radio414

True to his word, Brian did everything he said he was going to do. Gym came first, because it was more convenient to shower after and just use that as the actual shower for the day, even if it meant trudging out of bed after only a few hours of sleep. It wasn’t enough time to get a stupid dream, at least. He kept his gym playlist in the instrumental section; it was one less distraction and let him think about the previous night a little bit more. This was the job, huh? He’d only been at this for one, maybe two weeks at most. Couldn’t some spiritual haunting happen during the daytime? Like, he didn’t really want that. He didn’t actually want Shiki to come barging into his daily routine and muck everything up, but also, despite desperately needing the job for personal, spiritual reasons (pun intended), so far he hated himself afterward every single time. Gym helped with that part, at least -- he could turn that hate into something productive. He was still sore from wrestling with that ghost last night. He’d already forgotten her name, so the ache was the only thing she’d left behind. Next was actual work, and since he had already had to rely on sheer discipline to make it through leg day, there was little left for the monotony of research and paperwork for more research. If he could actually comprehend a whole paragraph at a time, he’d have probably enjoyed these ancient tomes a lot more. Part of Brian was already anticipating having to read everything all over again. The applications got sent out okay, though. That could practically be done entirely by computer. There were a thousand little widgets that could lift all the book’s information and turn it into a request form. Brian just had to click what he wanted. It was still busywork, reading summaries and trying to glean if it was useful or not, but still. Brian didn’t go grocery shopping. He took a nap instead and put it off until tomorrow. What was Shiki going to do, obligate him to incur even more sleep debt by finding some other supernatural force to inflict upon him? And Carmen now, too? The amount of four-letter words he uttered when he saw Shiki’s message and, moments later, Shiki’s van parked outside his apartment was immeasurable. He still put on a jacket and went to it, but each step earned an extra one. “Fine,” he said -- another four-letter word -- as he reached the driver’s side door. “Alright, let’s do this.” Once Brian had actually parsed Shiki’s handwriting, following the instructions was easy enough. It was hard to go wrong with “turn left” and “turn right” even if that was all that really was written down. He spotted Carmen right where Shiki had said she’d be and rolled down his window as she approached. “Hey,” he said. “Hopefully you had a better day than I did, because I bet it’s about to get a whole lot worse.”

C.A.T.: Cyber Attack Team Stubbs the Zombie in Rebel Without a Pulse

“It is still just a bruise, however!” Quinn said, even as he thrust his shirt back down to cover their injury. “It only hurt when I touched it, and only a little. Rest assured, Belladonna, this is nowhere near the worst thing a Pokémon has done to me.” Quinn tightened his grip on Cassiopeia’s strings. “Besides, we have come to an understanding. I see no reason to think they would do so again.” With zir free hand, Quinn took the berry and inspected it. If they remembered his berry charts correctly, it would be a useful boon for later, especially since she had already had to use a potion on Cassiopeia so early into the journey. And if xe did not, surely fae would be able to find a replacement chart at another town or otherwise find a way to look up such information. She felt Cassiopeia tugging again. “Oh, would you like to hold it? Very well, I see no reason why you should not. Perhaps you will be able to tell me what it does, then.” Cassiopeia went to consume the berry right away and Quinn had to pull her back. “Later, you silly balloon! When you need it! We are already on our way to a Pokémon Center. You will be polished clean and ready for action before you know it.” The trip to the Pokémon Center was uneventful, but then, all three of them had already cut such a swath through the route, leaving little in their wake, that now that the time came to retrace their steps, there was little left to encounter. Other trainers were still licking their wounds, and any further wild Pokémon stayed well inside the bounds of the taller grass. It was the first time Quinn used the Center, though, which turned into a whole thing. “Cassiopeia, return to your Pokéball so the nice nurse can heal your wounds,” Quinn said for what felt like the seventeenth time. But the Balloon Pokémon acted in her nature instead, stubbornly drifting to the corner of the ceiling furthest from her trainer. The nurse was only offering as much help as she could without getting out from behind the counter. “We do accept Pokémon who have rejected a Pokéball for one reason or another,” she said in a rather joyful voice that betrayed a hint of laughter. “The healing process is slightly different, but it is just as effective.” “No, I am the one who prefers to keep her outside her ball,” Quinn said. “She-” He took another running leap to try and grab at Cassiopeia’s strings but got nowhere near enough height. “She is perfectly fine with it on most occasions, and she needs to learn to be alright with this if our journey is to continue. We just started our Pokémon adventure today!” “Really?” the nurse said. “I couldn’t tell!” Quinn tried another jump, missed, and gasped when they hit the ground, feeling the bruise once again. The nurse noticed, and her demeanor changed. “We also offer our clinical services to trainers. Perhaps you can both get looked at at the same time,” she said. Quinn stared at Cassiopeia, who was no longer fidgeting in the corner but was now drifting just far enough away that she could react to another wild grab if Quinn tried it. “Will you get in your ball if I get looked at with you?” Quinn said. “Please, Cassiopeia.” Fae held out the ball, and Cassiopeia, with one of her handstrings, tapped its button and allowed herself to be sucked in. Treatment for its injury was about as simple as Quinn could hope for. While the Poké Center worked its magic on Quinn’s two Pokémon, the nurse and a Chansey wrapped Quinn’s stomach “In a few days, you can use a rag soaked with hot water as a compress,” the nurse explained. “It will encourage blood flow, which will help shrink the bruise.” Quinn did not have the heart to tell the nurse about her condition and how that too might affect the healing process but accepted the advice all the same. Normandie and Cassiopeia finished right at the same moment, and Quinn accepted them back as well, though they kept Cassiopeia in her ball for the time being. “Well, my friends,” Quinn said as they exited the center and returned to Nathaniel and Belladonna. “Now that I have caught a Pokémon and we are all healed up, I suppose we have a lot of training to do. Normandie still has to get used to fighting with a trainer, after all, and while Cassiopeia and I have performed well so far, we are clearly still both novices. Let us return to our adventure!”

