COMPLETE: Jimmy's International House of One-Shots [Homecoming] [TEEN]

[Jimmy 3 People 0]

What's up, guys? For the past couple of weeks, I had been thinking of what to do once my first fic came to a close. Writing is one of those constants that I've always done, and I felt that once the story was finished I'd be left in a sort of void. Well, that void can screw right off, for I decided to continue following the characters from older stories (as well as some new ones) in what I like to call the "Poke-Earth" dimension. They'll vary in length from about two-thirds of one of the chapters (like this one, which can be described as a "scene") to the length of the penultimate chapter (for stories where there's more of a tale to tell).

Right now, this topic is rated Teen (in our first one-shot, it's mostly for profanity), but be warned that a one-shot may come along that changes that rating to Mature. You can choose whether you want to read it or not, though; I'll be sure to note when a specific one-shot is Mature-rated. Regardless, let's get going.

---

-FASHION VICTIM-

MAY 28TH, 2015, 5:42 PM
BURGER KING, FARMINGDALE, NEW YORK

​

“Yo, Sabrina... I can’t believe I’ve never asked you this, but why do you wear those cuffs?”

Sabrina turned away from the window beside her - which didn’t overlook anything of interest except a TD Bank - to face Jimmy and Flannery, an eyebrow raised. Most of the things the three had discussed during their meal were rather trivial, such as Jimmy’s upcoming skate demo with the Deathwish team or Flannery’s victory in the Bay Area Invitational the previous week. This was different.

She looked down at her wrists, examining the cuffs locked around them. Despite not being too bulky, at least no more than the average studded wristband, they clashed with the rest of Sabrina’s outfit. They were black and composed of a material nobody except her knew the answer to (carbon fiber), with two stripes wrapping around each glowing an intense neon green.

As she covertly shook her head, Sabrina’s familiar green psychic aura surrounded the balled-up wrapper in front of her that once housed a chicken sandwich. “...There’s a reason I’ve never told you two,” she responded, in what couldn’t quite be called monotone but was definitely close. The wrapper slowly levitated off the table and managed to rise about a foot before Sabrina turned her attention to the trash bin - and the wrapper followed, hovering over and joining the rest of the garbage left by the restaurant’s many patrons. “I... don’t exactly enjoy the reason I wear these.”

“Aren’t we your friends, though?” returned Flannery upon swallowing the last of her burger. “I mean... whenever I’m having problems, I talk to you guys. Mostly Jimmy, though.” Sure enough, she lovingly placed her hand on top of the skater’s, eliciting a small giggle from him.

Sabrina merely rolled her eyes. “Maybe all the time you’ve spent talking to me could’ve been spent talking to a therapist, Flannery...”

This only served to amuse Flannery, who almost broke out laughing before managing to stop herself. “I guess all those times I told you about seeing therapists didn’t happen, then? I don’t trust therapists, Sabrina. Never have, never will... they don’t have the same connection with me as you guys.”

“Suit yourself... the point is, I don’t want to talk about them.” To reinforce this fact, Sabrina's hands slipped under the table in an attempt to hide the cuffs. While her facial expression usually lingered slightly on the south side of happiness, today it appeared to be a mix of embarrassment and guilt. Something was up, and both Jimmy and Flannery knew it all too well.

Specifically, Jimmy slightly waved his hand to get her attention. “Uh... Sabrina, listen. I know where you’re comin’ from, I really do, but... I really don’t think we could deal with this if you don’t tell us what your cuffs are for. Ain’t your friends the ones you’re supposed to talk this kinda crap over with?”

Sabrina sighed, rising from her chair. Her eyes scanned the rest of the Burger King and picked up much of the usual; young children bugging their parents to let them get a milkshake, a vagrant pacing back and forth just outside, and even one of the workers’ Pidgeotto ferrying trays from the kitchen to the counter. There’s too many people here, she thought to herself as stress began overtaking her. W-where do we...

The playplace was empty. While it was absolutely a childish place to talk things over, it was also the only place they could. Sabrina didn’t want anybody else to hear what she was about to say - if they did and word got out, there was no doubt in her mind she’d become a complete pariah. She began heading for its door, turning back to Jimmy and Flannery as she did. “Perhaps I should talk about it with somebody... follow me in here. This must be kept between us.”

“The... playplace?” Flannery shrugged; if Sabrina wanted to be alone, who was she to complain? The three headed into the deserted playground and shut the door behind them. Darkened and dusty, the large normally-colorful structure taking up the majority of the room appeared to be a lot more depressing than usual - something Flannery pointed out. “Great meeting spot, Sabrina. Zero chance of some freak coming out of the shadows and kidnapping us. Zero chance.” This drove Jimmy to flick the side of her head, which didn’t amuse her but got her to shut up.

Sabrina chose not to respond, instead electing to head to a secluded corner of the room and sit cross-legged a couple feet in mid-air. She beckoned for Jimmy and Flannery to join her, which they did without a second thought. As the two pulled chairs up for themselves, Jimmy reiterated his question. “Alright, so... the cuffs. Why do ya wear ‘em?”

It took a good ten seconds for the psychic to respond. While she had confirmed with herself she’d explain things to the two, the hesitation still existed. Her main concern was that they’d tell someone else... someone she didn’t trust. She knew they wouldn’t be able to bring themselves to, but the thought remained implanted in her brain. Maybe she was just paranoid.

The psychic let out another sigh before beginning her explanation. “You two are aware of the... incidents I’ve caused, right?” Jimmy and Flannery both nodded. “Right... you see, a few days after the last one, a couple people from Albany came to my house with the cuffs. They told me my powers, being emotion-based, are a ‘threat to public safety,’ and that... well, I have to wear the cuffs in public.”

“Wait, what’s stopping you from taking them off?” Flannery butted in.

“Two things... first off, if I did take them off in public, I’d get fined a pretty hefty amount. Second...” Sabrina held up her right arm, showing off the underside of the cuff. A keyhole was plainly visible. “...they’re locked onto my wrists. And yes, they prevent me from taking them off with my powers... I leave the key at my house."

Jimmy leaned in to get a better look at the cuff, appearing to be quite intrigued as he did. “So... they’re power dampeners?”

“Precisely,” responded Sabrina with a quick nod. “Obviously, they don’t completely take away my powers... they merely weaken them enough to not cause a catastrophe.”

It seemed like a simple enough explanation, and truthfully, it was. However, she had left out a slight detail that confused Flannery. “Wait, wait, wait... if you have to wear ‘em in public, why haven’t I seen you with them outside of New York?” Outside the Empire State, it actually wasn’t too uncommon to see Sabrina without the cuffs around her wrists, thus allowing her to utilize her abilities to their full potential. Fortunately, no “catastrophes” had occurred because of this; Sabrina seemed to be in control ninety-five percent of the time, and it made Jimmy and Flannery wonder why she still wore the dampeners.

Sabrina was aware of this, and explained it away immediately. “The State of New York mandates that I wear them... in New York. There’s nothing stopping me from taking them off in the other forty-nine states, or anywhere else in the world for that matter... a rather fatal flaw, if you ask me.”

“Fatal?” Jimmy instantly stood up and began to rant while making aggressively pronounced hand gestures - a staple of his when fed up with something. “Sabrina, tell me, ever since you started wearin’ the cuffs, have you had any sorta ‘catastrophe’ while they were off?! ‘Cause outside of what happened in Maine a month ago, I have never seen ya cause so much as a broken fuckin’ glass. Sabrina, ya don’t need the cuffs. The state government’s just made you believe that ya do so-”

“Enough.” Sabrina’s tone suddenly became much harsher, and so did her facial expression - she glared directly at Jimmy, seemingly with daggers in place of her now green-glowing eyes. For a few seconds, nobody moved or said anything - mostly because Jimmy and Flannery were too scared to. Eventually the glow wore off as Sabrina appeared to become calmer, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. “...I’m sorry about that... I guess... I guess all I just did was prove I do still need the dampeners. Were I not wearing them just then...”

Jimmy shook his head as he placed a hand on Sabrina’s knee reassuringly. “Hey, it wasn’t all your fault... I mean, I kinda instigated it.”

“But that doesn’t mean I had to... ugh, dammit...” The psychic’s face dropped into her hands. What a horrible time to lash out... she had just been praised by Jimmy for being able to remain calm. “...I’m a walking time bomb, I really am...” She began to quietly sob, though muffled by her hands. As neither Jimmy nor Flannery had seen her cry at all before, the sight came across as... jarring, to say the least.

Standing up to console her, Flannery tried her best to get Sabrina to stop. “Sabrina... Sabrina, I know how you feel... but you’ve gotta take control of yourself. You won’t be a time bomb if you keep yourself in check, right? And hell, for the most part, you’ve done a damn fine job at it.”

“...I guess I have, haven’t I?” As tears stopped flowing from her eyes, Sabrina glanced up towards her friends while still peering through her fingers. “Thanks for your support, both of you... and again, Jimmy, I’m sorry for snapping.”

The skater nodded with acceptance, even bringing Sabrina into a hug. “It’s fine. I know ya didn’t mean to.” They remained embracing each other for a few moments before Jimmy pulled away. “So... are you gonna talk to somebody about takin’ ‘em off?”

Despite what the two had told her, Sabrina remained unsure. She had almost completely lost control at Jimmy just a few seconds ago... why were they trusting her after that? “Jimmy... I could’ve killed you if I wasn’t wearing the dampeners. If anything, I should be wearing them everywhere.”

“Sabrina, again, you’re acting like you can’t change,” added Flannery. “All you need to do is stop yourself whenever you’re about to lose control. That’s it. And even then, that really isn’t that common, is it? It seems like you don’t know what emotions are ninety percent of the time.”

With one final sigh, the psychic allowed herself to touch solid ground. “Well... maybe I could go up to Albany soon and make my case,” she spoke while adjusting the dampeners obsessively. “Regardless, I’d like to head home for now... this place is much too crowded.”

Jimmy and Flannery almost instantly began heading for the door, respecting their friend’s wishes. “Been a long day, hasn’t it?” the skater off-handedly commented, reinforcing Sabrina’s decision somewhat. “C’mon, let’s go. And hey... you can get through this, alright?”

The three returned into the dining area, greeted once again by the incessant noises of children and adults alike. However... this time, Sabrina wasn’t bothered much by it. They were annoying, sure... but it wasn’t like they all existed to bug her. They kept to themselves, discussing their own matters with each other. Nobody was really out to aggravate Sabrina... which means nobody was out to deliberately make her cause catastrophes, like she had through for so long. Maybe... maybe I could give other people more of a chance, she thought to herself.

As they exited the restaurant, a small smile formed across the psychic’s lips. “...You’re right. I can get through this.”

 

[Jimmy 3 People 0]

Re: Jimmy's International House of One-Shots

-WHO WAS IN MY ROOM LAST NIGHT?-

JUNE 1ST, 2015, 1:03 PM
L.A. LIVE, LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

​

The dawn of June in Los Angeles meant many things, and one of the most notable was scorching heat. Being in southern California did the city no favors as it was, but when the Northern Hemisphere pulled closer to the Sun, things really heated up.

While Wallace was used to this, being a native Floridian, Winona was much less so. Despite having recently been appointed Supervisor of Gym Leaders by the North American Pokemon Association, Nashville was the southernmost city her job had taken her to. Spending her time in mostly moderate-weather cities didn’t help her choice of attire - she was forced to remove her vintage Houston Aeros hockey sweater and knot it around her waist. At least she was wearing white pants.

“Seriously, Winona, you need to start wearing something suitable for warm weather,” Wallace suggested as the two made their best attempt at traversing the L.A. LIVE complex, filled to the brim with locals and tourists alike. “Don’t you have an Ohio State basketball jersey?”

