skills and spends much of her free time fantasizing about what it would be like to actually get asked out to dinner sometime and drawing blueprints for-"

"Miss Summers, that is quite enough. Our psychiatrist-"

"Who's a total hack, by the way-"

"Who is very highly qualified," Thatch continued sternly, his piggy eyes blazing menacingly, "Informs me that your personal skills are without a doubt on-par with those required for this assignment. Besides, weren't you a debater once?"

"That was over ten years ago, and it was one-on-one debates. No audience," May snapped. "Mr. Thatch, I'm not trying to weasel out of this responsibility, I'm just trying to tell you-"

"Then kindly accept this assignment and do not speak of this matter any further," Thatch growled.

Sensing that continuing this discussion might be potentially lethal to any chance she had left of continuing her employment at Silph, May nodded and slipped her glasses back on. "Alright, sir. I'll do it." She stood and turned, preparing to walk out the door, when something occured to her. She turned back. "Sir, in lieu of receiving bonus payment of this, could you see if you could persuade Ms. Silph to look over my-"

Thatch sighed. "I wondered when you'd bring that up, and the answer is no, Miss Summers. Ms. Silph has already rejected your designs for... as you called them, 'high-impact mobile suits' as being both economically unfeasible and highly dangerous to both pilot and the general public. If you have anything new to submit, please do so through the-"

"But sir, I've improved the-"

"THE PROPER CHANNELS," Thatch thundered, standing up in a rare display of frustration. "Miss Summers, if you wish to keep your job here at Silph, get out of this office without another word."

"But-"

"NOW."

May shook her head and left the room. "They never do listen," she muttered under her breath.


Home was a small apartment in the middle of Saffron city, towering above the damp streets. It had only the essentials- a bedroom, a bathroom, the heater, a refrigerator and stovetop, and the desk off to the side with her computer sitting on it, humming away. May sighed as she walked in the door. Home sweet empty home. She thought about making something to eat, then decided against it. What she really needed now was someone to talk to. She walked over to her computer, turned it on, and waited patiently for it to load. Finally, when the operating system was up and running, she opened up her instant messenger and signed in.

He was online. Of course he was. He literally lived on the internet. The chat window opened.

Rubber_Ducky: Yo. How'd the meeting go?

May had to smile at the username. Haro was the epitome of self-aware technology. She typed her reply.

Dr_Insano: Bad. I have to go to Fortree and make a speech, or I lose my job. Wish you had been there. T_T
Rubber_Ducky: Oh, come on, I can't be traveling around all the time. SOMEONE needs to run the virus scans around here to make sure nobody's trying to trash your classified files.
Dr_Insano: Iknowrite?
Rubber_Ducky: So, I'm coming with to give the speech, right?
Dr_Insano: If you promise not to hack other computers and send spam e-mails to amuse yourself.
Rubber_Ducky: Hey! I'm the picture of innocence. >>
Dr_Insano: Mmmmhmmmm. And the 'Pink Slip Virus' incident?
Rubber_Ducky: Purely coincidental with my boredom. u_u
Dr_Insano: Riiiiiight.
Rubber_Ducky: Alright, I promise.

The screen flickered, and suddenly something that resembled a pink-and-blue rubber duck of massive proportions appeared momentarily before transforming into wireless data and downloading itself to May's PDA. She smiled slightly.

Hopefully, with Haro giving her cues, this wouldn't be so bad.

Hopefully.

Oh dear, so many calls for Porygons. I'd rather not have a big bunch of them floating about. :x

Anyway, first things first.

@Neko64: You seem to have fixed things up now, so...~Accepted~

@Meneur d'enfer: Same for you. ~Accepted~

@Raikiri: Writing quality seems passable but...there is one bigger overarching problem.


Your character just doesn't seem like a Utopianist at all, on...well, any count. That's like your average apathetic, atheist citizen. I'm quite fine with having a moderately religious one, but both of them being completely indifferent to the whole thing (not to mention the mention of people who didn't even befriend pokémon to begin with)...

...well, it's like a pro-lifer just kind of smiling and nodding at people passing a motion of free abortions for all. It just...looks like you took your average secular character then stuck a couple of 'oh, but we are Utopinaists' remarks on there. That's...not what I'm looking for here. If you can get me a Utopianist who actually acts like Utopianist, that would be great. But as is...no dice. ~Pending~

@Proddit: Oooookay...I see a number of issues here.

First off. Age. Silph would certainly not hire a fourteen-year old for anything but a temporary errand runner, if even that. They would certainly not employ them on any regular basis, let alone entrust them with a valuable pokémon.

Second. The Databall thing? That smells suspiciously much like a pointless attempt at avoiding the 'no pokéballs' clause. None of that please.

Third. Your use of language and grammar...could do with some adjustments. It's very flat and you have quite a bit of misformed sentences there.

~Pending~

@ScarletWeather: ...well it's about time. >O

Ah well, at least you gave me something worth the wait. Good quality of writing, use of faction, and a creative approach to the 'communicating with pokémon bit'. Yep, this is in. ~Accepted~

Name: Tyriel McHubbard

Age: [classified], assumed early-to-mid-twenties

Gender: Female

Nationality: Kanto

Faction: Freelancer

Appearance: Growing up, Tyriel was the sort of woman who drew more attention than she cared for. Appearing slightly short and thin, with long black hair, a mild tan, and pale green eyes, one could easily describe her as "lovely." One's life would be rather short if one did indeed describe her as such. She is physically strong, thanks to her rigorous conditioning, and is more than capable of outpacing nearly any opponent. Her limbs appear small and delicate, but are very tough and muscular. Her face is rather striking to behold, with her eyes perfectly set apart, her slender nose, and her thin lips.

In stark contrast to her outstanding form is her even more intimidating ensemble. Tyriel's outfit of choice is a custom-built combat suit, crafted from fusing military combat armor with a number of additional systems. The suit consists of only one piece, fashioned from a flexible yet sturdy material, and encompasses the entire body, as well as all extremities excluding the head, which has only a small retractable earpiece for communication purposes. The chest of the suit holds four concealed storage compartments: one between the right breast and shoulder, one between the left breast and shoulder, one on the left of the stomach, and one more on the right; her gun is stored on a rack on the back of the suit, and can be ejected in suddenly-hostile circumstances.

Tyriel's weapon of choice is a C3 Caseless Rifle. This rare weapon carries fifty 5.56 assault rounds, and has an RPM of over 800. In addition, it also bears a precision single-shot mode and a scope (magnification x20), allowing it to double as a sniper rifle in certain situations. As the name suggests, the gun does not use traditional clips; instead, each fresh magazine is stored within compact, disposable containers. Once inserted into the gun, the containers empty their cargo and eject, reducing the gun's weight and making reloads a breeze, akin to an injection from a needle. The weapon is long, over two feet in length, and is very tall, appearing almost rectangular. It is narrow, just over an inch in width.

Pokémon: "Kit," a female Pikachu. Kit is a mute, has a chronic limp, and suffers from dwindling eyesight, but is still capable of defending herself in a fight. She has a knack for electronics, and performs maintenance work for Tyriel. Though very loyal and subservient, she is passive and distant, and always seems rather sad. She occasionally accompanies Tyriel into the field.

"One-Shot," or "One" for short, a male Nidorino. One's natural neurotoxins have been boosted to deadly levels, thanks to a special, carefully-regulated diet. He serves as Tyriel's assistant on assignments where subtlety is required, or when Tyriel herself is unable to act. His potent Poison Sting causes unconsciousness in approximately twelve seconds and, if no antidote is administered, death in approximately sixty-three.

Introduction: It was the easiest job in the world. Babysit some brat for a few days, stand around and look intimidating, get paid handsomely. A trained Mankey could've done it.

"Stay on your toes, boys." She cleared her throat loudly. The security captain groaned softly. "And girl. We've got reports of some suspicious characters around this area. Probably nothing, but keep your eyes open, just in case.

The entourage started across; in the front, the captain set the pace, walking with haste determination. Back and to either side was a pair of almost-matching guards; they comically mirrored one another as they walked, soliciting a chuckle now and then from the rear of the group. Directly behind the captain was the Chairman himself, though Chairboy was more accurate. Barely out of his teens, spoiled rotten, and entirely untested by the world, he was the exact kind of person Ty wanted nothing to do with…but at least she got paid for it. Paid well, at that.

Behind him stood Tyriel herself, cool as morning dew. This was a cakewalk, and she knew it. Behind her stood another pair of guards to either side; though they lacked the comic mirror of the other pair, one held his hand on his holster, daring any of the random passersby to try him. The other was sweating heavily; whether he was hot, sick, or had some severe medical condition was beyond Tyriel's knowledge.

It was getting even more crowded on the bridge now. A tourist jostled Ty, and she replied with a sharp jab of her nightstick. The tourist limped away groaning, leaving Ty with a grin.

Suddenly, the captain's voice broke through the din. "Hostiles! Protect the Chairman!"

Tyriel looked around widly, but she couldn't pick out any of the people as the enemy. She tried to cry out, but her own voice was lost in the bursts of gunfire that suddenly erupted. The crowd broke into hysterics, and the screaming made it impossible to determine where the shots were coming from.

The Chairman! She spun around, and saw him cowering on the ground a distance away. The twins were down, pools of irregular blood marring their symmetry. The captain was firing at a man carrying a large rifle of some sort. The assailant leveled his gun and fired; the captain's thin uniform was useless against the deadly rounds. He dropped instantly.

Ty struggled to pull her gun out of its holster, and by some miracle found it in her hands. She pointed it at the man, but she couldn't find the trigger….the Chairman saw the gunman take aim, and turned to Tyriel. His eyes were wild and filled with fear, and his voice made her blood run cold.
"I don't want to die! Do something, please!"

She saw the bright flash, and felt something wet spray across her. The Chairman fell to the ground…Ty saw the gunman turn towards her…her hands were shaking, she couldn't get a clear shot…her visions blurred...she felt the ground rushing up towards her…

"Mistress?"

