[PKMN OPEN] Hoenn: The Road [IC] [M]

OOC Thread

Overhead of Slateport under cover of the night sky, a Dragonair soared eastward, two figures shrouded in black riding atop it's slender back.

"We're almost there, tracker's getting closer."

The man in front holding the Pokémon's reins looked back for a moment, peeking at the device in the other man's hand.

"Just keep your eyes on that and let me know the second it's under us. I don't wanna get caught up in that current even if we aren't in the fucking water."

"You're acting like it'll just suck us in or something."

"Trust me, it will. It's got some kind of weird, magnetic-like pull as soon as you get close and I am staying way fucking clear of it."

Below was the vast dark sea and the well-known currents that comprised the sea route from Pacifidlog to Slateport and from this height, especially at night, it was difficult to notice anything, let alone a subtle change in the waters.

"Right underneath."

"Alright. Take us down, girl." The man in front pulled down on the reins and the Dragonair began their descent, lowering them in a spiral.

She stopped to a hover inches from the water's still surface as if weightless despite the burden of the men. Next to them was the silhouette of buoy, a tiny flashing light stuck to its side.

"Holy shit this is creepy. This little patch of calm sea surrounded by all these currents."

"Damn right it is. So let's hurry and get this over with. No point in wasting time." He felt a shift of weight from behind him and then heard splashing. Turning back to his partner, he saw him to the side of the Dragonair giving an "OK" sign before disappearing under the surface. He signaled back despite no one there to see it, or so he thought.

A bright light swept across his face then focused back him. Averting his eyes, he raised a hand to shield his face. "Who are you!? Hands in the air, don't make a single move!" A voice shouted. The sudden beam of light had disoriented him, caught him with eyes wide. Neither him or his partner underwater expected any trouble tonight. With one hand still gripping the reins he pulled upwards and the Dragonair shot up to the sky in retreat.

They climbed until the voice and light were faint in the distance. "Shit," he spat out. "There wasn't supposed to be a guard out tonight! Guess it's plan fucking B..."

---

Underneath the water, Alan Alanson, a man of just twenty-seven years of age, sunk straight to the seafloor. He belonged to a group of men for hire, and while true most of their employment boarded the realm of crime, Alan was more concerned about money than lawfulness. He was a family man, and with his troubled legal past convenetial work didn't quite pay as well even if he had the necessary skills.

Swimming right of the diving point, then left, and left again, Alan saw to his right side a long, narrow corridor and just ahead at the end of it, he could see a spot of light breaking through the surface.

Then he realized it wasn't just one light breaking through the surface, but multiple, all smaller than the one at the far end of the corridor. He spun around and saw two more lights coming from around the corner. Eyes widening, he rushed into the corridor before fully clearing the path, his tank clunking as it hit rock. The lights surrounded him; they were most likely guards in search. Had the operation failed? Were they spotted? His mind raced and his breathing hastened. The lights were beginning to close in on him and it was only a matter of time. Could he make the entrance if he just went for it?

Whether or not it would work, he couldn't think up anything else. Alan had decided. He steadied his breathing and then pushed hard off the wall.

Before he had even swam a foot the sea floor illuminated and then turned back to darkness. At this point he wasn't swimming anymore, bouncing his way to the end of the narrow pathway with long, bounding strides, kicking up dust as he went. He was so preoccupied, so single-mindedly focused on that single source of light before him that he hadn't realized all of the other lights had disappeared.

When he reached it, he emerged into a dimly lit cavern. Flinging his mask off, Alan dragged himself out of the water, his breathing ragged and heart thumping. Unbuckling the apparatus, he rolled over onto his back and threw his arms overhead, big gulps of air cycling through his lungs.