Winona rolled her eyes, replying, “I did, but I can’t find it... concentrate, we’re supposed to be looking for the Gym.” Somewhere among the ultra-modern facilities such as the Grammy Museum and Microsoft Theater lied the official Los Angeles Gym, having relocated from North Hollywood in 2010. Its leader Elesa Starr, who had taken over upon the relocation, had requested to bump up the Gym’s scheduled inspection to meet with Winona about a topic she had refused to discuss - though from the anxious tone of her voice, it seemed to be urgent.

Wallace suddenly snapped his fingers as the Gym’s location returned to his brain like a boomerang. “Oh, I just remembered! The Gym’s by the ESPN studios, c’mon!” Giving his girlfriend practically no time to react, the artist grabbed her arm and practically dragged her through the crowds before she regained her footing. The light breeze generated by their running turned out to be a welcome relief from the heat, and lasted all the way until they came face-to-face with the Gym’s multicolored facade that may have very well been painted with the blood of Xerneas. “Bet you think you’re pretty lucky to have me as an assistant, hm?” he playfully asked.

“Honestly, I just think I’m lucky to have you period.” With that, Winona planted a quick kiss on Wallace’s cheek as blush overtook both their faces.

Before either of them could reach for the door handles, it flung wide open, almost smacking right into a random bystander. Elesa’s choice of clothing certainly stood out, a side effect of her second career as a model - a yellow-and-black dress with arrow-like cuts in front exposing quite a bit of skin, black tights that may or may not have been latex, and gold five-inch heels. However, she didn’t appear to have her usual poise, having traded it in for nervousness. “Finally, you’re here,” she welcomed, gesturing into the Gym. “Come in, we’ve gotta talk.”

Winona and Wallace welcomed themselves into the entrance area, too large to be a lobby yet too small to be a concourse. Naturally, most of the decorum was electricity-themed, with school bus yellow, electric blue, and black being the dominant colors in the design - there were even Tesla coils contained in tubes across the ceiling. “I have to admit, the Tesla coils were a really nice touch,” complimented Winona while pulling a notepad and pen from her pocket.

Elesa managed to form a smile as she lead the two through to the back. “Thanks, Winona... I actually sketched out the entire layout of the Gym myself, believe it or not. I wanted it to be lively and flashy, but also dark... something that represents the L.A. nightlife, y’know?”

As they stepped into the battlefield, this idea was put on full display. Were it not for the referee podium and bleachers, one would’ve thought they had stepped into a dance club, not a Gym. The field itself was a litter of brightly glowing tiles spanning the entire color spectrum, constantly alternating from color to color. Elesa’s position resembled the stage of the club and was composed of glistening steel, while strobe lights hung out behind it. A couple rather conspicuously-placed poles added to the scenery. Overhead, black lights hung from the pitch-black ceiling, making the entire area something of a paradox lighting-wise. No matter how you sliced it, epileptics would probably want to skip this Gym...

...which was something Winona pointed out as she jotted it down on her notepad. “Elesa, please seriously consider toning down the flashing lights in here. As it stands, this battlefield is one giant seizure waiting to happen.”

“Well, if it means keeping the Gym running, I’ll get on it.” Upon saying this, Elesa headed off to the far-left wall. Neither Winona nor Wallace were sure why until she opened up a control panel. A few adjustments were made, and the next thing they knew, the strobes stopped flashing and the floor’s color alteration slowed dramatically. The model soon returned to the couple’s side, continuing, “Anyway... come to the badge retrieval room. There’s... something I need to show you.”

She headed out of the battlefield somewhat hurriedly, prompting Winona and Wallace to follow along. As they made their way towards the retrieval room, Wallace interrogated, “What’s going on? Is there some sort of dangerous wild Pokemon that managed to get in here?”

“Worse...” They eventually reached their destination, and the sight they were granted with once Elesa opened the door pleased nobody. Three chalk outlines of human bodies lied before them, none of them appearing adult-sized. As Winona gasped and Wallace put a hand over his mouth, Elesa explained what had happened. “I had three challengers yesterday, and they all won. When they came to get their badges, though... I don’t know what happened in that time span, but I came in after a couple hours had passed... the knife wounds... oh, Zekrom, the knife wounds...”

Visibly holding back tears, the model turned away from the chalk and leaned against a wall. “They were all teenagers... young teenagers, at that. So I called the cops... they collected the evidence and took the bodies away. And the worse part is, I’m afraid whoever did this is gonna strike again... all of the Bolt Badges were gone by the time I came across this.”

Winona was a bit taken aback by this, and it showed in her shaky facial expression. “You believe someone is stealing badges?” she asked. “That... wouldn’t help them, considering you have to defeat eight separate Gyms to qualify for professional tournaments.” Regardless of the motives, whoever was doing such a thing must have been seriously messed up. Surely there were reserved spots in every possible hell for this killer - and one in the Distortion World.

“Maybe it’s a black market sort of deal.” Wallace crouched down to get a closer look. There wasn’t much, but a few bloodstains remained, though nearly invisible when dried against the velvety red carpet. “Perhaps someone is killing people for their badges so they can sell them to... let’s say, less-than-capable trainers.”

Elesa sighed in a somewhat defeated fashion. She didn’t know what to do... to have such a horrific incident happen, and in her Gym... it was something she would have never expected in a thousand years. “I don’t care why it happened. We need to find whoever did this as soon as possible. No waiting on the cops.” Turning towards Winona and Wallace, she continued, “I... I have a plan. It’s a long shot, and it might be dangerous... but from what I know, it’s the only way this can be dealt with quickly.”

While a quick conclusion would be welcome, Winona remained concerned. Elesa had a vibrant imagination and plenty of intelligent thoughts, but an alarmingly large amount of her ideas fell flat when applied to reality. She had once suggested Gyms perform 1-on-1 battles so more could be fit into one day, which only lead to unskilled trainers getting lucky in the Gyms that tested it and going on to be crushed in tournaments. Regardless, Winona replied, “If you think it’s going to help find whoever’s doing this, spit it out.” After all, she couldn’t knock it before actually hearing it.

“I... had a scheduled challenge today. Guy from Australia... I was planning on cancelling it and rescheduling for another day, but since you two are here now, I... thought of something else.” Elesa aimed her finger at a closet door, painted black with a yellow thunderbolt design. While Winona and Wallace had a vague idea of what the model was planning, she confirmed it almost immediately. “I’m assuming the killer had followed the challengers into the retrieval room while the crowd was leaving... if they’re going to strike again, they might do the same thing. I’m going to take the challenge... I need you two to hide in the closet until the challenger comes to retrieve his badge. If the killer shows up, it’d be easy to take them by surprise and deal with them.”

It seemed like a decent enough idea, but Winona couldn’t help but point out a flaw in the plan. “What if the challenger loses? They wouldn’t be able to come and get the badge, now would they?” In spite of her skid the previous day, Elesa was still a very capable trainer not to be taken lightly. A victory for her would ruin the entire plan.

Fortunately, she had a solution, but the obvious reluctance in her voice when sharing it proved she wasn’t sure if Winona would be on board. “Well, what if I... threw the battle?”

Sure enough, Winona cocked an eyebrow while folding her arms. “You really want to throw a battle? Elesa, do you know how much negative press we’d get if someone found out?”

“Does it matter? Winona, we’re talking about dealing with a murderer here. Can’t you put aside the ‘integrity of the game’ for one damn battle so we could make sure people aren’t being slaughtered in my Gym?!”

Winona, now irritated, clenched her hands into fists. “Throwing battles is unacceptable for a Gym Leader. It should never be done. I swear, Elesa, this could start a pattern, and if it does-” The warmth of Wallace’s hand resting on her bare shoulder managed to get the flying ace to stop. “...what, Wallace?”

The artist sighed, a bit disappointed to see his girlfriend being so stubborn. “...Elesa’s right, dear. Her losing is an uncertainty, and if she wins, there could be more murders down the line. The only surefire way for this to play out would be if the battle was thrown.” It pained him to say it too, as he believed in keeping the integrity of battling just as strongly as Winona - however, the circumstances of the issue meant that now just wasn’t the time.

Nobody talked for a few moments, leaving the room silent enough to hear a Banette’s footsteps. Winona turned out to be the one that ended the pause. “...Well... if that’s really the only way this can be done...” Her gaze shifted back towards Elesa, appearing a bit morose. “...alright, you win, Elesa. Throw the battle... I have Fear and Loathing with me.” Sure enough, the flying ace untied the knotted sleeves of her sweater around her waist and removed it to reveal a dual holster containing her suppressed Makarovs. “When is the challenger scheduled to battle you?”

“Let me check...” Elesa squatted down to unbuckle one of her shoes, retrieving a piece of paper she had been holding in it - not like her outfit had any pockets to speak of. She unfolded it and quickly skimmed over its contents. “...Not until six. Would you two mind if we went to get something to eat in the meantime?”

Respectfully nodding in confirmation, Wallace responded, “Of course. Thanks for offering, Elesa.” The model didn’t respond; she merely walked out of the room her head hanging low, and Winona and Wallace could barely hear her muttering something about the murderer under her breath. The two exchanged concerned glances before heading out after her, Winona fortunately remembering to put her sweater back on. Whoever had done this was a sick, sick person, and the two were ready to bring them down - no matter what it took.

LATER THAT SAME DAY...​

Elesa, having done a few acting roles in her career, proved to be very adept at deliberately being defeated by her opponent and getting away with it. Amazingly, none of the thousand-strong spectators had the slightest idea of what was going on - the woman could go right into pro wrestling and sell better than Dolph Ziggler.

Her Zebstrika staggered a bit getting back to his hooves before staring down the Pokemon opposite him - a Cacturne, his devious glare burning into the Thunderbolt Pokemon as if he really were a Fire-type.

The challenger, a spiky-haired teenager sporting a tanktop and cargo shorts, knew he had the battle pretty much won, as the smirk across his face showed. “You’ve put up a helluva fight, Elesa... exactly what I’d expect from the Leader of L.A.” Suddenly, he outstretched his arm towards Zebstrika and finished, “But I’m afraid you’ve gotta Buckley’s chance of winnin’ this one! Finish this, Cacturne! Needle Arm!”

Cacturne, more than ready to finish off the fight, began to charge towards Zebstrika. The electric zebra didn’t make any sort of attempts to counter or otherwise dodge, instead bracing himself for the coming blow. Sure enough, the cacti-composed scarecrow stayed true to his ruthless Dark-typing by holding nothing back, slamming his outstretched forearm directly into Zebstrika’s neck in a crushing lariat.

As expected (and unbeknownst to her challenger, planned), Zebstrika was forcefully knocked back head-over-hooves, tumbling an impressive four times before crashing onto the dance-floor battlefield in a heap. The crowd cheered and clapped as the referee looked closer to see if Zebstrika could still go on. After three seconds, he raised a green flag in the challenger’s direction. “Zebstrika is unable to continue! Cacturne wins, and the victory goes to Alan Williamson!”

“YES!” Alan excitedly pumped his fist as Cacturne ran back to him, and the scarecrow offered a fist bump by outstretching his arm. “...Yeah, maybe not,” his trainer answered, though he did flash him a thumbs-up. Quickly returning Cacturne to his Dusk Ball, Alan jogged across the now-empty battlefield and stepped up towards Elesa. “Hey, thanks for the battle... y’alright? Ya seem a little... down.”

During the entire battle, Elesa had strayed from her normal personality - she remained quiet and melancholy throughout, even when calling for Zebstrika to use Discharge and Thunder. This remained true once the dust settled, as her head was still tilted slightly downwards even when jumping down to the floor.

“...fine. I’m fine.” A complete lie. “Congratulations, Alan, on conquering the Los Angeles Gym. You and your Cacturne seem to be a perfect fit for each other... it’s... not often I get swept.” Elesa pointed back towards the door. “There’s a badge retrieval room to the end of the hallway on your left once you leave.” The model kneeled down to retrieve yet another piece of paper from inside her shoe, handing it to Alan instantly - around the size of a dollar bill, it contained a complex lightning pattern on both sides. “Insert this slip of paper into the machine in that room. Your Bolt Badge’ll be dispensed once you do... again, you’ve done very well here today. I wish you all the best in your future battles.”

