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Seeds of Discontent
Umbrae Calamitas
post Jul 17 2012, 12:53 AM
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Casper knew he was attractive, particularly with his hair so rogueishly tossled. He didn't need to wear cologne; his natural manly scent was enough to make any woman (and many men - manly men) swoon. His voice was a song - every syllable contained the entire orchestra and the voice of Philip Quast. His body was like a combination of Indiana Jones, Han Solo, and Jack Ryan. The fact that all three of these men were played by the same actor was no mistake on Casper's part. He knew he was Harrison Ford's twin - the better-looking one, of course. Rogueish, charming, ladies' man, and let's not forget dashingly handsome.

And then there was his taste in clothes!

Yes. His taste... in clothes...

Casper stepped out of the elevator with the confidence of a cat. He moved with the natural-born grace of a feline, the soundless step of a ghost, and the fluid movement of water flushing down a drain pipe. People turned as he sauntered down the aisle. Peter, the mail collector, dropped his jaw to the floor. Reagan, the sexy file clerk who got an advancement in bust-size a couple months ago gasped aloud. Henry, the boring guy who sat in the cubicle next to Olivia's spilled hot coffee all over his crotch when he dropped the cup. He didn't notice immediately; he was too busy staring at Casper.

Oh, yeah. He was that good.

Casper didn't stop, didn't wink at anyone (he may have smirked at Reagan. She did have nice tits.), didn't waste time flirting, and he hadn't even stopped for coffee that morning.

"They have a mission. Casper and Olivia are partners. Two very different people, thrust together for the good of the world, the betterment of society. Her pencil-pushing and his sacrifice of good help would go far in making the world a better place. They would accept their mission, complete without failure, and defeat the Evil Emperor Zurg! To the future, the universe, and the crew of the U.S.S. Enterprise! You can count on me! And my lollipop!"

Standing on top of Olivia's desk, Casper saluted the ceiling lamp with the aplomb of a decorated soldier who was sent home due to clinical insanity.

Standing behind her chair, her eyes a little wider than normal, not that anyone really noticed, Olivia retained her cool, calm lack of expression as she asked a very important question.

"Where are your pants?"

Clicking his heels and lowering his arm down to his side, Casper flashed Olivia a grin. "I woke up this morning-"

"A pity."

"And I realized that I've been going about this all wrong!" He spread his arms wide. "We're a team, Lollipop! A real, true crime-fighting team!"

"No, we're not."

"And if we're going to succeed in our crime fighting, we need to be properly attired. No more running around in a T-shirt and sweats. No more sneakers! No more tighty-whities! Do you hear me, fashion of the common man?! I shall not succumb to you! No, the true crime fighter needs no cotton, no polyester. I laugh in the face of silk! Give me spandex, or give me death!"

"Preferably death."

And Casper really had gone all-out on his costume. He wore a bright blue spandex shirt that conformed perfectly to his thin frame, showing off every space where he considerably lacked muscle tone. His hands were adorned in black leather gloves with the fingertips cut off and the frayed edges sealed with duct tape. A long cape flowed down from where it was tied around his neck with a safety-pin. The cape itself was partially plastic, black and white, and had a fork and spoon theme. It looked rather a lot like a tablecloth. Bright red leather boots that reached halfway up his thigh and had something of a feminine heel drew a lot of attention, but they were nowhere near as noticeable as the bright, neon pink speedo he wore, with the words I'M YOUR GYARADOS in big block letters across his ass.

"I am not going on a mission-"

"Crime fighting!"

"I am not leaving this building-"

"To go crime fighting!"

"I am not-"

"We have to fight crime! I'm Ghost Man! And you can be Emotionless Girl."

"Put on some pants."

"Put on some pants, what?" Casper placed his fists on his hips and glanced down at her like a king looking down upon a common... person.

"Put on some pants and get off my desk."

"I know you're enjoying the view, Livvie. You don't need to hide it." She was, after all, about eye-level with his crotch. "I brought you an outfit, too!" He pulled a second outfit from-- out of-- well, I don't really want to know where he was keeping it. He held it up for Olivia to see. "Do you like it?"

"Agent Ghost."

Casper glanced behind him to see Wigsby standing there, one eyebrow raised, a bored and not-at-all-surprised look on his face. "Is that a tutu made out of tissues and paperclips?"

"Wigglytoosh!" Casper said in delight, spinning around. "Why, yes it is. I brought it for you, actually. I thought it would help to accentuate your man-boobs." Wigsby made a sound in the back of his throat that psychologists would be hardpressed to identify without the help of a zoologist. Casper held the "outfit" up against Wigsby's front. "I think it brings out your eyes."


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Master Houndoom
post Aug 2 2012, 02:21 AM
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It was 5:45 AM when Olivia Anne Prewitt opened her eyes. Her alarm hadn't yet gone off, and wouldn't for fifteen minutes, but it didn't matter. Olivia flipped the covers off of herself and tilted her dainty feet out of her bed. Olivia never felt shorter than when she first got up in the morning, and it was always a little bit jarring to her, both that she was and felt short, and that it ever crossed her mind as important.

Sometimes, after she slept, she could almost feel a smile coming on. Especially on mornings following particularly good days. Yesterday, despite being forced on her second mission, a trend she still hoped wasn't going to make itself perpetual, and despite having once again failed her mission, had been particularly good.

She opened the top four buttons on her nightgown and let it fall from her slender shoulders to the floor. Stepping out of it and ignoring the chill of the air on her exposed skin, she walked to her bureau, then her closet, took out her clothing, and walked to the bathroom.

Five minutes later the bathroom door opened with a gout of steam. Olivia ran her comb through her hair, from the part in it straight down, and walked to the closet again. Biting her lower lip, she stared at the top shelf. Finally satisfied that her hair was as combed as it could be, she put the device in her white over coat pocket and reached up, grasping and pulling down a mid-sized hat box. Setting it on the dresser, she opened it, and pulled out a small white boater hat with a red ribbon tied around it, serving as a hat band. There was a small mirror on the dresser, and Olivia looked into it as she placed the hat directly on her head Tilting her head from side to side, she gave herself a nod, clucked her tongue twice, and walked to the door of the apartment.

Isra and Nyx shared a slightly surprised, slightly happy look, and followed her, eager to see what had made their beloved trainer and mother figure so capricious this morning

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Well, look at you!" The cheerful voice filled the room, as it always had whenever Olivia caught Brittany's eye. Olivia suppressed the urge to roll her eyes, but could not stop the slight twitch at the corner of her mouth. Not that there was much to stop, nor would she have truly tried had there been.

Brittany flounced over to Olivia, who had not yet gotten to her desk, and grinned, looking, not at the young woman's eyes, but at her hat.

"You wore your hat!" Brittany chirped.

Olivia, who had been quietly searching for a way around Brittany that would preserve her dignity and Brittany's feelings, but at the announcement of the obvious, her eyes leveled to the other woman's, one brow twitching. "Yes," she said slowly. "I wore my hat."

"You hatted up!" Brittany giggled at the soft sigh Olivia let out. "I haven't seen that hat in a long time."

"No, it has been quite a while," Olivia agreed, resigning herself to small talk, a behavior she never would have tolerated from anyone else.

"I haven't seen it since--"

"You promised."

No one would have noticed a change in Olivia's face. Perhaps there was no more noticeable twitches. Perhaps there was nothing at all. But Brittany had suddenly backed off, hands up in a motion of surrender, grinning sheepishly.

"You're right, you're right, I'm sorry! It's been a long time, that's all!" Without another word, she hugged Olivia, then trounced off before Olivia could register more than mild surprise.

Olivia shook her head and proceeded to her desk. After a short time, she took off her hat, putting it in a deep drawer to her right. Her mood, however, lasted for a bit longer than the hat did.

Right up until Casper came in the door.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Moments later, Casper had been kept out of Wigsby's office, with loud, bouyant protests, and Olivia sat across from his desk, her back ramrod straight, as always.

Wigsby, however, was slumped back in his chair. "I... I can get rid of him. I can have him... er... We'll find you a new-"

Olivia sighed. "No, sir. As much as I believe that my being on missions, and as much as I believe the partnership is not at all logical, I think Mr. Weard has value as an agent, and has shown significant improvement. He was invaluable in the last mission." With another sigh, she looked at the door, where Casper was still loudly grumbling. She would swear he was leaning against the door, pressing his mouth to it, "grumbling" against it. Just to be annoying.

"I think he is a good partner."

Olivia pressed her lips together. It was the smallest of lies, the fudging of the truth, but it still sat badly with her.


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Umbrae Calamitas
post Aug 3 2012, 10:35 PM
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Casper kept a spare change of clothes in his desk. A few spare changes of clothes, in fact. One change of clothes made sense, in case his outfit was torn during a mission, or he was caught in the rain and soaked, or his original choice of clothing was apparently inappropriate for the working environment unless you plan to hand in your resignation and join a superhero-themed strip club, Agent Ghost. So, to any other operative, yes, one extra change of clothes made sense.

Not four.

Not four changes of clothes, each hidden in a separate drawer in a desk he all but never used. Clothes that were buried under manila folders filled with papers listing random and useless information, extra packages of printer paper, a false drawer bottom layered with a stash of chocolate bars and empty wrappers and a few packages of hemispherical chocolate cupcakes covered in coconut and filled with cream.

Casper grabbed the one change of clothes that wasn't hidden like the others, tucked in the top drawer on the left, the only one that wasn't locked. It was a simple outfit, if far less colorful than the one he had come to work with that morning. Black pants, a red, sleeveless shirt, thin grey jacket, and black sneakers. He tied a black bandana around his neck when he was out of view of everyone else, covering his scars carefully and knotting it tightly at the back of his neck.

The jacket and pants had those strange black strips of cloth sewn an inch from the hem on each sleeve and leg and he regarded them with a slightly amused expression, but said nothing when Strings faded into view, tilting sideways in the air to express a questioning air.

"Is Lollipop getting impatient?"

He had been taking his good ol' time, though not in an attempt to make her angry... or, well, to make her come back and tell him to get a move on. He was postponing his interactions with her, because he wasn't looking forward to this mission. It was a simple recon, he had discovered, though she proclaimed she wouldn't give him any more information on it until he had put on some pants, so changing his outfit had been a necessity. Now she was waiting, no doubt at the stairs, for him to come out, and he was in no hurry.

He didn't want...

What he wanted had never mattered.

Pulling out his keys, Casper unlocked the bottom drawer on the left of the desk and pulled it open. He pocketed two packs of snowballs in his jacket, before his hands paused in going back to the drawer. Automatically, he had grabbed one for him and one for Olivia. As though she was meant to be included, and it went without question.

Swallowing something thick in his throat, Casper pulled up the false bottom of the drawer and reached in to where his one outfit was hidden. It was the red and black outfit. The right side of the desk, in the bottom drawer, contained his blue and white outfit. Just in case he needed to stop being Casper and be...

Well. Somebody else.

Pulling out the black belt, Casper slid it through the loopholes in his pants and hooked it without looking, knowing well how it fit, how the leather was worn from frequent use. He could almost hear it creaking beneath his hands, but he paid no mind, replacing the false bottom of the drawer after pulling his jacket down over his waist, hiding the belt from use. After that was secured, he hesitated a moment, key in the lock of the drawer, before pulling his hands out of his pockets.