After some time, Alan rose to his feet, eyes studying his surroundings. Stone tablets lined the cave with dotted inscriptions, a faint light emanating from their incisions. "Woah," he whispered, tracing his hand along one such stone. His gaze fixed onto it and he felt himself unable to look away. He couldn't read the tablets, before last week he hadn't even known about braille. Still, Alan didn't need to know how to read braille, all he needed to know was how to follow instructions.

Reluctantly, the man pulled himself away, continuing deeper within the cave until he saw two large pillars and a dead end of a wall. He approached it cautiously, placing his hand on the wall. He felt the tiniest of give as he pushed. Balling his hand into a fist he gave it a light punch.

"Of course not," he muttered. Alan reached for his waist and pulled out a metal, extendable rod. Uncapping it revealed a sharp drill-like end. Alan hesitated for a moment looking from the rod to the wall, his eyes following up to the ceiling. Shaking his head with a long exhale, he tightened his grip and planted it into the wall until it held firmly. He pulled on the extension and the rod began to beep. Alan ran, ran as fast as the flippers on his feet allowed him to, and then dove behind one of the stone tablets despite already being a safe distance away.

Hearing the explosion, Alan waited a moment before peeking back and when he did his jaw dropped. They had told him what to expect in the briefing, but he hadn't exactly believed them then. To his amazement the wall had crumbled into an entrance way, and not the kind haphazardly made by an explosion, but symmetrical and seemingly carefully constructed. It may have been pessimistic thinking but he expected to be drowning right about now.

Having had his fill of gawking, Alan approached the entrance way in small steps, crouching low to the ground. A part of him still felt the ceiling would collapse at any moment, a torrent of water filling the cave. Putting that notion aside, he stepped over the rubble in a hurry, more jumping than stepping, and crossed into the hidden room. He seemed to relax once on the other side, mind and body easing up. However strange it was, crossing into this section of the cave brought on a strong sense of security.

In the hidden room, more and more tablets stood erect, their glow brighter than the others. At the far end of the room was a wall inscribed with the same braille on the stone tablets, but unlike the tablets there were depictions of two Pokémon carved into it, adjacent to the braille on both sides. Underneath these carvings were two slots carved out from the wall. Unclipping two pokéballs from a waist belt, Alan carefully inserted them into the slots.

"A perfect fit," he remarked, the balls holding to the wall securely. In a moment of curiosity Alan tried to remove one, but the pokéball did not so much as budge. It was as if they had merged into the wall, become a part of it. Above the pokéballs, the carvings of the two Pokémon began to glow harshly, blinding him.

Alan regained his vision quickly, but the effects of the light lingered in his eyes as the inscriptions and carvings on the wall seemed to shake violently. He staggered back turning to leave, but found himself leaning against one of the tablets for support. It wasn't just the carvings on the wall that appeared to be shaking, everything in the room shook, actually shook. One by one, the tablets surrounding him wobbled and then fell. He felt the ground rumbling under his feet and across the room where the entrance, now an exit, stood, the ceiling collapsed. All around him, rubble and rock began to fall from above.

"Shit!" He reached for another pokéball at his waist, a last ditch escape plan they rarely used because of its inconsistency, but this situation, inside and outside the cave, called for it. "Kadabra!" He shouted to the Pokémon as it came out, "Teleport! When I grab you!"

In its eyes he could see fear as the rumbling, the collapsing of everything around them suddenly filled its vision and ears. He was sure his eyes held the very same expression. Don't you dare Alan thought, his hand reaching out, fingers grasping. Don't you dare leave without me.

There was nothing in his hand. It was odd. He saw the Kadabra with his very own eyes, saw its thin yellow wrist, saw his fingers wrapping around it, but he felt none of it. It was an utter lack of sensation not just with his hand, but his arms, his legs, his feet, all and everything numb. He felt nothing except for a sharp piercing at the crown of his head, and a trail of warmth and stickiness leaking out. Head dropping as if propelled with great force, Alan Alanson saw the ground rushing towards his face and then everything faded to black.