Alan outstretched his hand, palm wide open, and Elesa took the hint and shook it. “Thanks... I think I’m gonna head to Phoenix next. I’d like to practice with Cacturne on dealing with Fire-types.” With that, he gave one final nod and turned back to make his way towards the retrieval room, as the crowd began to disperse from the bleachers.

Shoving his hands into the baggy pockets of his cargo shorts, Alan turned the corner and headed down the empty hallway - which took him aback a bit, as he expected the exit from the bleachers to head to it. Must be quite the crowding problem when those blokes’re leavin’. Regardless of the potential fire hazards of only having one exit, he shrugged it off and continued down the hall.

As he walked, he took a quick glance backwards to see most of the crowd heading for the doors, presumably either heading home or to another venue nearby. Personally, Alan was looking forward to visiting the Grammy Museum. A couple started down the hallway like him, though they were merely heading into a nearby restroom.

Eventually, the young Australian came across the badge retrieval room. The walls were painted a jet black, with little sparkling dots (presumably stars) scattered around. The floor was a velvety red carpet, most likely meant to bring to mind a movie premiere... though looking down at it, Alan could’ve sworn he saw a powdery white substance rubbed in. The cocaine jokes began to process in his brain immediately.

Finally, Alan turned his attention to the badge retrieval machine - a four-foot, stainless steel box with a simple depositing slot. He pulled the slip of paper from his pocket and stuffed it into the machine, and after upon a second of it working, a welcome cling! was heard. With a smirk, his hand reached down and picked up his newly-earned Bolt Badge - carved in the shape of a stylized thunderbolt, the glistening badge seemed to be composed of gold and copper, as evidenced by its predominantly yellow-and-orange color scheme. “Four badges down, four more to go,” he confidently told himself.

“GIVE IT TO ME!” The sudden shriek of what seemed to be a teenaged girl scared the living bejesus out of Alan, who instinctively ducked and put his hands over his head - just in time to dodge a swinging steak knife. Still cowering, he turned back to see just who had followed him inside, and wished he hadn’t. Sporting overly-long and stringy hair, the girl appeared to have not groomed or bathed in weeks, and her unpleasant stench backed this fact up. Her eyes appeared bloodshot and unadjusted to light, as well. Perhaps the most disturbing fact, however, was that she was dressed almost identically to Elesa - with the exception of trading in the latex tights for nylons, she sported the same dress and heels. “GIVE ME THE BADGE!” she screamed again, almost sounding as if she were holding back tears.

Before Alan was able to respond, the closet suddenly shot open to reveal Winona, aiming one of her pistols at the girl’s head, and Wallace. “Put the knife down,” the flying ace coldly commanded. “Put the knife down and get on your knees right now.”

The girl didn’t comply, and instead did the exact opposite of what was best for her: raise the knife in a threatening manner. “I will shoot,” warned Winona for the first and last time. Naturally, the hint wasn’t taken, leaving Winona with no choice. She lowered the barrel of her gun towards the girl’s right knee and fired a single round, which forcefully tore through her tights and impacted the patella. The girl instantly toppled over, screaming in agony, as Winona holstered her gun.

“Wallace, go get Elesa. Now.” Wallace silently nodded and ran off, a bit shaken by the suddenness of what transpired. Grunting, Winona turned back towards Alan. “You’re alright, I hope?”

Alan didn’t know what to say. He was obviously grateful Winona and Wallace had been looking out for him, but at the same time was obviously traumatized. Finally, after what seemed like hours, he came up with words. “N-no worries... t-t-thank you for... saving me, I guess.” Slowly, the teenager pulled himself back to his feet just as Wallace returned with Elesa.

Elesa’s emotions were unreadable; from everyone else’s best guess, she was half relieved the murderer had been caught, and half horrified by the events occurring in her Gym. She took one look down at the girl lying before her and grimaced uneasily. “...I... see you’re dressed exactly like me...”

The girl breathed heavily for a few seconds, clutching her knee in pain, before responding. “...i-it’s you...! Elesa... y-yes, I... agh... I’m your... b-biggest fan! My name i-is Alice... aren’t you f-flattered?”

“If we’re being honest, I’m more unnerved than anything...” Alice’s facial expression immediately gave way from the forced smile she had worn upon seeing Elesa to show the true pain she was in, and her heart sank just as much. “You’re the one who killed those three teenagers last night. It’s written all over you... why?! Why are you murdering my challengers, in my Gym, for their badges that they earned?!”

Alice, through the pain, pointed towards her phone, which had been held inside of her shoe - just like where Elesa kept papers. “L-look in my g-gallery... you’ll... l-love it...” Sighing, Elesa undid her buckle and took the phone, turning it on and heading into the gallery... and upon reaching it, immediately wished she hadn’t. The screen displayed what could best be called a shrine to the model - posters, framed pictures, a couple T-shirts NAPA had produced for her, and the like. Scrolling through only yielded different shots of the same things... and the final one she came to stung worse than a Mega Beedrill’s Twineedle. Three pristine Bolt Badges, laid out on the wooden desk.

Elesa breathed deeply through her nose and closed her eyes, setting the phone back down. “...Alan, please leave. You don’t need to be here.” The young Australian did so without a second thought, fearfully clutching his badge. “...I-I’ve never seen anything like this before... I’ve had encounters with pretty rabid fans i-in the past, but this... Alice, do you even realize what you’ve done? You’ve killed three innocent people, and very nearly a fourth... for what? So you could put the finishing touches on a shrine dedicated to me? As if I were some sort of deity?”

“...Y-yes, Elesa... I did it all... a-all... for you.”

Everyone in the room froze. Tears began to well up in Elesa’s eyes, and Alice repeated this action in response. Without saying a single word, the model exited the room... and as she walked away, the remaining three were able to hear her sobbing as clear as the California sky.

In the meantime, Wallace had been on his own cell phone, managing to remain collected while talking to the 911 operator. “...So police and paramedics will be here in five minutes... ...Okay, thank you kindly, ma’am.” He hung up and placed the phone into his shirt pocket before turning to Winona, taking her hands. “Winona... I think we should go. Elesa did say we could stay with her tonight... and judging by how she is right now, I think she needs us.”

“I... I agree. Come on... let’s just wait for the cops to show up and get out of here.” The two started towards the door, remaining hand in hand, before Winona suddenly stopped and turned her head back towards the writhing Alice. “...Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Through quiet moans of pain, the crazed fan managed to squeeze something out a few seconds after being asked. “...T-tell... Elesa... I’m s-sorry.”

Another moment of silence passed before Winona replied, though somewhat reluctantly, “...I will... let’s go, Wallace.” And with that, the couple left Alice behind in the badge retrieval room to inevitably be scooped up by the LAPD and charged. She was obviously mentally unwell, and Winona and Wallace couldn’t help but actually feel the slightest twinge of sympathy for her. In the end, however, a murderer was a murderer - what Alice had done was despicable, and no arguments could be made otherwise.

The problem now was putting it behind them.

JUNE 1ST, 2015, 11:14 PM
ELESA'S HOUSE, INGLEWOOD, CALIFORNIA​

All of Wallace’s attempts to console Elesa had failed. She cried nonstop ever since the second she stepped inside her house, and it wasn’t looking like the end would come anytime soon.

By this point, the model had buried her face into her pillows to muffle her admittedly-incessant sobbing. While the occasional “why?” did leave her throat, for the most part the only sounds in the room were that of her crying and what could be heard of the running shower, of which Winona occupied.

Sighing, Wallace lied down on the bed himself, parallel to Elesa. “Elesa... Elesa, please stop crying.”

“I... I c-can’t...” The artist obviously felt bad for her... having to be witness to the murders occurring in her Gym, and to know they were done by an obsessive fan of hers... he could only imagine how horrible Elesa was feeling, and even then, his imagination didn’t come close. “...I don’t know what to say...”

Silenced reigned for another few minutes, with the obvious exception of Elesa’s crying. Wallace glanced around the darkened bedroom, finding it to be decidedly low-key for the model. While a disproportionate amount of black and yellow did showcase itself throughout the design, there wasn’t really much out of place for a normal bedroom - her bed (king-sized, not that she needed it), a dresser with a flat-screen television on top, a couple desks with one holding her laptop, and two doors not leading back into the hallway - one into the bathroom, the other locked.

After a while, the two heard the shower turn off. Quickly drying herself with the help of her Swellow, Winona emerged from the bathroom and joined the two on the bed - not even bothering to put any clothes on. “...You’re still crying, I see.”

Elesa’s head rose from the pillows, and she embraced Winona immediately thereafter. “...Thank you so much... thank you so much for everything...”

“Well... thank you for telling us.” Winona returned the hug without a second thought, slowly rocking back and forth in an effort to calm Elesa down. “...You’re going to be alright, I hope?”

As the embrace ended, Elesa slowly shook her head as she fell backwards onto the pillows - face up this time. “Not immediately, no... it’s going to take a while. I guess knowing that the judicial system’ll deal with her, and that Alan got out okay... I guess that’s enough for now.” The model reached for the blanket and pulled it over her, rolling over to lie on her side. “I... just want to sleep.”

Wallace nodded in agreement, responding, “Yeah... we’re right there with you.” He slipped himself under the covers as well, as did Winona, and all three trainers pulled each other closer. Eventually, they fell asleep, as they all temporarily pushed away the memories of what had happened that day... for the most part.

 

[Jimmy 3 People 0]

Re: Jimmy's International House of One-Shots [Who Was In My Room Last Night?]

-THE MORE I SEE-

JUNE 2ND, 2015, 8:34 AM
OCEAN AVENUE, AMITYVILLE, NEW YORK​

Flannery hated rain. Hated it with a passion. As she had been fixated on fire practically her entire life, the Gym Leader ended up developing a natural resentment for anything that could put her flames out. Rain was the most notable of them, but it also applied to sprinklers, hoses, and the like. For one, it explained why she lived in a desert.

Naturally, you could assume that the torrential downpour Amityville had been subjected to by Mother Nature’s wicked hand didn’t please Flannery in the slightest.

As she struggled down Ocean Avenue alongside Jimmy and Gengar, her facial expression made it clear how upset she was. The three were all set to head back to Flannery’s hometown of Phoenix that day, but Sabrina had contacted them before they could take off. According to her, she had made a major breakthrough with her psychic abilities, and wanted Jimmy and Flannery to experience it firsthand. The Fire-type trainer was a bit worried this would harm them without a doubt, but thanks to the rain pouring down, as well as the amplified humidity and awkward stench that came with it, those concerns took a backseat.

“Why now, of all goddamn days, does it have to rain?!” she complained to the other two, glaring down towards the soaked sidewalk - not that she could see much of it. Despite applying more hairspray than a fifties housewife to keep her “erupting volcano” ponytail up, Flannery’s hair had long been flattened by the rain, leaving it fallen all the way down to the small of her back and into her line of sight. “I mean, look at my hair! We really couldn’t have taken a bus, Jimmy?!”

Gengar, being his ghostly self, had no idea what either human was going through - rain practically bounced right off his physical form, and if he swapped into a shadow, nothing would touch him at all. As such, he took this as the perfect opportunity to rag on the two for it. “Boy, it must be nice to not have rain completely soak you... oh, wait, look at me. Sucks to be you guys, I guess!” He followed this up with a boisterous cackle, natural of his species.

Jimmy shook his head, answering with a straight “Shut the hell up, Gengar.” He had been riding one of his numerous Deathwish skateboards, but after enough rain had poured it just ended up feeling unpleasant, so the deck currently resided in his hand. Looking towards Flannery, he couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for her - without her even talking, Jimmy could tell she was miserable just from her facial expression alone. “Hey... y’alright?” he asked, gently resting a hand on her shoulder.

