<sub>[As is fairly regular with Heather, who never really plans AHEAD when she turns her feed on, the video opens with a brief glimpse at something entirely-unrelated!]

[Two large Houndooms, one bare-necked and the other wearing a large, studded leather collar-- are at play in a sunny patch of park. Or more accurately, the big collar-wearing one is TRYING to get the other to play, in a show of big-dog posturing, and the uncollared one is sort of just mild-manneredly humoring him.]

[Right before the camera shifts, though, a blur of blue and yellow barrels into the larger of the two hellhounds and the one-sided playtime promptly becomes an enthusiastic wrestling match between Tricia (the Manectric recently inherited from Cooper) and Huan (the Houndoom even more recently inherited from Otacon).]

[But then it's Heather's face dominating the screen, because she apparently has other things in mind than just showing the network a bunch of dogs running around the park.]</sub>

Hey.

So.

If there's anyone around who knows much about horses... riding horses, specifically...

I'm looking to learn. Any advice's appreciated. Thanks in advance.


<sub>[... Well that was unusually businesslike and to the point. ... For someone like Heather, anyway. There's not much humor in the usually-goofy girl's voice today.]

[Before she can flick the 'Gear off, there's a commotion offscreen and she looks off in the direction of the noise, clearly exasperated.]</sub>

... TCH, god dammit Cujo.

<sub>[The view shifts as she gets up and it becomes apparent that Cujo the Hulking Behemoth of a Growlithe (tm) had decided to join the fray and promptly plowed straight OVER at least two of the participants, who are now chasing after him in a big herd of barking chaos across the park. OH THOSE CRAZY DOGES.]

[End feed.]</sub>



[PRIVATE MESSAGE TO JEANE]

HEY. How did you do that shit at the party?

_{[... well wtf is that supposed to mean, Heather. Clarification is apparently not going to be provided until she gets a reply.]}

_{[The shaggy, retreating backside of a panting Growlithe trotting through the snow and a view of worn, upside-down brown boots tromping along hurriedly after him is the first thing to greet the screen. Accompanying the hurried crunch-squeak of footsteps through good fresh snow is Heather's aggravated voice.]}

COOJ!

Cujo!

Come on, it's COLD! Don't pull this. I will skin y-- COOJ!

<sub>[The 'Gear probably bumped against her leg or something and came on by accident-- cue SHAKYCAM dog chase! Up ahead, Cujo stops briefly and whirls gleefully in the snow to face his trainer. Instantly the cause of his flight is seen-- he's got one of her gloves in his mouth and clearly decided that now would be a great time to play Keepaway. He pauses briefly with his rump in the air and tail wagging slowly-- only to turn tail and go gallumphing off through the snow again as soon as Heather (and the camera) get close enough to try and make a grab.]

[Heather curses viciously under her breath and the chase begins again, complete with hollered threats.]

[... But eventually the angry yells of 'I AM GOING TO TURN YOU INTO A TIGER-SKIN RUG AND THEN HENRY WILL SLEEP ON YOU' trail off and are replaced by a brief, uncertain silence, followed by an alarmed-sounding tone.]</sub>

Wh-- Cooj-- ... No.

_{[The motion had stopped briefly, but it quickly picks up again as Heather breaks into a sprint.]}

Nononononononono COOJ! Don't!

<sub>[In the midst of all the shakiness, the 'Gear shifts just long enough to show what Heather is apparently so upset about-- and that is Cujo's creamy tail far ahead disappearing into a building-- a hulking, charred, broken building. The Burned Tower. Or what was left of it, anyway...]

[Out of breath, Heather pauses when she reaches the slight plateau the tower's foundations sit on, briefly wheeling to look back down the hill at the town below, then back at the dark entrance. Waffling between going in or just yelling for Cujo at the doorway.]</sub>

... God dammit... COOJ!

_{[She steps through the doorway and into the dark interior of the building. Now that the camera's not shaking all over the place, she's holding it up for the sake of illumination, turning slowly in place to take in the charred walls around her. There's shafts of light cutting through the broken areas up top, and snowflakes drift down in the breeze like ashes.]}

... God this place is creepy... My kingdom for a flashlight... Cuuuujoooo... c'mon, boy, where are you?

_{[The wood creaks underfoot as she steps forward. The place has that eerie silence that only ruined places have, and is it sorta freaking Heather out? You bet. Her voice takes on a singsong tone to distract herself from the smell of the burnt wood.]}

Cuuujoooooo... if you come out, I'll give you all my leftover beef jerrrkyyyy...

... Or one of Henry's shoooooes?

... C'mon, mutt, I can HEAR you panting somewhere over there, just c'mon ou--


<sub>[... And then there is an ominous groan immediately followed by an EXPLOSIVE crackling of wood and a startled holler. The visual is immediately replaced by darkness, and a THUD signals an abrupt meeting with the ground.]

[Accompanied by the pitter-patter of falling splinters and dusty, Heather sits up, coughing and holding up the 'Gear again.]</sub>

UGH... hell...

_{[A bright hole above her (which she apparently just CREATED) swivels into view as she aims the 'Gear upwards. A familiar orange canine head pops into view over the edge of the hole still with the stolen glove in his mouth.]}


... I am SO not getting you anything for Christmas.


_{[There's a hollow thumping noise as his tail whacks against the floor above and Cujo promptly drops the glove down the hole. It hits the screen and bounces off, hitting the floor. Heather reaches out and picks it up, giving it a shake.]}

Great. Thanks. That is super helpful. Really.

You're like Lassie.

What would I do without you-- oh crap.

_{[In the classic tradition of shaky-cam horror movies everywhere, there was a noise somewhere off-camera (a low, crackling rumble of sorts) and immediately the view whipped around-- showing a brief flash of something off in the darkness coming around a corner. Something lizardlike and fiery. Then the feed cuts.]}




[ooc: Video responses will take place an hour or so after the feed, from a slightly singed-looking Heather.]

<sub>[It's about eight in the morning, the day after Halloween night. Juuuuust the right time for the bright early-morning sun to be shining in through everybody's windows. The Ecruteak Inn in particular is RIGHT in the perfect place for that light to be blaring in, which is why the first thing that shows on the screen (accompanied by the scrapes and jitters of somebody picking the 'Gear up) are the bright white bars of sunlight across the wooden inn-room floor.]

[The next thing it shows is ALSO covered in the bars of sunlight, but it's so BRIGHT that the glare actually maxes out the screen's capacity for a second or two before it adjusts and shows that the gleam is actually the sunlight reflecting in a million little points off of what seems to be a fairly impressive pile of NOT candy like one might expect there to be on somebody's floor after a successful night of trick-or-treating, but... shiny... things?]

[Yes. Shiny things. All kinds. Eyeglasses, doorknobs, strings of still-lit decorative Halloween lights, a genuine police badge, a set of handcuffs, a roll of foil tinsel, some well-polished pots and pans, small hand-held mirrors, coins of all shapes and sizes, more than a few pieces of (gulp) expensive-looking jewelry, a weathervane, several articles of clothing studded with those fake rhinestones, bottles of glitter (as one may imagine, the glitter is now EVERYWHERE), flashlights of all shapes and sizes (all of them are still turned on), a large (and opened) tube of "Sparkle Fun" toothpaste, what appears to be a small army of glossy Mr. Mime-shaped garden gnomes...]

[And that's just the tip of the iceberg. Somebody was productive last night.]

[The unmistakeable sound of a panting dog suddenly invades the speakers and a giant orange blur passes in front of the screen briefly, accompanied by the click-click-click of blunt claws on hardwood.Then the sound of licking, followed by a hoarse groan.]</sub>

Nnngh....

<sub>[Around this point, the view begins to zoom out. .... Erratically and jerkily, like the most poorly-filmed dramatic zoom-out in history, because instead of using the zoom button, the camera-holder is literally scooting backwards across the floor on his butt, all the way to his sleeping bag. Only then is the whole scene revealed.]

[Sprawled across the sparkly spoils of their night on the town are two very, VERY tired teens, now only partially-dressed as the thieving monkey and corvid they started the night out as. Kaito Kuroba is face-down on top of a small, tangled pile of beaded strings (you know, the rainbow-colored kind that hippies hang on their doors), with his monkey-ear headband slid down over the back of his head. And part two of the dastardly duo is flat on her back, half of her poncho rumpled up around her neck and her mask is halfway off. As is expected of someone like Heather, she bears the telltale marks of having apparently gotten into a physical FIGHT with someone at some point during the night, and somewhat LESS expected of someone like Heather, she also has what appears to be an infant Tyrogue clinging to one of her legs.]


[It's like The Hangover, ADD Teenager Halloween Edition.]

[The screen stops jittering once the filmer is safely settled on his sleeping bag once more.]