He tossed one of the snowballs back into the drawer and kicked it shut.

He wasn't interested in being the nice guy.

Not that she deserved it.

Locking the drawer, he turned and left his desk, his walk siftly fluidly into a languid saunter as he made his way through the corridors, past cubicles filled with people that looked at him warily, wondering about his state of dress now. The curious expressions followed him as they always did when he wore the outfit bearing the strange fabric straps on the legs and sleeves, and, he considered idly, perhaps his sudden shift from abrupt and flaunting color to something so subdued as black and grey was a curious shock, as well.

Ah well. Not like anyone would look deep enough to see anything beyond the red shirt. And maybe his luck would have some universal force, drawn to his shirt like a moth to flame, hunt him down and put him out of his misery. If not for wearing a scarlet beater, then at least for being such a--

"You're late."

Casper's eyes flicked up to find he had reached the stairs already. Olivia was standing in front of the door, regarding him with that blank expression that still somehow seemed to radiate disapproval. Casper lifted his head, only then realizing that he had been walking with his head down, a habit he had tried forever and a day to break.

The sneer came easily to his face, even though it felt like it was tearing something. "I needed to brush my hair. One of has to look presentable, and since you're..." He grinned. "Well. You."

There was no reaction, which was no surprise, and yet somehow still disappointing. Also no surprise.

"So, the mission, Popsicle?"

"A reconnaisance."

"Really? Knew that. Moving on."

Olivia didn't sigh, but she looked susceptible to exhaling. A byproduct of needing to breathe, Casper supposed.

"Magma has a new base near here."

"Of course they do." Casper sighed, then inhaled deeply. Just breathing. He was only breathing. A byproduct of being alive.

"We have been tasked with infiltrating the building and gathering photogenic information. Each room, from each direction, needs to be photographed so the file for the base will contain accurate blueprints if they are needed in the future."

"Photographs." Casper looked at her thoughtfully. "Did Wiggles give you a camera?"

Olivia pulled a camera from her pocket. It wasn't overly tiny, but small enough to be concealed easily within a jeans' pocket. Deep blue in color, he could tell it was a digital camera, which would be a step up from the polaroids he had been expecting, the Rebellion being as short on monetary income as it was. It would be disappointing to not have the photos immediately, as he would have with a polaroid camera, but a digital camera had its own perks. He raised both hands, palm-up, and wiggled his fingers expectantly. "Gimme."

Olivia gave him a Look. He wasn't quite sure how it was possible for her to give him a Look when she didn't show any facial expressions, but she still managed. "You are not careful enough."

"I'm very careful," he argued, clipping the end of her statement with his own brusque words. "Lemme have the camera, Livvie."

"You are not-"

"If you look through it to take pictures, you're liable to crack the lens. I'll make sure not to point it at you." He wiggled his fingers again. "Gimme."

Olivia pocketed the camera without a word and walked past him, pushing open the door and entering the stairwell. Pouting, Casper followed after her and made a good show of whining for a while about not being allowed to do anything important, but that eventually tapered off as they moved closer to the building they were seeking.

Olivia was being very quiet and Casper, while not surprised, nor really disappointed, was a little concerned. It was hard to make someone react when they were an emotionless statue of I shall not feel.

Still, he thought idly, isn't that part of the challenge?

"Livvie, have I ever told you your ass jiggles nicely when you're walking?"


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Master Houndoom
post Aug 5 2012, 09:12 PM
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On the outside, Olivia's face was almost placid. There was a small wrinkle, the barest hint of an indent, between her brows, but the rest of her face was as smooth as porcelain. Inside, she was dealing with conflicting facts. She stood at the stairs to lead them out of the large Rebellion complex, waiting as Casper took his time in meeting with her so that they could begin, and, more importantly, end their mission.

In truth, she was a little glad of the respite. Seeing him this morning had been a bit of a blow to her perspective, causing her carefree mood to collapse in an all too familiar way. She knew he would round the corner soon, and so she engaged in taking a moment before the inevitable confrontation, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply through her nose. She could feel Nyx pressing her body against the outside of Olivia's ankle, and Isra nudging her forehead against the back of her knee, and as always the actions served to help her, to put past annoyances behind her. She looked down and nodded to her pokémon, each in turn, and, releasing the air she had inhaled, stepped around the corner.

Casper was now dressed in normal clothing. The first she noticed, ignoring the annoying fact that her imagination conjured Casper's voice to mockingly state that of course she would notice that first, was that he was wearing pants. The second thing was that he was wearing clothing that, at least superficially, made him seem like a Magma agent.

She felt the sudden, quickly flaring-and-dying desire to sigh. Upon more rational thought, the clothing was a good thing: Should he be discovered, he might be able to lie his way out of trouble. Perhaps a Magma grunt that discovered him would even pass him by, assuming that he was part of that Team, or that he wanted to be.

This display of foresight and competence was curious in light of his recent behavior. The small, barely visible indent between her brows became slightly more noticeable.

He was approaching her now, looking his usual smug self. She shook her head. Despite the time his flippant attitude gave her, she couldn't ignore the protocol. "You're late."

And so it began again, just as it had in the beginning, the tedious sparring back and forth, the annoying tendency to play with whatever equipment they had been provided with as if it were a toy, the constant wheedling for the item, or attention, or both.

Olivia had had enough. She put the camera in her pocket and walked away, starting them on their mission. If he followed, he followed. If he didn't, perhaps this mission would actually be a pleasure. She refused, however, to give in to his whining.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Half an hour later, they were near the building, Olivia looking toward the front of it, and Casper playing with each and every setting and giving a running commentary on the working of a digital camera that was designed to be as easy as pointing and shooting. Luckily for Olivia, she had had Brittany as a friend in school. She was used to getting actual work done while someone caused distractions, intentional or not. The latter for Brittany, but she knew that Casper would never allow an annoyance to happen unintentionally when he could intentionally make it worse.

This base was likely meant to be a secret, but in typical Magma fashion, they were not keeping their secret very well. Logically, it was odd that they felt the need to. They were, currently, the ruling faction in this city. Olivia had heard tell of another faction trying to gain territory. The very thought of it was puzzling to her. But, then, a third faction might help their cause, distracting the Magmas while the Rebellion took over.

Olivia's lips pressed together. She used to be more informed, but now that her duties included, for reasons she had yet to fathom, going on missions and keeping Casper Weard in check, she had lost that.

She would have to regain that.

"All right, Ghost," she said, having had enough of his whining to not want to deal with him complaining that she didn't use his code name. "We need to mark the exits they use, and the ones that are just for show. We will be here for some time, and--"

"What does this button do," Casper asked suddenly, holding out the camera and indicating the button on the top right. By pressing it. The flash went off, momentarily dazzling her. Her eyes and nose scrunched up and she blinked, hissing slightly.

"Ohhhh, that's a cute one. Right up the nostril." He admired the image in the view finder. "You have a remarkable lot of nose hair for a girl." He blinked thoughtfully. "You *are* a girl, right?"

Olivia leveled a glare at him, but said nothing about the incident. It would only encourage him. "We should send a pokémon or two in to try to scout inside. It's too bad we don't have other cameras to attach to their collars. Budget."

She looked at Casper, who was making faces behind her back. She could tell, because his face was stuck, mouth open wide, one eye squinted and the other one near bulging, frozen as if caught in the act. She merely pressed her lips together.

"Go around the back and get decent pictures." He jumped up and clapped, walking away in an exaggerated sneaking pose. His shoulder slumped as, before he got out of earshot, she called out, "and don't waste SD card space taking pictures of the female guards."


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Jay Lange||Olivia Prewitt
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Umbrae Calamitas
post Aug 9 2012, 07:59 PM
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"Get decent pictures," Casper mocked, slipping camera's cord around his wrist so it wouldn't hit the ground if he managed to lose his hold on it. He moved around the side of the building quietly, refusing to look back to see what Olivia was doing.

He had considered the possibility, briefly as he listened to Olivia give him his orders (as though he was her good little soldier), that he had been tricked. It had occurred to him to wonder at what Olivia would be doing while he was taking pictures, considering that they were separating, and he thought it odd that he had been gifted with the camera (after much connniving and wheedling on his part, completely without the use of puppy-dog-eyes, of course) when there were two of them.

Unless, of course, Olivia had a camera, as well.

Which meant that all his whining and convincing to get the camera in his possession was for nothing.

He didn't know, of course, if she actually had a camera or not, but it was a distinct possibility. He hoped, if she did, he managed to catch her in the act of using it before she realized he was present. It was fun, to find these little moments where he could tease her mercilessly.

And he needed to make sure he kept wheedling her. He had to keep her at arms' length to be able to reach without hitting himself.

Shaking his head, Casper found a side entrance and twisted the knob, raising a surprised eyebrow when he found it was unlocked. Good fortune or good planning, he stepped inside. He hoped there were some hot guards on duty. He didn't follow instructions well, and he'd be more than happy to focus the camera lens on a nice piece of ass.

~*~


Strings was not with Ghost.

He wanted to be with Ghost, but Ghost had given him orders before they had left the apartment that morning, and Strings was good at following orders.

Strings was supposed to stay with the nice-pretty-girl, and so Strings was doing as he was told. He was good at following orders, and so he stayed with the nice-pretty-girl. Of course, he stayed far enough back that he wouldn't be noticed if he caused a draft, and he stayed invisible, and he didn't even hum.

Because Ghost had said that Strings needed to sneak, but he needed to be there, too, and if he hummed his theme song, he might sneak so good it would be like he wasn't there at all. And that wasn't part of the plan.

Hamlet had given A Look to Ghost. It was one of those I don't understand why you're doing this Looks, and one of those Looks that demanded an answer. But Ghost had never followed orders well - not like Strings - and so he hadn't told any of them why he wanted Strings to follow the nice-pretty-girl. Hamlet had waved his bone club threatening, but Ghost wouldn't be deterred, and eventually they had all conceded to ignorance.

Hamlet wouldn't hit Ghost right early in the morning. He knew it was a bad way to start out the day. There were other reasons, too; reasons that made Hamlet give Ghost another Look. It was a Look that involved rigid shoulders and a twisted mouth and eyes that gleamed.

Sometimes, Strings worried about Ghost, too.

But right now, he was following orders, and he was supposed to be watching the nice-pretty-girl.

Because even though he wouldn't ever admit it, even to them, Ghost worried about the nice-pretty-girl.

Strings wondered if the nice-pretty-girl worried about Ghost.


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Master Houndoom
post Aug 19 2012, 09:09 PM
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Olivia watched him leave and breathed out of her nose, with a little more force than the act of expelling de-oxegenated air from one's lungs deemed strictly necessary. She didn't understand him at all. Perhaps she had been a fool to try.

It had been refreshing, however, to see him put more thought into a mission than it took to figure out how to be the biggest annoyance possible. It was even surprising, and for Olivia to admit to being surprised, especially to herself, was something.

What had changed? Why was he suddenly acting like he had in the past? No, she thought, as she entered the hotel nearest the Magma base and walked past the reception desk as if she belonged there, it wasn't the same. It was worse.

Olivia looked over her shoulder, half expecting Casper to have followed her, if only because it would have annoyed her. Come to think of it, she had not seen Strings either... It wasn't odd for her not to see Hamlet. He rarely was out of his pokeball, for some reason. But Strings seemed to not even have one, and if he did, he never was in it.