Ty snapped out of the daydream, and looked around for the voice. It took her a moment to recognize it.

"Mistress, I am registering increased endorphins, and accelerated heart and adrenalin rates. Are you okay?"

"Agh…yeah, fine."

"Are you certain? My analysis indicates several anomalies."

"I said I'm fine."

"Very well, mistress."

She rubbed the back of her head. She'd had that nightmare again; it seemed to be happening more and more lately. It's a shame BIAS couldn't comprehend the concept of dreams, but she was just a program, after all. She only knew what she was programmed to know.

She needed some cheering up. She picked up the briefcase in her lap and opened it. The sight of the shiny coins inside sent a rush of happiness through her. She couldn't help but grin. A voice over the intercom interrupted her reverie.

"Miss McHubbard? We will be arriving shortly."

She folded the case shut and stood up. Home at last.
**********************
She stretched and picked up on of the coins on the desk. It was nice to be out of the suit, and she didn't mind being in her underwear. After all, the only ones around were a pair of Pokémon and an AI.

"All right. BIAS, upload into the computer. Take all of the money I deposited, and redistribute it amongst all of my accounts."

"Yes, Mistress."

As the program transferred from the suit into the large computer terminal, Ty fingered one of the coins. This is what it all came down to. Cold, hard cash. She already had a hefty amount stored in several dummy accounts all across the web, but there was just something about solid, tangible gold and silver. And not just the fact that it was shiny. Though, admittedly, that was part of it.

"Mistress?"

"Unh?" she said, not bothering to look away from the round object in her hands.

"You have a new message."

"Who from?"

"There is no ID, mistress."

That caught her attention. Messages were usually jobs, but it was the unmarked ones that tended to pay the most. Of course, they also tended to involve more mortal peril, but, eh. Everything has its price.

"Run the file."

"It's a text file, mistress."

"Then put it on the screen," she said irritably. "Just do it, alright?"

"Yes, Mistress."

A few moments later, the bold white letters filed across her monitor.

[[FONT=&quot]Miss McHubbard. Your services have been highly recommended to us, and we have agreed to enlist them for a most sensitive matter. In a few short days, a summit will be held between two parties at a particular location. We wish you to attend this summit.][/FONT]

"Sounds easy enough."

[FONT=&quot][We wish you to see that the negotiations between the two parties involved are unsuccessful by any means necessary.][/FONT]

"Guess I spoke too soon." She didn't like the ominous "by any means necessary" at the end.

[FONT=&quot][Details of the summit and the parties involved have been included to-][/FONT]

"Yeah, I'll pass on that part. BIAS? Scan the document for anything that might be payment."

"Yes, Mistress."

A few moments passed. Then,

"One figure has been found."

Ty looked up at the screen. The figure she saw made her break out in a cold sweat. It was at least five times anything she'd ever been paid before. Another wobbly grin came.

"You….you sure that's the fee?"

"Based on the context of the figure in the passage, I would have to say 'yes,' mistress."

She held her face in her hand. Her mind was racing. She sat up and spoke quickly.

"BIAS, contact the pilot we contracted and offer him double the initial fee for a second trip. Then, download back into the suit."

"Yes, mistress."

"I'm gonna need some help on this one."
*********************

She found Kit in the small garage downstairs. She was busily working with a panel in the far corner; a sound of crackling electricity could be heard.

"Kit."

The Pika looked over at her.

"Prep yourself for travel. We've got a mother of a job ahead of us. Have you seen One?"

Kit silently gestured towards a door on the far end. Ty nodded.

"Good. Pack up whatever you need then get down to the airstrip. I'll meet you there."

She set out down the hall behind the door, and soon arrived at the infirmary. A rather scrawny Nidorino was there, resting on the bed. Ty gave him a sharp strike in the stomach.

"Wakey, wakey. We've got a job. Get whatever you need and get to the airstrip. Kit and me'll meet you there. Hurry up!"

One growled in confirmation and started the laborious task of dragging himself out of the bed. Ty turned and ran back down the corridor and up to the computer room. If there were a speed record for putting on combat armor, she would've broken it. Afterwards, she hurried to the airstrip outside, where the small jet was just landing. A voice crackled over her intercom.

"I hope to hell you've got a good reason for this. I had to cancel a date. You know how hard it is for me to get one of those?"

"Trust me, it'll be worth it."

Kit stood nearby, a small suitcase at her feet. She stared solemnly at Ty. At least, she seemed solemn. But, then, she always seemed like that, so it was hard to tell.

The figure on the screen flashed in her mind once more. She gave another grin, and felt herself grow wobbly. She detached the C3 and gave it a quick check, then replaced it. She thought about the task ahead of her.

Someone wanted these negotiations to fall through. And they were willing to pay a lot of money to make it happen.

@Sambul: Well, since you specifically contacted me about switching characters, I'll go ahead and not pass verdict on this one then. Go right ahead and submit whichever one you really want to play.

@dream's-epilogue: Now this...is lovely, actually. You can never have too many assassins in politics. Very impressive quality all around. I was a bit sceptical on the AI bit, but...it wouldn't look the same without it so you can keep it. There's still the small catch I mentioned via PM, but the profile itself is excellent so I'll call ~Accepted~.

Name: Sakura Saeki

Age: 19

Gender: Male

Nationality: Kanto

Faction: Technocrat

Appearance: Sakura is obscenely unkempt. His hair is long enough to drop down to his knees and make others believe it has never been cut. His hair is stringy enough to make others believe it has never been touched up. His face is normally covered by this hair, and is usually not visible. Being someone who has never had to go outside, his skin is extremely pale with a tiny tint of indigo. He is somehow both of slightly below-average height and somewhat gangly. His eyes are sunken and amber, and he actually needs glasses, but refuses to wear them. His teeth are extremely white, but also extremely jagged.

Sakura, contrary to the belief of many, actually does pay attention to what he wears. He just has an awful sense of fashion. His clothing is all white (possibly because of camouflage), and he usually cycles between a funeral kimono and a simple banyan because he hates to wear anything he finds "complicated". He usually wears relatively dirty running shoes, but they can never be seen since he wears no outfit in which his shoes would be visible.

Sakura carries with him various gadgets, similar to the ones supplied to other technocrats, but is too inept with technology to actually operate any of them. They make great paperweights though.

Pokémon: Sakura only has one Pokemon, a Bronzong named Renee. Renee was not actually his first Pokemon. His first Pokemon was a Pikachu (that he, with the creativity of a four-year old, named Pika) that his father had bought him when he was four. However, when Sakura was fourteen, a government official ran over and killed his Pikachu. His father bought him a Bronzor, speculating that they were impossible to run over. Although Sakura was devastated by the loss of his first Pokemon, he quickly accepted his new Pokemon, though he never showed the same level of affection. For an artificial Pokemon, Renee has a strongly developed personality, although he is often conflicted between whether he should be helpful or playful. Sakura insists that he never cared for the Pokemon in the first place, but still harbors a hateful grudge toward the government.

Introduction:
"Yes, Father." Sakura's strangely high but monotone voice slinked through the air again. His father sighed. "You weren't even listening. Can you even repeat what I said?"

"Yes. Watch for traitors. Et cetera. Yadda, yadda, yadda." Sakura gave a wholly inadequate summation of his father's orders. But his father didn't care. Even if he did, Sakura was reliable enough. And Sakura didn't care either. For the most part, he agreed with the ideological screed of his father. In fact, he was probably considerably more extreme than this father. But hearing it was still quite tiresome toward him. He glided out of the door as his father waved him off.

Sakura never liked those scientists. Sure, they got the grunt technological work Silph Co. needed done, but they never had the right priorities. Every once in a while, one of those scientists would get a strange idea in their head and then go and start spouting about some strange concept like "discovery" or "progress" and then prioritize it over the Company's well-being.

Now, Sakura couldn't have any of that. His father got two raises in the last year. He wanted a hat-trick. It would take just one scientist go rogue to go and screw things up for the Saekis. And those scientists were never too trustworthy. They always spent their time reading weird books with numbers and words Sakura couldn't understand and then drift off again back to their own la-la-land.

He sighed. He knew someone had to handle the esoteric "arcane" (Sakura's term for anything involving science and technology). And he sure as hell didn't want to do it. But he had to give them one concession. At least they were better than those kooky Utopianists. In Sakura's eyes, they were nothing but a motley gang of degenerates and weirdos, choking on a shared meal of delusions. Sakura didn't want anything to do with their slave morality. If it was up to him, he would have them all just shoved into some random volcano over in Orre. Though to also hand them a concession as well, they were nothing next to those government "stooges". Sakura might hesitate with the Utopianists. He'd sign up to personally do it to every government "stooge".

It really wasn't a bad job. And it's all Sakura could get after failing through school. He probably would have graduated at the top of his class. He was an expert on Pokemon, religion, government, writing, and pretty almost every academic subject. Except science. He even hated the word. And those scientists. Even though he wasn't supposed to hate them. But hating them would be so satisfying. But he wasn't supposed to. But it would be sooooo satisfying.

To pull off of that subject, the pay was good, he got to go to new places, and all he had to do was keep an eye on a bunch of scientists every once in a while. The occasional rogue scientist could be a threat, but they usually kept themselves docile enough. And he could glide around and kill time through some distraction he could find when he got there.

He slinked outside of his father's office. His flight was scheduled in five hours, so he had quite a bit of time to kill. He always hated killing time. He was anxious to get going. He felt that it would be a good time for a little prank. It was night, and there were always unsuspecting people in the streets of Saffron City.

He spotted one. A girl who looked barely above ten. Yes. Yes, she would do. It wasn't the first time he had tried to do this, but it never got old. Renee knew what he was doing and played his part. He shut down all of the electric lights on the street.