[Cujo is busy rousing his trainer by licking what's visible of her face while she mumbles protests and sort of feebly slaps him with one hand, while Kaito is dragging his face up off of his uncomfortable-looking pillow and squinting blearily in the bright morning light. Biz the Aipom scampers onto the screen and hops up on his trainer's shoulder to proudly present him one of the many wallets stolen during the night. Nobody particularly notices.]</sub>

Wh... huh...?

Cujo, go 'way ... where... whuhappen...

_{[At last, the mystery filmer finally speaks up, in that mild, quiet tone some of the network may be familiar with as coming from the scruffy, twitchy photographer that follows Heather and her father around and occasionally talks about serial killer owls.]}


Oh, you two are up.

Mr. Mason says you have to give all that stuff back today.

<sub>[The two teens stare at him blearily, and then down at their piles. ... And then at themselves. Kaito reaches up to run his fingers through his hair and produces a small shower of glitter. Heather lifts her leg in the air with a mildly horrified expression at the pink... thing on her leg. Then they look back at Henry.]


[The feed cuts.]





[BUT A FEW HOURS LATER, a much-more-cleaned-up Heather will be popping onto the feed again, hair still sticking in every direction (she'd had it gelled to look like a Murkrow's head feathers) and glitter still sparkling pretty much... everywhere. ... Including her teeth, when she grins sheepishly.]</sub>

Uh... hey, guys... so um... Kaito and I found a bunch of... stuff... that was apparently stolen... by kids in costumes. That totally weren't us.

... So if some weirdos grabbed something from you last night, it might... totally be here.

Yeah.

Uh.

... Happy Halloween.



[OOC: Action for Kaito and roomies, obviously! Otherwise, if your character was in Ecruteak, feel free to assume that the dastardly duo nicked something from them and will be sheepishly returning it at some point today.
Blue = Kaito, Orange = Heather, Brown = Henry.]

<sub>[So what's the best thing for someone who's been spending their time alternately fretting and pretending not to be fretting over circumstances well beyond their control?]

[A) More fretting
B) Meditation
C) A DISTRACTION]

[If anyone answered anything other than C, they're either very silly, or Cooper.]

[Heather is neither (.... okay, maybe she's the former quite often), so needless to say... when the posters for the Johto-wide fighting tournament going on in Goldenrod City hit the streets, they were the first thing to catch her eye. In fact, anyone spending any amount of time with her in person has probably noticed the way she's been stopping in the middle of whatever she was doing every single time she passes one of the damn things to look at it contemplatively, with a cocked head and a sort of half-wistful, half-devilish look in her eye.]

[As such, nobody whatsoever should be surprised when she pops up on the network on the day of signups ending with one of the flyers in hand. She'd been waffling on account of the fact that her father was sure do disapprove, but... man, she's been spoiling for something like this for months, and she's got... more than a little steam to blow off. Steam that isn't always so easy to blow off in a world where society expects you to resolve all your conflicts by letting animals do your fighting for you.]</sub>

YO Johto, what's the happs?

_{[She grins broadly and then flourishes the poster at the screen.]}

Guys. Guys. Look.

Look at this.

Best thing ever, or BEST thing ever?

Who else's gonna sign up?

I'M gonna. ... Assuming the puppy-eyes work on Dad, I guess. They're a little rusty but I was once the puppy-eyes champion so I should be okay. And for anybody weirded out by the surreal idea of ME doing puppy-eyes, ask yourselves this: how ELSE could I have gotten away with all the crazy crap you totally know I got up to as a kid?

_{[A sly, knowing nod.]}

Yeah, makes more sense now, doesn't it.

ANYWAY.

_{[Another flourish of the poster.]}

So if any of you are planning on being in this thing, gimme a shout! I wanna size up the competition and stuff. ... And also, transportation? I'm in Ecruteak, so... if anyone's in the area, I guess we could carpool, or something? _{[She's not opposed to the idea of leaping on a strange Pidgeot if she HAS TO, buuuuut...]} I mean, the Tournament isn't supposed to LAST too long, so I'm guessin' we'd all only be gone for like... what, a week or two at most? Then I'd be headed back to Ecruteak because seriously, nice place.

Anyway... _{[She trails off, eyes flicking off to the side of the screen.]} I'd better go convince Dad that I won't die if I do this. _{[Eyes back to the screen, she gives a somber, soldier-like nod and salutes solemnly.]} Wish me luck, my people.

<sub>[BOOP. End feed.]

[TIME TO GO FIND DAD.]</sub>

<sub>[The feed opens in a decidedly innocent fashion. It's jauntily wobbling back and forth as its holder walks, and the screen is filled by a big blue :D face, backed by an even bluer sky. ... And the occasional waving green tips from the sand dunes he's passing. Yes, Butch the Quagsire is on the beach, waddling happily down to the shore with Heather's 'Gear-- perhaps stolen in hopes of being able to carry on a happy WOOOOO-filled long-distance conversation with Flapper.]

[But an angry-sounding gurgle rings out behind him-- and Butch turns to face his pursuer, who is equally blue, but a great deal smaller.]</sub>

Ttt-t-toto!


QUAAAA--

<sub>[What follows is a very shaky view of the sky jittering around as the two Pokemon engage in a fierce tug-of-war over the gadget. Occasionally their faces pop into view, and while it's more or less impossible for a Quagsire to actually look angry, it's obvious that it's a heated debate. Finally, apparently deciding that it's too much trouble, Butch lets go of the 'Gear with a huffy 'QUA!' and waddles off.]

[Godzilla's concerned red eyes appear in front of the screen as he checks over the 'Gear delicately, as if checking to make sure it wasn't damaged. Anyone who's gotten used to the Totodile's presence in Heather's transmissions before may note that he seems a lot more... contrite than usual, maybe? Which has actually been the case ever since the OMNOM ELBOW incident a couple months before... strange.]

[In any case, once satisfied, he sets off waddling back across the sand, determinedly. If anyone's actually cared enough to keep watching that long (or is just tuning in now), his destination becomes apparent immediately.]

[In a shady spot juuuuust where the sand starts to shift over to grass and trees, Heather is sprawled on her back on an unused old picnic table, arms folded behind her head, along with her wadded-up vest for a pillow. There's a few old chip bags and soda bottles scattered around the little sun-dappled area, but it would seem that whoever left them had probably packed up and left much earlier, since Heather's the only one there.]

[... That's probably why she's there... judging from the dull, despondent quality of the way she's staring up at the foliage above.]

[And then she's lost from view briefly, as Godzilla struggles to clamber up to her, first onto the bench-seat, and then the tabletop itself. Then he's standing next to her and fumbling with the 'Gear, giving viewers a view first of her jeans pocket, then one hand, then the card-deck pattern on her shirt, then (inexplicably) a zoomed-in view of worn-out wooden table-top, before it finally settles on her face as he presents the 'Gear to her with a self-important gurgle that can only be an attempt to tattle on Butch.]

[At first, she doesn't even turn her head. It's pretty obvious her mind is elsewhere. But when he tries again, this time nudging her shoulder with the 'Gear, a flicker of irritability crosses her face and she looks over.]</sub>

... Zilla, what--

<sub>[... Oh. It's the 'Gear. ... And the damn red light is blinking.]

[... Heather frowns with lidded eyes and shoves the 'Gear away.]</sub>

Get that thing outta my face.

_{[The Totodile makes an apologetic (and slightly hurt) sound, but relinquishes the 'Gear when she takes it and ends the feed abruptly.]}






[Private text to Harry Mason and Henry Townshend]

Hey

I was thinking maybe we could try and head east to Ecruteak City in a few days??


We've been here awhile now

<sub>[Oh, man. Oh man, oh man, oh man.]

[It had taken an entire year.]

[For a couple months past 365 days, Heather's life had been blessedly free of something she'd always known was possible but had never seriously considered would happen. Lulled into a false sense of security by her general good luck regarding which people from her own world showed up here, she supposed.]

[All decent folks. No cultists. No creepers.]



[... Until now.]

[It takes her a bit to decide exactly what she's going to do about it. She can't just sit there, after all. She has to tell some people. ... Not everybody. That would be stupid, and attract unwanted attention. Not to mention, he'd probably just find it funny. No, she'll just... tell a few.]

[Some people who already knew a little about... that place. She'd already GOTTEN a message from L, which meant that she wasn't the only person paying attention. But she's not so sure about the rest of her friends. So without any further ado...]</sub>


Hey

If you've got a free moment, I gotta talk to you. It's important.



<sub>[... There. That'll do for starters...]

[Shutting the 'Gear, she sets it down on the bed for the moment. Now to take care of the OTHER thing.]</sub>

Hey, Dad? Henry?