Z. only realized after the fact, after Jirachi’s pure light had enveloped them before anyone else, that screaming in false pain and terror would have been a really good prank. It would have thrown everything off, and caused one extra flinch of realization, but not more than that before they’d get swept away too and land with only mild discomfort. And it was still discomfort. Just because it didn’t hurt didn’t mean Z. had to like the feeling of being displaced. Alas, again, they only thought of all this when they landed at the center of the island and had to watch everyone else’s reactions to landing without the extra bit of playful fear. They didn’t even say anything snarky to Clobber; his fears were already assuaged by Jirachi bringing up the rear in his spell. The plan, as outlined, was a bit whimsical. “Make a wish…” “Think happy thoughts…” It all seemed like something straight out of a play. “Clap your hands if you believe.” But as soon as they thought that, a new set of words floated into their head, seemingly only by association: But release me from my bands With the help of your good hands. Gentle breath of yours my sails Must fill, or else my project fails, They knew where that was from. That was the final monolog of The Tempest. How did they remember that? But the words kept flowing, and Z. found themselves mumbling along. “And my ending is despair, Unless I be relieved by prayer, Which pierces so that it assaults Mercy itself, and frees all faults. As you from crimes would pardoned be, Let your indulgence set me free.“ Their fanfic! Yes, that was where they had used it. Their months- and tens-of-thousands-of-words-long project had ended with that exact ending, a final thanks from the main character to anyone who had read that far. Speaking of indulgence, it was definitely a bit of wankery to have done so. As Z. would later write in Zeta Channel, “If you start referencing other stories, you better make sure you can live up to them. If I see fucking Shakespeare, I’m going to start wondering why I’m not reading Shakespeare instead.” When they got called out about this apparent hypocrisy, they responded, “You think my story wasn’t worth it?” Z. hadn’t responded with the other reason they’d allowed themselves such vanity. In truth, they’d promised themselves exactly that sort of ending to their story from the outset. Even before knowing its quality, even before being able to measure it up against the other submissions to the Creative Writing subforum and find all the rest lacking, it was simply a promise for creative release and satisfaction -- borrowing from the Bard meant they had completed the damn thing in the first place. The laurels that followed never actually mattered. Just finishing it was enough. Jirachi wanted happy thoughts, right? What could be happier than that? Even more recent goings-on had generally been more positive. They were cordial with people who deserved it, after all, which had led to a fair few positive conversations. Even on a selfish level, talking with Hector and Chester had led to their own self-improvement; they were now more confident in their Zoruan ability to mimic other Pokémon. Like they had told Chester, it wasn’t perfect, but it was a marked step up from back in the Mystery Dungeon where half of their attacks had barely worked at all. There were other, negative parts, of course. Z.’s mind briefly drifted through some of them. There was still an inherent lack of trust some of the other forum members seemed to have with each other, and a grudge that didn’t show signs of going away anytime soon. Z.’s eyes fell on the target of their enmity, but they looked away as that Pokémon nearly returned Z.’s stare. There was still nothing to say about that. But Z.’s antics on the forum had gotten them unfairly slapped with the label of “cynic” (they’d tried for “realist”, at least, to massage the pessimism inherent in that label, but it never caught on). They could be happy for some parts of the future, as long as they got a chance to see them. Right, that was the wish Jirachi had asked for. Z. closed their eyes, consolidated every thought they’d had since their arrival at the center of the island into a single phrase, a single image pictured in their head which they held onto with as much mental strength as they could muster, and WISHED.

Chris saw his dagger strike true, but it didn’t have the desired effect of grabbing its attention away from Estellise. Well, killing it would have been the true preferred outcome, but he wasn’t so cocksure at this point in his dungeon-delving career to expect things to go down in one hit from a measly dagger. No, the thing kept moving towards Estellise, and the only thing that stopped its advance was one of Estellise’s light arrows. He breathed a sigh of relief for two reasons. Estellise was no longer crying out in pain (and had enough wherewithal to let loose one of her magic arrows), and they had once again driven the thing back into the fog. “Don’t look it in the eyes, got it,” he said. Would he be able to follow that advice, though? He thought about how often he had to read people in his normal job, trying to sus out who was offering something worth considering and who was just leading him on, trying to take advantage of his youth and perceived inexperience. He looked people in the eyes for just that reason. And that wasn’t to mention all those years of etiquette training he’d had to go through. Some of that was instinctive now despite his best efforts. At the same time, there was no use worrying about it now. As much as he wanted to go rushing after the thing and get his dagger back, this was the second time it had shown up after wading through the fog. “It’ll be back,” he said. “Let’s go get the others, it’ll be easier to deal with if we’re all together. It can only look at one of us, right? Lana’s right there, and then Ziun…” He squinted, looking past the girl. “Yeah, he’s just past there.” It looked like he was fighting something, actually. Chris kept his sword drawn and brandished his second dagger with his off-hand. “We should hurry.”