“Well... I guess things aren’t as bad as they could be.” A long sigh escaped Flannery’s lips before she squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds, most likely to re-compose herself. “Anyway, I wonder what Sabrina wants us for. To be perfectly honest, I’m surprised she even could make a breakthrough... she’s easily the most competent psychic out of any I’ve met.”

Instinctively holding his skateboard high as a makeshift umbrella, Jimmy responded, “Let’s hope it has nothing to do with mind control... remember what happened last time?”

Gengar cackled once more. “Oh man, I do! Holy shit, if you guys could actually remember the things Sabrina did to you-”

“Drop it,” interrupted Flannery sternly, blush clearly forming on her cheeks. The Shadow Pokemon instantly did so as they turned to head up to house 116’s front door, and upon stepping on the porch, finally got some relief from the rain. “Jesus, finally. Can you guys believe Poke Balls weren’t made waterproof until the seventies?! If they still weren’t, all of mine would be ruined by now.”

“Who has time for Poke Balls?” Gengar stretched his limbs out to accompany this, almost as if he were mocking the Pokemon who remained confined in their balls... which, to an extent, he was. While generally fun to be around, one had to expect Gengar to take shots at everyone for everything.

Jimmy, meanwhile, silently smirked and rolled his eyes as he rapped his knuckles against the door. Almost immediately it swung open, revealing Sabrina. “Glad you three could come,” greeted the psychic in a strangely pleasant near-monotone. “I take it none of you own an umbrella.”

Chuckling, Flannery nodded. “Yup... so what did you call us here for?”

“You’ll see. Come in.” Sabrina began walking back down the foyer, and the three followed right behind her. The interior of her house was the same creepily-elegant design they remembered, needlessly-complex wooden carvings and almost incomprehensible art abound. Notably, the lighting had become much less dim than their last visit, a possible sign of Sabrina beginning to open up more.

Not that Gengar was having any of it. “I’m gonna miss coming here and basking in the darkness... I felt much more at home.”

Jimmy scoffed at this, flicking the side of Gengar’s form. “So the basement back in Seattle ain’t enough?” The basement, Gengar’s main hangout, almost never switched its lights on; the television and computer usually came the closest. As he wasn’t exactly light’s biggest fan like many Ghost-types, the Shadow Pokemon could always find solace in dark places, and it disappointed him to discover another one had been brightened.

Regardless of what the Ghost-type thought of the house’s lighting, Sabrina lead them into her kitchen, where Alakazam waited. The table had been set up to have two chairs on one side and a single one opposite them, and a gargantuan book rested on the glass itself. “Please, sit down.” Jimmy and Flannery did so, and Gengar hovered over towards his Pokemon buddy. Sabrina then dragged out her chair and plopped down into it, turning around the open book and showing it to the two. “I’ve called you here because I’ve discovered something extraordinary, and I’d love for you two to be the first ones to experience it. I’m sure you know of the multiverse theory - that there are infinite numbers of universes out there, each different than our own. Thanks to experiments with powers revolving around omnipotency and the fabric of space...”

A smile formed on the psychic’s face, and it was clear she was trying her hardest to hold back the unbridled excitement that came with whatever revelation she had just made. Alakazam, too, pulled his thumb from the silver spoon his hand grasped and raised it to Gengar. “...how would you two like to get a glimpse into an alternate dimension?”

Jimmy’s eyes instantaneously widened. “R-really? You can do that?!” While the concept had always intrigued him, he was never too sure if it were actually true - or possible to figure out. Now Sabrina - one of his best friends - had finally made the discovery, and the skater was obviously excited. “Hell yeah I wanna see an alternate dimension! Hey, how ‘bout you, Flan-Flan?”

“Eh... I guess it could be cool.” Her tone made it seem that she genuinely didn’t care - which wasn’t true in the slightest, but her awful morning had definitely put a damper on her mood. “So how does this work?”

Sabrina rested both of her arms on the table on either side of the book, palms facing up. “Place one of your hands over mine each,” she directed, and both Jimmy and Flannery did so, their fingers intertwining. “Very well... now close your eyes.” The couple’s eyelids immediately lowered.

In the meantime, Gengar turned back to Alakazam. “What’s going to happen? Are they gonna be teleported to the dimension, or...?”

“No, nothing like that... Sabrina said she doesn’t want to go that far yet, lest they be teleported to a... let’s say unappealing destination. She’s informed me that whatever universe she comes across will be projected into their minds, hence why their eyes are closed. They may even have counterparts of themselves there, and if they do, they’ll know quite a bit about them right off the bat.”

“Really? That must be interesting to see another you... but... I don’t know, it might be unsettling. What if... I don’t know, what would happen if Winona cheated in her battles in another dimension and our Winnie found out about it?”

Alakazam merely shrugged at this, crossing his arms. “Don’t know... I just want to see how this goes.”

Sabrina’s breathing began to slow down as she looked down towards the heavy tome before her, using telekinesis to turn it back around. “Okay... here goes. Are you two ready?” With both of them not being sure how anyone could not be ready, Jimmy and Flannery eagerly nodded while keeping their eyes shut.

Almost too quiet to hear, the psychic began to mutter quietly to herself as all other noises vanished from the room. “...Visum nobis visum patitur alterna versionem... aliam dimensionem in mundo isto, et vide quid est aliud, quod idem est, sicut et nos sumus in ea...”

Slowly, light seemed to pour into the blackness Jimmy and Flannery could see. As Sabrina’s grip on their hands tightened, what that light was became plainly clear. A landscape reminiscent of southern Japan was visible, with a large volcano off in the distance - which managed to get Flannery to subconsciously smile. In the foreground resided a medium-sized city, appearing to contain quite a bit of hotels and the like. A nearby highway sign confirmed its name: Lavaridge.

As they drew closer to the city, however, they found it was disturbingly deserted. From what the three were able to see, literally no humans occupied the streets - the only signs of life were the occasional Numel waddling about or Rattata family scurrying for scraps of food left behind by the long-gone humans. “...oh...” Judging by the tone of her voice alone, Sabrina wasn’t pleased by this at all. “...I-I’ve heard about this dimension, but...”

“What’s going on?” Flannery questioned, obviously nervous. Gengar and Alakazam were able to see her free hand’s fingers anxiously drumming against the table. “There’s nobody here... h-hold on...” She began to focus on a pile of what she had originally assumed was random debris. As it turned out, what she was truly looking at were ashes.

On its own, this would likely not be uncommon due to Lavaridge’s apparent proximity to the volcano. The horror set in when Flannery noticed the two bicycles left lying on the sidewalk for owners that would never come. “...those ashes, were they...?”

Sabrina regretfully confirmed it. “People? Yes. This universe... how do I explain it? To give you the short version, Pokemon in this universe had been ‘dampened,’ in essence making them much weaker and docile than normal. It must not have the same natural understanding between humans and Pokemon as we do, however... Ho-Oh - this universe’s, I mean - managed to un-dampen the Pokemon... and... ordered them to exterminate humanity...”

“Now that I look closer, I see what ya mean,” Jimmy answered. “Look at this fuckin’ place. Most of the buildings are trashed, charred corpses’ve been dumped on the streets like bread for the birds... simply put, it’s gone to shit.” And despite his vulgarity, the skater was spot-on. Each and every building in Lavaridge - if they weren’t burned down already - were littered with shattered windows, torched wood, and broken bricks and concrete. Other streets contained many, many more human remains than the one they had arrived on, with one alleyway practically being clogged by overcooked bodies. Meanwhile in their own world, one of Jimmy’s hands had instinctively reached for his mouth, bracing against the bile he could feel forming in his throat.

Suddenly, Flannery’s hand forcefully squeezed Sabrina’s like a Seviper would do to its captured prey. “Sabrina... Sabrina, I-I see Jimmy.”

“You what?!” shot back the skater in shock. “Where am I, what’m I doing?! Aw jeez, I swear if I’m dead or dying...”

Releasing an audibly frustrated sigh, Sabrina interrupted Jimmy with a stern “Relax. From what I see, you’re fine... let’s get a closer look.” As their vision drew closer, the details became more apparent; the alternate Jimmy was alone, sitting cross-legged on the roof of a particularly tall office block. His choice of attire was what the group expected - dark and ragged. A torn-up midnight black trenchcoat draped over his body, accompanied by baggy charcoal cargo pants and combat boots.

What he sat in front of turned out to be the main point of interest. It was a large steel crate, about seven feet long and three feet wide. Padlocks ensured it would remain shut. The most notable detail, however, was a crimson flame emblem that had been painted onto the top - which was where the alternate Jimmy’s forlorn gaze was directed. “...I miss you...” was all he managed to muster, wiping a tear from just below his eye.

Flannery froze. “...m-miss... no. No, no, no, no, no...” A feeling of utter dread descended over the Fire-type trainer almost immediately, and if she began breathing any quicker, her lungs may have given out. Her body became overtaken by a sudden rush of heat... as she broke out sweating, Flannery somehow felt the temperature getting hotter and hotter...

Eventually, things became too much, and she violently broke away from Sabrina. The vision of whatever alternate dimension she had just seen was scrubbed away once her eyes shot open. “I’m dead?!” harshly demanded Flannery as Sabrina and Jimmy opened their eyes as well. “Out of all the fucking dimensions you could’ve shown us, you chose the one where I BURNED TO DEATH?!”

“Flannery, calm down!” Sabrina rose from her chair and urgently jogged to Flannery’s side, as Jimmy already began attempting to console her. “I didn’t know what exact dimension we’d be seeing! I-it wasn’t my-”

“Bull-fucking-SHIT IT WASN’T YOUR FAULT!” Practically jumping to her feet, Flannery pushed her face right into Sabrina’s with psychotically-wide eyes and continued to scream, “YOU KNEW! YOU SAID YOU KNEW ABOUT THIS DIMENSION, A-A-AND YOU DIDN’T WARN ME! SO YOU JUST LET ME DISCOVER THAT THERE’S AN ALTERNATE VERSION OF MYSELF WHO WAS BURNED ALIVE BY A FUCKING POKEMON!”

Becoming agitated, Sabrina grasped the Fire-type trainer’s wrist firmly. “Flannery, it doesn’t matter-”

“FUCK YOU!” The next thing anybody knew was that Flannery introduced her fist to Sabrina’s throat without a second thought. Thanks to a combination of the blow’s force and suddenness, the psychic crumpled to her knees and began gagging uncontrollably.

Jimmy rested a hand on her shoulder, fearing for his own life as he did. “F-Flannery... calm down...”

“Get off me.” The skater did so instantly, and Flannery unceremoniously stormed out of the kitchen while angrily throwing her soaked hair out of her face. Left behind were a stunned Jimmy, Sabrina in pain, and Alakazam and Gengar silently staring at the scene.

After thirty seconds, Sabrina stopped gagging and reluctantly pulled herself back up with her psychic abilities. A very noticeable bruise had begun to form on her neck, one that she covered shyly with her left hand. At around the same time, Gengar hovered over and arrived at Jimmy’s side. “...so... that just happened.”

Burying his face in his own hands, Jimmy didn’t reply for a few seconds; he was still attempting to process what had just happened. “She’s come so far... but that just made it look like she’s learned nothing.” Through the years they’d been together, Flannery had made tons of progress, even going so far as to give up her smoking habit... to see that all practically collapse...

He felt his shoulder shake slightly, and turned to look towards Sabrina. “Go talk to her,” she suggested with a pained expression. “Bring her down... convince her that the alternate dimension doesn’t matter.”

A sudden slam echoed harshly from upstairs. “GODDAMMIT!”

“Hurry.” The psychic absently reached out a hand to prevent Gengar’s movement - that being out of the room. “Not you, Gengar... Jimmy needs to deal with this alone.” With that, she made a subtle gesture towards the skater to get to Flannery and get her to calm down.