The girl looked a bit surprised. That's when Sakura started the gurgle. It was a mix between some kind of death croak and a gurgle, and it was something he had dedicated hours to practice. Her eyes darted nervously back and forth as she tried to discern the source of the sound. Too late.

Sakura jumped right in front of her. She was paralyzed and shaking. His hands slowly came out of the folds of his hair and toward her. His face had somewhat a grimace, as if he was trying to smile but resisting something. And that's when she screamed and ran.

Sakura waited awhile until she was out of earshot. And that's when he stopped resisting. And when he started guffawing. His right hand went up to his forehead as he laughed. He wondered if he had traumatized her for life. The thought of that made him laugh harder. Laughing at that level started to hurt his chest after a while. And as he tried to stop laughing, he found the situation more bizarre and laughed more.

After a relatively long period of time, he calmed down. He gave a little grin as he wondered how better else to pass his time.

Written, revised, re-revised, and re-re-revised a number of times. I can't remember them all.

But without further ado, I present to you... my character! He's not German. And he has a version number somewhere close to 5.

EDIT: Version 6.

Name: Carman Tell

Age: 18

Gender: female

Nationality: Hoenn

Faction: Agent

Appearance:
Carman isn't exactly the formidable creature you would expect to find carrying the status of an Agent. She stands five feet seven inches in height and bears a rather slender, though distinctly toned, build. Her dirty blonde hair just barely brushes her shoulders when straight, but as she typically just allows them to form unruly waves, it tends to be considerably shorter. Her soft blue eyes and heart shaped face coupled with her clear and rather fair complexion give her an irrefutable look of innocence, but as she seldom ever flashes anyone a genuine smile, or displays any positive emotion on her face whatsoever, for that matter, people soon see a much different person than they assumed her to be at first glance. Faded scars line her hands and arms from her training, but the most prominent defect on her body is the long red mark running down the length of the back of her right calf. The Agency informed Carman that she had already attained that scar when they took her in, and, as she was just a little one at the time, she doesn't clearly remember how she got it. Her identification barcode is printed on her left wrist.

Carman isn't one to obsess over what she wears and chooses function over fashion. Her typical outfit nearly always includes three main things: a black hoodie, old and typically tattered jeans, and a pair of well-worn tennis shoes. Pretty much the only articles of clothing that goes through any major change from day to day are the T-shirt she wears underneath the hoodie and the color of socks she decided to wear—which she, surprisingly, has a wide variety of.

Pokémon:

Hypno (male) is a Pokémon that is always working with his own best interest in mind, which pretty much means making sure his Trainer doesn't pull anything stupid against the agency. He is the one who typically reminds Carman of her duties and keeps her on the suffocatingly narrow path of an Agent. He was the first Pokémon Carman had been granted as an Agent, and as such proclaimed himself the superior of her other Pokémon.

Cacturne (male) tends to be the one who looks out for Carman. He instantly felt sympathy toward the melancholy little creature that was Carman as a child and, despite the shorter length of time spent with her than her initial Pokémon, became more closely bonded with her than Hypno could ever manage (which, of course, didn't go over very well with Hypno).

Hoppip (female) was chosen to be partnered with Carman to create a balance within the team and appeal to her femininity, though Carman for the most part just thinks the Pokémon is annoying. Hoppip never seems to grow tired of frolicking through whatever vegetation she can find endlessly until either distracted by something of equal irrelevance or dragged away by her leaves.

Spinarak (male) is the newest member of Carman's team and hasn't yet had the chance (or the will) to bond with her. He loyally travels alongside her and does what is required of him, but at the first possible chance he has, Spinarak will wander off to be alone, only to reappear the moment he is needed.

Introduction:
Carman had been doused with freezing water, fallen out of bed, been pushed out of bed, had a horn blown in her ear and many other experiences of equal pleasure, but waking up to find a spider eating berries off her face was definitely a new one.

"Wha- Spinarak? Get off me!" Carman yelled, snapping upright struggling to free herself from the feeding arachnid's grip.

After a good few minutes of struggling to keep his hold while he finished eating, the spider Pokémon finally detached itself from Carman's face and scuttled to the ground to devour the fallen berries. Carman remained sitting on the bed, staring blankly at the fruit that lay strewn about her. They hadn't been there when she went to sleep and they certainly didn't just decide to fall from a tree that spontaneously sprang up and then died during the night.

"Hop hop!"

Carman turned her head to see Hoppip prance up to her bed. She jumped up onto the comforter and held a berry out to Carman with a smile.

"Figures," Carman muttered with a scowl.

Carman threw off the blankets and jumped out of bed, only to receive a pair of sticky juice-covered feet from stepping in Spinarak's carefully stacked meal. Spinarak glared up at Carman and clicked his pinchers together disdainfully before retreating beneath the bed.

"Well, this has just been a grand day so far," Carman snapped, grabbing a box of tissues off her nightstand and wiping the gooey mess from her feet.

She tossed the used tissues into the wastebasket and walked over to the window where her Hypno stood, staring out toward the ocean. Carman took care not to stare at the slowly swinging pendulum in his hand, knowing that she'd be out cold for who knows how many hours if she looked at it too long.

"Hey, uhm, I know that I had trouble falling asleep last night, but next time can you not hypnotize me? I can never seem to wake up when I… Need to," Carman said, picking a blue berry peel from her hair with a grimace.

Hypno turned to stare at her, his unwavering expression obviously not giving any promises.

"Right," Carman said, biting her lip and absentmindedly tracing her finger along a scar on her palm and staring out over the Lilycove coast, aware of the Pokémon's gaze firmly fixed on her. The amount of time Hypno spent watching Carman made her more than a little unnerved. It reminded her far too much of the Agency watching her every move.

Something prickly brushed against her arm and Carman turned to find Cacturne standing beside her, awkwardly attempting to balance her pager between his trunk-like arms. Carman took the small device and looked at the message.

Why haven't you contacted me? Call me ASAP.

Carman sighed and rolled her eyes, going over to her bed and kneeling down beside it. She grabbed her bag and quickly changed into her jeans and hoodie with a dark red T-shirt, also carefully choosing a pair of black socks with red polka dots on them. She quickly pulled together the items she had taken out the night before and briskly exited her sleeping quarters, descending the stairs to the lobby with her Pokémon following close behind. Agents rushed in and out of the building as if they had something to do, which was highly unlikely as there never seemed to be anything of much importance going on in Lilycove. Carman approached the front desk and asked to make a call. The secretary, a man who looked to be in his mid-forties and would look less out of place working in the field than sitting behind a desk, gave Carman a stiff nod and handed her a phone. She quickly dialed her handler's number and waited only one ring before Agent Hawken's familiar voice entered the line.

"Agent Tell? Where have you been all morning? I've been trying to contact you since six!" He demanded.

"Sorry, sir. I've… had a rough morning," Carman muttered, picking a piece of peel out of her hair.

"You do know that the Agency will give you a sleep aid if you request one," Hawken said, his voice slightly softer with concern.

Carman shrugged and, after realizing that he wouldn't exactly see that over the phone, quickly added, "I'm fine."

"Right, well I hope you haven't gotten too comfortable there in Lilycove, Agent Tell, because I have a mission for you."

"Is it more interesting than swatting bugs and getting sunburnt?" Carman asked dryly.

"If you don't want the job, I suppose I can just give it to someone else…"

"Come on, you know I'm up for anything."

"Well, if you're looking to get away from the bugs, then I'm afraid you're sunk. I need you to travel to Fortree City ASAP."

"Yes sir. But, if I may ask, what's going on there?" Carman asked.

"A huge meeting between the Utopianists and Technocrats. They're supposedly going to try and reach some sort of understanding, but they're coming armed to the teeth with just about everything they've got."

"And you want me to go there to make sure they don't obliterate each other?"

"Naturally."

"I'll head out immediately," Carman said, a faint smile appearing on her lips.

"Oh, and Agent Tell?"

"Yes sir."

"Try to keep your Hypno from putting the whole summit to sleep, mkay?"

"I'll see what I can do."

@Akustar: Ooookay...maybe you misread something, but-

A person who flunked sciences isn't really cut out to be a Technocrat. Nor is someone who...doesn't seem to be doing any of the general Technocrat business at all? Hired muscle does not count for this job, and would certainly not be supplied with one of their precious artificial pokémon. Your introduction in general is rather...awkward too. You are doing too much of the telling and not nearly enough of the showing. :\

~Declined~

@Cirrus: You must excuse me if I double check on that heritage. For your sake, I hope there are no punny branches lurking in that family tree of his. Dx

...

Well, he seems to be clean, and you did a good job with the intro. Technocrat faction is one member stronger, it seems. That being said, it seems you haven't included an age field here. Please fix that. Still, rest is fine so. ~Accepted~

@Mira: Gloomy child of an agent, is she? I think I see what you mean about polar opposites now. ;P

That being said, your profile seems fine, so yep. Nothing in particular to add on here. ~Accepted~


Alright, people, I think I've got just about my fill of applicants for this RP. Timeless, you still have your chance to edit that profile to meet standards. To the rest...

I'm still waiting to take on Utopianists, but applications to the other factions are not recommended unless you have one godly profile to bring with you. That is all.

Hm, I thought the character design was a bit strange after looking at it again. And that was not...my most inspired RP post. Anyways, considering that we seem to be short on Utopianists, I'll go and try to make some kind of Utopianist character, and try to get it in sometime on Sunday.

Edit: Actually, I was early. I whipped this up today, so if there are still any major inadequacies, I'll have more time to correct it before the deadline.

Name: Ariel Roy

Age: 24

Gender: Female

Nationality: Hoenn

Faction: Utopianist

Appearance: Nothing about Ariel's appearance immediately juts out, but of course, there are still many traits that can be used to differentiate her from others. Ariel stands at about five foot two and a half, and as a result, is unlikely to tower over anyone except children and some Pokemon.