<sub>[The screen is slightly steamed up when it comes on, but it soon clears enough to give a shaky view of the ... bathroom floor, and part of a towel? It doesn't stay there, though. Instead, the focus seems to be (or is TRYING to be) on the football-sized black thing zipping across the floor and out of view.]

[Then the camera awkwardly turns to the face of its holder, who apparently just get out of the shower, judging by the way her hair is plastered down wetly around the sides of her face and the towel she's got wrapped around her shoulders like a cloak. Said shoulders are hunched. Apparently she's perched on the edge of the bathtub. No questionable steamy semi-nude shots from THIS girl, though-- this is SERIOUS BUSINESS, and Heather's voice is an odd mix between amused, proud, and exasperated.]</sub>

This is a Public Services Announcement about why you shouldn't let your Pokemon into the bathroom when they're about to level up even if they do like playing in all the water leftover after a shower.

Watch and be enlightened.

<sub>[The camera turns to the floor again as Heather slowly and methodically sticks one foot out and sets it down on the tile.]

[INSTANTLY and without any warning, the black thing comes streaking back onto the camera with the intention of violently attacking its trainer's toes with a long yellow beak and a volley of chittering squawks.]

[Heather yanks her foot up again with a small shriek and the Murkrow goes scuttling off behind the sink.]</sub>

See? SEE?

Here, I'll repeat the demonstration for anyone who may have missed that.

Everybody watching?

<sub>[She repeats the motion, this time putting both feet on the ground.]

[The attack-crow reappears, wings flared and beak wide-open. It squabbles and pecks around in circles around Heather's feet for a second or two before, once again, skittering off across the floor to hide in the bath curtains, tiny claws clicking on the tiles.]</sub>

I can't make it more than a couple of steps without getting Murkrow'd. I used to be able to outrun her, but now she's like an unstoppable toe-eating machine.

And all because of this.

_{[She presses a button on the 'Gear to make it repeat its last automated message. Which it does, in a cheerful computerized voice.]}

<sub>[It's been chaos. Once everybody realized that... no, what people were falling into were not the once-just-as-scary-but-now-almost-mundane comas that usually took hold of certain people for a week at a time, there had understandably been more than a little panic-- but then Professor Oak's announcement came in.]

[For Heather, it was a relief. So Pokemon were causing it. That didn't exactly make the situation itself any more ideal, but at least they knew. And when 'Monsters did it' was the explanation, well... Heather (understandably) considered this to be exactly the kind of problem she was good at handling.]

[About half an hour after Oak's announcement goes out, a mass text from Heather will pop up on everyone's 'Gears.]</sub>

So most of you have probably seen that announcement about the bug things stealing peoples' souls. If you haven't, I guess this is a heads up.

Since I DOUBT the police will be doing anything about this... it's probably best we all try and catch as many of these stupid things as possible. I'm sure everybody has friends who're vegetables right now because of them.

I'm in Olivine City-- if anyone in the area wants to help me and Dad stomp these things and get some peoples' souls back in the process, it'd be appreciated. Meet us in front of the Center.

-Heather
<sub>[And it's quite a few hours later before anything from Heather shows up on the network again-- presumably after a long afternoon of cautiously catching as many Shedinja as she (and anyone else who decides to help out-- be they natives or fellow foreigners) can, without falling victim to the soul-sucking holes on their backs. When the feed DOES blip on, the scene is steeped in dim green light-- it's evening and the PokeGear's owner appears to be carefully moving low to the ground in a forested place. There's faint sounds of other people around-- she's not the only one in the woods trying to catch the bugs, but she does seem to be the only one in the area.]

[She speaks in a hushed tone after fumbling around with the camera a little bit.]</sub>

Hey, guys ... uh, great work so far.

I'm in the woods just north of Olivine and there's a few hiding around here-- if any of you guys need to contact me, just text me-- I don't want any sudden noises scaring the crap out of them and giving me a nice, soul-sucky view of their back ends as they flee in terror.

_{[And with that, she hits the mute button on her 'Gear to silence her speakers-- still transmitting sound from her end, though. She turns slightly to address the snowy-white creature just beside her-- it's Alessa, her Absol-- now much bigger than when she first hatched back in December. She doesn't look particularly happy (but then, does she ever?)-- her coat is bristling, her scarlet eyes are round and wide, and she's hunched defensively, almost like she's trying to disappear into the forest floor, despite her bright coat making it impossible.]}

Sorry, girl... Cooj and Carousel've been at this all day, and you're the only one I have left who's good against ghosts... <sub>[Heather was no type expert, but she'd taken a quick glance at the Pokedex before going out on the bug hunt and figured-- well hey, it should work, right? The Growlithe and Ponyta duo had stomped these things fairly thoroughly, and fire was good against the bugs, right?]

[Alessa replied with a small, unsettled growl-- but Heather's attention was snagged by something popping up on her screen.]</sub>

( You have received a text from DAD! )


_{[Rolling her eyes with an amused grin, she closes the text message and turns her attention back to their target-- a glint of gold and pearl glimmering faintly from the bushes off to the side. She lifts one arm up at eye level in case it's facing away from her and she needs to quickly cover her eyes-- then grins when she sees that it's facing the right away, drifting vacantly a few inches above the ground.]}

Okay, 'Lessa... when I say 'Go', you hit it with Dark Pulse, all right?

...

... Alessa?

_{[Frowning, she turns to look over her shoulder-- because the only reply she received was that low, buzzing growl that the Absol only ever gave off when something very, very bad was about to happen.]}


... Alessa, are you-- ... oh, fuck--

<sub>[She had been staring at a Shedinja off to the side-- and in her distraction, hadn't noticed the ones drifting vaguely down from above-- not at her, not at her Pokemon-- just wafting downwards and spinning gently in place, the same way an ornament on a string might-- except ornaments don't usually suck out your soul.]

[Heather's eyelids were already shutting, her arm rising to shield them .... but it's too late.]

[The screen careens sickeningly as the 'Gear falls from her hand to the forest floor with a soft thump-- followed by the heavy thud of a body collapsing directly behind it.]

[The rest of the feed, until it times out-- is dominated by the distressed squalls of the Absol.]</sub>






[ooc: Video (or action, if people are stumbling across vegetable!Heather) replies will largely be answered by Alessa-- also, since Heather spent most of the day actively working with other people to capture Shedinja, feel free to set action replies earlier in the afternoon if your character might have been one of the ones going bug-hunting with Heather!]

<sub>[So that night, y'know, Heather and presumably a lot of other people getting ready to head off from Olivine in the morning after all that stormy chaos had all either conked out in the Center or checked into the (distinctly crappier than Goldenrod's, for the record-- PEH) local inn for the night.]

[And in the morning, all would be normal and Heather'd head off back to Goldenrod with her dad and everything would be totally chill.]



[... Or not.]</sub>


( CLICK TO FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS )

[ooc: SO FOR THE DURATION OF THE EVENT, HEATHER WILL BE WANDERING AROUND WITH A CERTAIN UNWANTED GUARDIAN ANGEL IN TOW. That said, if you just wanna subject Heather to whatever crack you want, by all means TAG AWAY as though Valtiel's just a fly on the wall. He's pretty good at that. SO HIT ME WITH YOUR WTF-IEST, GUYS!]

 _{[Johto had gotten a brief taste of summer, but it looked like they were subject to belated April showers for awhile longer...]}

[Normally Heather wouldn't mind so much-- being cooped up did make her a little stir-crazy, but it just meant the sun's next appearance would be all the more satisfying-- but she'd kind of wanted to, y'know, keep showing her dad the NEW WORLD they were currently inhabiting. Oh well. Stuck in the hotel for the time being, it looks like.]

[Besides, she's... got another matter to think about right now.] 

Bet you'd get along with Butch...

_{[She pats the enormous pink hide of the drowsy Slowbro lying on the carpeted floor next to her absent-mindedly, watching the rain trickle down the window. On one of the plush seats scattered in various locations around the lobby, Godzilla sprawls, looking a little sulky-- sulkier than usual, even. But then, it's nothing new for him to be a little petulant.]}

[As for Heather, she looks sort of thoughtful, and a little melancholy, when she addresses the network. The rain today is ... somehow appropriate.]

Hey, so...

I don't know if anyone else here really... uh, knew him, but... James S-- .... Sunderland disappeared sometime pretty recently. He left a bunch of his Pokemon behind... um... I guess if anyone knew him and uh... wants to take care of one of 'em...

_{[She gives Pinky-- ugh, Pinky, what a lame name... she won't change it, out of respect for James, but maybe she'll call him something a little less... doofy. Pink, maybe. Like Pink Floyd!-- another pat on the head. The big Pokemon rumbles sleepily.]}

[Meanwhile, Godzilla glares over from behind Heather in a generally surly manner. He's been getting shunted aside in favor of all these new Pokemon lately and he doesn't like it. AND he's hungry AND his head is kinda hurting AND he's bored and wants attention. >8( He lets out a huff, which goes unnoticed by Heather, who continues talking.]