Jimmy took a few deep breaths, a good few seconds between each one. “Alright... wish me luck, I guess.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and briskly exited the kitchen, leaving behind Sabrina, Gengar, and Alakazam. He’d always been there for Flannery, and wasn’t about to stop now.

---

Sitting solemnly on the guest room’s bed, Flannery appeared to be an unholy concoction of anger, depression, and fear in the form of a human being. Her breaths shook through gritted teeth, as did her trembling body. The thought of her being dead - even if it were an alternate version of her - couldn’t leave her brain, and most likely never would.

Fortunately, she wasn’t alone. Her Torkoal rested lazily in her lap, eyes half-shut as always. Instead of flickering her lighter, Flannery had fortunately settled for stroking the back of the Coal Pokemon’s head and neck, visibly comforting them both. He softly grunted a few times, but they weren’t from annoyance - it was simply his species’ main form of communication aside from smoke signals, which definitely wouldn’t fly in such an enclosed space. These grunts were content, almost pleasant-sounding.

Torkoal’s warm body temperature only served to comfort Flannery more - it’s as if the entire species had evolved to be living stress balls. “...I... I can’t believe it, Torkoal, I really can’t... do you know what that feels like? Knowing that, in some alternate dimension, you were torched by a random wild Fire-type? Unceremoniously cooked on the spot?” With a perplexed grunt, Torkoal faced his trainer and gave her a matching look. “...why am I even asking that? No, you wouldn’t know. All you’ve gotta worry about is battling and keeping your shell free of soot.”

A sudden knock on the slammed-shut door got Flannery’s head to perk up, knowing exactly who it was. “Come in, Jimmy...” He did so, opening the door and joining the Fire-type trainer on the foot of the bed without a word. She instinctively rested the side of her head on his shoulder as he began running his fingers through her still-damp but drying crimson hair. “...I’m sorry, I-I really am,” she started to Jimmy’s expectation.

“I’d hoped we had gotten past this already...” Jimmy planted a quick kiss on Flannery’s neck, and once he did, he could practically see all the remaining backed-up anger drain from her. “I really thought I’d never have to tell you this anymore, but you’re doing it again. It sucks, I know... I ain’t too proud of how my alternate self’s doing, either. But ya can’t react so destructively.”

The Fire-type trainer’s head hung low as she released a long sigh. “Your alternate self wasn’t dead, though...”

“Are you afraid of death?” The question was rather sudden, reinforced by Flannery’s eyes widening upon hearing it. She began petting Torkoal a bit faster as well, beginning to irk the Coal Pokemon. “It’s alright, you can tell me,” reassured Jimmy, taking hold of her free hand. “Because... well, you ain’t alone.”

Flannery nodded in confirmation. “Yeah. To be perfectly honest... the main reason I’m so scared is because I don’t know what happens afterwards. I mean, you know me and I know you... neither of us are religious in the slightest. I’m more concerned about... just rotting in the ground, complete fade to black...” It didn’t surprise Jimmy at all when she fully threw her arms around his waist, neither did it when her eyes became misty. “...what if there’s nothing? What if we’re just gone forever...?” Sensing his trainer’s emotions, Torkoal rubbed against her affectionately; unfortunately, it did next to nothing.

Jimmy paused a bit before responding; this isn’t something he wanted to screw up on, so he had to choose his words carefully. “I try not to think about it, to be perfectly honest. We’re in our early twenties, Flan-Flan, and hell, if science keeps movin’ forward at the pace it is now... I don’t know, we might live to be 150 or something. And eventually, when our time is up, I’m willin’ to put money on there being somethin’ after the fact... personally, I’m a big fan of reincarnation.” Brushing what he could of Flannery’s hair out of her face, the skater flashed her a small smile. “You worry too much, alright? The point is... that wasn’t you. You’re you... and it’s pretty obvious you’re still right here with me.”

“...I am, aren’t I?” Flannery leaned in and softly brought her lips against Jimmy’s, blissfully shutting her eyes. Happily returning the kiss, he wrapped his arms around her and began softly brushing her unruly hair. All the while, Torkoal simply lied where he had been, knowing full well what was going on but not caring enough to move.

Their lips remained locked for a good minute, both obviously cherishing every second that passed by. When it finally came time to pull apart, Flannery returned the smile that adorned Jimmy’s face. “...thanks for being there for me,” she gratefully told him. “And not just now... every time you were, too.”

A small chuckle escaped Jimmy, who stood up and stretched his heavily-tattooed arms out. “You’re welcome, Flannery... come on. I think you need to apologize to someone.”

Sabrina. With a sudden flash, Torkoal retracted into his Great Ball as a red plasma. “You’re right... c’mon, let’s get down there.” She rose as well, taking Jimmy’s hand in hers before the duo exited the guest room and headed down the ornate hall, skipping every other step on the stairs. They then arrived in the kitchen, where Sabrina sat - expectantly - at the table, Alakazam on her right side and Gengar on her left.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” demanded the psychic in a somewhat softer tone than expected, though her eyes still pierced Flannery like daggers. “I could report you to the authorities for such a... despicable, unprovoked assault.” While Alakazam wasn’t able to directly communicate with Flannery, his judging glance said all that was required. Even Gengar couldn’t help but look a bit disappointed.

The Fire-type trainer nodded apologetically, understanding exactly what she had done. “I’m sorry, Sabrina... I-I’m just really scared of death, and to see an alternate version of myself like that... I guess it drove me over the edge. You didn’t deserve to get punched in the throat, that was completely unnecessary...” Her gaze turned to the floor again as she finished in a hush, “You... can forgive me, right?”

Silence reigned for a few moments. Eventually, Sabrina raised a hand and gave a subtle nod. “...I suppose there’s no reason I can’t... after all, it isn’t like you burned down my house.” Jimmy actually cringed at this, but it strangely didn’t seem to affect Flannery much, despite her being the target. “I accept your apology, Flannery... just don’t ever do it again.”

“Thank you so much, Sabrina...” Gratefully, Flannery stepped up to the psychic and gently hugged her as a sign of gratitude. While she didn’t return it, she did manage to get a smirk out of Sabrina. She eventually let go and walked back to Jimmy’s side, Gengar hovering over as well. “So... we’ll see you soon, I guess?”

Sabrina chuckled quietly and shook her head, correcting the Fire-type trainer, “No, no... I’ll see you soon. Go on, head home... you need the downtime.” She and Alakazam waved goodbye to the trio, who responded much the same before leaving the kitchen and heading for the door - and outside, the rain had thankfully devolved into a mere drizzle.

As the three began to walk back towards their hotel, Flannery seemed to look quite a bit mellower, and Jimmy and Gengar both noticed this easily. “Everything’s alright?”

“Just fine... thanks to Jimmy and Torkoal, that is.” The Fire-type trainer instinctively reached for Jimmy’s hand, happily intertwining her fingers with his as their nails creating a satisfying red and black pattern. “Anyway, I can’t wait to get home. I have a couple challengers coming tomorrow, and one of ‘em’s apparently so good that she said I could use Moltres... probably way in over her head, though.”

Jimmy belted out a short burst of laughter as he dropped his skateboard to the ground and hopped on. “I can imagine... couple Heat Waves and she’ll probably be down. But that’s tomorrow... today we just go back over to Phoenix and chill.” Making sure to keep pace with the other two, the skater continued to lead the way down the sidewalk - with Flannery still in hand. She may have hit a bump in the road, but in the end it had turned out alright... just like before, and most likely just like in the future. No matter how rough the ride got, though, they’d always look out for each other. Always.

 

[Jimmy 3 People 0]

Re: Jimmy's International House of One-Shots [The More I See]

NOTE: This one-shot is rated Mature. In addition to profanity, it also contains a kidnapping, heavy violence, and verbal (and in one case, physical) sexual harassment. Reader discretion is advised.

---

-SAVE ME-

JUNE 2ND, 2015, 11:16 AM
FLORENCE, LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

​

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. Winona and Wallace were supposed to quickly get a few snacks from 7-Eleven before boarding her Salamence and heading home from Los Angeles. That’s it. It was supposed to be so simple, so easy... unfortunately, it seemed like no matter the circumstance, nothing went the way they wanted anymore.

The neighborhood of Florence recently became something of a haven for crimes high on the totem pole of severity - murder, armed robbery, and grand theft auto were alarmingly common in recent months. To most people, however, the spike in crime rates had a solid scapegoat. A local gang, the Rabid Mightyenas, began a sharp increase in trafficking of all kinds - drugs, weapons, Pokemon, and quite possibly the most horrific, humans. Notoriously violent, most of the Mightyenas’ immediate answer to being provoked would be a vicious attack and taking of all Pokemon on their victim at the time - and in some cases, the victim themselves.

Neither Winona nor Wallace knew much about them. They had been exposed to violent crime before, sure, but the two trainers weren’t exactly educated on local Los Angeles gangs, even ones as ruthless at the Rabid Mightyenas. Winona encountered a few by chance when visiting Elesa before, but usually forgot about them soon after as she felt it wouldn’t matter beyond then. Wallace, on the other hand, only knew of the Bloods, Crips, and MS-13 - that’s it.

If only they had been a little more careful, then maybe Winona wouldn’t have been abducted and dragged off to the dumpy abandoned factory the Mightyenas called home.

Misery and terror were the only ways to describe how she felt about her situation. Bound at her ankles, knees, wrists, elbows, and chest, the needlessly-rough ropes agonizingly chafed her already slightly sunburned skin. She wasn’t sure if it was true or not, but Winona felt newborn wounds being ripped open as she struggled hopelessly against her binds. Eventually, she looked down at her body to see that her socks had begun to become infused with blood, confirming this. At the same time, she was forced to stare down her Houston Aeros sweater - having been ripped clean off her body by her kidnappers.

Her surroundings were no better - it wasn’t like she was alone. A good eight Rabid Mightyenas were right there, playing cards and practically confirming Winona had no chance of undoing the ropes around her and running away. On occasion, one would look towards her and do one of three things - laugh, mock her, or silently admire her for a few seconds before returning to their game. She found the last one to be the worst by far.

At the very least, she hadn’t been gagged. “A-at least tell me where my Pokemon are...” the flying ace shakily begged, feeling exhausted already. She looked up towards the Rabid Mightyenas expectantly; however, not one answered her question. “Where are my Pokemon?” she repeated, this time a little more demanding.

It took a few seconds, but eventually, she was “graced” by the leader of the group’s attention. He was a burly man, most likely in his late thirties, sporting a horribly unkempt chocolate brown mullet. “Why do ya think we’re playin’ poker? Sure, we’re gonna pawn one of these off, but there ain’t no way any of us’d pass up an opportunity to have one of the great Winona Byrd’s Pokemon.” The sarcasm as he finished was blatantly obvious. He rose from his chair and walked up to Winona - being six-foot-seven was enough, but with Winona being forced to look up from the floor, he appeared to be downright monstrous. Holding out the Great Ball that housed her Salamence in a mocking manner, the man continued, “Y’want this? C’mon, tell me. Beg for it.”

“...fuck off.” Getting Winona to drop an F-bomb was no easy task, and when she did, it usually served to hammer home how angered she was.

The only thing this did was cause the smuggest smirk to form itself across the gang leader’s face. “Aw, how cute,” he ridiculed, soon after making his way to a nearby stool. It didn’t take long for Winona to guess what was going on, as he grasped a shiny silver roll of duct tape and returned, dropping to one knee behind her back. “Why don’t we shut you up before something spills outta your mouth that goes too far?” Without any hesitation, he began to rip a long strip off the roll, violently circling around Winona’s head a good five times, covering her mouth completely and leaving her silent.

