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Post by reagan esser on Mar 17, 2014 20:54:04 GMT -6
Lost? Tch, anything but. It would be nearly impossible to lose her way now. She's on top of the world, conquering, every bit of her seventeen-year old self is glowing with pride. It's not her first day on the job, and certainly not her last. While Esser has a lot to learn, she's certainly mastered the art of joy. The sun keeps her warm on the windy day-- she's not dressed for the occasion, but why would she need to when she has a fire type? Such is the youthful ignorance she wishes to maintain forever.
Reagan Esser is young, wild, and free. Nothing can stop her now, absolutely nothing. After weeks of training she feels like a master of dragons-- even if the bat-like pokemon is a mixed type. She's lost count of how many times she has failed, and now, standing in the glow of the Noibat's evolution, Reagan finds her breath still staggered from the excitement.
I'll be the one to stop them all'.
It's an inspiration thought for sure, but something her subconscious remains wary of, and for good reason. That, however, wouldn't be revealed for years to come.
She finally stretches, taking the deep breath she's needed. Training off of wild pokemon was no easy task, but she still has much to learn. So why not learn on the job? Who could possibly beat her anyway, in a city of children and rednecks? The gym leader would have been an option, had she been aspiring for that kind of attention. No, Reagan would emerge from the dark to slay the gijinka scum, to preserve the human race and show the world just how much humans could do against bottom feeders that only got their power from an injection. Needless to say, it never did occur to her that humans only maintained their power through manufactured balls and training-- but they had to work hard for it, right? Being a trainer was no easy task.
Head spinning, adrenaline pumping, her hand rested on the pokeball of the newly evolved Noivern. It was time to show the world what she could do, starting with..
A red haired man, lazily smoking nearby? Why the fuck not? Everyone else looked too busy, her only chance at glory was through him. Shoulders and chin high, there was no hesitation in her stride. No hesitation to get right in his face, even if it did mean inhaling the smoke seeping from his lips.
"You busy? Got pokemon?"
She was too excited to wait for an answer, instead jumping back to distance herself.
"Of course you do-- let 'em out, show me what you can do, stranger. We'll give you a run for your money!"
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Post by MORDRED SAKAKI on Mar 17, 2014 22:17:37 GMT -6
oh how slowly the world trickles by. every passing moment represents nothing more than another smoldering ash falling from the glowering bud of his dwindling cigarette. there’s a certain laxness that comes from having an eternity to live, something that makes life seem so much simpler. nothing becomes impossible with the right mixture of time and effort. it almost makes life not worth living. there’s nothing to look forward to until the chemicals hit. the smoke that seeps in so quietly leaves mewtwo with a dark buzz, coating his lungs and mind in a deathly black. it’s a strange comfort that calms him. for all intent and purposes, the tobacco does its job, asking for nothing more than a few days of his host’s life in return. it’s a small price to pay to pass the time.
the strongest pokemon known to man is reduced to little more than an idle man waiting for his life to waste away. it’s odd to know the troubles that plague the elderly humans who slaved away so desperately to have earned their rest. retirement leaves most of them bitter and lonely, bored with their newfound time with very little they can accomplish. the only difference between them is that mewtwo is not bound by an old, crusty body unable to keep up with his wishes. in fact, it’s the reverse. what does the being that can accomplish anything accomplish?
battle?
enslaving sentient creatures to do battle for sport is nothing short of barbaric. for humans to take pride in being “advanced” yet advocate such practices as essential to their life style proves ironic at best - repulsive at worst. but, who is mewtwo to deny the inherit nature in such flawed beings? perhaps that’s the reason they were so assertive over his creation.
perhaps… a lot of things. nothing is for certain, not until the cigarette falls from between his loose fingers. only then does mordred show the courtesy of a response. a nod is all she gets but it’s more than enough for the spunky child. with a crack of his neck, mordred straightens out the crooked hunch protruding from his back, pulling all his stiff muscles back into alignment as the pokemon has to resort to moving. a loose, hesitant hand fits over the unfamiliar top of his ditto’s poke ball before tossing the item out into the street.
the ball hit’s the floor with a halfhearted bounce, opening up and ejecting the pink, squishy blob that would be mewtwo’s ditto. without so much as a word, the ditto sits there, rolling itself upon it’s own blubbery gooeyness.