Anyway, he and his wife are both gone now. He didn't... talk a whole lot, so I guess it's probably safe to say not many people knew hi-- cut it out, Zilla, I'm doin' something.

_{[The Totodile, which had been pawing slightly at the hem of her vest, withdraws with a surly expression. HMPH.]}

But yeah.

James's gone.

Otherwise... uh, how about this weather, huh?

_{[Godzilla lets out a squeaky snarl, covering his ear-holes with a wince. UGH. Everything is making him so MAD right now. Especially the fact that he's being blown off! His trainer is so MEAN!]}

[So mean.]


[It happens very quickly. There's a flash of ivory teeth as the strong-jawed crocodile Pokemon suddenly surges out of his seat and clamps his jaws down with an awful snap around Heather's bare elbow.]

[The girl's face goes from casual to shocked in the space of a split second before the 'Gear goes flying.]

YEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGHHH---!






_{[ooc: Action replies can either be in the Goldenrod hotel lobby or in the Pokemon Center ten or fifteen minutes after the broadcast!]}

[ooc: BEEN AWHILE SINCE THERE'S BEEN ONE OF THESE, HUH. Solid the _{Onix Steelix and Butch the Quagsire are used with permission from Snake and Phoenix's players, respectively. As usual, reading this TL;DR monstrosity is TOTALLY NOT NEEDED so feel free to skip over it completely to the Action/Voice section of this post!]}

( Read more... )

Because here she was, sitting on a giant snake made of metal, with a bird in the hood of her vest and an electric-mouse-containing egg nestled in her small carrying bag, which was swinging gently back and forth from where it hung on one of the many convenient spikes jutting from the back of her mount’s neck.

No matter how vehemently she’d sworn to never pass through that city where she’d so thoroughly managed to make a bad impression on every last law-abiding resident around, there was no way she was going to sit tight and wait for her father to struggle his way through a completely foreign land to her. Not after what happened last time. She wouldn’t sit idly by and wait for the universe to snatch her second chance away again. Hell no.

She had saved the friggin’ world.

She could handle walking through Violet City and getting side-eyed by all the Nurse Joys if it meant actually being able to hug her father again.

The last time Heather had made this trip, it had been at the tail-end of winter and she’d been accompanied by two other people and their teams of Pokemon, and therefore a great deal of distracting noise.

This time around, the only sounds were the morning birdsong, a patter of light rain, and that great echoing vastness that characterized every large forest-- … well, that and the deep, metallic groaning of Solid’s body winding his way between the trees, deepening the already well-trodden trail. It was a noise that made her think of the far-off thrum of machinery that she had sometimes been able to hear in that town, like some sort of industrial heartbeat. But in this case, it was … a little more comforting, knowing that the thing creating the sound was her.

The newly-evolved Steelix was not the most comfortable of rides, but from her perch behind the steel serpent’s head, Heather couldn’t find it in her to complain about it too much. Snake had given her one of the dubious looks she’d come to expect from him when she’d asked him if she could borrow the Pokemon, but after a brief, heartfelt explanation, he’d handed the Pokeball over to her with firm instructions to be careful on her own.

She fully intended to.

It would be beyond lame if she somehow died on her way just when her father had returned to Johto, this time knowing who she was.

Heather sank forward to let her chin rest on her arms, which were folded on the cold metal cranium in front of her, grimacing slightly as Solid skirted around a bramble patch with a chorus of think shrieking sounds from the thorns on his sides.

“’Least the last time I did this, I had Phoenix’s sissy-yelling to distract me,” she mumbled to herself, shifting slightly to alleviate the ache of sitting on bumpy metal for hours on end. She was pretty sure she’d sat at high school desks more comfortable than this. “… And I could move around without sliding straight off.”

The sun should have been peeking through the bud-covered branches by now, but the cold drizzle that would go on to permeate the rest of the day had slipped in during the night, painting the misty woods in a monotonous set of gray-greens. It wasn’t really rain so much as just an all-encompassing wetness. And while Solid’s body had been pretty easy to hang onto when he was an Onix, now that he was coated in slick metal armor, the condensation mare it more or less impossible to get up while in motion without risking your feet flying out from under you and then the rest of you shortly following suit and careening off into the undergrowth like the star of an America’s Funniest Home Video. So not worth it, even if it was uncomfortable.

“I should make some kinda ‘Please remain seated while the vehicle is in motion’ sign before we get to Dad…”

A squawk of apparent agreement sounded from behind her head, where Wren the Murkrow, now a fluffy black mass of squirmy, toddler-aged bird, was bundled up in the hood of her trainer’s vest. Letting her ride in there meant having to put up with a lot of hair-tugging and the occasional ear-nibble, but it was nice having a neck-warmer.

Heather quirked a brow over her shoulder.

“What’re you fussing about? You don’t even have to worry about a sore butt. You get to ride in style. I should be charging you or something.”

She expected the bird to settle down at the sound of her voice as usual, but the squalling continued, more insistently—and Wren started to scrabble out of the hood and onto Heather’s bare shoulder, whapping her in the side of the face with a flaily wing in the process.

“OW! Hey! Don’t do that, you can’t fly ye—OW!”

Gritting her teeth, Heather adjusted her balance before lifting both hands and trying to grapple the little bird into a secure hold so that she wouldn’t go fluttering off into the forest, never to be seen again. She got her fingers nipped viciously for the effort.

“Frickin’—hold still, y’little monster—hey. HEY.”

Finally pinning Wren’s wings to her sides, Heather lifted the bird up inn front of her face to glare squarely at her.

“What’s the big id— … no, I’d rather you not attach yourself to my nose, thanks. It’s tempting, but no.”

Denied the opportunity to vent-via-biting her displeasure at being detained from wherever it was she planned on going, the Murkrow just wiggled in Heather’s grasp and angled her head backwards to stare intensely in the direction she’d initially been going, yellow beak wide open and continuing to emit noises like a cat stuck in a trash can with a firecracker. Heather sighed.

“Look, I’m gonna have to put you back in the ball if you decide to be a brat— huh? … What’re you looking at? Whoa, whoa, slow down, Solid.”

Turning her attention away from the bird in her hands for a moment, Heather squinted down with furrowed brows at the bracken-covered terrain below. At first, nothing seemed to be amiss—maybe Wren just really wanted to go explore and was being overdramatic about it. But then something had caught her eye.

A large, pale blue blob—she’d almost thought it was a big rock at first, but no normal rock was that smooth or shiny. … And it looked familiar.

“WHOA! Whoa—Solid, stop! Stop! Down, let me off!”

With a deep, groaning in reply, the mighty snake ground slowly to a halt and lowered his head to the forest floor. Before his broad lower jaw even made contact with the earth, Heather was already stuffing Wren back into her hood and leaping down to the damp ground.

The ‘shiny rock’ raised its head just slightly from where it was huddled under a clump of ferns, opening its beady little eyes to stare at the three figures, one small, one medium, and one massive. It did not move from its meager shelter. Just stared, with the corners of its wide mouth stretched downwards and its big, webby paws tucked under itself like a large, amphibious cat.

Heather gave Solid’s side a distracted pat before taking a wary step forward, holding onto her hood to keep Wren contained. The creature curled up on the ground a few meters in front of her was familiar, but… she had never once seen him wearing anything but a big doofy smile. Was this… the same one?

“… Butch?” she asked cautiously.

The Quagsire’s eyes lit up and he let out a few grunting chuffs as he got to his oversized feet, rudderlike tail starting into a feeble wag. Making happy bugling sounds, the big blue amphibian waddled his way over to the teen, who for once didn’t make a face as he clamped his cold, clammy arms around her legs in a hug and stared up at her adoringly.

“Wh—Butch, what the heck’re you doing all the way out here?! I thought Phoenix was in Cherrygrove! I—oof!”

She was cut off as Butch butted his head against her middle affectionately (and over-enthusiastically), letting go of her hood so that she could detach the Quagsire from herself long enough to figure out what was going on. Hands on his slimy shoulders, she looked him square in the round, dotlike eyes.

“Butch. I’m serious, where is Phoenix?”

The smile (which was more reminiscent of the faces that Butch usually made) that had sprung across his face when Heather had recognized him drooped back into an upside-down ‘U’ and he let out a long, crooning whine that was as unsure as it was sad.

The barest beginnings of a flutter of panic started beating its wings deep in her gut.

“… Okay, just— … you just sit tight here. I’ll call him and let him know I found you, okay?”