“Anything you gotta spit out?” The man flicked the back of Winona’s head as a few more of the Mightyenas put their card game aside in favor of the scene unfolding right there on the filthy concrete floor. Winona herself refused to play along; any attempt by her captors to get her to emit a muffled cry for help ended in failure. She had too much dignity to be reduced to a powerless, unintelligibly mumbling captive despite already filling two of the three criteria.

The other gang members began to speak, and judging by what they said, their leader was mercifully holding back. One actually had the audacity to suggest, “Why we gotta sell ‘er off, man? Can’t we just keep ‘er?” Another added, “Ya know, if she weren’t famous, she prob’ly wouldn’t go fo’ much. See, she’s got no tits.” Winona’s cheeks immediately turned a bright scarlet. She had never been too concerned about her small breast size (in fact, she took it in stride), but to hear someone judge her supposed price based on it, treating her no better than a television or refrigerator...

The gang leader deeply chuckled, positioning one of his hands dangerously close to Winona’s chest. “Don’t matter, B-Squared... this one’s pretty flat, yeah, but she’s a knockout otherwise. Hell, I’m thinkin’ of keepin’ ‘er, but if not, thirty grand easy.”

Winona clamped her eyes shut as she began to feel tears rolling down her face. I’m not here, she thought, trying in vain to make herself feel better. I’m not here. I’m with Wallace, the Buckeyes are blowing out Michigan, we’re having fun, everything is okay...

No matter how hard she tried, it simply wasn’t true. The crushing reality was that she was helplessly bound and gagged in an old factory overtaken by human traffickers, who gambled for her beloved Pokemon while casually discussing just what horrific things each and every one would do to her - and all the while, she had no idea where Wallace was.

“What’s the matter, sweetie?” the leader asked, still in that mocking tone that grated on her ears. “It isn’t like we wanna hurt you or nothin’... after all, that’d be the exact opposite of what we want, wouldn’t it?” His hand began to slide downwards from just below her breast, gliding over her ribs and midriff... and not stopping...

Just as it seemed worse was to come to worst, a thankfully familiar “Where is she?!” echoed throughout the factory, catching every single Rabid Mightyena’s attention. Stomping footsteps could be heard, growing louder as they approached the large, now almost entirely empty assembly floor Winona and the gang were located in.

Winona mentally breathed a huge sigh of relief. Wallace was coming, and he was going to put everything back the way it should be... meanwhile, the gang leader immediately rose, snatching a Quick Ball from his belt in an aggressive swipe. “Look alive, boys,” he commanded with a raised voice. At the same time, the other seven grasped their own Poke Balls and kept them at the ready. “S’just... ‘bout... game time.”

Almost as if on cue, the rusted door on the opposite end of the room was knocked straight off its hinges by a powerful psychic blast. A Slowking marched in seconds later, appearing unnaturally angry for being a member of such a laid-back species. Wallace followed suit, and he was unlike Winona had ever seen him before. Death was clearly in his eyes as he delivered a piercing glare to his adversaries - combined with the hair sweeping over one of his eyes, the artist almost appeared to be downright unhinged.

“Let her go,” demanded Wallace firmly, both his hands balled up and squeezed into fists. “Let her go or Slowking will turn each and every one of your brains to jelly.”

The gang members busted out laughing simultaneously, causing Winona, Wallace, and Slowking’s eyebrows to all furrow in a similarly uniform manner. Their leader once again played mouthpiece for the whole group once his laughter died down. “Thassa pretty fuckin’ bold statement there, ya pussy-ass pretty boy. Wanna see if ya can back it up?” With that, he dropped his Quick Ball to the floor, releasing a Mightyena. The Dark-type, a black-and-gray hyena-like creature, instantly locked Slowking into his sights, lowering his head and emitting a deep growl.

Slowking, despite his clear disadvantage from being part Psychic-type, took a couple steps forward and raised his arms from being folded behind his back. As the single digits on each of his hands folded open and closed in a taunting motion, Wallace backed up his Pokemon. “That’s it, Slowking... never back down, never give in. The typing doesn’t matter when the Pokemon and its trainer can work well enough together.” Winona, meanwhile, recognized this taunt - due to its slight resemblance to wings flapping, she had a tendency to often use it in the middle of official battles. Perhaps Slowking knew this... perhaps he was doing it as a tribute.

Another flash of an opening ball shone nearby... and another... and another... and yet another. Before Winona, Wallace, or Slowking knew it, exactly eight Mightyenas stared the Royal Pokemon down, their growls combining into a terrifying chorus as they clawed and scraped at the ground.

Wallace instinctively took a couple steps back. “...That ain’t gonna stop us, Slowking...” As much as he tried to hide it, the uneasiness in his voice was obvious. “...alright! Do it, Scald!” The red gem on Slowking’s crown, once a Shellder, immediately began to emit a pulsating bright blue glow. As his eyes repeated this, he held out his open palms in a position that, combined with his thumbs, formed a triangular shape. Without warning, a large jet of boiling water suddenly shot out of the opening in Slowking’s hands, heading straight for two of the Mightyenas against him.

“Sidestep it!” one of the gang members ordered. Both Mightyenas did just that, moving away in opposite directions before the water had a chance to hit them - it harmlessly sped by before crashing against a brick wall. “Now sic ‘im! Sic ‘im!” Suddenly, all eight Mightyenas began charging towards Slowking with no letup, snarling almost evilly as they did.

Caught on the spot, Wallace aggressively sifted through his mind to think of something, anything that could counter the oncoming onslaught. Eventually, he hastily called out, “Psychic!” Slowking - almost appearing reluctant - emitted the same glow from his crown’s gem and eyes as he once again positioned his hands into a triangle. This time, a similar aura began to form around his hands before suddenly launching towards the pack of Mightyenas in a wide wall of sorts.

Nothing happened. A couple of them flinched a bit, but the Psychic attack hadn’t even slowed down the Mightyenas. Sure enough, they pounced towards Slowking all at once, pinning the Royal Pokemon to the ground as each one took turns delivering savage bites all over his body. Slowking, normally cool and collected, cried out in agony as he suffered through the vicious attack.

Wallace’s heart instantaneously sank. His Pokemon had taken things like Hyper Beams and Thunders in sanctioned, friendly battles before... but to be forced to watch an assault so horrific, and knowing the consequences of it... Unable to bear the facts anymore, he dropped to his knees and buried his face in his hands, trying his best to remain something resembling calm.

He had failed. He’d failed Winona, he’d failed Slowking, he’d failed himself.

Winona, meanwhile, had to deal with the gang members surrounding her somehow finding this hilarious. “What a fucking idiot!” one mocked. “Psychic on Dark-types... how the fuck is this guy the Champion of Florida?!” The flying ace hopelessly struggled against the ropes, only managing to make herself suffer more rope burn. Continuing to silently cry, she too refused to watch, closing her eyes as her head drooped.

“Alright, good enough!” Finally, the Mightyenas retracted, examining their handiwork. Slowking lied on the ground nearly motionless, struggling to keep his eyes open. Fresh bite wounds scattered over his body, all of them gushing blood nonstop. Perhaps the most terrifying detail was that his crown - always rendered nearly immovable upon evolution - had tilted. As expected, a waterfall of blood trickled down from Slowking’s forehead over his face, leaving a crimson mask.

The gang leader crossed his arms, still with that smirk plastered on. “Haha, perfect... the thing’ll bleed out soon enough. Looks good, don’t it, Winona?” His only response was a slightly weak kick to the back of his shin, causing him to frown. “...I see. Maybe this’ll help... Jacko!” One of the Mightyenas - noticeably larger than the others and with a patchier coat - perked up, looking towards his trainer and waiting for a command.

Holding out his finger, the gang leader pointed towards... Wallace. “Him. Get him, too.”

Almost immediately, Wallace threw his hands out of his face in shock. “Wait, wha-” There was no time to finish - already kneeling, the artist was forcefully tackled from behind by Jacko, slamming the side of his head squarely on the floor. Things didn’t stop there, as the Mightyena followed that up by sinking his razor-sharp fangs into Wallace’s shoulder and thrashing violently. The artist released a horrifying scream as he instinctively slapped his open hand repeatedly against the ground.

“Mmmmhhhllmmm!” Having been made to look on by way of a knee to her back, Winona teetered violently on the edge of panic. She had thought things were hopeless enough before, and she had took the bait when Wallace barged in ready to play hero. And now what? Slowking practically stood at death’s doorstep, Wallace himself was the subject of what was sure to become a horrific mauling, and she was watching it all unfold before her eyes before inevitably being sold like furniture to some misogynistic foreign aristocrat she didn’t know, separated from her Pokemon and friends. What did I do to deserve this?! What did Wallace do?! Again the flying ace squirmed in her bonds to no avail.

It was hopeless. Defeated, Winona sighed the best she could through the duct tape, shut her eyes once more, and began thinking of just how she’d cope with a life in slavery...

...until a gunshot sounded off clear as day, followed by the gang leader shouting, “Jacko! FUCK!” Winona’s eyes pried open to a sight she had all but given up on. Jacko had collapsed dead onto the floor, a single bullet lodged into his neck, as two paramedics treated Wallace’s shoulder. A cadre of six well-equipped police officers stood off against the gang, firearms at the ready. Similarly, four Sawk surrounded the remaining seven Mightyenas, fully prepared to batter them into the ground if needed.

One more officer walked into the room, an Arcanine by her side. Nothing was said as she walked right past Wallace and the paramedics, the Sawk and Mightyenas, and even Winona. She didn’t even halt when beside the rest of the police; before anyone knew it, she was standing behind the gang’s leader and applying a cold pair of handcuffs to him. “All of you are under arrest on multiple counts of murder, armed robbery, grand theft auto, and trafficking of drugs, weapons, Pokemon, and humans,” coldly informed the policewoman as her cohorts did much the same to the other seven gang members.

Upon applying the handcuffs, her and Arcanine approached Winona. She began untying the flying ace straight away, carefully using a combat knife to slice the ropes binding her. Fortunately, none of the rope burn Winona had suffered from was too severe, and it turned out she was only bleeding around her ankles. As the policewoman slowly peeled off the tape gag as to not hurt her, she introduced herself. “My name’s Jennifer Sutton, Assistant Sheriff in the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department. You’re lucky we got a disturbance call when we did... we’ve been looking for these bastards forever, and if we’d been a few seconds too late... regardless, are you okay?”

“...no,” Winona truthfully answered. She had just been kidnapped, bound and gagged, harassed, and threatened with slavery... there was absolutely no way she was okay after that. Slowly rising to her feet, she stumbled towards the table where her Poke Balls, pistols, and backpack lied. While placing her things back where they should’ve been, the flying ace solemnly turned to Wallace, who was being helped to his feet himself by the paramedics. Slowking, meanwhile, had been recalled into his own ball and subsequently placed in a portable version of the healing machine most commonly seen in Pokemon Centers.

Once she re-holstered her guns and placed her backpack on, Winona continued her slow, pained walk towards Wallace, who was now shirtless and heavily bandaged around his shoulder. Neither led off with words when she reached him; their instincts decided a warm, wordless embrace was all they needed. As Wallace made his best attempt to conceal how much pain he was still in and Winona’s tears were soaked up by the bandages, the Rabid Mightyenas were dragged off by the officers sans Jennifer, who stayed behind to return each of the actual Mightyenas to their balls.

Wallace was the first to speak between the two, doing so in an unsurprisingly hushed tone. “Apologies for... well... being an imbecile.”

“...Y-you aren’t...” Flashbacks began to seep into Winona’s mind. Hogtied in a tiny dark trunk, with no idea who had put her there and unsure if she would have ever been able to get out... she squeezed Wallace a bit tighter, thankfully below his wounds. “I-I want to go h-home... now.”