---

Dozens of lights lit up the night sky by Pacifidlog as a long, wailing alarm sounded through miles and miles of sea. Gritting his teeth Mason Green pulled sharply on his Dragonair's reigns, the duo just narrowly avoiding a collision with a Skarmory. While the guards were all sea-bound on their ships, all anchored down so that the currents couldn't sweep them away, aerial reinforcements had to be making their way over, and this Skarmory was already a handful for them to deal with.

"Alan needs to finish up fast." He muttered.

Despite their constant dipping and dancing through the sky, the lights always found their way back to them. The searchlight of the boat that had first spotted them was the worst of the lot, somehow perfectly in line with their every more. Behind them, Mason could hear the Skarmory's call, see the glint of its silver wings catching in the corner of his eye. This time he wasn't sure if they could dodge it, so Mason turned his attention forwards. Whipping the reins with one hand, pushing Dragonair's back with the other, Mason pointed her to the boat. "Dive towards it!"

Dragonair shot downwards in a blur, her trainer's legs frantically gripping to hold on. "Dragon Pulse!" He shouted.

The guard steering tried to pull the boat out of the way, but it was far too late. A beam of dark purple energy shattered the searchlight, sending enough force to tip the nose of the boat into the air, throwing the driver and another guard into the water.

Mason pulled on the reins again as Dragonair glided past the falling boat, ascending back into the sky. He was about to issue another attack, something to keep their attention on him, but the scene below left that unnecessary. As lights started to gather on the now capsized boat, the two guards barely hanging on its edge, the sea began to rage unlike ever before. All around them, boats that had been firmly anchored felt the current taking them, the waves pushing them however they pleased. Even the calm patch of sea began to take the form of the currents around it.

Shouts came from every direction as guards scrambled to re-secure themselves, but they would find that impossible. Something had dislodged their anchors, spitting them out of the floor of the sea, rattled them out of their holes. The first to realize this called out their Pokémon and tried to flee to the sky. Unable to overcome the powerful and otherworldly pull of the currents, they were dragged into the sea. The two men, still clinging onto their boat in utter desperation, began to scream and screech for their lives as their capsized boat started to accelerate into an oncoming wave. The Skarmory shot by Mason, ignoring him and hurrying to the men. It grabbed them in its talons before they were nearly swallowed alive and somehow it managed to power through the currents' pull. The scene descended into utter chaos as men everywhere made attempts to abandon their boats, some successful, others not.

"Alan!" Mason beamed, a cautious grin spreading across his lips despite the horrific scene in front of him. "Let's get out of here, Dragonair! That bastard's gotta be around here somewhere."​

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Route 102 was swarming with people, but not the usual bunch you would expect. It was teeming with young children. Normally these kids would be in school, especially at this time of day, but with the earthquake and all the anxiety and concern that came with it, many schools had decided to close for the day to give children some time to relax and destress.

You could hear the playful screams and yelling everywhere and unfortunately for Aoi, that meant wild Pok?mon were going to be a lot harder to find, holding out somewhere in the forests where there a lot less chaos was to be had. Either way, Aoi wouldn?t really have much of a chance to search for them, as when a pair of children stumbled by her and caught the look of her unusual Charmander, she soon became the center of attention.

?Oh my god, is your pok?mon a shiny!?? The shrill voice caught the ears of all the other kids and soon enough they had all gathered around Aoi, some dozen or so children battering her with questions and trying to catch her attention, pulling on her shorts and the like.

?Are you a Pok?mon Trainer? That?s so cool!!?

?Is that a Charmander? Isn?t that from another region!??

?Are you not from around here!? Where are you from??

As Aoi dealt with the questions, kids speaking over each other to the point some could barely be understood, a young man ran up to the group. ?Alright, guys that?s enough!? He called out, unsuccessfully waving them off.

?Ahh, man. I am so sorry about this,? he said, wading into the group and pulling away the kids grabbing at Aoi.