Reaching into her pocket, she tugged out her PokeGear and started to move away, only for what passed for brows on the Quagsire’s mostly-spherical head starting to peak. He started to tug on her arm, making muted, unhappy sounds.

“Wh—Butch, no, just—stay here, all right? I promise, I’m calling him—okay. Y’know what, look—here.”

Grabbing Wren from her hood with both hands, she presented the young crow Pokemon to Butch.

“Remember Wren? You batted her egg around Phoenix’s room that time in the Center every time I walked out for like five minutes. You’re probably the reason she’s such a nut. She’ll keep you company—just lemme go for a bit, okay?”

Once the two Pokemon were sufficiently distracted with each others’ presence, Heather left them under the watchful eye of Solid and made her escape from the circle, walking to the edge of where the trees began to grow thicker and pulling Phoenix’s number up as she went.

Dialing...... |

Her fingers twisted the little belt-loop cord dangling from the ed of the device around and around as she waited, mumbling tensely under her breath.

“C’mon, c’mon…”

A brief dialing tone, and then…

ERROR: NUMBER NO LONGER IN USE. beeeeeeep.


“… No. No. Must’ve—hit the wrong number or something.”

Trying to ignore the growing sick feeling that was gnawing at her insides, Heather scrolled through the contacts list again. There. PHOENIX WRIGHT, with ‘lawyer-man’ and ‘phoenix + ledges = <3’ listed in the slot underneath it for a description, a result of some late-night conversation from months past. She hit ‘Send’.

Dialing...... |

The strap was wound so tightly around her index finger that the tip was turning purple. She noticed, but didn’t really care.

“C’mon. Pick up. Pick up, lawyer-man. This isn’t funny. Pick the hell up.”

ERROR: NUMBER NO LONGER IN USE. beeeeeeep.

“No! Fuck you. Put me through, you goddamn piece of junk!”

A horrid, hollow feeling was starting to creep in, starting at the knees and working its way up. It was that empty sensation you got when you went up or down in an elevator a little too quickly—like her organs had all been carved out, leaving a space with nothing in it. She felt lightheaded. Her knees threatened to buckle.

SEND.

He never DID answer that last message… NO.

She shook the thought from her mind— literally giving her head a toss, as if the physical motion would somehow help dislodge the creeping sense of dismay. Her knuckles were white where they gripped the ’Gear.

“Don’t do this to me, man. Don’t do this. I know you’re there. You’ve gotta be there. Stop kidding around and pick up—”

ERROR: NUMBER NO LONGER IN USE. beeeeeeep.

“NO.”

SEND dsgklj

Heather had argued ferociously that Phoenix wouldn’t disappear. Would never disappear. That she wouldn’t let him get snatched away from this place like that so crudely—this place of second chances and friendships that never would have happened anywhere but here.

But as reality came crashing in, words from all the way back in February came drifting back up into Heather’s mind, like some water-rotten body floating to the top of a lake, straight from the mouth of one Dahlia Hawthorne, the woman who’d tried to murder him right here in Johto.

Can you really be so sure, Heather? Nothing is certain in this world. What if he just... disappears one night while he sleeps, right under your nose?

But… but he hadn’t.

He couldn’t have.

People disappeared all the time in Johto— important people, even people she liked— but never the ones that were hers. Never the people she’d talked to almost every day at times, the people who had sat up with her on bad nights and let her cry her stupid teenage tears on their shoulder even as she tracked dirt and snow all over their furniture. Never the people who’d come checking up on her anxiously for days after that, hovering like tie-wearing, spiky-haired mother hens until she’d just hauled off and started chucking pillows at them every time they poked their head in the door. Never the people who’d cared enough to talk the truth out of her even though she’d given them every reason never to try and help her ever again.

Never her best friends.

“C’mon, Phoenix, you gotta—just—you gotta be here, don’t do this… I haven’t paid you BACK for everything yet—and DAD’S here, I wanted—I wanted you to meet him after everything I told you, and after—after you—hell, YOU’RE the one who freakin’ got me THROUGH what happened before—you’re like the biggest, shiniest example of the fact that I can make friends with GOOD PEOPLE and I wanted him to meet you, and just—just PICK THE FUCK UP, all right?! Pick UP, Phoenix, I’m NOT kidding arou—”

ERROR: NUMBER NO LONGER IN USE. beeeeeeep.

“No! NO! You can’t!”

Fully aware that the hot, burning feeling in her eyes that was making the trees blur in front of her was unwanted tears, Heather snarled and tried to slam the SEND button again, only to hit the wrong key and turn on the radio instead. She found DJ Mary’s overly perky voice obnoxious even under normal circumstances, but having it blare into her ear right now was nothing short of some sickening insult in Heather’s eyes, and she reacted as she would to any other insult.

Snapping the ’Gear shut so hard it wouldn’t have surprised her if she cracked the screen, she flung it at the ground with every ounce of strength in her scrawny arms. It bounced a little on the spongy soil. That wasn’t satisfying enough, so before she even thought to stop herself (because, you know, the ’Gear was sort of important…), she drew her leg back and sent it spinning off across the little clearing with a vicious kick and a frustrated yell.

That didn’t help much, either.

Behind her, she could hear a concerned rumble from Solid. Not being one of her own Pokemon, he had probably never seen her lose her temper before. She didn’t look over her shoulder— just let out a huff that disguised a hitch of the chest, and wiped her eyes with one hand while clenching the other.

That old urge was rising again, the urge to just let her fists fly against something solid until she didn’t feel like she was going to explode anymore.

Sights set on a gnarled tree trunk, Heather gritted her teeth and stomped towards it, raising her fist— … only to stop when her blurred vision settled on the gnarled, shiny white scare tissue decorating her knuckles.

A souvenir from the last time something like this had happened.

They probably wouldn’t be permanent scars—they’d fade with time. But they weren’t gone yet, and Heather felt her throat tightening as she looked at them.

Phoenix had bandaged those self-inflicted wounds.

Bandaged them and told her, in that slightly-deadpan but still concerned way of his that the next time she got the urge to turn her hands into raw hamburger, she could come to him.

“… Well I can’t do that now… jerk…”

Her voice was smaller and more choked-up than she wanted it to be, and somehow the sound of it made, at long last, the hot tears came spilling out over her cheeks and plopping down into the dirt. Dropping her fist, she just stood there for a moment, shoulders quaking.

After a time, a plaintive “Quaaaag…” sounded behind her and one of Butch’s clammy flippers pawed at her elbow.

She swiped an arm across her eyes hastily and looked over her shoulder at the trio of concerned Pokemon. Even the normally rambunctious Wren had gone quiet and was staring up at her trainer with alarmed red eyes.

After a solemn pause, Heather heaved a deep sigh and sniffed, scrubbing at her face. “Sorry, guys… um…”

With a wet cough, Heather started to head for the trees to retrieve her PokeGear… then changed her mind and turned back towards the Steelix with a dismissive hand-wave. She’d get another one in Violet, they were cheap and easy to replace. And she didn’t… particularly want to talk to anyone right now.

“You can come with us, Butch... let’s go.”

Once the heavy water Pokemon had been helped (with some difficulty) onto Solid’s back and Wren was safely re-situated in Heather’s hood, the motley crew was off again. With Butch behind her and her arms folded once more on the back of Solid’s head, Heather buried her face in them and tuned out the rest of the world entirely.

She’d rather not be awake.



[Three days later….]




[They had arrived in Violet three days after that, on Saturday.]


  _{[Heather wasn't planning on staying in the city long enough to justify paying for a hotel room.]}

[So she and her team of six (plus one Quagsire) were crashed in the hotel lobby during this brief rest stop, taking advantage of the few daylight hours that a trainer could feasibly get away with doing this (before getting kicked out by a stern employee saying 'There's a free Center right down the street for moochers!' in admonishing tones). And with the Easter festivities going on outside, there weren't many people milling about in the lobby to stare oddly at the dirty, travel-sore girl being a bum with her Pokemon.]

[Heather was curled up tightly on the couch, staring straight ahead. The team were all asleep around her, but she just couldn't slip out of wakefulness. Now that the rigor of the road wasn't around to distract her, the full reality of what had happened had time to sink in.]

[She supposed, all things considered, that she should have expected something like this. Some price to be paid. Her father showing up had just seemed too good a gift to be true, especially after she had let the last present go without even trying. Of course she wouldn't get him back without having to let something go. It was even sort of fair.]

[... She just hadn't expected that thing would be the person who had gotten her through the first time Harry had vanished from Johto.]

[On the floor beside the sofa, Butch sighed deeply in his sleep.]

[He'd been taking it well, all things considered... not much could keep the happy-go-lucky creature down for long.]