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Post by reagan esser on Mar 19, 2014 20:38:15 GMT -6
She is less than impressed with what he gives her to work with, and her face does a poor job at hiding it.An internal shrug reminds her to carry on-- a battle is a battle, and, of course she would use nothing but her newest evolution. That was the whole reason she annoyed some stranger, wasn't it?
Oh, little did she know. Excitement clouded her brain-- the ditto would transform into the Noivern released to combat it (that's all it could do, anyway), and surely the dragon against dragon matchup would be devastating. Unfortunately, Reagan was on a mountain, blind to the pollution deemed as logic. She's ready to go all out, ready to ravage her opponent, ready to break at the seams. Her fiber of her body, every life-giving fiber is screaming at her to let it go, to blow the whole town to smithereens, trainers and all.
She does not hesitate to attack the pink goo.
Her command is a normal attack, and the most recently learned-- BOOMBURST. The bat pokemon releases the sonic waves, aimed straight for the transforming pokemon. Only after the excitement of starting the battle does Reagan begin to logic with herself what ditto's sole purpose is.
Not that anything could go wrong. No, it's too late now anyway. They're stronger! What can a carbon copy do better than the original?!
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Post by MORDRED SAKAKI on Mar 20, 2014 15:22:40 GMT -6
a meek appearance is nothing to sneeze at. just because ditto doesn't tower over either human doesn't mean it isn't as vicious as the dragon before it. if anything, the highly adaptable pokemon before them is among the most dangerous tool mewtwo has at his disposal. its ability to transform allows the ditto to ensure of an even battle field, leaving it up to skill, rather than luck, to determine the victor. and, in a bout of skill, mewtwo is left unmatched.
where as most trainers need to command their pokemon, mewtwo leaves his pokemon to act on their own. each member of his small, elite, four man team has been picked for very distinct reasons, proving themselves as the cream of the crop. it comes as no surprise that the ditto showcases an insane reaction time, immediately using it's TRANSFORM to mimic the opposing novien the moment it appears.
the blinding white light radiating from ditto's transformation doesn't even get a chance to dissipate before the wyvern launches itself into the air. the terrible shriek that erupts from the dragon's thunderous throat silences the gusty winds its wings slices through, leaving the closing vibrations of senkets' lagging BOOM BURST to trail after it.
from above, ditto is free to fire off a barrage of short, concentrated DRAGON PULSES.
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Post by reagan esser on Mar 20, 2014 20:03:46 GMT -6
It takes less than five seconds for the dust to settle. Ten for Reagan to realize what exactly had just happened. Her jaw might as well been hanging on the ground. Every once of built up anticipation vanished along with her noivern's energy to fight. A thought of move effectiveness strayed through her mind, but besides that she was still. Her bat lie motionless, heavy grunts escaping its maw. It became clear then, that ditto or not, her opponent was immensely stronger than her. With every beat of the false ditto's wings her hair was blown back with a surprising force-- it would have given her a goal, had she not been recovering from mental shock.
With a big-girl swallow and a deep breath, Reagan withdrew her pokemon.
Not that she was giving up.
"Aaaaah, you think you're big shit because you can copy your opponent, huh?"
She reached back, for another pokeball. Anyone in their right mind would have stopped then-- she didn't stand a chance. Reasoning with an ignorant, naive child, however, is never easy. On command the Quilava bursts from its confined space, releasing the flurry of stars known as SWIFT at the bat-like pokemon.
"Your party trick is over now, isn't it?"
As if she had any right to be smug. Unfortunately, her fire type seems to hold she same hot-head she does, and continues the attack not only for moments too long, but while standing in a static place. The mole is vulnerable, but the two of them are too focused on some semblance of victory to care.
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