A Report To The Shareholders / Kill Your Masters The building in the center of Goodale Park only appeared modest from the outside. Crossing the threshold past the briefest veneers of normalcy led to a series of elevators that went down into an open meeting area. The central table was illuminated by a series of lights matching the table's ring shape, and indicators of just where each faction was meant to sit were posted at proportional distances away from each other. The Gibbons section, naturally, was devoid of any members of that particular gang and was instead filled by renegades that had heeded the call of an S-Class threat. There were non-perishable snacks on another table off to the side and one of the walls was a map of Scarlet City with all the various factions' territory claims marked out. Also on the walls, just next to each elevator, were the stairwells that led up to the surface. There was signage next to each of them detailing which building basement they came up into, each building close to, but still outside Goodale Park's influence. One led to a bookshop. Another led to the pit of a nearby theater. Etcetera, etcetera. It took a moment -- longer, perhaps, than anyone might have expected -- for everyone to file in and find their place, but Stanley wasn’t about to waste any time. “Alright,” he said. When that did little to quell the idle chatter, he produced a small gavel and banged it on the table. “Alright! First thing’s first, a sanity check. Where’s DEUS?” “Out east,” someone said. “Dunno what he was doing, was too busy looking for Gibbons activity out there. There isn’t any, by the way. Most, if not all of the Gibbons Gang has pulled back west. There were a few skirmishes, but no casualties.” “We’ve already hauled in three, dunno where that number is coming from,” Atropos chimed in. “Yeah, and my friend got jumped on their way here,” said another. “She’s got regeneration, but she’s still recovering. I bet there are more than just them, too, if you thought to ask.” Stanley sighed. “We’re skipping ahead a bit, though our condolences, of course, to Lady Scarlet. I suppose this means I can skip the obvious preamble and move straight to the meat of the discussion. In a similar vein, where is Caesar?” He pronounced the name as one might expect. “You are saying this because you believe Caesar” -- Ophiuchus pronounced it just the same way -- “has transcended his status as a gang leader and is now an S-Class threat.” It wasn’t a question, rather, it was clear that Ophiuchus cared more about procedure even at a time like this. “You are invoking clauses in several treaties to gather us together, to work to restore Scarlet City to what it was before this incident.” “To what it was as best we’re able, sans the existential threat,” Director Sekelsky said. “Correct,” Stanley said before the oneupmanship on technicalities got any further (disappointing Lachesis who’d already had her mouth open ready to speak -- she slouched back down in her chair instead). “So I ask again: The most direct route to such circumstances would be the removal -- whether that be apprehension or destruction -- of Caesar himself. Does anybody know where he is?” A renegade chimed in on the discussion. “How can we be sure just killing Caesar is all we’d need to do to resolve this S-class? Isn’t Gibbons the largest gang in the city? Wouldn’t a second-in-command just take over the work of the first? Or worse, what if the two other gangs start fighting over new territory?” “Well, again, we’ve already captured his second,” Atropos said. “As for the territory stuff…” She let a smile and a shrug answer the second question. Stanley seized upon her pause to regain control. “There was territory squabbling before Caesar, and it’ll be there after Caesar is dead too. Those actions would be covered over treaty agreements that are not necessary for this discussion. Now, staging a raid on his casino is the obvious first step, though that is not without its problems. “That’s what he’d be expecting,” Clotho said. “Like, he’s an idiot, but I’m pretty sure he’d be able to conceive of ‘attack the big shiny thing closely associated with myself.’” “Plus, he’s not even there, but we got that from Hellhound. I guess you don’t have to believe them, but that’s still two points against in abstract.” Director Sekelsky stepped in. “It doesn’t do us much good to underestimate our enemy anyway. Caesar does have a number of advantages on us, too. As long as he has Legion near him, for example, he can look over the whole city. We won’t exactly be sneaking up on him no matter what we do.” “Well, I’m not advocating a defensive approach either,” Stanley said. “I don’t think Caesar will come to us.” He took a breath, clearly an affectation thanks to his inorganic body, but it was still a pause in the meeting. “So, my proposal, then, is to work by process of elimination. Raiding the casino still makes sense to deprive Caesar of what resources we can, but we can also stage attacks on other buildings in his territory. Warehouses, potential safehouses, wherever he might be.” “Hold on,” Lachesis said. “Are you suggesting we just attack random buildings in hopes of gaining more information from whoever’s in there?” “It would be by process of elimination, yes,” Stanley said. “If we cannot find Caesar at his most likely hideaways, we would have to check other areas in his territory. You have an objection to this?” “Just a small one that, I don’t know, people live in those buildings? People who aren’t necessarily involved with Gibbons but just happen to be in their territory?” “That could be mitigated,” Director Sekelsky said. “We could have our fliers drop pamphlets, for example, outlining our plan. Anyone who remains in the area is someone we can assume wants to -- or is ordered to -- be there.” “You’re assuming a lot about the sort of people that live in a gang’s territory, Vic, if you think these people have somewhere else to go.” There was a murmur in the crowd. “Well, we can open that up for discussion, then,” Stanley said. “That’s what we’re here for, after all. Does anyone else have any thoughts on this suggested plan? Or any other plans to find Caesar and resolve this S-Class threat?” OOC

n.u.d.e.@natural ultimate digital experiment steel battalion marc ecko's getting up: contents under pressure dead or alive xtreme beach volleyball