Olivia allowed herself one small pull on the corner of her lips. Strings was adorable. Almost as cute as Isra had been when they'd first met. And that reminded her...

She clucked her tongue, once, then again, then once more, in methodical progression. Isra stepped from the shadows, and Nyx appeared next to the felinoid pokémon, as if she'd always been there. She likely had.

"I want the two of you," she said, quietly in her high toned voice, "to walk around the perimeter of the building Casper and I were looking at earlier. Do not be seen, even if you see Casper fighting anyone." A small part of her tried to take satisfaction at leaving Casper without back up, but it was quickly shut down by the rest of her. "If you see that, come to me. I will be on the roof, and then I intend to walk around the neighborhood and look at the paths too and from that building. You'll be good, won't you?"

The two looked up at her, looked up to her, and Isra flicked her tail. Of course they'd be good.

"Isra... no distractions. I mean it."

Isra's whiskers twitched in embarrassment, and Nyx' tail swiped her in the back. Before that could devolve into a tail-poke-off, Olivia nodded, and the two stood and left, melding back into the shadows nearly flawlessly.

Olivia got to the stairwell, and started to climb. It was good exercise, and as she climbed she checked the large pockets of her overcoat. Yes, there it was, right where she had left it... she pulled out a mechanical pencil and a notepad, opening the top floor door and walking to the edge of the roof. It was surrounded by a waist high wall which hid her well. The outside of the building was brightly colored, enough that she would likely be hard enough to spot, especially as the sun continued to shine. She put her sketchpad on top of the wall and began to draw the outside of the building...

Let Casper have his camera. She'd capture more details this way, anyway.


--------------------
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||
Jaima Kuonji and Meiko Omura||Branwys Muphenz
[spoiler=Jaima's Gym Badges][/spoiler]
PANE


||
Jay Lange||Olivia Prewitt
Uprising


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Umbrae Calamitas
post Aug 23 2012, 10:24 PM
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Sometimes, Strings had wishes.

He did not think on them deeply or for long, because they were wishes and wishes was all they were. It was silly to dwell on them when they could not become real on thought alone.

Sometimes, however, Strings could not ignore the whispers in his head.

Like the voice telling him now that he should go back to Ghost, that Ghost needed him.

Or the voice that said he shouldn't care at all what happened to the nice-pretty-girl, because she was not his trainer.

And there was another voice that told him he should do more than not care. She was not his trainer. She was a human who exuded emotions like any other, if less often than her emo-bleeding brethren, and this made her a simple, uncomplicated thing to him: food.

This last was the voice that Strings disliked the most. In part, he could agree that the nice-pretty-girl, while nice and pretty, was not his trainer. As such, it should not be she he was following and protecting, but Ghost. And so that first voice was right in that he should leave her and return to his trainer.

But this last voice couldn't be right. This last voice, which declared all humans food for their bleeding emotions, could not be right. Were Ghost not his trainer, by the voice's words, he would then be food, but Ghost couldn't be food. Ghost was ghost, and much like them, even though he was not like them. Even if he was not Strings' trainer, he could not have been food. He was a force too great for that. He was every moment of sustenance that Strings required, and every moment spent in his presence was a moment when Strings did not feel the need to feed on others.

And really, that was a very sad thing, and Strings had known this for a very long time. Since knowing Ghost, in fact, back before he became Ghost. Back, even, before he became Casper.

Strings never needing to feed on the negative emotions of others as long as Ghost was near, and Strings wondered if the voice whispered in his head because he felt Ghost needed him, or because he was hungry, and needed Ghost.

The voices whispered serpentine words in his ears, words that he would never repeat, and he tried very hard not to listen and not to think about them too closely.

But sometimes... sometimes, Strings had wishes.

~*~


"If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride."

"If wishes were asses, beggars would still ride. Why should my wishes be stinking donkeys?"

"Oh?" She bit her bottom lip teasingly and studied him through thick lashes. "What do you think your wishes are worthy of being?"

"Hot, naked women." She raised an eyebrow at him; a dangerous expression. "Did I mention they all looked exactly like you?"

"Flatterer." She moved slightly, bending her one leg at the knee and resting her heel against the end of the bed. Long blonde hair pooled around her head, draped across the black pillows beneath her.

"I speak only the truth."

"Mm, you just want to see my good side."

"True." He slipped his fingers under the hem of her shirt and pulled it up until her stomach was bared. He ran a palm over the smooth, flat skin, smiling at the soft laugh his touch summoned to her lips. "But I have to wonder... which side is your bad side?"

"Why do you want to see my bad side?"

Casper grinned down at her, his long hair hanging around his face from where he kneeled above her. "Sarah, Sarah, Sarah..." He kissed her gently, whispering against her lips. "Perhaps I will like what I see."


Casper stifled a gasp as he ducked back into the office he had just stepped out of, slamming his back against the wall as silently as such an action could be performed. He hoped the guard he had been tailing hadn't heard, but he couldn't find it within him to care much if she had.

He should have followed the other guard - the fat male too busy singing badly to whatever crap music he was listening to on his headphones to notice anyone skulking about. The woman had been more of a challenge, though to be honest, he just wanted to take lots of pictures of the woman's derriere to annoy Lollipop.

He hadn't realized when he'd first decided to follow her that the woman had had blonde hair. And not the golden blonde, either, but a natural pale blonde that came from spending your days under the sunlight until the bright day had all but bleached the imperfect color from one's hair.

Sarah had hair like that. Long, with lucious curling waves. She'd grown her bangs out and pulled her hair back with a black cloth headband that he'd slipped over her eyes once or twice as a blindfold. It'd been left behind when she was taken.

He resisted the urge to pull it out of his back pocket. He wouldn't falter here. He couldn't falter here. Not with enemies around every corner and the prospect of being discovered too close for comfort.

And closer yet.

Swallowing thickly, Casper ran a hand through his hair before glancing over his left shoulder and calling out, "Strings?"

As soon as the name passed his lips he remembered that he had sent the shuppet with Olivia. The ghost wasn't with him now.

His fingers twitched toward the two pokeballs in his pocket, but he steadied his hand. Hamlet would be angry at him still for his decision to send Strings with Lollipop, but he would have been only mock-grudging if Casper sought comfort from him. The cubone, he knew, really did care, even if he showed it in the oddest, and often most-painful, ways.

Sheut wasn't an option, especially to seek comfort from. The ghost was a pawn of his mother's and while the pokemon itself might have been kind, he knew she had somehow rigged it to inform her of his every action. He loathed the idea of breaking down, but breaking down in front of her? Unthinkable.

However, neither pokemon could be called out presently. The female guard he had been following was still close. He could hear her talking on her radio to other guards, though he couldn't distinguish the words. From the lack of hostility in her tone, he assumed she wasn't calling to report and break-in or would-be-stalker. Perhaps she was just checking in, or flirting with the fat man with bad taste in music.

Still, occupied by other things or not, she was close by and there were other guards. He could not risk the sound of the pokeball alerting others to his presence, and the flash of light was not something easily mistaken. Even a guard summoning its pokemon would call attention, for they shouldn't need to unless something was out of place.

No, he could not summon his pokemon so long as he wished to remain inconspicuous and unseen. Not for aid, and not for comfort. He was alone.

And even though he had lost Sarah to her kidnappers months ago, he felt oddly more alone now than he had in years.

It was a sensation he was utterly familiar with, and one that he had hoped to never visit again.

Sometimes, Casper had wishes.

Too bad they never came true.


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Master Houndoom
post Sep 16 2012, 08:09 PM
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Sketching wasn't hard work for Olivia. As pastimes went, it was a decent one, and she had always spent her time off with a pen in her hand, letting it flow. She never showed these drawings to people. It wasn't that they weren't good (that was a fifty fifty proposition), or that they were particularly embarrassing (most of them were of Nyx, or Isra, or sometimes Brittany or herself), it was simply that they weren't important to her. It was something that she did to give her hands something to do while her mind worked something out. Sometimes the drawing was relevant to what she was thinking about. Sometimes not so much.

This was not the first time she had sketched specifically for a purpose. School had been boring for her, and she'd taken on a plethora of extra curricular activities and some classes she didn't strictly need, when she wanted to fill her schedule. One such class had been a drafting class, and another one for art. She had seldom found an application for them after those semesters, but employed the skills they had taught her whenever she could, both for work, when rearranging the largest supply closet at headquarters, and at home, when she'd moved into the "secret" apartment the Rebellion had provided her.

This was no different. Plotting logistics, setting points to a path, even planning routes.

But like those times she used her skills to accomplish a goal, one that did not require her full attention, her mind wandered...

She was sitting at the fountain in the square. The school had been her home for three years now, and her time there was coming to an end. It was already evident in the attrition in her schedule: She had only needed one class to graduate, one she had purposely held back in taking so that her time at the school wouldn't end prematurely if her other classes weren't as strenuous as had been promised. She spent the supposedly free time taking electives. It kept her busy, and therefore sane.

Just now, she was practicing her art for that class. Her teacher had been impressed with her technical prowess, but had seemed disappointed by something. "Put some
emotion into it, Olivia," he had cried.

He knew so little about her.

Still, she did agree. There was something missing, and practice made perfect.

She had lost track of time, but it hardly mattered at this point. Her next class was a free period, and she had time to spare. She never had liked having nothing to do.

A shadow passed over her. It wasn't a metaphorical one, despite the sudden downturn her thoughts had taken, and because of the coincidence of the timing, she looked up.

A young boy, her age, or a year older, was watching her, curiously. He had dark hair, much like hers, and striking blue eyes that, for some reason, Olivia had a hard time looking away from. He was dressed, as all the boys were, in a white button up shirt and black slacks, but there was something about him, something that made Olivia want to glance over him again. She didn't. She knew what the boy was here for. To see the odd girl who never smiled, or laughed, or cried.

Olivia sighed inwardly. There was, since so many of the seniors had free time during classes, no shortage of people. So many of them wanted to see the emotionless girl. Or Ice Queen. Or whatever new and interesting epitaph the school populace had come up with. So far, it had been manageable: One or two boys at a time, the occasional girl. Ironically, Olivia suspected the first person to see her as a curiosity was also responsible for making sure there weren't more like her than Olivia encountered.

"You're blocking my light," She said, looking back down at her paper. To her mild surprise, the boy moved. She didn't look up. Watching a retreating back was a pointless waste of time.

"You're very good," came a voice from slightly behind her, and Olivia blinked. She looked over her shoulder, and there was the boy, sitting, but tall enough to see what she was working on. "The lines are very crisp."

"What do you want?" She couldn't help the peevish tone of voice, the furrowed brow, or the thin lines her lips made (she would find out later that there might have been a small wrinkle between her eye brows, and her lips were pressed together, but any change in tone had not been as evident as it had sounded to her).

The boy smiled, slightly. "Well, it's our last semester, and one begins to realize that if one wants to... have certain experiences, one should not waste the time one has."

Olivia said nothing, but looked up at her subject, a small café-like shop on campus that catered to the lunch-time and after hours needs of the students without having to allow them off of the campus. She was working on the brick face now, but had taken a decent amount of time on the awning, and felt she had captured it. Accuracy had been a little hard, since in the time she'd worked on it, the shadows had moved down the awning, but she felt she had compensated.