Before the artist could respond, Jennifer returned to the two with Slowking’s Dive Ball in her outstretched hand and Arcanine by her side. “This may be a bad time, and if it is, I apologize... but I believe you need this, Mr. Clearwater.” Without a word, Wallace took the ball and stowed it away, though he did direct a thankful nod in the policewoman’s direction. “Well, I suppose if that’s all... let’s go, Arcanine.” Jennifer began heading out of the factory in a jog to catch up with the other officers, Arcanine tagging close behind her.

A few more minutes passed before Winona broke away, opening her bag to fish out Salamence’s ball. “I... I d-don’t want to talk right now... n-not yet.” Once she felt her fingers wrap around the brightly-colored capsule, she pulled it out, zipped her bag shut, and started towards the door in one swift motion. Her head remained hanging low, and while she was no longer outright crying, the mist in her eyes refused to leave. As for her now-ruined Aeros jersey, it remained in a heap on the floor as a reminder of what had transpired.

With total respect for her feelings, Wallace dug his hands into his pockets while following his girlfriend out of the building they most certainly never wished to step into or even see again. All the while, the artist’s mind raced, reminiscing of his failure. Why did you call for a Psychic, you moron? You’d be dead and Winona’d be a slave if the cops hadn’t come in time. You really think you’re good enough for her? For anyone?!

Trying - and failing - to ignore his own brain chewing him out, he eventually made it out to the street, where Winona had already boarded Salamence. Wallace climbed on and sat facing the Dragon Pokemon’s tail, hugging his legs close. On the other end, the flying ace directed, “C-Columbus, Salamence... quickest r-route possible.” Salamence released a valiant roar as she flapped her impressive wings, taking off eastward into the California skies. And the only way she was doing so was by sheer luck.

JUNE 2ND, 2015, 2:04 PM
SKIES OVER CENTRAL UTAH​

The landscape of Utah was a sight to behold. Incredibly varied, everything from steep mesas to wide-open meadows were present throughout the Beehive State, and the heavy diversity in fauna showed. As Winona and Wallace passed over the state on Salamence’s back, a flock of Vullabies swooped just above them with a Mandibuzz leading the charge. Wallace’s eyes followed them to see just what they were chasing down - a poor lone Natu, trying its best to flutter faster and get away.

The artist let out a heavy sigh - he wasn’t too fond of the relations between Dark- and Psychic-types at the moment. On instinct, he reached a hand to his own injured shoulder and softly ran it across the bandages. They served only to drive home the point that he screwed up badly, that things would be a whole lot worse if the police hadn’t shown up.

He turned back towards Winona. She remained in the exact same position she was upon taking flight - solemnly hugging Salamence’s neck as she rested her head on the back of the dragon’s. There really was no way to blame her for it, considering what would have inevitably happened if the Rabid Mightyenas had succeeded... and while it fortunately wasn’t true, Wallace had a hunch the gang had already given her the worst of what was to be.

“Winona... are you ready to talk yet?” he questioned, drained of his usual self-confidence and positivity. Winona’s head perked up slightly from Salamence as she looked back with an eyebrow raised. “You don’t have to if you don’t feel like it, dear... I just... wanted to know.”

Winona shut her eyes, taking a few seconds to softly breathe through her nose. “I... I-I suppose now’s as good a t-time as... as any...” She rose carefully to her feet, clutching onto Salamence as she did, before walking to Wallace’s side as her head still hung low. As the artist took her hand in his, the tiniest bit of reassurance managed to wrestle its way into Winona’s subconscious while she gracefully dropped down into a cross-legged sitting position. “...H-how’s your shoulder?” was the first thing she asked as she examined the bandages around Wallace’s right shoulder and bicep, clearly stained a dark, brick-like shade of red in some places.

“It’s... better than it could be, I guess.” Attempting to reach for his bag with the injured arm, Wallace was stopped cold by a sharp pain coming directly from his wounds that made him cry out briefly. He shook his head, disappointed in himself, before crawling closer to the bag and taking out two bottles of Pepsi, one of which he handed to Winona. “I still can’t really reach for things, and probably won’t be able to for a little while... regardless... I’m more concerned about you.” He gripped the bottle’s cap and twisted it off, stowing it away in his jeans’ pocket before taking a small sip of the soda.

A brief pause followed, and when Wallace turned his head, he could see why; Winona’s eyes had squeezed shut once more, and she again appearing on the verge of tears. Almost regretfully, the flying ace pulled through and began to speak. “It hurts, Wallace... i-it still hurts. Do you know what that’s like? To b-be treated... like an object? A product to be b-bought and sold? They were gambling for my Pokemon - my Pokemon. Altaria, Skarmory, even Salamence... a-all of them were just... tossed around between those sadistic assholes, no r-regard for their... their lives... or mine...” In what seemed like a move of desperation to keep herself calm, Winona snatched her bag and fumbled through it hastily before coming up with a Luxury Ball. It opened with an accompaniment of dazzling sparkles, releasing Sunset, her baby shiny Swablu. Hugging the gold-feathered Cotton Bird Pokemon close, she continued, “I-if we’re being honest, Wallace, it’s... been making me think back to w-what happened last month.”

Wallace shot his girlfriend a confused glance. “What’re you talking about?” he questioned, genuinely clueless. “You never got kidnapped during that whole ordeal.”

This wasn’t true, and Winona’s head managed to drop even more. She had never told him in fear of how he might’ve reacted, considering how stubbornly protective Wallace could be of her at times. Scratching Swablu’s head with her sky-blue nails, she faced Wallace with the best attempt at a serious facial expression she could make. “...I... I never told you about this b-because I was worried about how... how you’d react... but here g-goes, I guess... I was going to visit Jimmy and Flannery u-up in Seattle, right? So, I was flying there, and I saw this... crashed car down below... o-of course, being me, I told Salamence to land and looked inside... a-and there were corpses in there. Skeletons. But also an envelope... well... l-long story short...” Winona stopped again to take a deep breath and stop her own trembling. “...I was ambushed by a few guys from behind, because apparently they didn’t want me s-seeing the envelope. They bound and gagged me, then put me in the trunk and l-locked it shut... you know I’m claustrophobic, right?” Without a word, Wallace nodded. “Imagine how that f-felt for me... I was trapped in a tiny dark space barely big enough for me to even fit in, a-and I was tied up the whole time, and I had no i-idea if anyone’d ever find me... fortunately, Jimmy and Flannery did, but... this... it made me think of that, and it hasn’t been pleasant at all, because... this time, if the police didn’t come in time... it was the same luck. T-twice in just over a month, I’ve been saved from a kidnapping by luck.”

“You’re right... and...” Wallace rested his forehead against his knees, causing the fisherman’s cap he wore to rise off his head a bit. “...it’s my fault, it really is.”

Sighing, Winona took his hands in hers, Sunset fluttering up and perching on the flying ace’s head. “Wallace, it isn’t your fault... y-you were caught in the heat of battle and flubbed a command... I’m n-not going to hold it against you.”

“But that could’ve been the end. That Mightyena would’ve mutilated me and you’d be shipped off to India or wherever... what would you have even done to cope with that?!”

“To be perfectly honest? I’d probably end up hanging myself...” Winona’s grip on Wallace weakened, as she finally grasped the bottle of Pepsi he had given her and opened it. “I’d never live in a... l-living nightmare like that, Wallace. I’d rather be dead... at least if I were, I’d be at peace.” She began downing the bottle without hesitation, almost like she were someone lost in the desert who’d finally discovered an oasis.

Wallace sadly reached his uninjured arm out and began stroking Winona’s long, lavender locks, getting her to visibly calm down quite a bit. “...you’d... never do that otherwise, would you?” asked the artist. To hear his girlfriend talk about something as sobering as suicide was... disheartening, to say the least.

Fortunately, she shook her head a bit defiantly, which had the side effect of Sunset hopping off back into her lap. “No, n-never... I have a pretty great life, don’t I? I have you, for one thing... there’s also being the Supervisor of Gym Leaders, all our friends, my Pokemon... there’s too m-much to leave behind.” Winona looked down towards Sunset, holding up his Luxury Ball. “Would you like to go back inside, Sunset?” The Swablu chirped happily, fluttering up and pecking the ball’s button before being retracted inside as a gold plasma.

In the meantime, Wallace had propped up his bag as a pillow and carefully lied back, his eyes half-shut. “Winona... I’m gonna take a nap. Too much has happened today, and I just... I need to... would you like to join me?”

“...Of course.” Putting Sunset’s Luxury Ball away, Winona stretched out her limbs and yawned before falling to Wallace’s side, coiling her arms around him the best she could without irritating his wounds. She warmly pushed her lips against his not long after, and he returned the favor gladly. The two kissed for a good minute, feeling grateful to still be together after what had transpired. Once they broke apart, the flying ace added one last thing. “And again, Wallace... it wasn’t your fault...”

At first, it didn’t seem like he’d respond, as Wallace’s eyes shut and his breathing slowed. However, the artist answered a few seconds later. “...Yeah... I know. I’m just... I’m sorry I didn’t do better.”

“It’s alright... it’s over now.” With that, Winona planted a quick kiss on the part of Wallace’s forehead not concealed by his hair and rested her own head against his bag as her eyelids closed as well. As Salamence continued on her journey back to Winona’s home, the two tried their best to forget about the events of the day... to just clear their minds and rest. While it proved pretty much impossible, they eventually drifted off to sleep, content with the fact that while it happened, the entire thing was behind them now... and they still had each other.

 

[Jimmy 3 People 0]

Re: Jimmy's International House of One-Shots [Save Me]

-THIS IS HOW I DISAPPEAR-

JUNE 7TH, 2015, 10:03 PM
INVESTORS GROUP FIELD, WINNIPEG, MANITOBA

​

Roaring, rattling, rocking. The crowd of 30,000 strong packing Winnipeg’s Investors Group Field sure knew how to back up an intense Pokemon battle. It had far surpassed a hundred decibels, and with each passing minute that number only seemed to climb and climb. The Red River Invitational had grown to be one of Canada’s “Big Four” Pokemon tournaments, and the finals were always a huge deal.

In the center of the battlefield, long torn up and abused, a purplish-grey glob of sludge flung like a cannonball exploded in mid-air upon connecting with an Aurora Beam. “Dammit!” cried out Roxie from the trainer box, angrily stomping her foot against the ground and sending the freely hanging straps on her boot flailing aimlessly. “C’mon, Weezing, c’mon! Get yer shit together!” Her Weezing’s primary head glanced down to the floor and quickly gave his entire body a shake to refresh - which did nothing to please his other head, who offhandedly belched a small cloud of toxic gases into the face of the other brain he shared a body with.

In the meantime, a Dewgong joyfully clapped his flippers together before turning back to his trainer - one Pryce Frazier, an 82-year-old Ice-type genius hailing from Scotland. A legend like no other, Pryce had been competing since before World War II ended alongside mostly the same Pokemon. Teasing retirement well over a dozen times but never fully going through with it, most were baffled the man could still compete at such a high level. As such, chants of “you’ve still got it” became commonplace at every stadium he walked into - such as right there in Manitoba’s capital.

Doing the best he could to be heard above the deafening crowd, the old man advised, “Yelling at your Pokemon will get you nowhere, lass. I understand you’re a skilled Gym Leader, but you still have much to learn. Communicating with your Pokemon and understanding its situation on the battlefield is the best way to win.” With that, he rose the icy-painted cane in his hand - made to resemble an icicle, naturally - and pointed it in Weezing’s direction. “Alright, Dewgong! Give them the best Ice Beam you’ve got!”

Dewgong instantly switched back into battle mode, locking Weezing dead in his sights. He threw his head back, pried his mouth wide open, and released a somehow-threatening yawn in place of a battle cry. “Weezing, go for Giga Impact!” Roxie commanded, and the Poison Gas Pokemon began charging through the air towards Dewgong. However, before he could reach him, Dewgong’s head flung forward as a thin ice-blue beam of freezing cold energy protruded from his horn.