Nathaniel was taller, certainly worked out more than Quinn did, and was also, well, alive, but Quinn did its best to keep up all the same. It was not like they were out of shape. He had spent time with Cassiopeia wandering the outskirts of Eterna City in preparation for her journey, and besides that, back when xe was mortal, zey had been a rather active youth. All this together meant that while Quinn did fall behind, Quinn did not fall too far behind, and was there in time for Pokémon Ranger Black to introduce himself. Meeting a Pokémon Ranger was a new experience. She had not been sure what she had been expecting, having never in the past needed their services (Perhaps some had been assigned to his rescue mission? That would seem likely, though Quinn would not have known for a number of factors, including having died in the meantime). Fae still did require such services, to be fair, as ey had explained several times to both Belladonna and Nathaniel in the meantime. The experience was still exciting, however. Belladonna seemed to recognize Pokémon Ranger Black as part of an entire task force from Hoenn, which meant they were dealing with Pokémon Ranger royalty! Unfortunately, just as soon as Quinn had formed such a thought, Pokémon Ranger Black was chased away by another, more mundane member of the occupation. Quinn could not help but wonder if this second ranger was simply a hanger-on, trying to improve their credibility by association. Did Rangers not follow the same all-encompassing “dibs” rule? It did not matter. “I do not actually need help,” Quinn said. “I am only following my companions at the moment, though I would like to visit a Pokémon Center when convenient. Cassiopeia here has been through a lot already, and we would not want her to faint on the first grand step of our adventure would we? “And let me assure you, I am not injured! It is true I was attacked, but look!” Quinn lifted his shirt, showing just where Normandie had rammed herself into his stomach. Cassiopeia jerked in Quinn’s other and, and Quinn’s voice grew quiet. “...Oh, that is quite the bruise.” It had developed quickly, all blotchy in places, and its several different colors stood out all the more on such fair skin. Quinn reached out and touched the impact site and immediately regretted that decision, pulling back her hand and sucking through hir teeth. “Perhaps Dark types being super-effective against Ghosts is a truer maxim than we thought…”

I'll Autumn for them for sure

Again, Chris had to get out of the way of someone charging to his aid. At least Lana wasn’t running in point-first like Ziun did (it would be pretty hard to do so with an axe, he reckoned), and he was sure neither Ziun nor Lana wanted to hurt him (right?), but accidents happened. “Thanks,” he said, “say something next time, though, so I don’t get an arm chopped off. You’re getting better with that axe -- want to stay out of the way of that.” Despite his grievance, Chris found himself in a small break in the action, with enough time to recoup and adjust his grip on his sword as he took in the surroundings again. Ziun was facing away from him into the fog, his stance like there was some other enemy that Chris couldn’t see. After some brief acknowledgments, Lana moved away too, looking not like she was about to attack, but just playing defense, getting between whatever it was and Ziun with her axe brandished, at the ready for whatever came. Chris might have gone over to help her too, but on their other flank with him and Estellise was a big, more visible (to him) problem. The creature that had introduced itself as they’d entered the dungeon floor was back. Chris nearly pointed at it with his sword again, but Estellise was already looking right at it. He actually sheathed his sword as he formulated a plan. This was something they probably had to fight at a distance, something Estellise was better suited for than he was, but he wasn’t without options. How many daggers could a whatever-this-thing-was possibly take, anyway? Speaking of, “Estellise, do you know what this thing is?” Not that Chris needed to wait for an answer. He pulled out his first dagger and lobbed it at the thing’s head.

“Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.” -Philippians 2:3-4 (NIV) Melissa wasn’t entirely sure what Fiona meant by there being more Fiona could teach her, but the game was quickly underway, so she was able to distract herself from overthinking that particular problem. “Uh, draw for turn,” she said. Of course, she was still trying to figure out the rules for this version of dueling, but she was getting there. “Well, first I’ll play this spell Terrors in the Hidden City, which is a Continuous Spell with three different effects -- one for my face-down monsters, one for monsters that are flipped up, and one when it's sent to the Graveyard. I can't attack this turn so I'll set a Monster, which, um, because of the first effect Hidden City, can't be targeted by any of your effects, and then I’ll set one more card face-down too.” Fiona eyed Melissa’s board. “Oh, what a scary card, I wonder how I'll get over that…” She drew her card and smiled. “Well, I guess first thing’s first. I flip this Monster into Attack mode.” The monster took the form of an ant but with a cartoon bomb instead of an abdomen. Melissa had to read the card to actually remember its name: Self-Destruct Ant. She managed just in time before the bomb exploded in her face. “When it comes out, we each take one thousand damage. Sure I get a bit hurt but that's the price you pay I suppose.” The exploding ant had reformed itself already and was now looking menacingly between Melissa’s face-down monster and Fen’s Inmato. But Fiona wasn’t finished. “I’ll also play this nice bunch: Goblin Attack Force!” Melissa knew that one. Even when starting at eight thousand Life Points, she remembered it being a menace of the schoolyard before archetypes became too synergistic for it to keep up. With only four thousand, well, that just meant it was twice as bad, didn’t it? “First I will have my Ant destroy that, uh, tomato!” Fiona said. The ant surged forward, though notably it didn't go into Fen’s field like their duel in the park, and chomped the air. Fen looked at her face-down card, then back at her hand, then at her face-down again. “I, uh, I activate Reinforcements, to, well, reinforce my Inmato’s attack by five hundred.” Fiona’s smile didn’t even waver, even as the image of the and shattered and she placed it in her Graveyard. “Ah well, my Ant is destroyed, but you still take a thousand damage for it thanks to its effect,” she said. “Your tomato’s not strong enough for my Goblins, though, so why don’t you take this one?” That was where Melissa stepped in. “That’s a bit too much. I can respond here,” she said. “My face-down is Sol and Luna, which means my monster and your goblin are going to swap positions, basically. So yours goes to face-down Defense position and mine gets flipped face-up. My monster is Magician of Faith, which will allow me to get the Sol and Luna I just spent back to my hand. Also, uh, this is the second effect of my Hidden City card. Because Magician of Faith was flipped face-up, it gets an extra fifteen hundred Attack and Defense. I guess you could target it now, though, if you wanted.” For a split second, Melissa felt Fiona glaring at her, though Melissa didn’t dare look up to see what her face was actually like. “Oh, what scary cards,” Fiona said again, as if a Magician of Faith could ever be scary. “I suppose set this card then and end my turn.” Melissa looked over to her group leader and current duel partner, “Alright, then it’s your turn, Fen,” she said. “Remember, we know what that face-down is, but I can only try to guess at the other ones.” OOC

“I’m not opening a random ass-fridge in a camper van,” Brian said, “even if it is technically from my boss. Especially if it’s from my boss, actually. Not that Taco Bell is much better, but at least I can imagine some minimum-wage schmuck making a chalupa or whatever.” He looked Shiki up and down. “I can’t imagine you making food. Do you even eat?” He sighed. “I’m just tired. It’s, like, four in the morning. I just want to collapse into bed and get any amount of sleep before tomorrow comes and I have to do all this shit I keep putting off. I’ve got library books I have to place an application for, groceries to shop for, and, to top it all off, I have leg day tomorrow, and we all know how bad it is to skip those. I can drive, you can drive, fucking Carmen can drive if she wants, but fuck, let me go home, okay?” Shiki said something about him and Carmen forging a bond. What, was Shiki shipping them or something? What a terrible idea. You don’t have relationships with coworkers. Everybody knew that. The relationship inevitably fizzled, leaving an awkward tension that got in the way of everything. He’d seen it happen. Even the smartest of the smarties in academia who thought it might work for them fell prey to the same story. He looked at Carmen. “Um, no,” he said. “I’ll be fine just seeing her for work. I mean, I guess I can give you my number for convenience, Carmen, but the best I can offer is being a gym buddy or something. No offense, of course.”