"My name is Mark."

Well, he was persistent. Most of these gawkers went away after being ignored, despite attempts at conversation, insults, or even petty tricks. More than one of these encounters had ended with Olivia soaking wet or having something smeared on her, all with little more than a look and a sigh to give away that she'd even noticed.

Again, Olivia might have the aforementioned benefactor to thank for the fact that no two encounters involved the same people.

Olivia looked over her shoulder, and Mark smiled. Again, Olivia found it hard to look away. When she finally managed, she heard a sigh. It was odd... she felt that maybe she didn't want him to leave.

"Look, I know, you probably think I'm one of those jerks. I'm not. I'll even be up front with you: I'm thinking of becoming a psychiatrist, and the only worth of mentioning that, as you will have deduced, I might think of you as an interesting look into the psyche of someone who does not display emotions. Well, that's true, but that's not why I'm here. I'm here," he said, quietly, "because I actually think you might be someone worth talking to. But, hey, if you're not willing to give that a chance, just... don't say anything, and I'll go."

Olivia's shoulders tensed. Finally, just as she felt Mark begin to stand, she turned around. "My name is Olivia. Prewitt."

The boy smiled, much wider, and much harder to stop looking at, than before. "Mark Coleson."


Olivia snapped out of her reverie. Her sketch was almost finished, at least as well as she could from this vantage point, but that wasn't what attracter her attention. Moving quickly, she ducked behind the large, curved rooftop vent, just as the door to the stairway opened.

"You sure you saw something, man?"

"Yeah. It was hard to miss. Whoever it was had on a white coat or something."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Nyx would never tell Isra, nor would she, had she the capability, tell Olivia, but she had a bit of respect for Casper. For one thing, he had an air of hiding something, and hiding it well. So part of that respect was professional courtesy. However, more than that was the unique scent of dusty linen and slobber that had, as soon as he had left to fulfill his own part of the mission, had lingered around Mother-kin.

Nyx herself had doubled back, for as much as Mother-kin was to be obeyed, the troubling habit she had of sending both of her pokémon away during missions could no longer be tolerated. She and Isra had discussed it at length, and Nyx, being the one most capable of hiding, agreed to double back. That was when she detected the one Sister-kin not-quite-affectionately called Cacklebutt, even though he never audibly cackled, and as far as Nyx could tell, had no butt.

She did not confront him with her knowledge. He, too, excelled at stealth, and that was worth some recompense

Or whatever the right word was...

That left the partner with one less pokemon, and the one who could be very stealthy when needed. Certainly he was needed now.

Of course he was. Casper obviously didn't know what to do with himself. At times he acted poorly to Mother-kin, but then he would go and leave his best stealth partner to protect her. At times he would act silly, or stupid, then go and be smart and fight the bads while Mother-kin did the mission. He was hiding so much, he forgot what he really was, and that was nothing for any creature to have to deal with.

Nyx was, of course, invisible to the naked eye. Being a small pokémon, she could avoid the usual danger of being felt by a passerby by staying out of the way. She had seen where Casper had gone, and where he had hidden, and she could see too that he was in danger.

Her usual tricks would not help. Casper was too large to Make Invisible, and she had found I'm a Haxxorus really only effective when used suddenly, as a surprise. She was not yet ready to be exposed.

She had it, but it would be hard. It would be a new trick, and she would have to keep herself invisible while she did it.

She focused on the room across and two doors down from where Casper had gone, and began to build a shape. That should be easy. It needed to be a person, so that the bad guys would give chase to them and clear a path for Casper.

Unfortunately, it looked like Olivia: Short black hair, green eyes, pale skin, and a white coat. Nyx put her tongue to her lip and made changes. The hair grew, but longer than she wanted, and wouldn't fall properly, looking stringy rather than full. The skin paled, which Nyx had no desire to have happen, but trying to darken it only made circles around the eyes darker and a little frightening. The white coat became a dress, but it hung loose and limp...

And then it was too late for changes. Nyx made her walk. This highlighted another hole in her plan: She'd never made illusions that weren't close to her, and never made one move, unless she was moving with it. This one walked... jerkily... it stood, and never fell, but there were times when its feet were in the floor, and others when it seemed to float. The arms did not sway naturally, either, but jerked and twisted unnaturally...

A pair of guards rounded the corner just as Nyx pulled the illusion into the hallway, but before she decided to scrap it. It was too late. She, instead, had the creature turn and walk away, her gaping mouth too wide, her hair too stringy...

"O... oh my lord," one gasped. The other, a woman, was trembling too hard.

The jig was up. She was caught. She'd made them ang-

"A GHOOOOOOOST!"

The two guards left, running into another set of guards that had heard them scream, and gibbering and pointing as they staggered away. Those guards, to whom the illusion turned, also turned and ran, shouting warnings and fears, and, from one, a confession of stolen office supplies.

Soon, the hall was empty.

Nyx would have to remember that one..!


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Umbrae Calamitas
post Sep 22 2012, 07:12 PM
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The sound of footsteps and the crackle of a radio came to Casper's ears and he was sure he'd been caught. Seconds later, a shriek split the air and familiarity washed over him at the cry.

"A GHOOOOOOOST!"

He had always been fond of ghost-type pokemon. Long before he had discovered himself, that had been his sole constant and was, still, one thing that never changed. Come what may, no matter what changes he would undergo or who he might become in the future, he would always love ghost pokemon.

It wasn't a love that many people shared. Casper had heard shrieks upon Strings' reappearance more often than he'd seen smiles, and it wasn't merely from being startled. People were afraid of ghosts and ghost-types, respectively.

Sometimes Casper wondered if it was their status as outcasts that drew him to them. Or if it were the other way around.

The stamping of feet and shrieks of women and men alike filled his world for a moment, before fading as they were distanced. He waited a time, pondering the ghost the guards must have seen, before deeming it safe to exit his hideout.

Still, his steps were quiet, his movements careful and slow. He slunk from the shadows of the darkened room and into the hall, shoulders risen around his head, eyes scanning this way and that for danger. There was none, but that didn't mean anything. He was a lover of ghost-types, after all, and he knew all about the pokemon that could disappear at will.

"Strings?" he asked the air in a whisper. The ghost should have been with Olivia, but that didn't mean he would be. The shuppet didn't often disobey an order he was given, but it happened on occasion when the ghost felt it was more important to do something else. It would have been a disappointment - a minor one - but not a surprise for the shuppet to have been waiting for him in the hall.

Casper waited for a few moments and called again, but Strings did not appear. Had he been there, he would have, and so Casper knew that he wasn't present.

That didn't explain the ghost the guards had apparently spotted, however. Though, the creature could easily have gone away by the time Casper made it into the hall, so that, too, was not a surprise.

The lights in the hall were dim, the wattage of the bulbs no doubt low to conserve cost, but that combined with the silence of the corridor ate at Casper. He longed to start singing a jaunty, heaving tune, just to shatter the quiet, but he didn't dare.

His lip quivered softly and he clamped his jaws tightly together to still it, swallowing his discomfort in the situation. His throat felt raw, as though he'd been sobbing heavily. He glanced around briefly and cracked his lips open.

"Strings?"

He tried to keep the desperate hope from his voice. If he didn't hear it, then he could convince himself he'd only called for Strings to make sure the shuppet wasn't there in the hall. So long as he didn't hear the plea buried in his tone. No one else was around to call him on it.

Casper mentally shook himself and walked down the hall until he came to a window fixed in the wall between an office and the hallway. He studied his reflection as he ran his fingers through his hair, tucking the errant wings at his temples back behind his ears. He gave a quick sweep through his bangs, sending them cascading to the side haphazardly.

He pulled his lips back and bared his teeth, running a tongue over them to make sure there was no food stuck in the cracks, and tidied his eyebrows with a few touches of his fingers. Face the image of absolute perfection, he straightened his grey jacket and fixed the wrinkles in his shirt, and was finally satisfied.

With a respectful nod to himself in the window, he turned and headed on down the hall.

He had a job to do, after all.

~*~


Taking pictures held no thrill for Casper when he was by himself. There was no Strings to talk to, no Livvie to annoy, and no females to enjoy the tight asses of. And other tight things. Casper felt himself smirking and snapped another picture.

Oh wow, another room. Hooray.

He moved down the hall and into the next room, finding this one, unlike the others he had been in, appeared as though it was actually used. A table in the corner contained a printer-fax-copier-scanner hybrid - one of those big commercial hound dogs that spit out papers like OctoMom spat out babies.

There was a trash can equipped with a paper-shredder top and the bag was almost completely filled with rectanguler shreds of white paper and black ink.

The desk was the most cluttered thing of all and stole his attention which far more acuteness than the walls, completely barren of any decor.

The desk was large and L-shaped, but still barely had room for the computer, wireless mouse and keyboard, speakers, stacks of compact discs (and how old school was that?!), and the mass of paperwork scattered everywhere. Casper briefly wondered what color the desk was.

Oh well. There were far more interesting things to consider. Like what the graph on those scattered papers meant.

Casper picked up a few pages and scanned them. Much of what he read appeared to be in code, because while he recognized that it was English, it was not written in a format meant for casual perusal. He studied the first part of one of the pages.

CODE

Subject: H-M-6
Status: Acceptable
Process: GE
Status: Acceptable
ETW: 2w


Wondering if any amount of time studying the paper would let him understand it without some sort of Key, Casper turned to another page.

CODE

Subject: H-M-4
Status: Failing
Process: GE
Status: Failed to accept
ETS: 3d


Frowning, he moved on to another page.

CODE

Subject: H-M-7
Status: Healthy
Process: GE
Status: Successful
Test: 7.29.12


Two pages were stapled to the back of this one and Casper flipped through them.

CODE

Subject: H-M-7
Status: Healthy
Tested: 7.29.12
Result: Failure
Reprocess: 8.2.12


CODE

Subject: H-M-7
Status: Failed
Reprocessed: 8.2.12
Result: Failed
Verbatim Record: "HM7 resisted all processes after the testing July twenty-ninth.
Reaction to initial reprocess was violent.
Consider the possibility of immunity. TS.


Casper wondered what this was about and if any of the other papers contained clues as to what this information meant. Making a split second decision, he grabbed all of the papers, tidied them as quickly as he could, and slipped them into a thick manila envelope he found in a desk drawer. Sealing the envelope, he folded it once into a thick bulge and tucked it in an inside pocket on his jacket. Then he grabbed the stack of CDs and slipped them into his side-pocket.

They might be something fun to go through tonight when he got home.

Pulling up his camera, he snapped a few pictures of the room, flicked the lights back off, and made another split second decision.

He grabbed the stapler off the desk and slipped one side of it behind his belt, catching it tightly with the leather.

It really was a nice stapler.

He was completely unprepared for the office window to shatter, showering him in glass, as something heavy and hot struck him firmly on the back and sent him sprawling. He hissed as glass bit into his arms, and muttered a curse when he heard a voice shout down the hall, and then footsteps running his way.

Whatever had struck him, it'd just let the whole building know there were intruders.


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Master Houndoom
post Oct 3 2012, 10:58 PM
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For the longest time, there was no sound other than the crunching of boots on the roof tarmac. Small pebbles, ground against each other under the feet of the two Magma grunts that had tracked Olivia to the roof.