He faced her with a light smile and apologetic, easy green eyes. ?These are all my kids, well the kids in my class, I mean. I?m a teacher over at Oldale. Schools out today so I thought I?d round some of them up and bring the kids out for a trip while their parents are working. Of course, they sorta had a different and started messing around, doing what kids do.?

He was somewhere in his early twenties with clean cut brunette hair and a clean shaven face with favorable features. ?I?m Oliver,? he said, extending a hand. ?Again, real sorry about this.?​

Oliver is taking his class to the beach on the west side of Petalburg City. The kids enthusiastically ask you to join them. If you choose to disappoint the children, you may head further into the forest north or south of Route 102 in hopes of catching a Pokemon like originally intended or do something else. The choice is yours, but please, think of the children.​

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It was a wonderful day, and the earthquake from last night was not going to take that away. Even in the face of nature and her supposed disasters, it was important to tackle the day like any other, to begin it with excitement, daring, and initiative, to begin it with a boom. A literal boom. It shook the walls, the floor, reverberating and echoing throughout the hotel. In the room aside Marmara?s, an explosion had just occurred. It was quite obvious, not just because of the sheer deafening volume or the jolting force of its pressure, but because the wall and the other half of her hotel room had been blown to bits.

It was a sight to see, the other side of that wall. Standing in all his glory was a man, prime in his natural state, unshaven and black hair a mess, but eyes very, very awake. Between him and the territory that marked her room was a Claydol, eyes shut and sputtering smoke from its arms and head. It stood still for a moment before flopping onto the floor, arms coming undone from the body. The Claydol was not the only thing flopping and unconscious, a breeze coming in from outside, but of the two it was the far more endearing attraction.

The man?s eyes rose from his Claydol to the new expanded interior of his room and stilled. Abject horror filtered through his face as he turned away and walked stiffly out of sight. The Claydol was plunged in red light, disappearing into cover to be replaced by a Salamence. It filled the space of the rooms impressively as the sound of glass and rubble crunched under its feet. Poking his head out from what was left of the wall separating their rooms, the man glanced at Marmara and then averted his eyes to a corner of the room. ?Sorry... I?ll be going now??

With what could only be presumed to be clothes bundled in his arms and shielding his waist, the man sprinted out from behind the wall and hopped a top his Salamence?s back, something slipping out from his clothes as he jumped. The Pok?mon turned its head towards its trainer, a cross expression in its eyes before it leapt out from the hotel room and took off out of sight.​

An unmarked boat pulled into Dewford Harbor far earlier than any boat or ship was expected on today?s schedule. It drew the attention of nearby workers and townsfolk as whispers filled the air. Although unexpected, the boat?s sole presence was not the main cause of the sudden gossip around the docks. It was the man climbing out of the boat, his icy blue hair and distinguished, handsome face, that struck as most odd.

?What do you think you?re doing in my town?? A voice boomed out from the front of the docks. With his spiked blue hair the length of a mullet and classic black compression shirt, the owner of the voice was unmistakable.

The question prompted a playful smile on the man?s face. ?Come on, Brawly. Don?t tell me you?re going cold on me too??

?Cold? Me? Do you hear yourself, Steven? You?re the one showing up announced! Are you trying to dodge me?? The two shared a laugh before they embraced shoulder to shoulder.

?So,? Brawly continued, the tone of his voice dropping. ?Is it about last night??

?It is, but it?s not urgent.? Steven replied. ?However,? he continued, his stomach grumbling as if on cue. ?This is.?​

Just on the outskirts of a relatively small farming plot on the edge of Fallarbor Town, a Zangoose prowled in the bushes, waiting for its next meal. It was a ragged thing, its fur tattered and dirty, it?s body thin and bony, a rare sight for the species. It had less the appearance of a fearsome predator, but a desperate scavenger.