Although she calls herself a "dedicated Utopianist", she tends to shirk and evade a large proportion of the physical labor duties demanded by the Utopianists, and as a result, is nowhere as fit, muscular, or physically capable as most Utopianists. She has not been capable enough as to shirk all of her physical labor duties, but the few physical labor duties she fulfills has not been sufficient enough to endow her with much muscle. Most of her work in the Order has involved treating injured Pokemon (though she's not very advanced at it yet, despite liking it so much), making her fingers more dexterous than most.

Despite living in Hoenn, Ariel's skin has a pale tint. This is quite possibly due to her extensive use of parasols. Ariel has extremely long, wavy (read:messy), and black hair that almost drapes all the way down to her ankles. When wet, her hair straightens out and very inconveniently touches the ground, thus hampering her movement. Ariel doesn't particularly style her hair, and it tends to hang across her face rather haphazardly. She is not known for cutting her hair. Many local children speculate what makes her hair so fluffy and fun to play with.

Ariel, like many other Utopianists, does not attempt to dress flashy. Ariel will typically wear some kind of strangely-knitted (read: poorly) sweater that she will proudly boast resulted from her own knitting. She knits her strange sweaters in a variety of odd colors (they just never seem to come out right). Despite her manual dexterity, her sweaters always come out looking strange. She will usually wear some kind of simple, modest, and long skirt. Her skirts are never of flashy colors, and usually cycle between black, white, grey, brown, olive, and dark blue. She considers dark blue to be flashy and often saves her dark blue skirts for "special occasions".

Ariel carries with herself what some call "cuteness in plainness". Although she looks rather plain, she is generally regarded as being somewhat pretty, and "cute" by some. Though in all honesty, most of her "admirers" were very young boys (with very no experience with females) getting their first superficial crush. Her eyes are fairly plain and is a common dark brown color. She is often taken to be younger than she actually is because her cheekbones are relatively high, her cheeks are round, and eyes are large enough to the point to be even seen sometimes as bulbous. She has a very prominent beauty mark on her face to the northwest of her left side of her lips. According to many local children, if you stare too long at it, you will be hypnotized. Ariel tends to always have an permanently absent-minded smile on her face, even when she is alone.

Pokémon: Ariel only has one Pokemon, a female Bellossom named Areuko. Ariel acquired Areuko as an Oddish. Oddish are extremely common and the way she found Oddish was unremarkable. Shortly after joining the order seven years ago, a child brought in a wild baby Oddish that had been injured when a tree was struck by lightning, shooting bark shrapnel everywhere. The wound was merely a small, minor cut (if it had been serious, they wouldn't have given to Ariel of all people) and Ariel was quickly able to clean and patch it up. The Oddish did not seem to want to leave, and Ariel did not push it to. After a while, Ariel simply named it and accepted it as a permanent fixture and friend. Areuko is known by almost all of the local children, because Ariel spends so much of her time entertaining the local sing by singing songs, reading stories, making jokes, and cooking treats for them.

Introduction: Ariel wondered why she was being called into Mr. Rogan's office. He usually never ever talked to her. He wasn't particularly high-ranking in the church, but he was still considerably more high-ranking then Ariel was. She had a nasty feeling about this meeting as she gripped the doorknob and pulled it open.

It revealed a rather nondescript man in robes sitting at a desk. He motioned her to sit in the seat in front of him, and she stared at him blankly a bit, not quite understanding. The man strained to prevent from frowning as he thought, "Yup. She's still an idiot."

Ariel's face light up a bit with understanding as she thought to herself. "Ohhhh, he wants me to sit there. That makes sense. Hee." Ariel gingerly pulled the chair out and sat in it. It was comfy and bigger than her. She tried bouncing on it up and down a little. It was fun. And the chair made a funny squeaky noise.

"Roy." Ariel quickly stopped bouncing and looked at Mr. Rogan. She still had an absent-minded smile on her face, but her eyes showed she was paying attention.

"Yes, sir?" Ariel's friendly smile widened and looked somehow even more absent-minded. The only effect it had was giving Mr. Rogan an even lower evaluation of her intellect.

"So you're probably wondering why I called you here." Ariel looked somewhat shocked and in awe of the man. "Wow, Sir! How did you know what I was wondering?" It was days like this that made Alex Rogan regret joining the church with every inch of his fiber.

"Um. Regardless, I think we should dispense with the pleasantries. So I've got orders from the top. Have you ever heard about the conference at Fortree City?" Normally, Alex would make banter with anyone he called into his office. But in this case, he wanted Ariel out of his office as soon as possible. And even though Ariel was in Hoenn, she had never been outside of her hometown of Verdanturf, and Fortree just sounded very far away.

"Um...well...," Ariel's mouth opened a little as it appeared she was thinking. She put her index finger up in front of her mouth, as is her habit when appearing to think. "Uh...yes?" Alex thanked the discipline the Order had instilled in him. It was keeping him from lunging across the table and breaking that stupid girl's neck.

"...anyways, it comes straight from the top. You're getting a transfer." Ariel seemed a bit surprised. Not as surprised as the "mind-reading" incident, but still surprised. "...huh? But Sir, isn't the Forky," Alex winced at Ariel's crime against language. "Conference like really important and stuff?"

Alex thought to himself. "Why the hell is this dumb $#^!^ asking me questions now? Maybe she should have asked more questions yesterday. Like maybe 'Hey Sir, is Honey a bad ingredient choice for Sushi?'. I hate my life."

"...well...well...yes. But I recommended you for the position. And so did the entire council. Unanimously." Alex wasn't lying. The entire council wanted her somewhere else. Though their hatred wasn't as intense, almost all of them had been at one point been the victim of a "Royism". "And when I told the higher-ups of our plight," Alex quickly corrected himself. "I mean of our situation, they quickly agreed." Alex knew the reason that his strange request was accepted was because someone high in the church hierarchy likely pitied Alex and his "plight".

And she even got on the nerves of those who weren't. And among even those who weren't in either of those two groups, they still knew she did not pull her own weight. She shirked all of her physical labor duties, and contributed nothing except basic healing and entertainment to the local children. And of course, making inedible food like Honey Sushi. "And how the &!%$ could someone her size eat so much damned food!?!"

Alex calmed himself as Ariel's face lit up again. "Oh, really, Sir! I'm so flattered! Thanks so much!" Ariel leaned in to vigorously shake his hands. Alex fantasized to himself. "It would be sooooo easy to just grab her right now, throw her down onto the floor, and stomp her to death." Alex entertained himself with fantasies of him forcing a bloodied Ariel to beg for mercy because stabbing her to death with various writing utensils before pulling him back to reality.

"Uh...yeah, it was nothing. No problem. Yeah. Anyways, I've got the transportation and everything completely prepared. You've got three hours to pack your stuff before you go." Ariel smiled again. "Thanks again, Sir!" She pranced off out of his office, busy singing another song. She had forgotten to put the chair back where it was.

Alex had to restrain himself from cheering. Years of Utopianist discipline training was working for him now as he thought to himself. "YES. YES! LORD ALMIGHTY, I AM FREE AT LAST, FREE AT LAST! AFTER AN ENTIRE YEAR, I AM FREE AT LAST."

Four hours later, Alex sighed, while eating his first non-bizarre tasting meal in a year. He kind of missed Ariel already.

@Akustar: Hmm...content-wise, I'd say your profile is about good enough for the job. That being said, there are a few issues with your writing that I'd like to see addressed. Namely,

1. Paragraphing in dialogue. When the speaker in a conversation changes, there should also be a line switch to keep it clear who's saying what. For instance, this

"So you're probably wondering why I called you here." Ariel looked somewhat shocked and in awe of the man. "Wow, Sir! How did you know what I was wondering?" It was days like this that made Alex Rogan regret joining the church with every inch of his fiber.

Click to expand...

Should look like so

"So you're probably wondering why I called you here."

Ariel looked somewhat shocked and in awe of the man. "Wow, Sir! How did you know what I was wondering?"

It was days like this that made Alex Rogan regret joining the church with every inch of his fiber.

Click to expand...

2. Notations for thought and speech. As it is, you are using quotation marks for both, and that's going to make it difficult to keep track of what your character is saying and what she is thinking. To clear that up, please pick some kind of alternate notation for quoting thoughts. I use 'single quotation marks in cursive' myself, but as long as it's easy to tell the thought and speech apart I don't care too much about what format you use to get it doen.

3. Your curse word notation. e.g.

"Why the hell is this dumb $#^!^ asking me questions now? Maybe she should have asked more questions yesterday. Like maybe 'Hey Sir, is Honey a bad ingredient choice for Sushi?'. I hate my life."

Click to expand...

We have a high enough PG rating to just type out the curses, and I'd prefer to see any you need said in character that way. No obscure symbol lines please.


That being said, these are format issues really, so as long as you fix those up for when you actually post, we should have no problems. I'm going to call ~Accepted~ on this one. 'Grats.


And I think that's all the cast I'll need for this RP. Timeless, you have until tomorrow morning (My tomorrow morning, that's about 12 hours from now, give or take an hour depending on how quickly I get that post done) to get those edits finished. To the rest who have yet to be accepted, thank you for displayed interest but I'm afraid I'm going to have to call ~Declined~ on your profiles this time around. If there is anyone out there feels like they can really dazzle me within the next 12 hours, then by all means feel free to try, but otherwise, I think I'm good with what I have.

This post shall be updated with my opening post eventually. Look forward to it. >O

Name: Sharon Lee

Age: 21

Gender: Female

Nationality: Coronet Islands

Faction: Utopianist

Appearance:
At the age of twenty-one Sharon is only about 5'6". She has a lithe and slightly toned body due to all the manual labor she does. Her hair is a shade in between a firey red and dark orange that just reaches a little past her shoulders. When working, she puts it in a low ponytail, but otherwise wears it down. She has bright purple eyes. She never bothers to wear any make up and refuses to get any piercings.
Her dress is practical and never flashy. She mostly wears long sleeved turtle necks in earthy colors and any type of comfortable pants. She always brings along a pack of emergency medical supplies in a pack tied around her waist. On days out, she wears regular shoes, but when traveling wears brown sturdy boots that stop at her knees.
(and if anyone wants to see, here's a really quick sketch of her i drew. https://i33.photobucket.com/albums/d5...0/sharon20.png)

Pokémon:
Female Gardevoir named Ion. Sharon's oldest friend. They met when Sharon was only ten, as Ion, who was only a Ralts, was attracted by her very happy-go-lucky nature.