Olivia was pressed against the side of the vent, her eyes narrowed as she listened. So far, they had stepped in the opposite direction from her position. However, she had missed her chance to bolt, mostly because one of them was between her and the door to the next floor at all times.

Soon, they were walking back. Back toward her position.

"Last place to look." The voice was rough with anticipation. Olivia could hear the sneering smile in his voice.

The other voice was neither as eager nor as obviously please. "Yeah, I think you're seeing things."

"Whatever, man. We catch this spy, and it's bye-bye grunt work, hello Elite."

The footsteps came closer. "You're still trying to tell me someone in a white coat was on the roof of this building, just to look at the other building? For what?"

"Man, Kevin, you are just full of naďve, aren't you?" They stopped. "There's Aqua all over the city, everyone knows it."

The other voice cut in. "Javier, Aqua wears bl-"

"But there's another group, a rebellion-"

"Nothing's been proven-"

"Been here for years. Lurking, like a scolipede in the mud."

"Right, I forgot you were from Unova..."

"And when I break that, Suddenly I'm in charge of 3rd District, and you're my second."

"Look, you-... Second, huh?"

"C'mon, let's go get 'im."

"Or her."

The footsteps, which had started, stopped again with the sound of a hand striking cloth and chest. "Really?"

"What? I'm just trying to be, you know, politically correct." There was a long pause. "It's just, you know, Jenny's kind of, you know, tough, she-"

"Stop. Just stop."

Another pause, and the footsteps moved forward. Kevin spoke again. "Are you sure it's not some pokémon or something?"

Olivia's eyes widened in sudden realization. Brittany would have squealed. Casper would have chuckled maliciously, possibly even rubbed his hands together in what he believed would be diabolical glee.

Olivia simply opened her mouth. "Zuuu! Zuuuuu!"

The footsteps stopped. "Was that what I think it was?"

Kevin sounded a bit muffled. He was, more than likely, a step ahead of his partner, looking back. "Probably? I don't know, man, let's get out of here."

"Are you kidding? A zubat? I'm gonna catch it!"

Brittany would have instantly stood up, shouting at the two for ruining her plan. Casper would have laughed.

Olivia's eyebrow's shot up. This was not ideal.

"Come on, Javi, Zubat?" Kevin was chuckling. "They're all over the place! I have six waiting in a box on my pc!"

"All over the place for you," Javier was saying over the top of his partner's voice. "I come from Unova. There's no zubat there, and I ain't had time to get any. Now let me go catch this thi-"

"You said you saw white. Zubats are grey."

That brought about a pause. "Well, maybe it's a shiny-"

"Shiny zubats are green, man."

There was a long pause, and when Javier spoke again, he sounded crestfallen. "Green?"

"Yeah, man," Kevin said. "Sorry."

They stood in awkward silence. "Yeah, maybe it's a woobat," Javier said sadly. He started to step away, but Kevin made him stop.

"Woobat, huh?"

"Ah, come on, man!"

"What, I got fifteen of those i--"

There was a pause, when Javier sneered. "Shut up and go catch it."

Olivia could hear it in her head. Brittany's strident voice shouting, "Oh, come on!!"

Olivia reached to the inside pocket of her jacket, clutching the pokéballs inside. It would be no use. Nyx was gone, scouting. Isra, too, was scouting, looking for entries that only a pokémon could use. She had left herself defenseless.

She rarely chided anyone. At least, she had, before Casper. Even now, he was the exception, not the rule. But she was well on her way to chiding herself. Leaving herself defenseless, going to a place where she had no retreat, the list went on.

There was a squelch, then a harsh voice. "All units! All units! Intruder on base!" A breeze passed Olivia's face, and she started slightly, but the radio captured her attention again. "Intruder on base! Return and contain!"

There was no more banter. The two turned with an efficiency that Olivia wouldn't have thought of to hear them, and ran to the door. She heard it open and slam closed.

Swallowing, she closed her eyes, allowing her heart, which she hadn't realized was racing, to slow.

Casper had done it again.

She stood up and looked over at the building across the road. Casper had done it again.

She was very nearly vexed with his incompetence.


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[spoiler=Jaima's Gym Badges][/spoiler]
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Jay Lange||Olivia Prewitt
Uprising


As of January 29, 2010, at approximately 7:50am CST, 2gamers helped me complete my pokedex!

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Umbrae Calamitas
post Oct 3 2012, 11:50 PM
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There were three points of pressure focused on Casper's back, settled toward his left shoulder. Throwing his right leg over his left, he rolled quickly to the left, surprising whatever had landed on him and tossing it to the ground with the sudden movement. He grimaced as he heard glass scatter across the ground and felt tiny shards nipping at his lower back where his shirt had ridden up.

He clambered to his feet ungracefully, the sound of heavy footsteps loud in his ears. The more pressing concern was whatever had attacked him, however, and Casper spun around to find it as he reached for the pokeball on his belt.

The pokemon was smaller than he would have guessed for the force of weight that had landed on him, but he recognized the breed even through the heavy dirt and grime that covered the canid's normally-silver coat. The poochyena could have been mistaken for having all black fur, as thick as the filth that covered it. The creature's thick fur hid its true size, but the tiny legs seemed too thin to him and he wondered how starved the beast was.

Lips pulled back and fur flared out, the poochyena growled threateningly at him. Casper didn't bother to question what he had done to deserve being randomly attacked by the dog. Really, that was just his luck, and it wasn't like he was unaccustomed to being attacked by pokemon.

The pokeball spun in his fingers and he clicked the button that summoned the creature inside. There was a flash of red light that would have given him away if not for the fact that people clearly already knew he was there, and then the guard he had heard running turned the corner.

The guard slid to a stop, shoes squeaking on the tiled floor, but the pokemon on his heels kept coming, racing around the legs of its trainer as the guard grabbed the radio from his belt.

"All units! All units! Intruder on base!" Casper resisted the urge to groan. Did he kick a black meowith in a former life? "Intruder on base! Return and contain!"

The small rodent ignored its trainer's word and kept coming. It had freaky-looking eyes and Casper kind of wanted to run away before the thing got any closer in case it was diseased. There was little chance of him escaping, however, especially dealing with both the guard and the poochyena whose attention was caught between both Casper and the new arrival. Luckily for him, Hamlet had no problem deciding on how to deal with the new pokemon.

The red light coalesced into the cubone's form and faded, revealing the lonely pokemon's small arm swinging in an arc. The patrat may have had time for a moment of realization, but there wasn't enough time to react before it ran face-first into the swinging bone club. With a loud squeak, the rodent went flying.

Emitting a sound like a bark, Hamlet didn't bother to wait for the patrat to return. He advanced on it.

There was a low snarl from the poochyena and Casper turned, half afraid to see the pokemon coming at him. His fingers moved toward his belt, reluctantly reaching for Shuet's pokeball, but he was distracted by an odd rippling in the air. His hand paused and he tried to locate the source of the movement. The ripple washed over the poochyena and vanished, but there was no apparent effect other than that. The pup didn't even appear to have noticed. It growled again, once, and then lunged.

Casper let out a yell, but he needn't have bothered. The poochyena ran right past him and went for the red flash of light that came from the guard's second pokeball.

"VUL!" the fox yelled, as it bowled over by the poochyena. The two rolling tail over ears for a few feet, snapping and snarling at each other until they leapt apart, both crouched low and facing each other with bared teeth and fluffed fur.

Casper, who had expected to be attacked by the poochyena, didn't quite know what to do with the knowledge that it was, at least for the moment, on his side. He didn't know much about them other than they were dark-type canines, and he had no idea what would happen if he tried to command this one. It might turn on him, and that wouldn't do him any good. Especially considering Shuet was his only present pokemon besides Hamlet, and yamask were weak to dark-types.

There was a loud crackle and a voice came over the radio on the guard's belt.

"All units en route. What is your position?"

The guard grabbed for his radio, and that was so not good. With the poochyena and vulpix at each other's throats, literally, and Hamlet busy headbutting the patrat into the wall, that left him time to either call out Sheut and reveal present circumstances to his mother, or deal with the guard on his own.

"I have the worst luck," Casper muttered, and lunged forward, his head ducked low and shoulders braced.

A football player he was not.

Rather than slam his shoulder into the guard's gut and keep him from responding to the radio, Casper tripped over the poochyena that had been kicked under his feet by the vulpix. He lost his footing and stumbled haphazardly through the rest of his lunge. He did manage to keep the guard from revealing his position, but he had both a headache and a firm desire to wash his hair.

The radio clattered to the ground as the guard hit his knees, hands clutching at his privates and a low keening whine coming from the back of his throat. Casper clutched his head, eyes squinted shut, and moaned for a moment, feeling truly awful. Zippers were never a fun thing to crack your head against. They had no give.

"You... bastard..." the guard gasped.

Casper opened his eyes and half-glared at the man. "Next time, wear a cup."

"I repeat, what is your position?"

Casper glanced at the radio, lowering his hands, and then took stock. The patrat was unconscious, but so was the poochyena. Hamlet was having a go at the vulpix and from the way the fox was staggering after the cubone's skull bash, it didn't appear that it would be lasting much longer.

Jumping to his feet, Casper swept the radio from the floor and stuffed it in a pocket after lowering the volume considerably. He turned in time to see the vulpix slump to the ground, and reached down and scooped up the unconscious poochyena. He didn't know if he had any vacant pokeballs but didn't care to bother searching at the moment.

"Hamlet, let's go."

"Ow!"

Casper spun, startled by the guard's yell. There was a pinched look on the man's face and Casper watched in startled silence as Hamlet cracked the man over the head with his bone club.

The guard made a sweep for the club with his hand, which the cubone dodged easily, and then cracked the bone over the guard's head three times in quick succession.

"Ow ow ow, damnit!"

Casper was surprised by the soft laugh that shook his lips, but he smiled when the cubone turned to look at him, wide-eyed. "Come on, Hamlet. We need to get out of here."

With a final smack across the guard's head, the cubone hurried to Casper's side. He didn't bother to recall the pokemon. If he was right, guards would be filling up the building looking for him, since they didn't know his precise position, and he might need Hamlet's help. Cubone were good at clandestine work, despite appearances, and he wouldn't want to wreck that by revealing his position with a red flash.

They moved quickly down the hall, stopping at the offices and rooms to take quick pictures. Casper also managed to spare a few moments to scavenge a vacant pink pokeball from his pockets and catch the poochyena.

If he'd thought about it, he might have been less apt to make sure he took the pictures he was meant to for the mission, but his thoughts weren't really on that right now. Hamlet was at his side dutifully, the cubone swinging his bone club with an ease he didn't normally let show, and he had just recently delivered what basically amounted to a sound spanking to a guard for bothering to attack his trainer.

It caused a surprisingly uplifting feeling within him and he wondered at the sensation as they moved through the halls. He'd turned the radio volume up slightly and was listening to the sounds of guards talking back and forth, trying to gauge his present position. Apparently, they had found the guard Hamlet had thwacked, but there was no way for them to determine where he was, especially since Casper had taken a flight of stairs up to a second floor and was now snapping pictures of rooms up there. He was wary of security cameras, but there was apparently a low budget for this project, as the cameras were stationary and easy to sneak by.