It had laid there all morning since dawn, waiting for the farmer who tended to his field to leave. The Zangoose saw its opportunity, and without much thought to the rest of its surroundings sprinted to the unattended fields to pick its full of seeds and budding vegetables, its hunger growing unbearable.​

Nolan?s daring challenge fell to deaf ears as he opened the doors to the Fortree Gym front lobby. The receptionist at the front desk chucked an amused look in the direction of the trainer before returning to his work.

?Sorry, kid.? It was a large man in a black suit that spoke and from the look of him, his wired earpiece and intimidating stature, it was obvious he was security. ?The Gym?s closed for today. Winona headed out this morning.? He pointed over to the sign by the reception desk.

GYM CLOSED UNTIL ...(ONE IN-GAME DAY PASSES). SCHEDULE APPOINTMENT AT FRONT DESK FOR BATTLE. APOLOGIES FOR ANY INCONVENIENCES.
​

Along Route 116, Mariella Golds wiped the sweat from the her brow as she worked diligently to gather the ragtag group of Whismur spread all over the path, dotting the green with a specks of purple.

?You have got to be kidding me,? she sighed, her free hand going to her hip as she held a sleeping Whismur close to her chest.

The previous night?s earthquake had caused quite a stir in the Rusturf Tunnels, scaring even the Pok?mon that inhabited it, particularly these Whismur. They fled the tunnels in fear, and their cries, compounded with the quake?s tremors, were an incredible nuisance to those that had been camping out along the route.

Mariella, something of a master Pok?mon handler, had been tasked by the Rustboro City leadership with herding the Pok?mon back to the caves where they would be safer, but mainly draw less complaints from residents and travelers.

With so many of them, numbering maybe thirty, even with her Absol doing most of the legwork it was going to be a long day of it. The numbers by themselves weren?t so troubling, but it was the nature of Whismur as a species that gave the pair the most grief. They were a quiet kind of Pok?mon with a very inaudible speech but with fear they became deafening. In an unfamiliar territory such as this, they would scare twice as easily. It took considerable care to approach each one and guide them into the small group they had already assembled; if even just one let out that frightful wail, the rest would follow. The Whismur sleeping in her arm had taught Mariella that well enough; it had started crying earlier when some sort of explosion sounded off in Rustboro City and when she had finally calmed it down, the little thing just knocked.

She had some more complaints about the job, but contract work paid handsomely and it was an offer that even at her age she couldn?t balk at. With a group of eight Whismur being nudged along by her Absol, Mariella moved further along Route 116.​

​

To the north of the beach, in the sole house and dock along Route 104, a group of men made preparations to set out.

?I don?t remember agreeing to chaperone some kids,? one joked in reference to the noise outside. ?Think we have enough space in the boats? Lifejackets??

?Knock it off, Luke. You finished prepping, yet? You must be with all your yapping.? Another replied before stepping out onto the house?s porch.

?Aw, what are you turning all sour on me for, Greg?? Luke said, following the other man out. He looked at his friend who was leaning forward against the porch railing, looking out at the kids playing on the sand and grinned. ?Oh, I get it. One of your brats out there isn?t it? You?re local, yea??

?No, not one of mine.? Greg said, breaking into a smile. ?Mine are grown, out in the world somewhere, but it brings back memories.?

?Real mushy, ain?t ya?? Luke replied, turning back towards the house until a certain shape distinguished itself rising from the sand.

?You see that?? Greg asked in awe, his eyes fixated now on the Shiny Charmander.

?I sure do. Keep an eye on it for me.? Luke said, rushing back into the house.

When Luke returned, his Swellow sat perched on his shoulder, a small black anklet around one of its legs. ?Track that for me, Sweetheart. It?s trainer should be nearby. Make sure you?re not spotted.? With a brief nod to Luke, the large bird Pok?mon took off.

Greg turned back to face Luke, his face warped in playful disbelief. ?You named it Sweetheart? And you were giving me ??????