Introduction:
"Thank you so very much Miss Lee." A look of gratitude.
"No, it was my pleasure." A smile filled with warmth.

Tired and slow steps could be heard as an old lady walked out onto the dirt road. The elderly woman turned her head slowly towards the little cabin she had just exited. She smiled at the onlooking young woman although the wrinkles on her face were strained, before strolling back to her home.

'It is best not to overexert yourself, Sharon.' Feelings of anxiety and worry were transmitted through an invisible bond. These words were unspoken, but could be heard clearly by those in the invisible connection.
'I know. Don't worry about me Ion, you know I can take care of myself.'

A young woman, who was now identified as Sharon, looked on fondly at the retreating form of the old lady. Amethyst eyes shut lazily as their owner turned to close the wooden door and address the form standing behind her.

"Now, why don't we take a break? I'll just clean this place up a bit." There was a tone of enthusiasm in the woman's voice and it dispelled any lingering feelings of doubt in the other occupant of the room. Fashioned in a long white ball gown type dress, a figure moved forward to reveal what seemed to be a Pokemon. Gardevoir or as Sharon called her, Ion approached the young woman.

'Allow me to do so, please just rest for now.' Sharon's head jerked up at Ion's words.

But before Sharon could react to Ion's plea, the objects in the room, bandages, bottles of ointment, and many other medicinal tools were enveloped in a blue glow before moving themselves around the room. There was a concentrated look on the psychic Pokemon's face and a moment later the whirlwind of moving objects stopped. The area was no longer a strewn mess of medical supplies but a tidy little room of a tiny little log cabin.

The log cabin was the residence of both Sharon Lee and her long time friend Ion, a Gardevoir Sharon befriended as a Ralts when she was a little girl. Sharon, or as the people called her, Miss Lee was the resident healer that a variety of people, ranging from travelers to citizens of the neighboring Petalburg city, visited. It was a well known fact that Miss Lee was a Utopianist, for a person with extensive knowledge on medicine, it was hard to be anything otherwise. However, none seemed to mind, and simply appreciated her first aid skills. It was one of the reasons as to why she stayed there.

"Ion!" Sharon had a look of agitation, but was quickly changed to exasperation when the said Pokemon looked forlorn and regretful for her actions.
'I apologize Sharon. I felt this was the least I could do for you. Please do not be angry.'

It was a known fact that Gardevoir was a Pokemon that could clearly feel the emotions of those around it. And right now, Ion felt horrible for making her partner feel angry. Through their connection between the emotion feeling psychic Pokemon and the orange haired young woman, the pair could communicate with their thoughts and emotions rather than spoken words.

A wave of guilt washed over the purple eyed girl.

"I-It's alright Ion. I'm not angry, just a little annoyed. I should be cleaning up my own messes, not you. Understand?"

Ion nodded and Sharon sat on her bed feeling slightly put out that her friend had done all the work. She let out an annoyed huff; it always bothered her when someone else finished her own responsibilities. At the very least the room was clean now, hours beforehand, she had been tending to the needs of humans and Pokemon alike. Caring for the woes and pains of both humans and Pokemon was no easy job.

Falling backwards into the soft material of her futon, Sharon made a mental list of items she was running low on.

'Antiseptic...bandages...swabs...I'll need to resupply soon.'
'Perhaps we should pay a visit to Petalburg City?'

Red orange hair rustled against the sheets as Sharon glanced at Ion. The psychic Pokemon leaned on the wall next to her bed, it suggested that she would watch over her as Sharon slept. Although it was a comforting gesture, it was one Sharon wished she could convincer her friend out of. But she knew better, and said nothing about it.

'Yeah you're right.' She smiled tiredly at the Pokemon and slowly drew her eyes to a close. '...tomorrow we'll go...'

The sound of even breathing brought a small smile to the vigilant Gardevoir.

'Good night, Sharon.'

---

The next morning, Sharon couldn't help but feel a sense of dread in the pit of her stomach. The weather outside was perfect and it was a great day to go out shopping, yet she couldn't get the feeling of anxiety out of her mind. Something was going to happen. Trying her best to hide her distressed thoughts, she went through the motions of her morning routine. She washed up with water she retrieved from a nearby stream, and brushed her hair quickly before leaving her humble little abode.

Instinctively she knew Ion was following her from a distance. The walk to Petalburg City was a short one but rejuvenated Sharon's anxious state. Quickly casting aside any second thoughts on the odd morning, she put more life into her strides and arrived at Petalburg's market in a jubilant mood.

"Ion! Come here and help me out will you?" Her hand shot out to wave over her friend in high spirits.

The said Pokemon seemed to be in a better mood herself, and floated her way over to her partner. The next hour was spent with Sharon expertly scanning the market for her supplies, and soon her hands were full with bags of medicinal herbs she could grow at home and a bunch of other miscellaneous items.

"GET YOUR PC'S HERE! ALL BRAND NEW WITH THE LATEST TECHNOLOGY INSTALLED FOR EASY USE. MAKE YOUR LIFE EASIER AND GET A PC TODAY!"

Sharon looked distastefully at the booth just ahead of her. A loudly dressed salesman was yelling obnoxiously over the hustle and bustle of the market. Knowing that she didn't want to get involved in the idiotic practices of an overzealous salesman, she hurried her pace. She tried her best to not establish any eye contact but her efforts were futile when she felt her elbow hastily grabbed by the big mouthed salesperson.

"MISS! Wouldn't you like to purchase one of our state of the art PC's? I assure you, this top notch personal computer will blow you away!"

There was a look of loathing plastered on Sharon's face, she'd rather small a Stunky's ass than use that forsaken "technology". She tried to loosen the man's hold before she responded, "No thank you. I'm in a hurry you see."

But the man didn't give up and held onto her elbow tighter. He even went as far as to drag her closer to his booth.
"Oh! This will only take a second! Why not give it a try? I'm sure you won't regret it!"

There was a alarmed expression on her face now, the persistent and crude behavior of the man was outstanding. Sharon's distress grew and then the salesperson's hand let go of her elbow and was blown away by an invisible force. He flew 10 feet into the air surrounded by a blue aura and landed prostrate on the gravel.

'Are you alright Sharon?'

It was Ion who had helped her. She must've felt her distress and forced the man to unhand her. She emitted a feeling of gratitude to her partner before marching over to the form of the bemoaning salesman. She felt a twinge of guilt for causing him pain but ignored it, 'these technocrat idiots are getting out of hand! Someone's gotta set them straight.'

"Hey! Tell your techno-loving bosses to not treat people so rudely. I don't need your goddamn PC's and neither does this world!"

Sharon stomped off, annoyed at the world and just people in general. Mentally, she seethed and cursed continuously at the technocrat faction. They were the reason the world was in such a bad state after all. If everyone lived simple happy lives, there would be no need for things like PC's. In the midst of wishing calamity on the Silph company she suddenly heard a loud rumble.

It was her stomach.

'It seems that it is lunch time.' In an amused voice that echoed through her head, Ion materialized in front of her. Alarmed by her sudden appearance, Sharon nearly dropped her supplies.

'Hey! Ion! Don't go using teleport whenever you want! I swear, one of these days I'll get a heart attack."
'You and I both know that is nearly impossible Shar-'
'I know! I know! It's just an expression Ion.
'Oh. Then I don't under-'
'Nevermind! Don't think about it, lets just get some food.'

Without Ion being aware of it, Sharon actually enjoyed their banter, it lightened her sour mood and reminded her how much she appreciated Ion's being there. The pair walked, or rather one walked and the other floated into a modest little tavern. The pair sat in a booth near the back of the restaurant, and in a sort of endearingly geek-ish way, discussed the effectiveness of treating poison with a pecha berry versus a lum berry. The two stopped short when they heard the roaring voices of the customers next to them.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY'RE GOING TO SABOTAGE THE SUM-?!" A hand quickly muffled the man's voice.
"Sir! Please! Keep your voice down!" The men began to talk in hushed words, but Sharon listened intently.
"I'm sorry but this is outrageous!"
"Yes, I know, but we can't do anything right now. We have other tasks we must complete so the summit may run in the first place."
"But why would someone want to stop a peace effort? God knows we need to settle things between the Utopianist and technocrat faction."
"It is puzzling but it can't be helped. We will have to send a message to Fortree City to be on guard."
"I can't believe this is happening, after years of conflict, our chance at peace may be ruined already."
"Please don't fret too much sir, I'm sure someone will be able to stop it..."

The rest of the conversation trailed off, but the atmosphere felt tense. Sharon's own hand had gone stiff as it was tightly gripping her napkin.

'A summit?' Something revolutionary was going to happen and Sharon knew that if what those men were saying was true, it may just solve one of the world's problems. Next to her, Ion doubted these far fetched idealistic thoughts, but didn't wish to put down Sharon's hopes of peace.

Countless thoughts ran through her purple eyed self, and slowly a smile crept onto her face. Frankly, Ion would have said it looked mildly creepy but stayed quiet as Sharon immersed herself into her own little world.

'That's it Ion! We're going to this summit!'

If it didn't look absolutely ridiculous, Ion would have fell out of her seat.

'Tomorrow, we'll head to Fortree City and see for ourselves these harbingers of peace!'

Sharon didn't seem to notice just how impulsive her words were, simply deciding to go to Fortree City for a 'summit' between rival faction, that could possibly not even happen was just ridiculous. But, Ion knew just what sort of outlandish woman Sharon was, once she had set her mind on something, it was going to happen. The emotion Pokemon confirmed it by the confident grin on her friend's face.