He knew his luck wouldn't hold - that was the promise of the Black Meowth Effect. Still, for the moment, he was making it through the second floor efficiently, avoid security cameras, windows, and guards. It surprised him how empty most of the rooms were and he wondered what Magma planned on doing with this building. Certainly they didn't plan on it just being office space. How... boring.

He was just about to leave the office he had snapped a picture of when the crackle of a radio nearby alerted him to someone else's presence.

"Second Floor Offices one through twenty-nine are clear." The voice was female and came from right outside the room he was in. Casper held his breath, listening.

"Are you certain?"

"Yes. I've checked all of the offices. There's no one up here."

"Very well. Proceed down the eastern stairwell and begin checking the lower offices."

"Understood."

The crackling died as the radio was shut off and Casper exhaled silently, closing his eyes. He waited for a few moments to hear the guard's retreat, but there were only a few steps taken, and then a form filled the doorway.

Casper swallowed as he saw her. Long, curly locks of hair framed a gorgeous face. Her brown eyes seemed darker than usual against the red and black of her uniform. She was leaning against the doorjamb, looking completely at ease.

"Well, hello there, sweetheart."

Whatever doubt he'd had dropped out of his stomach at her words and Casper didn't know what to say, what to do. His mouth worked for a moment and he licked his lips. "S-Sarah. You're... here?"

"I'm undercover, babe." She smiled at him, her eyes crinkling up in that way he loved. "You know how it is." Her hands fumbled in a pocket until she found what she was looking for and held it out to him. It was a small electronic device and appeared, at first, to be a pokedex.

"It's an ejournal. I've been keeping it to give to you ever since I escaped. I thought, if I could find you, you could help me. You will help me, won't you, Thomas?"

Casper looked up from the mechanical device to his girlfriend's face. "Of... of course I will, Sarah."

She smiled. "I knew I could count on you."


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Master Houndoom
post Dec 22 2012, 03:24 AM
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<You should be with her right now! Why are you here?!>

Isra's back arched as she gave a deathly glare to the glameow who had approached behind her. The glameow sat and began meticulously cleaning his left paw, doing his best to look completely unphased.

<Told you, she went up. I don't do "up".>

Isra spat and moved on. <I asked you to do one simple thing! Just one! And you're here rather than there!> Her tail flicked angrily, smacking her companion in the face.

<Did you not hear, up? I don't do up.> The glameow sat down and began to lick his left paw. Isra narrowed her eyes, then turned, swatting him with a flick of her scythe-shaped tail. Not for the first time, she wished it was more than just fur.

<Hey!> The glameow stood and trotted next to her, but she Ignored him. The Ignoration was cold and pointed, and its significance was not lost on him.

<Come on, Pidge, give me some credit. I saw two guys go into that building, then they came out. Your human came out right after, right as rain, safe as houses, and looking for all the world like nothing happened. As usual.> He licked his paw, trying to look less nervous than he felt. <I just saw you, and thought you'd-->

<You did not see me!>

<Sure I did!> The glameow swished his own tail, causing it to uncoil as it moved from one side of his hip to the other, only to re-coil once it finished the trainsition.

Isra bristled. <Where is she now?>

The glameow's ears swiveled. <Around the corner, looking for a way in the building. And, hey,> he said, putting a paw on her forehead. <You should go with her now. I'll come, too, but you should be with her. Just in case, you know?>

Isra's fur and head slowly drooped, and she nodded, licking his cheek as she passed him. Together, tail's patting each other, they walked around the corner, unseen by Olivia, who was studying a door, looking for a way in.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Nyx watched, her eyes narrowing. The girl... was off. It wasn't a scent, not per se, but something about her screamed out that she was up to no good.

The problem with the perception, a problem that Nyx had had to overcome early in her life, was that the wrongness could be... genuine. She claimed to be under cover, so she was lying to someone. Nyx couldn't differentiate between an older, maintained lie, and something else.

Something she never told anyone, not even her sister-kin, but she could hear voices sometimes. She thought, at one point, that she was going crazy. It wasn't until she had first seen mother-kin upset and made the illusion of the little girl that comforted Mother-kin more than Nyx would have guessed.

This girl...

This girl had no voice. She was hiding things.

But was she hiding something bad..?


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Umbrae Calamitas
post Feb 5 2013, 11:03 AM
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Sarah had left him to return to her "superiors," still playing undercover. With the ejournal tucked into an inside pocket of his jacket and the poochyena now housed in a pokeball he found on his person, Casper moved silently down the stairs to the lower floor.

The floor was cleared of guards. Apparently, Sarah had gotten them to leave. He wasn't sure how, but he was grateful nonetheless.

Hamlet remained outside of his pokeball, his footsteps as silent as Casper's as he followed behind. The boy was silent as he moved down the hall, searching for anything else that he might need to take photographs of. He had been particularly thorough, as far as he was concerned.

He passed an office and something inside caught his attention. Peering in, he saw a computer, probably one of the only ones in the building.

He glanced around the hall briefly and, seeing no one, left Hamlet to guard the door and turned on the monitor. He scrolled through the computer's files, looking for anything interesting.

... he found something interesting.

Casper had a habit of carrying a few important things with him wherever he went. A memory stick was one of them. And now he had a camera, too.

Hooking the camera up to the computer, he transferred copies of all the pictures he had taken to the computer, and then inserted the memory stick. He then copied all of the pictures to the memory stick, as well as all of the information on the computer.

And then he formatted the computer's hard drive, wiping it clean.

Tucking the memory stick into the pocket with the ejournal and returning the camera to another pocket, Casper made his way swiftly from the room.

He wondered where Olivia was and what trouble she had managed to get into.

"Any ideas, Hamlet?"

The cubone glanced at him disapprovingly, making no sound and looking away sharply to show his disgust at Casper's actions. He sighed. "Yeah, I know. But... I have to."

The two walked on.


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Master Houndoom
post Feb 8 2013, 11:31 PM
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Olivia walked briskly up the street, trying to look as if it was perfectly normal for her to be walking briskly up that street, to that building, and pulling on that door handle in order to open that door.

No one challenged her, though Olivia was certain it was more because no one was there to challenge her than because she looked normal being where she was. Olivia didn't look normal. She looked cold, or bland, or emotionless, or any number of epitaphs she'd heard for her years of schooling, from whispers in the hallways at work, from Casper directly.

(In truth, she allowed, Casper was refreshingly blunt about it. He made no secret of what he thought of her, so at least she did not have to brace against the supposedly clandestine whispers of her supposed peers...)

However, that no one challenged her gave her pause. She walked into the building where there was no one on guard, through a hallway no one was patrolling, and into an empty office where no one sat.

Had she not been distracted, she would have noticed a glameow following her nonchalantly through the door, down the hall, and into the office. She would not have seen Isra roll her eyes at the fact that the glameow had all of the stealth of a pregnanat slaking.

Only now did she stop, out of possible probing eyes. She went to the window, looking out through half closed venetian blinds. The window itself was oddly reflective, not opaque, but darker than it should be. There was tinting on it, and Olivia relaxed just a fraction more. People were pouring out of another exit point from the building, both frightened scientists and wary or incredulous guards. Leave it to Casper to cause this much of a disturbance.

The scientists had given her an idea. She looked down. On passing glance, one might take her long white coat to be a lab coat. Perhaps she could even get her hands on one. She began to make plans, buttoning her coat hurriiedly.

"Isra," she said. The glameow, which she still had not noticed, gaped at her, wondering how she had seen them, especially Isra, but Isra merely stepped forward, swiping the back of Olivia's calf with her long, scythe-like tail.

Olivia looked down, a very slight indentation near her eyes indicating there could have been a smile there. The indentation went away before Isra had fully appreciated it. "I thought I asked you not to indulge in any daliances..."

Isra looked, and saw that the glameow was next to her. With a his and a rapid searies of bats around his head, he backed off, growling softly. Isra looked up at Olivia plaintively.

"We'll discuss it later. I need to find Nyx, and I need to find Casper."

Olivia went to the door, but Isra stayed behind, half-glaring at the glameow, who, for his own part, looked completely unapologetic. Isra blew air through her nose. <You heard her, Cacklebutt! Go find your master!"

The rush of wind just past Olivia's hair went unnoticed, but Isra gave a half-cat smile, looking back at her paramour's face and enjoying the shock therein.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Nyx did her best to follow Casper. Now that the Blank Woman was gone, he seemed much less frightened for not having his own pokemon and much more prone to find the exit. He still dallied, still messed with the flashing device that Mother-kin had given him, and even pulled out a not-flashy stick thing that he put into one of the Warm Purring machines for a little while.

Nyx knew that they were a camera, a flash drive, and a computer. Isra did, too, but as Isra would say, it doesn't matter what the humans call it. She, Isra, called it what it's real importance was: flashing lights, warm air, and nothing, really.

Thinking how Isra thought sometimes could be a comfort. Especially when she was being besotted on all sides with psychic noise. Not that it was an attack: She could not be attached in her mind. But it was like sitting safely inside in a thunderstorm:: She could hear it, and that was bad enough.

She perked her mental ears, in vain, listening for Isra's mental voice. Isra now knew she could call for Nyx in her head, but she rarely did it. Something about how silly it felt. Still, if there was trouble, Isra would call.

The people had been truly frightened by something, and Nyx expected it might have been because of her attempt to distract the few guards not long ago. Nyx took a kind of wicked pleasure in it. She had caused a commotion, and wouldn't that make Isra jealous?