[Heather, on the other hand... well, she'd cycled through most of the typical emotional responses to the situation... From shocked disbelief to sadness to guilt at ... Right now she was settled on just ... being mad. Mad at the world for giving her the one thing she'd longed for but then taking away something so important as payment. Mad at herself for not having paid closer attention. Mad at Dahlia for accurately predicting that Phoenix would vanish. ... And mad at Phoenix for leaving before she could properly introduce him to the man whose loss he'd comforted her through.]

[She knew it was stupid. She knew it was totally irrational, and that it wasn't his fault at al l.]

 [... But she was still mad.]

[A thought struck her and she shifted slightly to pull the brand new PokeGear she'd picked up earlier from her pocket. Might as well break it in... she'd have to make this announcement sooner or later, anyhow...] 
 

[AUDIO]

_{[It's the first anybody's probably heard from Heather in a few days. No video, because she doesn't feel like showing her sorry face on the network while it's still all blotchy and obviously-was-crying-like-three-seconds-ago.]}

[Even so, her voice is... very noticeably OFF. It's thick and croaky and flat-- none of the usual pep and pizazz that usually characterized her transmissions.]

Hey... so...

If anyone's seen Phoenix Wright... I've got Butch here.

... I'll just... y'know. Hang onto him until...

Yeah.

_{[... A pause, and then a click. She can't bring herself to make a graceful close to that message.]}

.....


_{[... But, as an afterthought...]}

You're dead meat.






|





_{[ooc: Anyone walking through the Violet City hotel lobby is free to spot Heather!]}

HEATHER!

HEATHER HEATHER HEATHER! LOOKIT!


<sub>[Heather groaned. It was way too early for this.]

[Anyone actually out and about on the streets of Violet City on this fine, promising-to-be-warm day wouldn't be able to enjoy the peace and quiet for long. Between the rapid clip-clopping trot of the Ponyta hightailing it up and down the street and the childish squeals of the UNHOLY DEMON that was chasing after her gleefully through the morning fog that was rising off all the now-rapidly-melting snow.]

[Clearing her still sleep-gunked throat with one fist to her mouth, Heather called out after the fleeing figures.]</sub>


Don't run into any lamp posts and die or your brother'll glare witheringly at me and say something droll!


<sub>[Whether or not the kid and the pony heard her was unclear. Either way, Beckett Fowl and Carousel the Ponyta were having too much fun to listen to something as boring as orders, pfft. Sighing, Heather rubbed at now significantly-darker rings under her eyes. When he had asked her to watch after his brother until he himself could come collect the kid, Artemis had failed to mention that said kid was the living incarnation of hyperactivity itself. The only reason Heather was even OUT here at ass o'clock in the morning (at least the SUN was up-- barely) instead of curled up in bed was because there was no shutting this thing up.]

[So in the spirit of wanting to get more sleep being a responsible babysitter, she'd dragged herself out of bed to let kid and Pokemon let off their energy in constructive ways like running in repetitive circles rather than making someone from the room below hers come to her door and complain about the fact that it sounded like she was letting an elephant jump up and down in there.]</sub>

Your brother'd better get here soon, y'little cretin....

<sub>[Pausing to sigh and lean on a lamp post, Heather looked around blearily at the sleepy city. There were some good and bad things about it this morning. On the bright side, the warmth meant she'd finally been able to ditch the sleeves AT LAST. ... But on the OTHER hand...]


[FOG.]

[Fuckin' fog.]

[It wasn't even the thick, soupy stuff that had been laying over the city last fall like an obese, hallucinogenic slug, it was floaty, whimsical little wisps that were being painted pale pink by the sunrise-- but even that was enough to bring up the goosebumps on her bare arms. ... Or no, that was just because it was damp. Right? Yeah, that's all.]

[But god, it made her want to just go back inside and wait until it all burned off... Even though she couldn't, thanks to the fact that she had to wait for the child prodigy to come running back in this direction.]</sub>

Ugh. You owe me so hard, Arty.

<sub>[Because addressing thin air would really tell him just how sulky you were over this, Heather. That is the right thing to do.]

[Shivering despite the balminess, Heather folded her arms and tried to keep her mind off the odd flashes of memory these foggy streets were bringing back, of that autumn incident that had soured her so hard on this city. RRGGH it was really getting into her HEAD, too, she could almost hear the echoes of a baby cryi-- .... Wait a second.]

[Heather turned her head at the sound. ... No... no, she wasn't imagining that. Something WAS crying. ... Not human-- though it was close enough to give her a start. She could still hear Beckett joyfully whooping off further down the street, so it wasn't him... Swallowing hard, she stepped away from the lamp post and in the direction of the noise, a thin wailing that was drifting from somewhere behind a clump of bushes, almost as lightly as the drifting fog.]</sub>

I-- uh.... helloo--...?

<sub>[And there it was.]




[The little Cubone peered up at her warily through the sockets in its skull helmet, eyes sticky and bloodshot. Its crying had stopped as soon as Heather showed her face-- though probably more out of alarm than anything else]

[Heather just... stared right back until she found her voice.]</sub>


... Whoa, you don't look wild... what're you doin' out here all on your-- ... wait.

_{[... Now she recognized it. Those cries... from a network post months before. An important]}


... You... belong to that girl.

_{[Angela. ... But if she wasn't here, that probably meant...]}





... Damn it...




_{[No screaming wake-up calls from Heather at this hour, thank god-- but anyone who's up might be seeing this message pop up on their screens. Heather looks... grim. ... And a little sad.]}


Is there anyone else here who's talked to somebody named Angela?


.... Recently?




_{[ooc: Beckett used with his mun's permission!]}

<sub>[Heather is sitting in the lobby of the Violet inn. This would not be too remarkable, except for the fact that there's a couple of gift-y looking boxes in front of her. She's staring at them with an expression that's a ... very weird combination of confused and... slightly unsettled.]

[Pretty much only the fact that one of them had Kaito's name on it was stopping her from throwing them away entirely. The one from flaming blanket man was even more baffling. Obviously neither of them were what made this weird in the slightest-- Kaito was one of her best friends for crying out loud, and the Proff' was probably the least threatening person she'd ever MET-- but mystery gifts held some unfortunate associations for Heather. ... But hey, even if they didn't, the boxes' existence left her with a resounding case of ".... HUH?"]

[Why were they here?]

[Was it some kind of silly prank?]

[Did they think it was her birthday?]

[WHAT WAS THIS.]

[She had to know, so ... when in doubt, turn to the network.]</sub>


So, uh....

_{[The camera's not showing the boxes (since she has no idea anyone else got any so she's not sure if she should show them or not.]}

Any of you guys get mail that-- ... uh...

_{[... And then her brows furrow.]}

... Wren-- Wren, cut that out.

<sub>[She gets up abruptly and the network'll get a glimpse of an obscenely fuzzy young Murkrow with an epic case of bed-head plumage sitting on top of one of the boxes and viciously fighting with a bit of ribbon before the feed cuts out.]


[Anyone walking around the inn will find Heather looking at the boxes with a mixture of trepidation and confusion.]</sub>





[TEXT TO KAITO]

Hey Kaito, uh

What's up with the boxes?

<sub>[This is the last place Heather wants to be. And when the feed blinks on, it shows.]

[There's the usual busy murmur characteristic of a Pokemon Center lobby on a Monday morning. It's been awhile since Heather's been under these fluorescent lobby lights, and she looks a little washed-out and pale. Sleepy, too-- and blinking in irritation at the bright lights. She must have rolled out of bed not that long ago, and her cheeks are still flushed from the cold walk between the hotel and the Center.]

[Judging from the pink plush cushion she's leaning on and the colorful Poke-care posters splashed all over the wall behind her, she's sitting in the lobby. There's a small (say, less-than-a-football-sized) dusk-colored egg in her lap-- but weirdly, none of her Pokemon can be seen. Normally at least one or two of them are present in her transmissions, either chillaxin' in the background or (in Cujo's case) doing something derpy, but none of them are there.]</sub>

Hey, guys... uh...

I just thought I should letcha know, Phoenix is... um, he's in the Pokemon Center here in Violet. He went yesterday to get somethin' for his cold and didn't come back, and apparently he uh... collapsed.

But they said it doesn't look like it has anything to do with him being sick, it's like...

_{[She rubs at one of her eyes with the heel of her palm, grimacing.]}

... Those faints that people've been going into lately.

So, he's... um... he's doing okay.

_{[Around this point, a familiar (to some) shiny blue head pops into the frame-- Phoenix's Quagsire partner, Butch, is clambering up onto the seat next to Heather. ... And onto Heather.]}

Ooff-- Butch, jeez, hang on-- _{[She hastily grabs her bag (the smaller, owlless one) and slips the egg she was holding inside before it gets crushed under the giant amphibian's weight.]} Anyway, uh-- I'll-- ... I'll be taking care of his Pokemon till he wakes up, I guess. But yeah, I just thought I'd give people the heads-up, in case anybody was... I dunno, worried.