Mark on You Spotlight hated Goodale Park. Now, he didn’t know a cape who liked it, but in his very biased opinion, fliers had it worst of all. Flight offered a freedom that few other powers could give. To be truly anywhere, a whole extra dimension with which to play, it changed the way your brain worked. Even in the middle of the park, where everybody was consigned to boring, two-d movement, he could tell who among the passers-by was yearning to leap from the ground and never touch it again. It was how they walked, of course, that was the big giveaway, the pure physical motion of someone who suddenly had to treat gravity with a little more respect, but there was also just a general disposition. It was claustrophobia was what it was. He adjusted his arm in its sling. If not for that, he could have been off scouting or holding down the park from aerial photography or something. They could have been any-fucking-where else in the city. But no, this was something Cassandra had asked of him. It had to heal naturally. “Just for a week or two,” they had said, “so people can find you afterward.” Maybe Cass could have let up a bit? He had already given a statement. It had been filtered through G3’s marketing machine and smoothed out into nothing, but it was a statement nonetheless. And yet, here he was, running little errands and doing his best. Director Sekelsky had grounded him for even associating with Cassandra in the first place. He should be flying, he thought. The world was going to end in less than six months. There were only so many days left that he could. “Fuck it,” Spotlight said. But before he could even put his thoughts of desertion to action, Sarah, Roy’s assistant grabbed his (good) arm. “Override is looking for you,” they said. “Override? Why?” But the only answer Spotlight got was a shrug. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. The movement of her shoulders let him catch a glimpse of the necklace just hidden under her shirt. The necklace was a glass marble wrapped in wire, and it glinted in the sunlight. Sarah was one of them. She had known just as much as he did, she’d just been better at staying under the radar. She must have seen his eyes widen. “He was over by the playground a few minutes ago,” she said. “He’s probably still there.” “Thank you,” Spotlight said. “I will.” Guys on Every Corner By the time Sasha arrived at Goodale Park, the furor of the press had died down to a more manageable level. It was clear that all potential scoops had been hoovered up, and now the reporters had to actually do the job of reporting. Sasha could walk by whole crews in meetings, some typing away on a laptop or tablet, some setting up recording equipment or lining up bounce pads to more evenly light up the shot they wanted. Clotho was by the front gate, whipping a yo-yo around and pacing back and forth. “Obviously our own territory takes precedence. That’s why we had the VVolf Pack stay behind in the first place. You can take care of yourselves, and, by proxy, us.” At some point, she brushed her hair back behind her ear revealing she was wearing Bluetooth earbuds. Despite them, it didn’t take long for her to notice Sasha’s approach, and she greeted the plant villain with an exaggerated over-the-head wave. “Hey! Glad you could make it! You’re looking good,” Clotho said once she was sure Sasha would hear it. “Don’t worry, you’re not late or anything. You’re actually early for what we wanted you here for since apparently, The Peacekeepers operate on the ‘hurry up and wait’ model. I guess I don’t mind. Means we have more time for our own activities.” She held up her phone as an example and took the opportunity to take her earbuds out as well. “We do need to go in in a sec. I heard Minos and I are going to disassemble some tinker tech, but hey, before that, let’s get you talking with some more people. There are a whole lot of other Moray Clan people here and you’ll have to know all of them eventually.” She didn’t take Belladonna by the hand but beckoned her forward. There was a moment where Clotho cringed crossing the threshold into Goodale Park, but she soldiered on regardless. It wasn’t long before Clotho spotted somebody worth mentioning. “Oh! You’ve heard of Aeon, right? Immortal girl? She’s a cop right now which sucks but she’s pretty cool besides that. Hey! Thessa!” Clotho ran over to Thessa. “Hey, I know we keep just introducing you to people but this one’s pretty cool. Remember that prison break we did a little bit back? Belladonna here is the result of that. Was a pretty rad story tee bee aitch, but she’ll have to tell you about that.” Hostages Hellhound did not respond to Sibyl right away. They woke up, yes, but took in their surroundings first, silently observing the asphalt walls and floor, the lack of ceiling. They blinked a few times and held the back of their hand out in front of their face. The first words out of their mouth were, “Well, I don’t think I’m concussed.” They closed their eyes. “Damian is still alive and I don’t think Poppy was ever in danger; I didn’t bring her today.” Lastly, they patted themselves down “And you managed to strip most of my utility belt. Alright. You may consider me impressed.” They tried to sit up from their mostly-supine position and winced. “Yeah, that makes sense too,” Hellhound said as they leaned back down. Instead, they just looked up at the sky. “Alright, well, believe it or not, this isn’t my first… interview. You know what I can and can’t say, right? But I assume you're going to be asking about Caesar anyway, so let's hear the questions anyway.” OOC