With that decided, Sharon vigorously dug into her meal, thoughts of the summit the only thing in her head.


(btw i mean PC as in a regular computer not one that can transfer pokemon or anything)

Name: Matthew 'Matt' Black
Gender: Male
Age: 17
Nationality: Hoenn
Faction: Utopianist

Appearance: Matt is tall for his age, standing at 6'5", and weighs about 160 pounds. He has a skinny build, and is a little wiry. He can change his voice, making it higher or deeper, but usually keeps it somewhere in between. His jet black hair is short, and he keeps it how it naturally is, curving around his ears, and flat on his head. Matt's favorite thing about his appearance is his eye color, a light and noticeable emerald green. He wears a relaxed smile most of the time, and his face is alive with laughter. He has a bit of stubble on his chin, that he strokes when he is thinking. His tan skin usually bares a few scratches, or bruises, from playing around with his Pokemon, and from the hard work his father gives him.

Matthew refuses to wear what his father would like him to, a bright green robe, with no shoes at all. Instead, he wears what a typical teenager would. He wears a plain black undershirt, with no sleeves, and sometimes if it's not hot, a sea blue button up shirt. He wears plain blue jeans, and big white tennis shoes. He also owns a pair of white shorts, if it gets to hot. For formal outings, he wears a white button up with a black tie, and white lined pants, and white dress shoes. Lastly, Matt despises wearing hats of any kind.


Pokemon:

Duskull~ Matt's first Pokemon, he met Duskull in a cliche situation in the woods. When Matt was about 11, he had wondered off in the woods. He was attacked by a Beedrill, but Duskull saved him, and Matt's dad let Matt keep the Pokemon, who by then had followed Matt around for a few hours. Duskull has a very playful attitude, but gets stubborn sometimes. He looks like a normal Duskull.

Sablye~ Matt met Sablye in a cave, when he was 13. The Sablyeye was lost in the cave, having been temporarily blinded by something. Matt saved the Pokemon, who was grateful, and in return decided to stay with Jasper. Sableye was nursed back to health, and only a scar over his left eye remains of the attack. Sableye is serious some of the time, and playful some of the time.

Magikarp~ Matt's third and final Pokemon, he met Magikarp while swimming with his Pokemon. Magikarp followed Matt around, and eventually Matt payed attention to it. It cannot leave water, so Matt keeps it in the pond behind his cabin, and feeds and swims with it. It is an ordinary Magikarp on the outside, although it can swim rather well.


Introduction:

Part 1:




I have to go to the zoo right now, so part two of my intro can be up tonight. Please rate what I have so far!

@♣♦TimelessParadox♠♥: Huu...you sure know the art of being fashionably late.

Still, you fixed it up, so... ~Accepted~

@Sambul: Oh, totally my bad. I had the feeling I had forgotten to address something last night and now I see what.

Well, the profile seems to be in shape and this rounds out my cast number nicely too. I'll go for it. ~Accepted~

@King!: Sorry, but...too little, too late. I honestly couldn't take another member even if I wanted to. ~Declined~


And with that, ladies and gents, I have officially reached my fill of cast and then some.


That being the case, this RP is now on. Get busy. >O

IC:

Fortree had been blessed with mockingly beautiful weather that day, not that one could tell much difference. The forest roof remained far up ahead, as thick and impenetrable as ever, a scant few rays of light filtering in from the canopy far above. The forest was one that seemed to reach higher and higher each year in a vicious, never-ending struggle for the precious sunlight above. To some, it was a symbol of nature's persistence. To the Fortree city planners, however, it was a dream come true. Self-expanding real estate. As the years went by, the city had been built further and further upwards, housing complexes and all manner of offices coating the tree trunks, walkways interspersed between them. Looked at from above, the entire city with its countless tiny lights resembled a massive hive of some kind. Unlike the busy hustle and bustle one would have expected from such a place, its residents were not milling about in a constant buzz of motion however. Many of its countless lights remained dim, the movement of people along its walkways scarce and aimless. Unmotivated. Not to mention wasteful.

There would clearly have to be some changes.

"Placebo feed initiated."

The moment the synthesized voice reached her ears, Kyrene snapped out of her musings, turning away from the window. She ran a hand through her curly, blonde hair, already dampened, her blazer long since abandoned on the back of the chair, the white dress shirt unbuttoned as far as she could decently get away with. Even in this state, both trousers and tie felt far too hot for comfort. She'd have to do something about this abbysmal heat too. How she dressed in privacy was one thing, but she couldn't have anyone there for the conference seeing her in such an unpresentable state. Including her own staff. Underlings were always quick to pounce at perceived moments of weakness and she simply couldn't be bothered to sort something like that out at this juncture.

"Holly." she turned to a small metalic box on the desk of her office, "Progress with the security systems?"

"Ground floor. 100 per-cent. Second floor, 100 per-cent, third floor,"

"Just on this floor and the conference room, please." the CEO interrupted wearily, well aware that the Porygon-Z was more than meticulous enough to continue reciting the mantra for the whole of the 107-floor complex that was Fortree's main congress center, "I will still need you to do something about this relic of an air conditioner today."

"107th floor." the synthesized voice continued, "Sectors one through thirteen, 100 per-cent. Sector sixten, 100 per-cent. Sector fifteen..."


"No visual or audio?"

To say that the Agent handler on site was frustrated would have been an understatement. The vein on his forehead bulged, the cellphone trembling pitifully within his meaty palm, his stately black uniform coated with sweat. Briefing imminent in some ten minutes, briefing room still a mess, and technics was failing at basic system maintenance?

"This is the day of the summit, officer." he snarled, "The summit. Only the single most important Circumstances operation of the century and you are telling me that you and your candyass technician team just lost all contact with the section?!"

"Heh."

"NO EXCUSES, OFFICER!" he bellowed on, "YOU AND YOUR GREASE MONEKY SQUAD ARE GETTING THAT CONNECTION BACK IN WORKING ORDER WITHIN THE NEXT HALF HOUR OR I SWEAR I'LL-"

"Heh."

"Heh."

"Heh."

The laugh ran down his ear like a stream of icy water, causing the handler to snap to attention and promptly turn on his heels.

"I SAID NO EXCUSES! JUST DO IT!" he snapped into his phone, "And as for you!" his nostrils flared in preparation as he turned to face the one who had dared interrupt him, "Perhaps you'd care to enlighten me what is so funny about this situation?"

"Grease monkey squad, sir." the woman replied calmly, returning his glare with the gaze of her own solitary eye, "I thought that turn of phrase was quite witty."

"Heh."

"Heh."

"Heh."

The handler stared, his mind trapped between two vastly differing impulses. On one hand, for an Agent on duty, the girl's outfit seemed surprisingly...well, presentable. Everything right up from the brown, knee-high boots and the mid-knee peasant skirt to the dark green, cap- sleeved garment at the with the little silver zipper and grey vest, right down to the brown falconeer's glove she wore on her right arm had obviously been picked out for her. It wasn't a bad effort, and on an ordinary girl it could even have looked attractive. But with the top, the eye strayed unbidden to the long, slender trail of tentacool venom burn on her arm, when one tried to focus on the bottom, the constant stare inevitably drew attention to the eyepatch, and upon seeing the glove, the mind couldn't help putting all of these marks together and wondering just why that part was necessary.

The handler devoted a few more minutes to staring.

"Agent Theta, sir." the woman introduced herself at last, "Reporting for duty."

Half an hour ahead of time, the handler couldn't help adding in his mind, "Ah yes..." he hesitated, "You are...one of Jig-" he quickly caught himself, "Colonel Jeanes's trainee's, correct?"

"That is correct." Theta replied, "Up until five years ago. You are quite well informed, sir."

As if you couldn't tell Jigsaw's handiwork by the face. There weren't many handlers out there whose idea of warm-up exercises included sparring a Scyther. Without protective equipment.

"Quite. Now why don't you..." he mad a vague gesture towards the rows of chairs lined up in a semi-circle in front of his desk and the blackboard behind it, all in preparation, "...just have a seat while we wait for the others. That is an order, agent."

"Yes, sir."

He studied the girl's face for even a hint of sarcasm, but finding none, simply shook his head and returned to arranging his notes.

Theta, meanwhile, seated herself quietly in one of the front row seats. Circumstances, it seemed, were about to get...interesting.


"...and there do I see my father. My son. My life. And there do I see nature. Pokémon. The World. And there do I see my heart. My soul. Myself."

Archmandrite Joseph Reis took a pause, eyes still shut, head still lowered in prayer. The air around him was quiet and warm. Sweat gathered on his forehead but he endured it. In the background, he heard the distant yet highly satisfying clank of the last piece of sinful metal being detached and scrapped. There could be no talk of melting away the tainted creations to their pure state at the present, but at least they would be safe from their wicked eyes for the time being.

"Ad Dei mai gloriem."

He suppressed a small sigh as he got back up on his feet and turned to the altogether uninviting ceremonial robes that had been laid out in preparation for his arrival. White they may have been, but they were also thick and heavy, most certainly not something he was looking forward to wearing in this heat.

"It is fine." he replied in response to the arm wordlessly placed on his shoulder, managing a small smile at the Gallade that had risen up attentively next to him as he fitted himself into the garment, "I am the archmandrite, after all. I have my role to fulfill. Now come," he placed a hand on top of the psychic type's, "Let us prepare a more friendly atmosphere for our faithful."


OOC:

Alright, here's the deal. Agents go into the same briefing room as Theta as they are about to be...well, briefed. Everyone else can feel free and gather up by the foot of the conference center (Huge tree, loads of little extension buildings and walkways lining it as far up as the eye can see; can't miss it). There is an elevator ride up, hand-operated via pokémon strength and thus in accordance with Utopianist teachings, but no-one gets to come inside until just after the Agent briefing, so the rest may feel free to stand outside in the heat and crowds for a post or two. Feel free to interact as you do so, just no elaborate subplots at this point. XD

That's all for now. Go crazy.