_{[Weirdly, Butch looks as stupidly happy as ever (as he curls into a ball that's like twice as big as the lap he's trying to sit on), so Phoenix can't be in that bad a state. But for some reason, Heather still looks very uncomfortable-- and she's not the sort to worry unnecessarily about somebody when she knows they're more or less fine.]}

... Anyway. So, uh-- hey, Kaito? _{[She addresses the camera.]} You guys gotten to Violet yet? I thought maybe if you were here, we could all-- I dunno, meet up for lunch or somethi-- hey! <sub>[The camera jostles wildly-- looks like Butch is batting at it playfully. It shakes around a bit before the view steadies again-- upside-down and facing in the opposite direction, towards the front desk.]

[Two Nurse Joys are standing behind the counter and looking in Heather's direction very conspicuously. One of them has an expression darkened by consternation-- the other looks a little confused. The first says something quietly to her under her breath, and upon hearing it, the second one's eyes widen and she claps a hand over her mouth.]

[The camera jerks again as Heather grabs it back from Butch and turns it back to herself, but her attention is on the nurses now-- her expression briefly unreadable. But hey-- it's no secret to anybody who's been in Johto since the summer that Heather's relationship with the nurses of Violet City was an antagonistic one. Hell, she turned that Center upside-down on more than one occasion-- and laughed in the face of their authority, with no regrets (or shame)! Oh, the youthful shenanigans! Any second now she's gonna direct her gaze back at the camera and do a classic Heather "THEY MAD?" smirk or something, right?]

[.... Right?]

[Heather swallows hard, hunching her shoulders a little, as though trying to look a little more inconspicuous-- and then hastily shuts the camera off. Her last expression before the feed cuts out is one of... jeez, it kinda looks like ... guilt.]





[ooc: For those in the Pokemon Center, Heather can either be found milling uncomfortably around the edges of the Center lobby, looking like she just saw a Wanted poster for herself, or (most likely), hiding out in whatever room Phoenix's in to avoid contact with the Nurse Joys as much as she can.
ALSO, for those who weren't around back when this happened, this is why Heather's not feeling too hot about having to see these particular Nurses again.]</sub>

_{[When the feed flickers on, it's first displaying a somewhat unsteady view of Heather's back. Occasionally it swivels back and forth shakily-- showing a blurry view of what looked like a lot of cracked eggshells. There were a few towels lying crumpled on the floor, as well. Her voice, muffled and slightly blotted out by the constant clicking and rattling noises resulting from the Totodile claws that are grappling to keep hold on the camera.]}

--thought you weren't gonna make it before the first day've the New Year was over. Guess you like cuttin' it close to the wire, huh little guy?

<sub>[There's something small but fuzzy and ragged-looking draped over her shoulder, jostling slightly as she rubs it down with a towel.]

[It's white, mostly-- with spiky, damp hair and something indistinct sticking out of its head-- something black and sickle-like. A reaper-y blade.]</sub>

Guess it's appropriate, though.

_{[She sits back and the camera's view scurries forward a little bit, swiveling upwards insistently. Catching sight of it (and its carrier-- guess who) out of the corner of her eye, Heather turns with a quirked brow.]}

Wh-- Zilla, put that thing down, you're gonna break it.

_{[She uses one hand to better support the fuzzy white thing cradled against her shoulder and makes a sort of halfhearted grab for Godzilla and the 'Gear with the other-- he dances out of reach, but she does hit a button and the Pokedex function comes online.]}

ABSOL, the DISASTER POKEMON. It has the ability to predict disasters and impending danger. Its tendency to only appear before humans prior to disasters has earned it a reputation as an evil omen and often caused it to become a target, leading to the species becoming even more shy and reclusive.

... Predicting disasters, huh.

Guess I'm safe, then. _{Mine's already happened.}

I know just what I'm gonna call you.

_{[Curious about the newest addition to their little motley crew, Godzilla inches forward with the camera once again, zooming in on the little creature's face. As the view gets clearer, a single red eye-- the one not obscured by a limp mop of white fur-- drifts open.]}



How do you feel about 'Alessa'?





[ooc: TAGS WILL COME TOMORROW-- I just realized I'm running a fever and shit's starting to move that really shouldn't. SORRY ILU GUYS. I'll-- .. um, I'll be back later. 8(;]

_{[Well, they say that the holiday spirit shows up in the most unusual of places...]}

( On the first day of Christmas, my supervisor gave to me... )

_{[And with that little mind-screw out of the way, the supervisor Psycho Bitchmonster of Death turns away and skulks malevolently off down the aisle.]}

... well, that was surreal, but...


<sub>[LIKE HELL SHE'S GONNA STICK AROUND HERE! Goldenrod City, look out. Heather is gonna go out and appreciate some SNOW, dammit. Shoving the rest of the boxes hastily into what little space was left on the shelf, Heather climbs down from the ladder and just-- ... DASHES.]

[Tugging a Pokeball out of her pocket, she lets Cujo out (because she'd more or less been expressly forbidden from having him out with her while she worked, because apparently it was bad marketing for Growlithes to try and eat the toothpaste display, but at the same time, ever since the Glitch Incident, she wasn't too keen on leaving him in her room while she worked...).]

[As usual, the Growlithe instantly bounds alongside her, tongue flapping out of his mouth happily as he frolics. OH BOY, WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO TODAY.]</sub>

C'mon, Cooj, let's head to that Underground place-- I can finish grabbing gifts for people and we can get some of those hot candy chestnut things that are probably bad for you but that I let you have anyway because I'm a terrible own-- .... HEY! W- ... where're you going?!

_{[In the middle of listening raptly to Heather's barely-started monologue, Cujo had just... suddenly turned tail in a flurry of creamy fur and gone TEARING off in the opposite direction, leaving Heather with no audience except for his rapidly-disappearing hind end.]}

...


H-HEY! Get-- get BACK here, you mutt--!!

<sub>[SHIT SHIT SHIT IF HE DESTROYED SOMETHING SHE PROBABLY WOULDN'T BE GETTING THE DAY OFF ANYMORE BECAUSE SHE'D BE IN HUGE TROUBLE SHIT FUCK CRAP.]

[Cursing, Heather THROWS herself after the dog, narrowly dodging several customers and more than a few coworkers carrying heavy displays. A tallish construction worker is forced to do a near-pirouette just to avoid clocking her on the head with one of the ladders he's carrying. Heather shouts apologetically over her shoulder as she passes.]</sub>

SORRY, SHAWN.

_{[Cujo, meanwhile, is on a MISSION. For what? Heather has no idea. But SOMETHING. Because she's fairly sure she has NEVER seen him run with this kind of determination before, EVER. She's only just barely staying on his trail-- he's running too fast for her to catch up with. Occasionally she gets glimpses of him up ahead, but JEEZ is it hard to struggle through this crow-- ... wait. Wait. Oh shit, he's-- ... is he going for that guy with the--....?]}

Cooj, NO!

<sub>[Too late, the man carrying a large crate marked 'DELICATE CONTENTS' turns. Too late, the expression of abject horror appears on his face. Too late, he opens his mouth to cry out.]

[And then eighty pounds or so of excited dog careens into him, knocking him, several displays, and the contents of the crate all over the place.]

[Heather comes skidding to a halt in front of the wreckage, face frozen in a mildly horrified grimace.]

[MISTLETOE.]

[MISTLETOE EVERYWHERE.]

[And in the middle of the enormous pile that spilled out of the crate is Cujo, rolling around on his back and making loud snorfle noises, ears splayed out on either side of his head like dumb-looking little wings. His tail is casting sprigs of the spiky-leafed little plant everywhere with each enthusiastic wag.]</sub>

... Cujo.

_{[The Growlithe rolls over and looks up at Heather happily, tongue lolling out of his mouth. Like this picture except with mistletoe and a Growlithe.]}

Cujo-- you are-- you friggin'--



WHAT IS THAT RACKET OVER THERE!?


...S-shit!

_{[Heather urgently reaches down to grab the dog with some difficulty around his pudgy middle and haul him out of the pile.]}

We gotta get outta h-- ACK! Dammit, STOP! Cujo, STOP, you idiot! Come ON!

<sub>[Attempting to shove him back down and stop him from CLIMBING her to try and eat her hair in his spastic joy, Heather turned and ran from the scene of the crime, with a mistletoe-covered Cujo in tow.]

[... And if she'd taken a moment to stop and assess the situation better, she might have noticed that in the struggle, a fairly sizeable sprig of mistletoe was stuck right on top of her head.]

[Oops.]