Something inside her told her it was time to go. She only wished she could tell Casper how to get out... he was kind of... lurking.

~~~~~

Olivia had made it to the second floor before she'd come across anyone. A young, blonde girl in a guard's uniform, who looked at her suspiciously. Olivia made to move past her, hurrying both to try to take advantage of the girl's suspicion and to seem as if she belonged where she was, but the girl snaked out a hand and stopped her.

"Who are you?" Olivia took an instant dislike to the girl's tone, so the iciness in her voice wasn't purely from her normal lack of emphasis.

"I am Dr. K."

"Well, Dr. K.," the girl said, not giving any indication that Olivia was not to be believed. "The building is being evacuated. There's a disturbance. A possible intruder."

Olivia's mouth creased into a thin line. "Intruder or not, I will not leave my research to be manhandled. In fact, if there is an intruder, I will need to make sure my research is secure even more."

The girl looked at her, her eyes narrowing. "Fine. Dr. K." Olivia tried not to react at the obvious sarcasm in the other woman's voice. "Make it fast. I'm not waiting."

True to her word, the woman left, hurrying down the hall.

Olivia watched her go, but paid no more attention as she, too, hurried in the opposite direction. She didn't trust that the girl wouldn't alert a superior once she was out of sight.

Luckily, she was able to find Casper. "Mr. Weard, it's time to go."


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Umbrae Calamitas
post Jul 21 2013, 10:10 AM
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His mind wasn't on the mission.

Not this mission. Not the one he was on with Olivia. It was on the other mission. The one he didn't want to be on. The one that he had never wanted to perform, that was digging him deeper into the ground everyday, that was getting more and more confusing.

The journal that Sarah had given him was ringing in his ears, a song to snare his attention in a way nothing else could. Surely there were answers there to all of his questions. Surely he would find an explanation there as to why she was here, free, walking around but not with him.

There must be an explanation!

"Mr. Weard, it's time to go."

Casper tried not to jump, but he felt his muscles twitch as Olivia spoke form behind him. He drew a steadying breath as he turned around, flashing her a wide smile he hoped didn't quiver. He should have been paying better attention.

"Lollipop, I didn't see you there!" He raised a hand above his head and whipped it back and forth from his to hers to note the height difference. "Though I suppose that's no surprise."

Olivia raised a slender eyebrow at him, an expression he was becoming quite accustomed to. "Really, Mr. Weard. It is time for us to leave."

"What, already? Tsk. Party pooper."

"Be that as it may..."

"What does that even mean?"

Olivia just raised the other eyebrow at him.

"Are you half Vulcan or something?"

"Mr. Weard, we are on a schedule."

"Right, right, time to go, mission's done, yadda yadda yadda bigwigs blah blah blah. I'm going, I'm going."

One of the best things about Olivia was how her annoying non-reactions to him had a way of distracting him from whatever else he might have been thinking about. The journal, Sarah, and the other mission were all put to the side. It was relieving, not that he would ever admit it to her, or himself.

He headed off. cutting through the land between two buildings to reach a nearby street. Best to just get off the property they weren't supposed to be on to start with.

He was just nearing the sidewalk when someone stepped out from around the corner of one of the buildings, shoving him hard and knocking him to his knees.

"Sonuva--" Casper bit his tongue as he shoved himself to his feet and spun to face his attacker. He was a stringy young man, maybe a few years Casper's senior, with dark brown hair and a mousy face. He was also wearing a Rebellion insignia on his jacket, and Casper remembered seeing him a few times at the office. He was willing to bet Olivia could remember his name.

"Casper Weard, you're under arrest--"

"Are you a cop?"

The stringy mouse-faced boy stuttered to a stop. "Um... no..."

"Good!" Casper put his whole weight into swinging his right fist around. It collided nicely with the stringy boy's jaw. The boy tumbled to the ground with a startled sound and a groan.

Casper rubbed his hand with a grimace, grumbling under his breath. "I don't like being attacked." He glanced back at Olivia to find her merely watching, no doubt waiting for more information. Sometimes he was annoyed by how passive she was, but this could work to his benefit this time.

He turned back toward the young man as he pushed himself to his feet, one hand clasped against his jaw. "You are so getting time for that," he grumbled. "I may not be the police, but I am a Rebel. Unlike you!" The boy pointed dramatically, as though that in itself would make his next statement all the more dramatic. "Magma scum!"

Like that statement needed any help.


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Master Houndoom
post Jul 26 2013, 02:20 AM
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Olivia watched as Casper was knocked down, only to rise again and strike his attacker. Her eyes narrowed. She recognized the newcomer, and he was who he said he was...

She cleared her throat. "Miles Twycross."

The man pulled his glare away from Casper and turned it on to Olivia. On the way, it'd changed to confusion.

"Olivia Prewitt. Rebellion Records Keeper." She nodded her head, politely. Twycross turned back to Casper.

"Nice company you keep, Prewitt," he said, not maliciously despite the words. "Might want to check your friends more closely."

Olivia raised a single brow. "Mr. Weard is my partner. I've recently been made an agent."

"My condolences." Twycross pulled a glove tighter onto his hand, a fingerless glove, still glaring at Casper.

"You have quite a record, Mr. Twycross. I've transcribed some of your reports. You were responsible for significant setbacks in both Magma and Aqua operations. Among some of the others in my office, you're near legendary."

"So you want an autograph?" Why he was hesitating, Olivia wasn't sure, but she wasn't going let the opportunity to get more information pass by.

"While I know of you from your record, I've been on missions with Mr. Weard. I find your assessment of him lacking.

"Oh?" Twycross looked over his shoulder at her, his eyes narrowed at her in his own suspicions. "And what do you know about him?"

"Mr. Weard has a severe lack of focus, which, along with a near pathological inability to accept authority figures and orders from said figures. His lack of focus carries with it the appearance of laziness and ineptitude." The man smirked, but the smirk twitched, turning to a frown as she continued. "That being said, given incentive or focus, even if it is the protection of his pokemon, he is not only competent, but skilled. He has trained his pokemon well, and commands them in battle in ways I haven't yet begun to analyze. He is also compassionate toward pokemon when he can be. All in all, he is a good person, and not at all what you've accused him of being."

Twycross looked at her, then at Casper, and sighed. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Prewitt."

And then he reached for his pokemon on his belt.


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Umbrae Calamitas
post Aug 14 2013, 06:02 PM
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This wasn't going well. At all. Any part of it. In fact, it was going so wrong that Casper would be hard-pressed to name one good thing occurring at all in that moment, even though he was still breathing, his pokemon were with him, the zombie apocalypse hadn't yet struck. Though, honestly, if any of that happened, could it make this day any worse?

He couldn't even take anything from hearing Olivia praise him - the positive reinforcement she had tied together with a gentle scolding of his usual brash methods did nothing to lessen the blow that life had chosen to deal to him today. It simply wasn't fair.

He was viscerally aware, and yet barely conscious, of Twycross grabbing two pokeballs from his belt. The boy-man-informant-enemy through the pokeballs forward - at him, not Olivia - and they snapped open with their trademark default sounds. He watched the pokemon materialize in a crimson glow.

"I know what you are, Ghost," Twycross informed him, snide in the use of his code name, "so I came prepared."

And so the boy had. Casper was well-known to those who knew him for his fondness of ghost-type pokemon. Anyone with half a brain would enter a fight against him with pokemon his would be weak against.

Twycross was clearly no fool.

The bipedal tan and black crocodile was a pokemon that Casper had never had the pleasure to encounter before, and he wouldn't call this particular encounter a pleasure. A krokorok, he knew the creature to be called. A ground and dark dual-type pokemon that his pokemon would be weak against.

And then the second pokemon appeared... and Casper nearly laughed.

The fat brown mouse was a pokemon every kid knew to be the newly-discovered replacement of magikarp in the useless department. Bidoof. What a bloody joke.

His amusement must have shown on his face, because Twycross's lips bared in a snarl that sharpened his words. "Laugh all you like, Ghost. I'll be the one with the shit-eating grin when they drag you off to your cell. Krokorok, sand-attack!"

Casper realized - belatedly, he would admit; foolishly late - that he had no pokemon prepared. The sand-attack Twycross was calling was meant for him, not his pokemon. Were he to refrain from sending out his pokemon to defend himself, the boy would clearly attempt to incapacitate and take him down immediately. It was not a common action, oft looked down upon by those of the more "noble" hearts, but from the eyes of a tactician, or someone who had been in a faction long enough to know how the world really worked, it was the clever way to go. Take your enemy down quickly, before they had a chance to muster a defense. Before they even realized what was going on.

It was the kind of thing Casper's mother did when faced against an enemy. A no-holds-barred attack.

The pokeball flew from his fingers, striking the ground and unleashing Hamlet in a flash of red light. The cubone had barely materialized before he leapt forward, bringing his bone club to bar and slashing down with it toward the crocodile's head.

"Bidoof!" Twycross called.

Oh, here we go, Casper wanted to laugh, but he was busy dodging the sand flying in his direction, attempting to shield his eyes. Splash? He giggled.

"Ice beam!"

"Ice beam?!"

The blue-white crystal of a projected ice attack cut through the sand obscuring Twycross from Casper's view. He barely had a chance to duck the attack, throwing himself to the ground and knocking the wind from his lungs in order to avoid being turned into a popsicle. He lay for a moment, breathing heavily.

Ice beam. Shit. Ice beam.

"You're not paying attention."

"I'm doing the best I can!" he screamed back, throwing the pokeball. The dragonair twisted, forming a ring with her serpentine body. The pokeball passed through the open center and hit the wall behind him, and the dragon let out a squeaking musical sound like a laugh as he flew off.

"You're not trying hard enough."

"He's too fast!" He grabbed another pokeball from his belt and threw it at the dragonair, now lazing around the shade of a lamp in the corner. At the last second, the dragon moved, twisted easily out of the way, and the pokeball hit the lamp and knocked it over. The bulb shattered against the floor. He stared at it forlornly. She'd make him clean it up with his hands, one piece at a time, when their lesson was finished. Why were there so many stupid lamps in this room, anyway?

"How do you expect to be of any use of me if you can't even catch a pokemon?"

"It's not like the pokeball would work even it if did hit him! Thrax is already your pokemon!"

"True, this is true. He's a very loyal pokemon, too. In fact, I know that he would obey me, even if I happened to do this." She held up the pokeball that she had captured the dragonair in long ago, when he had been a mere dratini. With a twist of her hands, she snapped the ball in two.

He stared as she let the pieces clatter to the ground at her feet. "Now your pokeball will work on him, if you ever manage to aim properly."

She turned and headed toward the door. "I'll unlock the door once you've managed to catch him. If you've done a satisfactory job, I'll even give your pokemon back to you." She opened the heavy metal door, but glanced back at him before stepping through. "I do hope you don't disappoint me, Thomas."

He swallowed as he looked up at her, and was still staring when she had stepped through the door and shut it behind him, locking it loudly. Thomas ran a hand through messy brown hair that he would, in a few weeks, dye blonde. He glanced at the dragonair, lazing up near the ceiling like a petulant rain cloud. There was a screeching metal on metal sound as the window in the metal door was pushed open. Thomas looked to see his mother peering through. He took a step toward the door, confused.

"Anthrax," she called toward her dragonair, and turned her eyes to Thomas only briefly, with that disappointed gaze he was so very used to, "ice beam."

The metal window slid shut, and the dragonair dove.


Casper shoved himself to his feet, side-stepping a ricocheting bone club as it went flying from Hamlet's hand, courtesy of the krokorok. He glanced between the two pokemon, then looked at their trainer.

Twycross was focused on Hamlet at the moment. No doubt he was waiting for Casper's next pokemon to appear, but he doubted the boy knew that Strings was already out. Casper wasn't sure where the shuppet was, but he knew the ghost wasn't far off - lingering somewhere near him, waiting for orders. It would be easy for him to end the battle quickly - attack Twycross directly. Taking out their trainer would turn the two pokemon into stringless manikins, unable to fight for themselves. It would be easy. He could do it. His mother would even be proud.

"Strings," he murmured. He saw the ripple of air behind Twycross, the flash of the shuppet's appearing-disappearing eyes, signalling that he was there, he was ready. All Casper had to do was give the order.

His mother would even be proud of him.

"Will-O-Wisp." He closed his eyes.

He wouldn't become her.