Isaac let out a grunt as he raised a gloved hand to his brow, wiping off the sweat that had gathered there. From one look at the hand, however, one could tell that it had been used for that purpose many times over. "Th' hell does it have t' be so Arceus-damned hot?" he asked Templar, who merely grunted in response. The Machoke's body was covered in a slight sheen of sweat, but he made no motion to do anything about it.

Judgment was currently curled around the top of his hat, enjoying the sunlight that was beating down on them with the oppressive force of a Machamp's Focus Punch. "I dunno how anyone kin live in this thrice-damned weather," he muttered, his irritation at its peak. Normally he didn't curse anywhere near this much, and his anger was held far more in check, but the heat, along with the near-constant sweat, had long ago worn away his patience.

"Hey! You there!" Isaac paused, turning to glance at the one who'd spoken to him. His eyes met with another man, one a decade or so younger, with a smile upon his face. "Are you here for the conference?" It was then that Isaac noticed the small pad of paper held by the speaker. "Mind if I ask you a few questions?"

The Utopianist, irritated, was about to flat out refuse, when he recalled one of their tenets. 'Show kindness, and you will receive kindness.' And about right now, Isaac was in some dire need of a bit of kindness from someone, anyone. "Sure, kid. I kin answer a bit fer ya. Whatcha lookin' fer?"

The man nodded a few times, appreciating the chance. "Which side are you going to be on? Are you a Utopianist or a Technocrat?"

Isaac chuckled. "Utopianist, son. Ain' no greater power than Arceus. Don' be believin' in them fancy machines, now. It ain' right. Jus' let yer own power carry ya through; ain' that righ', Templar?" The Machoke gave an affirmative nod, eyeing the reporter carefully.

Eyeing Templar, the reporter swallowed once, jotting down a few quick notes before closing the notebook. "I think…that'll be enough. Thank you, sir," he spoke, before looking for someone a bit less intimidating.

Seeing him, Isaac let out a few loud guffaws, patting Templar on the shoulder, who stood as stoic as ever. "Ya'll need t' learn not t' scare people off. Not everyone's bad, friend." Templar simply grunted, wary around this many people.

"Mr. Faron, you have forgotten your personal protection." Mr. Bartold snapped, gesturing to the revolver on the wooden slab of a table.

"Sir, Exodus is all the protect-"

"Enakai, please. You will need protection! What happens if the metang faints?" he asked. Mr. Bartold's behavior was unwonted, he never cared for anybody, much less Enakai. "I beg of you!" There was desperate look in the man's eyes.

"Sir, are you okay?" Kai had taken a seat on the plush, his legs crossed.

"Y-yes. I'm fine. It isn't your job to worry about that. Just take the gun and go!" he hollered, maybe a little too loudly.

"No." Kai protested. "I won't, not until you explain the attitude change."


"Well, if you must know..." Mr. Bartold took a breath, "I-I had a sister, and Golden Rod City isn't exactly the best of places for a girl as pretty as she was. My mother and father were out on some political business, and a man had broken in to our house. I was a coward, and hid. T-the man he took my sister and I didn't do anything about it!" he said, a few tears falling from his eyes. "I-I don't want to loose someone else who means something to me!"

"Really? I mean something to you?" The younger scientist was surprised, never would he have thought that the man before him had cared about him. "In that case, I shall take the gun, but you shouldn't expect me to use it." A long arm extended out and scooped up the revolver. Without saying another word, he got up and emerged from the tent, the dark lighting something of a bother to his unadjusted eyes. Pulling open his lab coat, he strapped the gun in. The strap had always been there, most people using it for a PDA, or a cellphone, but he kept that stuff in his pocket.

Squinting to make his away around the camp, he headed for the exit, where Exodus was waiting. As he approached, his eyes adjusted and he noticed a glimmer in the dirt. Squating, he brushed off some of the dirt and found a penny, face-up. That meant that it was lucky day, he picked it up and pocketed it. "Okay, you ready Exodus?" he questioned, to which a merry "metang" was the response. "Okay, I haven't done this all too much, so please go slow." With that, he had found his way on top of the creature who zooomed off at rapid speeds.

"H-hey, slow down! I was barely able to stay on last time and you weren't even going this fast!" The scientist really made a fool of himself as he struggled to keep his balance. "I-I said, slow down!" he said sternly.

Exodus did what was almost an immediate stop, causing his trainer to fall and faceplant into the dirt. "Metang..." it chanted [FONT=Times New Roman, serif]lugubriously[/FONT] . Using its psychic ability he helped his master to his feet and back onto himself. With the nod from Kai, he continued, but not as fast as he previously had been going.

"This is much better Exodus." Enakai was still having some trouble, but not as much. As he approached the foot of the conference room, he got stares from the Utopianists. They were mumbling bad things about him under their breath. Their faces envinced their feelings about him and his choice to ride his companion. His brown eyes shifted around, until he eyeballed a group of scientists, he told Exodus that he would like to over to them. They were his allies, and they wouldn't criticise him for his choice of conveyance.

Getting off he walked over to the one scientist amongst the group that he really knew, Adelaide. She was peering over the edge of a bridge. "Well, how is it going, Miss Robison?" he asked, placing a hand on her back. "Whatcha lookin' at?" he asked her, peering over the edge himself. It was nice view, there were trees, and oh, more trees. They seemed to stretch for ever, and endless expanse of forest.

"Huh?" Adelaide blinked. "Oh, yeah. Well, it is amazing, just look at all these pokemon. They live side by side with these humans in harmony, you don't see anything like this in Kanto or Johto. Sorry, but it is really interesting." she stammered.

Looking closely the forest was full of pokemon. There caterpies climbing all the trees, beautiflys dancing in patches of sunlight. But what caught his attention most of all was green bipedal pokemon jumping from branch to branch. He recognized him as Scyther, he had seen pictures, but hadn't really seen one in real life. The creature seemed to be looking for something.

"Scy! Scyther!" it chanted, dropping down the tree and attacking a heracross. The heracross wasn't a pushover and rammed it back. The two exchanged a few attacks, before a few Utopianists freaks broke it up.

"What the hell is that crap?" he shouted, causing many stares. "They are pokemon, they are supposed to fight. How are they supposed to survive? Decide who gets the food?" he questioned.

One man shouted back, "Fighting is unnesceary, the food around here is plentiful"

"Dammit. Those guys really piss me off, how about you Adelaide?" Enakai asked.

"Yes, but not for the same reasons. They have their beliefs and we have ours. They are just to stubborn to allow us into the mine. It is in the name of knowledge. If only we could open their eyes!"

"Well, that is what this summit is for." Enakai reminded her.

"METANG!" a voice bellowed out from behind them.

"Huh? What is it?" he asked. It chanted again, so he patted it on the head. "You're just lonely aren't you?" he asked. Another chant was given as if to say yes. "Okay, then I'll spend more time with you, but after the summit? Okay?" he asked. It chanted it again showing its approval. "Glad to see that you understand."

"I don't see what you see in that thing, it is just a pokemon." Adelaide said. "It is meant to serve us, especially since it is a human created one." Adelaide got up and began to walk away.

"No, he is more than that. He is my friend!" That made him extremely angry. How could she say that? It was clear that he had the ability to think his own thoughts and feel emotion. Why was everyone so blind? It was as clear as day, but nobody could see it. At least the scientists don't, but the Utopianist do. Maybe he had made the wrong choice being a scientist. Maybe it would have been better for him to have joined the following like his family and the rest of tribe. But, then again maybe not. It bothered him sometimes; did he make the right choice or not?

May hated the heat.

It was muggy in Fortree, and dark. Very dark. This was mostly due to the fact that the tree canopy above was extremely dense. May hated this. The height wasn't the problem, here. She'd grown up in Goldenrod, and moved to Saffron afterwards. She was used to looking down from a dizzying height by now. Her problem was the heat. It was stifling, choking, and she could not wait to get into that suspiciously flimsy-looking elevator and get into a room with some sort of air conditioning. She felt the intense urge to find Thatch when she got home and strangle him. Her PDA beeped. She removed it from her coat pocket.

The screen flickered as a message from Haro appeared.

Rubber_Ducky: Meeting's not so far away. Wanna go over the speech one more time?

May typed a hasty 'no' as she slipped the PDA away. She'd memorized the speech by now. She had no desire to repeat it for the fifty-first time before going in to meet the president of Silph herself.

Kyrene Silph. May had never met her face-to-face. She might have seen her once or twice in passing, and she had certainly seen the 'rejected' stamps on the designs she had submitted more than once, but this would be her first time talking to the company's president face-to-face about... anything, really. She made a mental note to be on her best behavior. Her job was in enough danger as it was. If she screwed up here... she shuddered. Having her designs rejected was going to be the LEAST of her worries. She'd lose her apartment, Haro... everything would be taken back. She loosened her lab coat and removed her glasses for a minute to wipe them off- the heat was starting to get to her. She hoped everything would be alright. She really did.

She glanced at Silph's other representatives, but she made no move to approach them. She was too nervous right now- she'd probably trip over her own tongue.

Her PDA beeped again. She pulled it out. Once again, it was Haro, this time with a one word message.

Rubber_Ducky: RELAX.

May smiled as she put the PDA away in spite of herself. She wasn't alone. Haro would help with this. And he was right- getting worked up would do her no good. She needed to relax a little.

Suddenly, a Scyther and a Heracross broke into a fight not far away from her.

May nearly screamed. Nearly. Instead she fell over, her glasses going askew. Some utopianists broke up the fight, and she felt fairly greatful. Potentially getting caught between a pair of battling Pokemon was not high on her list of things she wanted to do before the speech.

