[X] My Assistant

[Master Houndoom]

This RP is already fully staffed and will not accept applications. Furthermore, any bunnying done to characters or pokemon is done with permission by the owner of the character/pokemon.

"And then, Jaima's mother comes home, and no one's there. Well, she's in a towering fury, she says, but she goes out to the back yard, and there they are, with a blanket draped over the clothesline, roasting marshmallows over Ember's behind!"

Tuesday and Meiko burst into fits of girlish laughter, and Jaima smiled, slightly flushed. Darryn also smiled, almost a smirk. "I've heard that before."

Meiko grinned at him, then back at Jaima, winking and pointing at him. Jaima raised a brow, then gave a smirk of his own.

"Well, this one is new to you. It's Meiko's 8th birthday, and it's supposed to be a surprise party..."

Meiko gasped. "Noooooo," she wailed, reaching for Jaima, who dodged nimbly.

The story never actually got told, but things were learned by the traveling companions. For example, Tuesday and Darryn learned that Jaima was actually ticklish, and that Meiko knew where, and vice versa. Meiko and Jaima learned that one should not get into a tickle war while there was a certain mischievous riolu around.

No one understood exactly how it happened, or where Zorro had gotten the rope, but before it could be stopped, Jaima and Meiko had ended up with their hands tied behind the other's back, facing each other, wide eyed and blinking in surprise.

With a laugh, Tuesday scolded Zorro, Darryn moved to untie the pair, and Meiko took the opportunity to drop a kiss on Jaima's nose.

* * * * *

The camp was set up with now expected efficiency, and supper had been eaten. The four trainers lounged around the fire, sleepy eyed, several pokemon (several being twenty, but no one was counting) lounging in different groups, and smiling. The previous leg of their journey, which had ended with the group taking refuge with Tuesday's uncle, had provided a time of rejuvenation, and the group had fallen into a kind of contentment that was the aim of many people, the kind of contentment one would love to look back in their life and say they could feel for the majority of it. The kind of contentment that, usually, preceded a storm or quake.

There was talking, and laughter, and soon the wishes of good nights. The morning would bring more travel, and perhaps a practice battle, but for now, sleep was called for.

[Master Houndoom]

A small procession walked in the shadows of the trees on the bank of the river that flowed through the now burning wood. In the lead, holding her arm against her stomach, was a woman in a torn, dirty uniform. Her long silver hair bounced against her spine, and though her eyes were lined with pain, she kept them roving, bouncing from shadow to shadow, alert for any change in light that would signal the fire had caught up to them.

From time to time, she glanced back at the heracross carrying the young man who's pokemon had protected him so loyally. That, alone, was impressive, that they wouldn't have scattered or returned themselves to their pokéballs, though one must have, if the riolu carrying three was any indication.

That, too, was odd. One rarely allowed pokemon to carry pokéballs, let alone their own and others. A few people used pokemon as pack creatures, but they were usually larger varieties: rhyhorn, or tauros, or ponyta. To have a riolu carry any of his gear was odd. Especially when that riolu insisted on juggling the pokéballs in his care.

The lack of equipment was telling as well. He had no belt to carry his pokéballs, no backpack for potions, or other items, no clothing, even, except for the pants he was wearing. His feet showed signs that he had walked barefoot, and there were places that were beginning to bleed.

It was also concerning that he hadn't woken up. He definitely had a concussion, but even a major one should have only rendered him unconscious for a short time. She was beginning to think he was seriously injured, and only Doctor Caballe could tell that accurately.

She had stopped to check over her charge again. The pokemon had either come to trust her or seen that there was nothing they could do for their master, and were forced to trust the woman before them. Either way, they did not tense until she was already checking the young man.

By then, it was too late.

There were four pops behind her, and when she turned, there were four vicious looking pokemon glowering at her. Behind them was a man, smirking, glowering, and holding his hand out. "Recall those pokemon to their pokéballs, and step away from the boy."

* * * * *

Meiko gasped as the mental voice invaded her mind. We are leaving.

Meiko gasped. The voice was not like Mercury's, who, though it was obvious that the voice was from outside her head, still managed to soften it and sound as if the intrusion were a visit. Lady's voice tore through whatever walls were natural to all, and echoed as if she were shouting in a long stone hallway.