[ooc: Heather will be running around town doing various Heather things like shopping for gifts, sticking it to the man, and frightening small children. Aaaand unless someone points it out to her... she's probably not gonna realize she's got the kissing equivalent of a 'KICK ME' sign. Feel free to encounter her anywhere in the city! Cujo will also be happy to dispense ~*~DOGGY KISSES~*~ to anyone too close to any of that mistletoe.]

[HAVE FUN.]</sub>

<sub>[Most of the time, that whole cliche where people awake from a nightmare by BOLTING upright in their beds, eyes wide, sweat-soaked, and gasping like a fish? Totally false. Real life is rarely that dramatic, and accordingly, neither is Heather's normal reaction to bad dreams. She has them so often that they're rarely worth the energy to make such a scene.]

[But tonight?]

[Screw cliches.]</sub>


AAHHhhhuhgh! Hhhh!

<sub>[She sits upright in a tangle of blankets so fast that the PokeGear on her chest goes flying across the room, clattering to the floor a short distance away from her bed. The video feed button is hit in the process and anyone watching will be treated to a sideways worm's eye view of the bed. Heather's eyes are wide and glossy, her skin and clothing soaked through with sweat. Her chest is heaving like her body is convinced that she's DYING, and to be fair, it probably IS. Her hair is all over the place and goosebumps are standing out on her bare arms like pinheads-- those bandages? Yeah, they got all sweaty and just... unraveled and bunched down around her wrists.]

[The moonlight-- or-- er, the countless Goldenrod streetlights outside, anyway-- reflecting off of her skin just added to the impression that she'd been rolling around in wet grass or something. She was going to be SO cold once the adrenaline wore off and the chill of the cold sweat set in.]

[What... what was... oh, GOD, what the FUCK was...?]

[She looks around the dark hotel room wildly, wheezing, and smears her hair out of her face after a moment and just presses a hand to her temple, shoulders slumping.]</sub>

Holy hell...

<sub>[Pulling in a deep, congested-sounding breath, she looks up again, still pale as a sheet but at least calming down. Dreams. It had all been dreams. ... Well, DUH, it had been dreams-- she had been chased by the friggin' KOOL-AID MAN. But-- even the most vivid of dreams in her normal roster of Traumatizing Nighttime Visions (tm) (and her normal nightmares? Oh hell yes, you BET they were vivid) couldn't even come close to what she had just experienced. It had all felt so... so real.]

[She notices the PokeGear on the floor and just sort of... leans over and half-slides off the bed, reaching out for it with one arm and just hanging off of the edge of the bed at the waist like a gangly ragdoll.]</sub>


What time is it...


<sub>[... Midnight. Just midnight. Okay... Midnight. Ugh. Well, there was no way she was gonna get to sleep after THAT, so... she'll just turn the lights on, watch some TV, and-- .... wait.]

[... Why was the date three days later than she last remembered?]</sub>


.... The friggin' frick...

<sub>[She drops the 'Gear again, and there's some thumping and rustling noises as she unentangles herself from the blankets and drags herself out of bed. Her bare feet walk past the screen and then the door slams. The feed times out eventually.]





[ooc: If your character is in the Goldenrod Hotel and is friends with Heather/she is aware of their being there, expect a violent knock on the door, an encounter with a boxer-and-tank-top-clad Heather who looks like she saw a ghost, and some confusion when she just looks you up and down, decides she's satisfied with the fact that you exist, and wanders off down the hallway in a daze to terrorize someone else.]</sub>

<sub>[OOC: HI GUYS. As per usual with my TL;DR event posts, reading this is more or less optional. All you need to know is that Heather's in the Goldenrod City Department Store, and that you are free to bother her in ANY WAY YOU SEE FIT, anywhere in the store.
Posts on my end might be a little slow, but I AM online and will be replying to every tag!
Out-of-game dudes, welcome to Route for the weekend! I hope you enjoy your stay, and hope that maybe we'll be snagging a few of you for good. ;)]





[Well, Saturday came, and despite the injuries and wreckage accumulated at the Department Store from the aftermath of that robbery, a big mall can't staff itself! As such, the employees have all been respectfully ordered to come back and help with cleaning things up, because god forbid they close the store for a few days!]

[And so, wearing her stupid little employee uniform, a tired Heather got up early with her newly-recovered Pokemon in-pocket (she didn't normally take them to work with her, but given the events there, she was feeling less confident about the prospect of being without them in case of an emergency. And besides, she sort of wanted to spoil them a little bit for all they'd been through), and made her way morosely to the big shiny building.]

[The whole way, Cujo pranced and gamboled around her, completely oblivious to his Trainer's sour mood.]

[She shoved the revolving door a little harder than necessary and went through it, taking care not to let the simple-minded Growlithe get stuck in the turnstyle.]

[And gueeeessss who was right there waiting in the lobby for her, surrounded by bustling janitors carrying around busted vending machines and sweeping up rubble?]</sub>


ABOUT TIME YOU SHOWED UP!

BACK IN MY DAY, SNOTTY KIDS WHO TOOK TOO MUCH TIME OFF OF WORK WERE FLOGGED AND PUBLICLY HUMILIATED!



.... And back in your day, the elderly fell behind and got eaten by saber-toothed tigers...


WHAT WAS THAT?!


Ugh... nothing...


I'VE HAD ABOUT ENOUGH OF YOUR LIP. MY DELICATE HEART CANNOT ABIDE SUCH DISRESPECT. GO HELP THE JANITORS ON THE SECOND FLOOR BEFORE YOUR INSOLENCE BEGINS TO ENDANGER MY HEALTH.



Yes, ma'am...


AND GET THAT FILTHY MUTT IN A POKEBALL IMMEDIATELY!!


_{[Making a sour face, Heather promptly flipped the old bat off as she went huffing away to scream at someone else who didn't deserve it.]}


Don't listen to 'er, Cooj. You might be a filthy mutt, but she's a bitch and that's ten times worse. We gotta stop at the laundry room first. I'll let you chew on one of her skirts.

<sub>[Cujo panted up at her happily, having absolutely no idea that the supervisor had called him anything, and promptly walked into a potted plant because he wasn't watching where he was going.]



[The employee laundry room yawned ominously away from the doorway, its gray-green basement lights buzzing in that ugly way that old, out-of-date electronics that no higher-up has felt necessary to replace so often do. The gaps between the tiles here were always wet, and filled with that gritty mush that resulted when bits of powdered laundry detergent spilled onto a damp floor and was allowed to sit. The whole place smelled like stagnant water from the machine in the corner that was always broken and filled up with cloudy water that nobody bothered to drain for weeks.]

[Old uniforms were strewn across the floor like corpses of long-forgotten staff members who had been trapped down here and died horribly.]</sub>


... Same old, same old...


_{[Heather sighed and stepped in, her boots skidding slightly on the soapscum-covered floor.]}

Don't eat anything I don't tell you is okay, Cooj.

_{[She leaned over the bin of clean uniforms, digging around in it with still-bandaged arms. She needed a new hat and didn't fancy getting screamed at for not having one if she was caught without it on the job.]}

Jesus, there can't be like fifty thousand clean shirts and no hats...


_{[Then she stopped and looked over her shoulder, brows furrowed. Cujo was standing stiffly behind her, his creamy hackles raised and normally-happy brown eyes wide and staring. A low, unsettled growl was drifting out of his throat and his stare was settled firmly on the employee lockers across the room. Swallowing, Heather withdrew from the bin slowly.]}

... What is it, boy?


<sub>[The growl increased in volume, and Heather frowned worriedly, following his gaze.]

[The source of his anxiety became clear instantly.]

[The door to Locker no. 9 was rattling gently, occasionally thumping. There was something inside it. Trying to get out.]

[The hairs on the back of Heather's neck stood up.]

[... It's... it's deja vu all over again...]


[The rattling was replaced by an insistent, metallic banging. Heather gulped, and reached out to pick up a nearby metal laundry basket.]</sub>

Stay here, Cooj...

_{[Slowly, warily, she approached the locker. As though sensing her nearing presence, the banging became louder and more violent. Adamant. Biting her lip, Heather reached out with a bandaged hand... and opened the locker.]}


--AAAUGH!



<sub>[The laundry basket went clanging to the floor as Heather fell backwards, knocked onto the damp, gritty floor as whatever was in the locker came lunging out at her like a desperate predator, barreling its warm weight into her chest and knocking her off-balance. Cujo erupted into a frenzy of barking and whimpering, knocking over the laundry bin as he turned in alarmed circles.]

[Heather thrashed on the floor, throwing the attacker off in the process and struggling to sit up defensively, teeth bared.]</sub>

I-- GET OFF! I'LL-- You-- .... uh. .... Huh?


_{[The attacker wagged its little cinnamon-bun of a tail, the speaker on its headphones giving out a cheery little crackle of static.]}