Julian Swift leaned casually against the trunk of one of the biggest trees in Fortree. The branch she sat on was high up and above all of the commotion going down in the city itself. Surrounded by many newly grown leaves, it shrouded her and her Pokemon very well, while at the same time being able to view the area down by the door way to the meeting space through a gap in the greenery.

Curiously, she glanced down at the growing number of people outside the building where the big meeting was to be held. Even from high up, Julian could tell the difference between what she called the high-tech 'techies' and the 'illogical' Utopianists. Some wore brightly colored robes, while others wore starch white lab coats.The two factions were separated in groups, with a considerable amount of space between them; the techies on one side of the door, the Utopianists on the other. Many freelancers, wearing anything from bright shorts and shirts to dresses and glasses, dotted the surrounding area and moved about the two groups. Julian snorted. "What a bunch of overgrown imbeciles." She turned her head away and faced front again. Houndoom, who was lazily dozing on a branch that weaved across from her, opened one eye and huffed an agreement. Murkrow, who was perched upon a smaller branch above Julian, cooed an agreement as well.

The papers in the manila folder shifted as it was taken out of the black sack which held it and opened up to reveal two papers, each with information and photo identification on the two faction leader's. For a split second, Julian looked up. The view above her were a beautiful sight; each tree hosting a different shape and color of green. Though the canopy was dense, a light blue sky was still visible in some spots, where sunlight filtered through and shone off thousands of leaves..

Houndoom stared straight ahead, alert now. Quietly, he sounded a small whine. Julian quickly snapped out of her daydream and sighed, looking down at the papers once more. "Um, ok now." She cleared her throat. "These are the two leaders." She held out the papers for both Pokemon to see. Murkrow fluttered down silently to perch next to Houndoom, who was now sitting up. Both stared intently at the pictures, taking in every little detail needed. Julian continued. "Our orders are to kill both leaders; whatever ways possible. Got it?" Houndoom and Murkrow both gave a brisk nod of understanding.

"Ok. Good.." Julian took one last look at the papers, reading over anything she may have missed, before putting it back in the folder and tucking it away. Suddenly, a commotion of many voices sounded down below. Wide eyed, she looked down just in time to see a girl fall backwards, frightened by a Scyther and Heracross fighting. Julian smiled slightly, while Houndoom just rolled his eyes and plopped back down on the bark. Murkrow, on the other hand, had to force himself not to burst out laughing.

Seconds later, a small group of Utopianists broke up the two fighting Pokemon. Julian instantly leaned forward and glared down at them. "Stop it! There is no need for the Pokemon to fight!" She could hear the muffled voices of the Utopianists from down below. "There is plenty of food here! There is no need to fight!" At that point they had gotten the two Pokemon to stop, and the Utopianists continued to defend their reasoning to the disapproving public.

"Hah! What a bunch of illogical morons." Julian said quietly to herself as she faced forward again. Both Houndoom and Murkrow had begun dozing off on the branch across from her. She gave a small sigh and leaned back against her tree, deciding that there was time to rest before the conference started. "They can't stop nature, no matter what they say, how hard they try." Her body started to slowly relax itself as she closed her eyes. "An automatic response.. comes natural to them... they won't stop until they die or can't continue fighting anymore.." Julian's voice faded as she closed her eyes and dozed off.

Isaac shook his head as he walked away, still chuckling to himself. The reporter had gone off to find smaller prey, it seemed. Templar tended to be a bit...intense in most social situations, and here, in one where Isaac's safety couldn't be guaranteed due to the sheer number of people around, the Machoke was on edge far more than usual. That was something that was both amusing and slightly annoying to Isaac.

"Yer gonna have to do yer best not t' be too overbearin', Templar," Isaac said seriously as he turned to face his ally as he walked. "Not a whole lot of people here are any threat to me, so yer gonna hafta not be so...you," he finished, unable to help a bit of a smile.

The muscled pokemon turned his head away as they walked, the single word of "Choke" emerging from its lips It was an amusing bit of circumstance, as the part of Templar's name that was most commonly used was the same as a verb that referred to quite a violent activity. That was another reason that most people tended to be...uncertain around the Machoke, which Isaac only found more amusing.

As the two walked through Fortree City, he heard a few shouts over from one edge of the forest. The thought that perhaps rivalries had already started between the Technocrats and Utopianists crossed his mind, and he winced. He and Templar exchanged a glance, heading over to the source of the commotion as a brisk walk, covering ground quite quickly with their steps.

As they drew close, they saw a few Utopianists breaking up a fight between a Scyther and a Heracross, which caused Isaac to frown. There were Utopianists...and then there were zealots. Sadly, these seemed to fall into the latter category. They had taken the 'pokemon fights are prohibited' to the extreme of 'pokemon shouldn't fight one another. Ever.' "Guys like them give us a bad name, Temp," he muttered to his Machoke, who simply watched grimly.

Glancing at the ground, he saw a young woman who had fallen to the ground. From her attire, he guessed she was probably a Techie, but that didn't mean he shouldn't warrant kindness to her. She was a person, just the same as he was, as far as he was concerned.

He sauntered the few steps over to her before kneeling down and offering her his hand. "Need some help there, miss?" he asked, his southern drawl affecting his words, as always.

Ariel had wanted to dress somewhat formally for the occasion. It was, after all, a big event. That idea was thrown out the window the second she realized the temperature.

It had taken a hurried search toward the sets of clothes she had brought, but considering the sheer amount of clothes she had (according to others, rather foolishly) brought, it was only a matter of time until she had found something 'meteorologically suitable'.

Ariel was the last person one would expect to regularly utilize big words, although she admittedly had a tendency to combine them in nonsensical ways that gave the impression to those more well-versed in language that she really didn't have an idea what was coming out of her mouth.

Ariel came prepared. Too prepared. She was wearing a relatively loose, but baggy, bright blue sun dress which made the climate tolerable. That was prepared. She was wearing an alice band in order to keep her forehead free of bangs and cool. That was prepared. She was also lugging around a parasol that she was not actually using. That was too prepared, because it was completely useless. The trees of Fortree City provided shade anyways.

She was simply mindlessly following the trickling streams of people toward some unknown destination. When they stopped, she finally hit upon a disappointing realization. 'Uh...what am I actually doing. Oh no! Where am I? Uh oh, this is a bad sign. Wait, that's not even the right phrase. Gah, I'm such a dummy sometimes.' She sighed.

While she was distracted by something shiny she saw in the distance, a man approached her and called out. "Hey!" Ariel snapped out of her daze and turned around to source of the sound. "Yeah, you!"

Ariel finally turned to face him. "Um..."

"So yeah, can I ask you some questions?" He wasn't as polite to this individual than the person he had interviewed before. Partially because this individual wasn't nearly as intimidating as the last person he had interviewed. In fact, she gave off the aura of someone who would be fun to bully and tease by appearing both gentle and easily frazzled. Not to mention, the sleeping Bellossom on her shoulder made her seem more approachable for some strange reason.

Ariel's eyes eyes turned to stare up, contorting her face into an expression that belief the perception that the question confused her. Regardless, she managed to cheerily answer. "Sure! Whatever you want!"

The man quickly pulled out his notebook and readied his pen. "Utopianist or Technocrat?"

Ariel seemed to have not fully comprehended the question. "...excuse me?"

The journalist masked a frown. "Well, what side are you on? You know? Utopianist or Technocrat?"

Ariel put her right index finger on her cheek as she thought for a moment. Then she answered, in a rather quick pace, "Well, I'm not sure how appropriate it is to refer to the existence of two distinct sides. The implied conclusion is that this conference is some kind of armistice negotiation between two belligerent powers. I would certainly hope that this would not be the conclusion reported by the media, because it is nothing of the sort."

Ariel took a deep breath. "What I think we're going to be seeing is just a calm bilateral discussion conducted in order to create a framework for conduct that will lay down the foundations for future dealings that will be amenable and beneficial toward all parties involved. After all, I believe that all of provisions we would wish to have included in this framework will likely be accommodated, because I think most of us generally just hope to create a code of conduct that will simply allow those who are more technology-minded to operate freely without fear of violating the important basic moral values that collectively bind us all together. Now - "

The journalist gave a nervous smile to Ariel. "Uh...yeah, I think that'll be enough. That was good. Uh...thanks. You were uh...more helpful than the last Utopianist I interviewed." His hand was burning with pain after jotting down so much material into his notebook, and he quickly jotted the rest of her vapid nonsense down. He was about to turn around and walk away before he remember something. "Oh yeah, before I go, what's your name?"

Ariel smiled at the journalist before proudly exclaiming her name. "Ariel Roy! From Verdanturf Town!" Ariel remembered something she wanted to ask. "Wait, you interviewed another Utopianist? Could you point me toward her? I'm uh...kind of lost."

The man was a bit stunned. He was impressed by the women because he could not understand what she was saying and merely assumed it to be extremely advanced and complicated. His opinion of the women significantly went down as it appeared how clueless she was. "Uh...it was a he, and he was over there." He pointed in the direction where a scuffle had apparently just happened. "Anyways, he looked pretty intimidating and was with a Machoke. You couldn't miss him. Anyways, tha-"

Ariel cut his show of gratitude off. "Thanks!" She jogged in the direction that the journalist had pointed, and after a few points, she had seen the man the journalist had described. She had actually identified the Machoke first, because it easily stood out. He actually looked quite horrifying to Ariel, but he was a Utopianist, wasn't he? He couldn't be all bad. He was kneeling down for some reason that Ariel couldn't really tell.

'Ahah! He's gotta know what to do. And where everything is. And what I'm supposed to be doing. And stuff like that.' Ariel had reached him after another short job, but had entirely missed the figure next to him. Her foot caught onto something that felt like a person lying on the ground, and she noticed she was in the air before she noticed she had tripped on that person.

Areuko, still sleeping, flew off her shoulder. Ariel, on the other hand, continued to move through the air on a collision course toward the Utopianist.