Once Z. and Hector got back, it was time to distribute. This was trickier than Z. expected, though. Not everyone wanted or in fact deserved some fruit. The former category was taken up by everyone surrounding Clobber the Clobbopus and his newfound coconut-cracking abilities and the latter category, well… Jirachi was busy producing fruit of his own, so he didn’t need any fruit either. Whatever. There were still a few people/Pokémon milling about, so Z. stopped pretending to be Hector and picked one of them. Chester seemed especially aimless, having just walked up to the stream and then just back again, so Z. zeroed in on him. “Catch,” Z. tossed an apple at Chester’s head, though with a bit of underthrow, the apple landed just short of the Chespin. “Eat up,” they said. “Need all the calories you can get if we’re gonna be saving the world.” They looked past Chester to the rushing stream. “Were you trying to catch a look at your reflection in there? Water’s kind of fast for that. I tried to be a Froakie earlier and just ended up looking like a Treeko.” They frowned. “Other way around.” Why was it so hard to get that right? Hadn’t Marv always been a Froakie? “Whatever.” Chester picked up the apple from the ground and looked at it. “I was, and well, it is. Sadly, I am not too accustomed to this body yet, familiar as it may be in a general sense.” The Chespin waved his stubby arms at his side as if to convey this feeling. Then he let out a small, if not begrudging, “Thanks,” gesturing to the apple. “Sure,” Z. said. “Hey, though, hold still.” Z. did the same thing they did with Hector, pacing around their target, trying to get a good idea of exactly how they looked from every angle, and, when they were ready, did another sick backflip and came down as a copied Chespin. “There’s a better look, I hope,” they said. They imitated Chester’s stubby arm wave and pensive face. “I guess it’s more like this right now, though.” Like, Hector, Chester was suitably impressed. “That is quite the amazing skill, Z. I suppose it would make sense being a Zorua you’d be able to pull off illusions like that, just as my own head is harder than steel. And it’s a better mirror than the river, I suppose. Though, uh,” his mood shifted back to concerned as he studied the finer details of Z.’s illusion “do I really look like that?” Z. tried a few more different poses. “Close, anyway. I don’t think it's perfect perfect yet. I can feel certain things just not working right. I can’t do stuff I think that I should, but I already promised myself those were- Oh, you mean the face? Yeah, my guy. You look so fucking lost right now, I’d be surprised if you knew which way was up.” “Ugh, how mortifying.” The (real) Chespin brought a stub to his face. “I suppose I have had a lot on my mind with all the recent developments. Though!” Chester pointed skyward. “I am very much aware which way is up right now, thank you.” Z. resisted the urge to roll their eyes, if only because they couldn’t imagine Chester doing anything of the sort, and they were still mimicking him as best they could. They focused on the second of those sentences instead. “Yeah?” they said. “Which one’s more shocking to you, waking up one morning from a night of uneasy dreams and finding yourself transformed into a Pokémon, or being conscripted by a demigod to save a world you know nothing about?” Continuing their mimic, they also brought a stub to their head, jamming it right under their chin. “Or is it a secret third thing?” They needn’t have bothered with the mimicking. Chester wasn’t paying attention to the physical mockery at all. He earnestly answered the question. “I feel like I have taken to being in a new body surprisingly well actually. Jirachi’s proposition is also exciting, if not a bit daunting, especially with how little we have to go on.” His voice got low, but the next question was still clearly directed at Z. “How exactly does someone help another in a situation they’re both wildly unfamiliar with?” “Oh god, teamwork questions.” Now it was Z.’s turn to bury their head in their stumps for real this time. “You moderated me enough on the forum, so you know I'm not the person to ask for that stuff, especially when someone else is already a one-person team.” They did another sick backflip, but their memory of what Hector looked like all joined together was already fuzzy, so their impression came out the same. Z. dismissed it quickly. “Fucking… Okay. But you did ask me. I think, then, the best thing someone who's lost can do for another lost person is just be there with them. Nobody wants to be lost alone.” “Right, I should have kept in mind who I was asking,” Chester joked. “But if that’s all it takes…” He looked past Z. over to Hector. “But you would expect someone to be spearheading the rest, correct? Showing them which way to go?” Z. couldn’t help but stare. “You’re really hung up on this, huh?” they said. “I mean, you could fight him on it. Six on one doesn't seem like a fair fight but I've got a feeling in my gut that says I’ve taken worse bets. Maybe you haven’t. I dunno. But okay, just between you and me, but when I jumped into the water all the way back at the bottom of that dungeon, I absolutely wanted people to follow me, even if I didn’t say it. That sort of teamwork, if it does need a set leader at all, is a two-way street all the same. Of course, who did end up following me…” Z. left an empty space. They didn’t even want to think the name. “well, that’s what I mean about two-way streets, I guess. “Oh, but if you tell anyone I said any of that, I’ll peel your little green shell off of your little brown head and drag it through the mud.” Chester nodded along. “I see…” Then he started to laugh. “You’re more of a team player than I gave you credit for, Z. And if that’s the case, don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. I may not be perfect, but I always respect another’s wishes. Now,” and this is where the laughter really got going, “let us be lost together!” And they wandered back off to the rest of the group for real this time. Z. shook their head. Part of them felt like a suck-up, going right after both moderators and getting back in their good graces. It was just part of the dance, of course. Act out, lie low, accrue social capital, and spend it all. But then again, Chester and Hector weren’t moderators anymore. They were people, and like Z. had just said, they were all lost. Before they could get too lost, they noticed something still on the ground. “Hey!” they called out. “Actually take your fucking apple!” They threw it at Chester’s head again -- harder this time.Z. balanced their new badge on both of their front paws, observing it as it glinted in the sunlight. It was just the right size to fit at the base of their new Zorua neck, but there were other ramifications to consider. Would it work while they had an illusion up, or did they have to illusion up a fake badge too to use the real one? It seemed like such an easy thing to test out, but they didn’t want to get sidetracked. They were playing good right now. That would probably change once they got where they were going, of course, and they’d otherwise have to force themself to listen to everyone’s yammering, but sure they could play nice for now. They put the badge down for a moment and took a drink of water. Were they supposed to set a home point now? Was this home? They hadn’t been lying about that Hierarchy of Needs snark. As frivolous as that chart was, shelter was still the next step. Was the night sky going to be their blanket? Z. scratched behind their ear and consciously felt the Zorua fur in the way. That would help in that case. Maybe they were supposed to make a bunch of lean-tos. Whatever. It didn’t matter. Not right now, anyway. “Alright,” Z. said, finally putting the badge on. “Let’s go get lost.”

Brian rolled his eyes but he resisted the urge to make an accompanying hand gesture as Shiki continued to commune with a girl that, again, had nearly killed them. Especially when Shiki called him cold, like, that was just uncalled for. He wondered how Shiki would have done it, too, like, yeah, maybe if he knew the magic words, he wouldn’t have to physically wrestle with supernatural horrors. Whatever. But as Shiki stood up and moved to exit the graveyard, Brian felt a small pang of sympathy, and he lingered by Monika Georgiou’s tombstone for a moment before chasing after his employer. Shiki said other words, not that Brian caught all of them between his solemn reflection and Shiki’s obnoxious soft-spokenness. It sounded like he and Carmen were to be partners, though, continuing working together against the supernatural. Brian’s immediate reaction was, “Well, she better know how to drive. I’m not driving every single night,” but he managed to keep that one to himself. His next reaction, once he actually started thinking about Carmen, was “Shiki, you said it yourself. She’s terrified of everything. Why is she even here?” That one got almost all the way out of his mouth before he caught it. When it came down to it, Carmen was the one who had managed to get a seal on Monika in the first place. Brian wasn’t about to say she did all the work -- again, supernatural wrestling -- but she wasn’t just “there.” It wasn’t like he could have managed without her. And he knew that since, for a good portion of the night, he had tried! “Yeah, I guess I could work with Carmen again,” he said. “We perverts have to stick together.” “…Also, did you have any of the food we left in the fridge?” “What?” Brian said. “No, we went to Taco Bell like normal people.”

“Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me.” -Revelation 3:20 (NIV)Fiona’s phrasing intrigued Melissa. “The Lower Levels” of the city especially. Ambrosia was largely a flat plane from what she could remember. You could climb up to a rooftop or radio tower or something and see far off into the distance. The sky was an artificial cutoff, of course. One could not get too high. Downwards, into the earth, had its own conspiracies, though, ranging from the outrageous like mole people who worship something called “the deep ones,” to the mechanically unsound like secret ADMIN databases as though the supercomputer didn’t already have access to every person in Ambrosia through their use of the duel disk system. Someone had to end up in the unenviable position of explaining just why you had to call the utility commission before trying to dig up “secret Protoambrosian treasure,” and that someone was frequently Melissa herself. “Maybe next time,” she said. “I hope there is a next time,” she quickly added. Despite her best efforts, getting trapped in self-justification and awkwardness still shone through. Still, Fiona’s choice of cafe seemed like a fine one. Being clean was the biggest factor in that evaluation, as was being mostly, though not entirely, devoid of people. Melissa could already see herself nestled into a corner, shoulder pressed against a wall as she thumbed her way through a well-worn theology text. Or play Duel Monsters, as the case may have been. “Alright, well, if you want to order now or before the game is up to you,” Fiona said. “Just make sure not to get anything on my cards, okay?” Melissa nodded. “I feel like we should justify our presence here at least a little bit,” she said. “We should probably order now.” Of course, that had to come with its own set of problems. First Melissa had to decipher a brand new menu, searching for the drinks she was pretty sure they had but had to double-check, then balking at the sizes. They weren’t “Small, Medium, and Large,” as she expected, but “Smolbean, Blorbo, and Effervescent.” Worse, even a smolbean cup of coffee cost more than she expected. It wasn’t enough to make her worried about losing the duel (though she was not planning on losing!) but it was enough to give her pause. Thankfully, the waitress was very patient as Melissa hemmed and hawed her way through the ordering process. Melissa made sure to give a decent tip at the end of it all, which eased her stomach back down somewhat. Would they forget about her sooner then? Or would she become one of the ones they gossiped about for months afterward? Even worse, as she tried to collect herself afterward, she realized she had forgotten something important: “I’m sorry, could I actually get a paper receipt?” Just in case. For proof purposes. Not that she didn’t trust Fiona to keep her end of the bargain, but it would be easier with this anyway. After that, though (and another quick trip to the bathroom to, to put it mildly, “freshen up”), Melissa retrieved her drink -- quick service was another point in the cafe’s favor -- and sat down next to Fen and across from Fiona. Her deck was swiftly in her hand, her iced decaf mocha was on the floor to avoid disasters and had a lid on it besides… “Sorry, sorry,” she said. “I’m ready.”

Quinn was quick to be on the defensive. “Oh, no! I am not injured. At the very least, I am not hurt in a way that would impede our journey. I am ready to continue onwards once you two have wrapped up your business here.” Really, what hurt more was how both Belladonna and Nathaniel seemed more concerned with things other than her and Cassiopeia’s moment of triumph. Well, he supposed any sort of acknowledgment from Belladonna had to be a positive one, but Nathaniel had seemed so bubbly as they had left New Point Landing, talking about how he had to catch all the Pokémon that ever existed and some that did not. If it was jealousy, that was new. Quinn had not judged Nathaniel to be the jealous type. If this was about the Rattata, that was also confusing, but in different, more vexing ways. How did neither Belladonna nor Nathaniel know? Had they never experienced just what wild Pokémon could do to each other? To a human, even? It was why people were warned away from tall grasses without a Pokémon of their own at their side. And even besides then, in environments one might think were domesticated… Quinn gripped Cassiopeia’s string and held on tight. The naïveté of the living, they supposed. And the Rattata were still alive too. When Normandie walked over and sniffed one of them, it still flinched. But then Nathaniel said congratulations, so perhaps Quinn had just been overthinking things. “I am sure you will hear several stories from me,” Quinn said. “I do love giving a good tale.” And Normandie turned around and started pawing at zir foot, so she was done with her lording over still-alive things and certainly done with the introductions that came with that. “Oh, hungry already? Alright, for being so good…” They fished out a berry and offered it to the Rattfian, who snatched it right out of her hand and started gnawing on it. Quinn used the opportunity to stroke Normandie’s head, making sure to get behind the ears where he assumed Rattfians liked pets best. Getting up close and personal with Normandie’s fur, however, got Quinn to start paying attention to its condition. “Oh, you were just in a number of fights yourself, were you not?” Quinn said, jerking back upwards. “And Cassiopeia, forgive me, I do not know what I was thinking. A single potion could not have mended all that abuse you endured on my behalf. We should go back too.” Nathaniel had already rushed off back towards town with the wild Rattata. Quinn could only give chase, bursting back through the brush calling out, “Wait for me!”