Casper snapped his eyes open and snarled, "Attack the bidoof! I want that jack* off the table!"


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Master Houndoom
post Aug 14 2013, 10:59 PM
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It was not going well, but in Olivia's opinion, it seldom did with hot headed people. Casper, she knew, was one of these, though he was strangely subdued at present. Evidently, and true to his reputation, Mr. Twycross was the same.

"Ice Beam."

Olivia had glanced at Casper when the battle began, slightly concerned that he had not called forth his pokemon. The command, not from Casper, was quick, clipped, and full of malice.

Olivia's jaw clenched as her lips pressed together so tightly they seemed to disappear. Goading a pokemon to attack a human was a strong tactic, but Olivia frowned on the practice. She felt it sent the wrong message to the pokemon, and, while it was sometimes necessary against opposing factions, to do so against one of their own faction when the evidence was clear and present as to the other human's loyalties, corroborated by witnesses, was a despicable act. While Brittany would argue the point, Olivia's regard for Mr. Twycross had fallen several points.

"Nyx, Isra." It was all she said, and it was quiet over the noise of the battle. The two pokemon stepping front he shadows, however, had caught Twycross' eye. He moved as if he were spitting to the side.

"Cute. I don't have time for this, Prewitt." In response, Olivia flicked her fingers, sending Isra charging in. Unseen by Twcross, Nyx matched her, close enough to be an elongated shadow to Isra's form, until, when Isra leapt to attack the krokorok on the scene, knocking it unsteady after it had ripped the club from Hamelt's claw, Nyx had rolled under her, taking his feet. As an attack, it did little to no damage, but it was good at disiodging an opponent.

Twycross scowled. "All right. I didn't want to have to use this little guy right away... but I think he can handle these..." Without preamble, he threw out a third ball, releasing a large, human sized pokemon onto the scene. It rubbed it's blue head with a large hand and flexed it's muscle, holding the wrist of the flexing arm with the other hand.

Isra felt the blood run from her face. She breathed in, the puffed her breath out, letting the tension out. They only had to hold it off, after all, and a type advantage didn't mean an automatic win...

Nyx stepped forward as Olivia fluttered her fingers, causing Olivia's eyes to widen slightly. That had not been a command. However, Nyx looked at the Sawk with the force of an Egyptian Queen, and the air rippled with a slight pink hue between them. The Sawk staggered, and Isra bound in with a fury swipes attack that caught the fighting type off guard briefly.

Olivia heard Casper call for Strings, glanced and found him behind Twycross, a ripple in the air and nothing more. Her eyes narrowed as he commanded the Will'o'Wips attack... until he made it clear it was to be directed at the bidoof on the field, not its trainer.

She hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath until she was letting it out. She knew Casper as an unorthodox fighter, but that would have been, in Olivia's opinion, too much.

She was called back from her assessment as Isra yowled. The sawk had caught her as the purrloin had tried to jump away, holding her up by the tail. Olivia opened her mouth to call for Nyx' attack, and Nyx had bristed, the fur at her shoulders growing high, but a fourth pokemon launched itself into the fray, latching on with a mighty bite and hanging on as the sawk let go of Isra and flailed it's arm.

Olivia blinked. It wasn't one of hers, but she recognized it... the glameow that had been seen with her Isra from time to time. Evidently, there was more to it than a feline tryst.


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Umbrae Calamitas
post Oct 20 2013, 11:51 PM
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The bidoof let out a screech as the will-o-wisp attack singed its fur. Strings flitted in and out of shadows and light, keeping himself invisible but for the briefest of ripples in the air, his eyes flickering in appearance and disappearing just as quick. He never stayed in one spot for more than a moment, a tactic that Casper had needed to drill into the ghost, who preferred to linger. He didn't bother attempting to track the ghost with his eyes. He'd never be able to keep full sight on him and any attempt to do so might give the ghost's general direction away to their enemy.

They couldn't afford that, not as badly as the battle was going.

Between Isra and Nyx's confuddling the krokorok with their unorthodox but effective methods, and Hamlet's stubbornly-continuous attacks, the crocodilian was beginning to wear down. Not nearly enough, though. All of his and Olivia's pokemon were primary evolutions, nevermind the fact that Casper's most recent introduction to his team was untested and unconscious.

The only other pokemon he had in his arsenal was one he didn't wish to call out if he could avoid it. Not with the... adjustments his mother had made to him.

Strings let out a screech as the bidoof's latest ice beam attack connected solidly with his still-invisible form, and the krokorok swept his body around, tail whipping around and striking Hamlet in the back. The cubone was sent flying forward, bone club slung from his hand. The solitary pokemon landed roughly and struggled a bit before falling unconscious. Casper recalled him quickly before the krokorok could cause any more damage.

Swearing under his breath, he spared a glance at Olivia. Her own pokemon weren't doing incredibly well. The newest pokemon, the fighter, was strong. Even with the addition of the new cat, the sawk was flinging them about. Though he couldn't spot Nyx, which wasn't uncommon. The zorua had a penchant for going invisible as high as Strings'.

He heard the new cat let out a yowl as it was flung to the ground, but his eyes were drawn back to Strings as the shuppet flickered back into view to his right, before disappearing again as he dodged another attack. Casper threw himself to the ground to avoid the attack that struck too close, covering his face to protect against another sand-attack.

Strings shrieked again.

"Damnit!"

He didn't want to call out Sheut. He didn't want his mother to see the things that he did, that was the reason he never used the pokemon. The reason he never allowed Sheut to accompany him outside the way that Strings and Hamlet did.

And yet... and yet, things weren't getting better. Twycross was an ass, but he was a competent ass, and that was the worst sort, because unlike Casper, his assholery was perfectly justified. And not just because he was competent. Because he knew, clearly, what everyone else had been fooled about. He knew.

But Casper couldn't allow his plans to be discovered, not yet. He was so close, he could feel it. With the journal Sarah had given him and as deep as he was in the Rebellion, he could figure out how to rescue her. He wasn't that far off. He just needed a bit more time. A bit more time that he wouldn't have if Twycross defeated him and revealed everything.

And left as they were, Twycross would defeat them, of that Casper had no doubt.

There was a yowling hiss and then a pained squeak. Still lying on his stomach on the ground, Casper looked over to see Isra had been tossed into a rumpled heap by the sawk. He'd missed what she'd done to put herself in harm's way, but that was one of Olivia's pokemon out now. There were just Strings, Nyx, and the new cat left. And Sheut.

Another ghost-type wouldn't do much against the krokorok and less against the bidoof, but he knew his mother would be watching. If there was one thing she was, it was well-equipped with people. It wouldn't take long at all for something to come of the information she would not doubt begin to pick up the moment he released the yamask.

Strings flickered into view as he released another will-o-wisp attack at the bidoof, sending the rodent screeching and rolling in the dirt. It was a good attack against a normal type, but not nearly enough to win the battle. His team, even Olivia's team, was nowhere near strong enough to face an opponent as strong and capable as Twycross.

Casper cursed under his breath and shoved himself to his feet, grabbing the pokeball on his belt. He wondered how much his mother would gloat later. Oh, how she would sneer.

He'd be there to grin and bear it, though, and that needed to be enough.

Think of Sarah.

It would have to be enough.

"Sheut, your turn to come out and take a looksie!" He tossed the pokeball, releasing the yamask in a flash of red light.

He dodged another ice beam attack and snarled, "And disable that stupidass move before I kick the bidoof's face in myself! This isn't fun anymore and I could really use some assistance!"


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Master Houndoom
post Oct 22 2013, 11:21 PM
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Olivia's lips were flat, pressed together hard enough to force her to breathe through her nose. Not that she didn't at any rate, but breathing through her mouth was quite out as an option.

Mr. Twycross was proving to be well undeserving of the reputation he had garnered. Yes, he had proven himself to be sufficient in the field, she knew that from the reports she herself had transcribed. But he was far from the heroic agent many of the office staff made him out to be. In her eyes, he was little more than an efficient thug, from his cold, uncompromising demeanor to his goading his pokemon to attack a human without cause. Olivia was not lost on the fact that, in pointing out his lack of compromise she was highlighting one of her own flaws, and yet she had seen Casper's better points.

He refused to even listen.

Isra was attacking with abandon. Once the glameow had joined the fray, Isra had become quite aggressive, leaping to protect him when his flank was open in ways Olivia had only seen her react to danger to Nyx or Olivia herself. She observed the other felinoid closely. He was aggressive as well, agile, but preferring to use the agility to make openings for attacks, going in for the bite or claw as soon as his defenses turned aside or dodged an attack. It was dangerous, and not without it's dangers. More than once the glameow took hits that were unnecessary.

It was during one of these openings that the sawk they were fighting took advantage, aiming a karate chop to his back that Olivia was certain would break the feline's spine. Her teeth clenched, and, outwardly, her eyes narrowed.

And Isra jumped in front of the chop, taking it and rolling to the ground without another sound.

Three separate voices hissed at once. The glameow arched his bad, spitting in fury. Olivia recalled Isra to her seldom used poke ball, glaring directly at Twycross and wishing for all the world her fencing foil was in her hand. Twycross, for his part, sneered, not noticing a change in emotion in any form on Olivia's face, as there was none.

Nyx expanded, grew, turning yellow and red and black and standing menacingly in front of the sawk, which began to tremble. Twycross paled, then, eyes narrowing, pointed at the Haxxorus' feet. "Chop it down there. She didn't call a haxxorus."

The illusion fled as Nyx did, but the delay had done it's job. The glameow renewed its attack, landing on the saw's head and Biting down.

The sawk grabbed it and made to punch it while it was still in his hand. Olivia, thinking quickly, threw a poke ball, to distract the sawk. It bounced off of the saw's meaty arm, off of it's curled, thick fingers, and hit the glameow, absorbing it and clicking with a sound like a spark. Olivia blinked. She had captured the glameow...

Twycoss blinked at her, then the sawk reeled as Nyx appeared, her eyes narrowed. The air rippled between them, but whatever psychic attack she was using wasn't going to be enough.

Olivia began to take stock. Casper had called out another ghost type she didn't quite recognize. Nyx was the only one standing in her team, and Strings was fluttering at Casper's feet, trying to get up and attack again, his little eyes closed. Hamlet was down, possibly out.

"That's enough!"

Olivia started, but the call had come from behind Twycross. Suddenly several large, powerful pokemon appeared between his attackers and the two pokemon left standing on her and Casper's side. Figures behind them, dressed in casual clothing, but with some form or another of the symbol for the rebellion, a closed fist against a green background, on their clothing, lined up behind him.

"We're here for the traitor."

Twycross couldn't decide whether or not to sneer or scowl. On one hand, he had had them dead to rights. On another, knowing that Casper was also hunted must have been vindication.

Olivia felt the slightest twinge of doubt. Until the leader of the group, directly in the middle, declared with confidence: "Miles Twycross, you are bound by law as a traitor to the Peace Keeping efforts of our rebellion and are ordered to stand down!"

Olivia then noted, or recalled, as she had noted them before this declaration, the five pokemon before her: a poliwhirl, a breloom, a hypo, a braviary, and a scolipede. All looked large and tough. Any one would have been a match for one or more of Twycross' team. Together, they would decimate him.

"This... this is outrageous! I'm not the traitor! He is!" It was the most emotion Olivia had seen on his face. She almost allowed her mouth to twitch up at the corners.

"The evidence shows otherwise. You have interrupted a sanctioned mission. And there are other proofs of our misdeeds. You're coming with us. It would be best if you did so quietly. Now recall your pokemon. Or we can do this the hard way."

Twycross spit, then looked back at Olivia. She stared at him impassively. "Does it bother you, Prewitt, that you don't recognize any of these people?"

Olivia raised her chin. "I don't know everyone in the organization; I'm only a file clerk."

Twycros scowled, but, seeing the better part of valor, recalled his pokemon.

Olivia knew she wouldn't see him again.

She didn't let on that it did, indeed, bother her that she hadn't heard of any of these people. It only mattered, however, that she and Casper were now safe. When the six individuals left, she turned to Casper. "Come on, Ghost," she said, not allowing herself to notice how rigid and angry he seemed. "Let's get back to headquarters. This mission is finished."


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