However, the message, shocking as it was, got through.

"What do you mean, you're leaving?! I can't just let you leave, Darryn will kill me if you got hurt!" Meiko put her hands to her hips, and the vulpix narrowed her eyes in response.

I will go to Prince Darryn now! He needs me, and you will not stop me! She turned, and Meiko, not foolish enough to grab for her, simply put an edge to her voice.

"And how do you plan to find him, Lady? We don't even know if he's all right!"

I know. He has called for me, and I will go to him!

From Lady and Victor's perspective, Meiko's attitude changed drastically. Instead of demanding, she was surprised, even excited. "You've heard from him? He's called you? And he needs help? Go! Go, and please, Lady, try to lead him back to me so we can find the others!"

Lady looked at her, eyes narrowing suspiciously, and then she and Victor turned and ran off. For an instant, Meiko tried to follow them, but they were long gone, not sticking to the clear path, but instead going through the brush. Biting her lip, Meiko instead turned and headed back the way she had been heading, toward the crash. It had to be a machine of some kind, possibly piloted, and people might be hurt. And there also might be a radio. If there was a vehicle, then there were others.

She trod along the path. The woods were starting to smell smokey, and that wasn't a good sign. If the vehicle was on fire, it might start a fire in the forest, and that would be horrible. Meiko sighed, wishing she had a water type nearby.

A shape came out from her left, and she spun. Grondir moved himself between her and the shape, and Cosette trembled in her arms, but after a short time the trembling became struggles. Meiko let her down, and she stood next to Grondir, head down and posture as threatening as the tiny turtwig could make it.

A man stumbled from the forest, his head bleeding and one leg trembling as he limped. Despite his injuries, which he seemed to have tried to dress himself, he smiled brightly upon seeing Meiko. "Another body. A warm sight to see, c'est vrai. And such a pretty petite. Are you lost, Cherie?"

Meiko frowned, but he looked hurt. "Were you in the crash?"

"Oui," the man said, low, his eyes, briefly, growing haunted. "Ze helicopter, she crashed badly. I do not know how I was separated from eet... ze pilot, I can not find her..."

He seemed disoriented, but if he'd been in a crash, Meiko understood. She walked to him, Grondir and Cosette flanking her, and reached for the bag on his shoulder. It contained several half rolls of bandages and gauze, and some ointments, all opened, some smeared, but for now they would do. Sitting the man down, she began to dress his wounds methodically. He watched her face as she did so, but she would not meet his eyes.

"I have met with the angel, no? Only an ange de la pitié would have such beautiful eyes..."

Meiko's face flushed, and she clenched her teeth, repeating to herself that he was hurt, and didn't know what he was saying...

* * * * *

Antoinette snarled, but the man moved toward her as if she were nothing. Instead of speaking to her, he motioned to the heracross. "Put him down. On the ground." When the giant beetle pokemon made no move, he motioned behind him. A thin, wiry houndoom stepped forward, blowing out puffs of fire. "Now."

The rescue agent stepped forward. "Stay away from heem!"

The man's hand whipped out and grabbed her wrist, the broken one, and she screamed loudly as the broken ends of the bone ground together. He pushed her away, and she fell to the ground, sobbing, unable to stand until she could get the pain under control.

In the mean time, the man went back to Jaima, ignoring the pokemon for the time being. There were four out, but the man knew from a past encounter that he sometimes left some in hiding. His pokemon were weak, but the kid had tactics. He had three members of another team that had attested to it.

He knelt next to the boy and started searching him. He was far from gentle, and not discreet in the least. The boy did not move at all.

He leaned back on his heels. There were no pokéballs on the boy, but that meant nothing. He liked to keep his pokemon out. He was, more than likely, hiding them, which made sense. The shiny kirlia and the lucario were his most valuable pokemon. They should be displayed, or at least kept somewhere for his own pleasure. Female gardevoir had a very specific market, and her being shiny would easily triple the price she could fetch.

He leaned over the boy, looking into his face for a clue. With a smirk, and hearing the girl move behind him, he bent in close. "I'll find them. And I'll take them. And believe me, where I take them, they'll be appreciated. The little kirlia more than anything, once she evolves."

The collector chuckled, which was cut off as Jaima's fist rose from the ground, slamming into his chin, sending him rolling back a good foot and a half.