?Alright! Chop, chop men. We got a ruin that needs sacking and a client that is awaiting!? He called out to the men as he sauntered back into the house, ignoring Greg?s jab.​

Freddy Morgan collapsed onto the office couch exhausted on what was supposed to be a day off from work. Instead, his supposed day of luxury became a day of exhausting phone calls and emails, most of which concerned the spur of the moment renovation of a Rustboro City hotel room. He let himself sink into the cushions feeling as if he had finally earned a moment of reprieve. The sudden weight he felt on his back shattered that notion and he felt himself, if just slightly, slip further into mild insanity.

?From the looks of it, you must have had quite an eventful day.? The voice was a familiar one, a fellow talent agent who started at the company alongside Freddy, a friend that knew him better than most, and more often than not, a thorn at his side.

The talent agent groaned in response, turning over to face his colleague.

?If you consider beginning the day by exposing yourself to a young girl in her own hotel room eventful, then yes, I would be inclined to agree.? He threw his arms up, his irritation evident by voice, action, and the sarcasm.

?A girl? Were you offering her a job?? His colleague mocked, trying to suppress her laughter.

Raising an eyebrow, Freddy began to sit up. ?You know, if you want to sit through a however many hours long presentation on workplace harassment and sensitivity training for a second time, all you have to do is ask and I will grant your wish.?

?Fair enough, fair enough. So, what happened next?? As per usual, she was not going to relent.

?What happened?? He practically spat it out. ?Nothing happened, I left! Clothes literally on my back, might I add. But, because I know you won?t be satisfied until you pester me with a million more questions, let me just skip to the part that I know you?ll love.?

?Oh? Do tell.? In anticipation, she leaned back into the sofa so that she faced Freddy and crossed her legs.

?I left my goddamn business card there. And the surprising part isn?t that she emails me, because of course she?d email me, who wouldn?t email one of us if they found our card just laying around after an incident like that? But she emails me, and this email - it just breaks my brain.? He paused, his thumb and pointer finger rubbing his eyelids. ?I?ve spent practically the whole of my morning playing peacemaker with the hotel, the authorities, the media trying to placate and explain what happened, and what does this little girl have the audacity to email me with. An apology! A mother????ing apology! If she were trying to blackmail me, squeeze an ounce of opportunity for fame or whatever out of me, then alright, I know how to handle that, I?ve deal with that before. But this? How the hell do I respond to this good-natured, wholesome bull???? just sitting pristine and pretty in my inbox??

Freddy?s crazed rant was met with outright laughter. Tears were welling in his colleague?s eyes as she struggled to speak. ?You have to show me this email.? But before she could finish her sentence, he had already tossed his phone into her hands

She read it over while wiping away the tears. ?Well isn?t she something, asking if you?re okay. Marmara? Odd name, but it could work.?

?Work?? He just stared at her. ?You can?t be serious.?

?I don?t see why not. Alarmingly nice to paraphrase you, and probably genuine too. A little quirky and awkward from the look of this email too. I see a lot of potential there, we could make it work.? She replied, jotting things down in a notepad. ?Do me a favor and give her my contact whenever you get around to answering that.? Her tone was was uncharacteristically serious and professional.

?As you wish,? Freddy mimicked a bow. ?Your Majesty, the Pike Queen, your humble servant, and esteemed courier, will without fail deliver your message in full.?

?Oh please, Morgan. Don?t call me Pike Queen, at least not this time of year. Reopening the Battle Frontier is a long ways away.? She called out, strutting away. ?Right now, I?m just plain old Lucy.?​

It seems Marmara message has incurred mixed reviews. When she wakes from her nap, Marmara will not find a reply in her email because Mr. Morgan has now categorized Marmara's message as work. Freddy Morgan is currently not working and has also decided to take tomorrow off. It may be a few days before she hears back. Marmara is free to do as she wishes after her nap.​

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Kiyo can continue on to the gym battle without interruption.​

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