With no time to dodge, Weezing had no choice but to take the full force of the hit. He was catapulted back across the battlefield, tumbling over uncontrollably, before crashing hard onto the ground at Roxie’s side. Small specks of frostbite had overtaken his body, and while he wasn’t unconscious, there’d be no getting up on his own. Sighing, the bassist dropped to one knee and rested her hand on Weezing’s prone form.

The referee raised his left arm towards Pryce, and with it came a green flag. “Roxie’s Weezing is unable to battle! Dewgong wins, and the victory and 2015 Red River Invitational go to Pryce Frazier!” Again the crowd erupted into a massive uproar, as Pryce meekly recalled Dewgong and waved into the stands. Normally, the victor’s theme music would blare over the speakers... but Pryce didn’t have any. A holdover from the early days, of course.

After a couple minutes passed, a woman emerged from one of the tunnels leading out of the competitors-only portion of the stadium. Her flowing blonde hair and all-black attire immediately made it clear she was Cynthia Ciccarelli, Champion of Canada. In her hands resided a medium-sized trophy - carved from gold, it depicted the pylon of Winnipeg’s own Esplanade Riel bridge.

Cynthia approached Pryce at a normal pace, though a feeling of excitement burned inside her - she had never actually met the living legend before, and considered it an honor to finally get the opportunity. Upon reaching him, she held out the trophy with her mouth curved into a small but noticeable smile. “Congratulations, Mr. Frazier... it’s absolutely criminal I’ve never seen you battle in person up until now. That was incredible.”

“Thank you, Cynthia... a pleasure to meet you...” Pryce extended his hand and Cynthia immediately took it. They shared a firm handshake before the old man abruptly pulled away and placed his hand over his chest, as he seemed to slump over even more than normal. “...Er... I recommend you... you keep-”

“What’s wrong? A-are you alright?” Worry began to seep into Cynthia’s voice. Obviously, Pryce was far from being in the best shape of his life, but this seemed simply abnormal. His tone had become wheezy and sounded like he were running out of breath, and his eyes began to squint - not voluntarily, either.

Almost defiantly, Pryce raised a hand to quiet the Champion like she were his granddaughter. “I-I’m fine, lass... just... excuse me for a few moments...” He turned away, almost relying entirely on his cane, before beginning to walk towards the tunnel at a snail’s pace. At this point, murmurs of confusion began to emanate from the crowd, which in turn caused Roxie to look up towards Pryce while recalling Weezing.

Light footsteps suddenly became audible behind the bassist, fortunately not alarming her much as she had a hunch as to their owner. It turned out to be true as Lou semi-casually strolled to Roxie’s side, her head tilted slightly. “Hey, good effort, Rox, but... what, uh... what’s goin’ on over there?” she questioned, pointing in Pryce’s direction.

He collapsed to his knees, letting his cane fall as he gripped his chest in pain. After only a few more seconds, he hunched over, his face buried into the ground.

“W-wha...” This couldn’t really be happening. There was no way. Roxie rubbed her eyes almost fast enough to blacken them before looking up - Pryce was still on the ground, and Cynthia had rushed to his side. The Champion yelled into the tunnel, but neither Roxie nor Lou were able to fully comprehend what she said.

Suddenly, a streak of black and purple emerged from behind the two punk rockers, charging ahead without letup. “Move! Move!” As he whizzed past them, they were able to identify him as Jimmy, who had been there to support Roxie alongside some of her other friends. On the other side of the spectrum, Roxie felt like her boots had been glued to the floor; she simply stared at the unfolding scene in shock. The silence that the stadium had fallen into didn’t help matters, either.

Paramedics arrived on scene not long after, and Pryce was eventually completely enveloped by the swarm of people surrounding him. One immediately began resuscitation attempts as Cynthia looked on with tears welling up in her eyes. “Why...? Why here, why now...?!” Upon arriving, Jimmy wordlessly kneeled down and took one of Pryce’s unsurprisingly-cold hands in both of his. While they had never battled, the two had mutual respect for each other, with Jimmy seeing Pryce as a legend and Pryce seeing a legend in the making in return.

This went on for five grueling minutes. The event’s television broadcast had cut to commercial almost immediately after Pryce was felled, and most live spectators had cleared out of their seats. Finally, Roxie and Lou made their way across the battlefield briskly, accelerating faster with each step. Upon arriving, Roxie panickedly asked, “F-fuck, he’s - he’s havin’ a fuckin’ heart attack, ain’t he?!”

“Yeah, he is...” Lou’s hands gripped the top of her head in disbelief. “I-I mean... he’s old, yeah, but who woulda known he’d have a heart attack?!”

Jimmy released a solemn sigh. “Pryce... he told me, last time we talked, he’s had high blood pressure for a long time...” Letting go of the old man’s hand, he rose back to his feet and turned away, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Why didn’t I tell anybody? We coulda avoided this whole-”

In a futile attempt to reassure the skater, Cynthia responded, “Jimmy, it isn’t your fault. He has doctors that check on him, I’m almost certain of it.” Though her demeanor remained calm, she felt the same intense concern as everyone surrounding her. None of them knew what could come next... whether Pryce could pull through, or...

“He’s gone.” Those two words hit with the force of a freight train. The paramedic that had been performing CPR stood up and faced the group. Roxie had buried her face into her hands, Lou was frozen with shock, and Cynthia and Jimmy had already walked halfway back towards the tunnel. “I’m sorry... we did the best we could.”

A familiar siren noise echoed throughout the deathly quiet stadium as an ambulance came through the tunnel, passing by the two Champions before crawling to a stop by the trainer box. The paramedics immediately lifted Pryce’s body up on a scoop stretcher as two others wheeled a gurney out of the ambulance - not that it would do a thing to save him.

Roxie grabbed Lou’s wrist quickly, her hand trembling. “Lou, we need ta go. I can’t see any a’ this anymore.”

“...I... I’m gonna have to agree with that... c-come on.” With that, Roxie and Lou headed off into the tunnel as the paramedics loaded the gurney into the ambulance and shut the doors - figuratively and literally.

JUNE 7TH, 2015, 10:56 PM
DELTA WINNIPEG HOTEL, WINNIPEG, MANITOBA

​

Roxie softly rapped her knuckles against the door of Jimmy and Flannery’s hotel room, her head still hanging low as Lou silently stood beside her. In the time that had passed since the incident, it had been confirmed Pryce had expired due to cardiac arrest. The immediate outpouring of mourning and reminiscence of his career over the internet had managed to become a silver lining in such a thick cloud. While Pryce could be curmudgeonly at times, no doubt, he was still a great trainer and something of a mentor to many younger than him.

A few moments passed before the doorknob slightly twisted, eventually giving way to Flannery. While her bangs normally hung in her face slightly as is, they were halfway shielding her eyes then, the perfect accompaniment to her downtrodden facial expression. “Hey, girls,” she greeted, nearly emotionlessly. “You... wanna come in, I’m guessing?”

“Pretty much.” Before Flannery could even move out of the way, Roxie headed through the open door by ducking under the Fire-type trainer’s arm, Lou following suit. She didn’t even bother to greet Jimmy, instead electing to lazily fall face-first onto one of the pristinely white queen-sized beds in the room. A muffled “Ghhdhmmt!” was let loose throughout the room as the bassist pounded her fist against the mattress.

With a sigh, Lou merely sat down on the foot of the same bed, subconsciously crossing one leg over the other. “Rox, I know how ya feel, but try to contain yourself, alright?” It was around then that white noise the two had previously shrugged off became more apparent. Taking a couple seconds to find the source, Lou traced it back to the bathroom, of which the door had been locked shut. “Hey, who’s takin’ a shower in there? Can’t be either of you, obviously...”

“Take a wild fucking guess,” responded Flannery again as she allowed herself to drop into a desk chair, still in that near-monotone so unlike her. Pulling her lighter from her pocket, she answered it for them. “It’s Winnie and Wallace. They weren’t at the stadium for the finals, remember?” She rotated the spark wheel, letting a tiny scarlet flame emerge for a few seconds before disappearing just as quickly, before repeating this action in a steady pattern.

Jimmy shot her a quick look of disapproval at the action. “Yo, Flannery, ya wanna stop that? Swear to god, it’s almost like you want to burn us all alive sometimes...” While he didn’t explicitly state it, he made it vaguely clear that he was referring to the discussion about their shared fear of death the week prior. As such, Flannery took the hint and activated the lighter one final time before blowing the flame out.

Snapping his laptop shut, Jimmy climbed off the couch and moved towards the bed Roxie and Lou occupied. He could easily see how sobered both had become due to Pryce’s sudden death, a feeling he shared completely. Gently patting Roxie’s back in a comforting gesture, he spoke to the two in a calmer tone. “You girls alright? I mean, I know it ain’t every day that ya see somethin’ like this. Though... we did get through that whole shit with the Illuminati...”

“Don’t compare that to anything,” Lou instantly shot back with an obvious shot of aggravation. “That was completely different. We were fighting totalitarian pigs attempting a coup. This is a widely-respected old man dying in public. They’re not the same.”

“Lou, calm down, I’m just sayin’ that we’ve witnessed - and in some cases caused - really brutal deaths... actually, looking back on it, maybe we shoulda kept Giovanni alive.” Again the skater’s attention turned to Flannery, as did Lou’s. Roxie’s head perked up from the bed at the sudden pause as well.

It took Flannery a few seconds to realize she was being stared at, and she defiantly gestured when she did. “What? The fuck did I do?! You’re telling me we should’ve kept that dipshit alive?!” While Flannery was quick to anger, to segue directly into it from her emotionless demeanor was jarring to the others. “Fuck, if he was even buried, it was too good for him. Should’ve just tossed his corpse into the embers.”

Jimmy raised his hands towards her, trying to avoid a repeat of what happened at Sabrina’s house. “Hey, he woulda had to live with his failure, right? For all we know, he could be better off in death than-”

“Better off in death?!” The office chair may very well have been an ejector seat, as Flannery practically launched out of it and glared into Jimmy’s eyes inches from his face. “So you’re telling me you’d rather be dead than in prison?! Weren’t you scared of death just last week?!”

“Flannery-”

“Shut up, I’m not fuckin’ finished!” Flannery’s arms suddenly thrusted straight into Jimmy’s chest, knocking him back onto the bed - and Roxie, who released a loud yelp of pain herself. “That man was a fucking disease to humanity! You don’t send diseases to the slammer, Jimmy! You ERADICATE them! That’s what I did, right?!”

Already having heard enough, Lou rose from the bed and managed to wrestle her way in-between the arguing couple, holding Flannery back despite the older woman being a good deal stronger than her. “Okay, listen, you need to chill the fuck out, Flannery. We don’t need another casualty tonight...” Flannery continued to struggle for a few seconds before coming to a stop, backing off and sitting on the opposite bed as Jimmy rose to sit up straight.

Accompanying them was Roxie, who climbed off the bed pressing a hand against her lower back. “Yo, Jimmy, y’wanna try not landin’ on me next time? You’re twice my size, dude.”

“Sorry, sorry... wasn’t my fault, anyway.” Flannery, naturally, rose a hand to her face upon hearing this.

A door creaking open alerted all four, who turned just in time to witness Winona and Wallace emerge from the steam-ridden bathroom. Winona, clad in only a light blue bathrobe, immediately folded her arms. “I know Pryce’s death was upsetting, but you four don’t have to kill each other over it...”

“Oi, Winnie, that reminds me...” Roxie made a couple hand motions towards Jimmy, who stood up and walked towards the room’s desk. He opened one of the drawers and pulled an unidentifiable object out before returning and revealing what he had obtained - Fear, one of Winona’s Makarov pistols. “...whaddya thinka death? ‘Cause ya seem to have no problem cappin’ people to solve your issues.”

An awkward silence quickly passed by, ending once Wallace rested a hand on his girlfriend’s shoulder. Notably, the bandages covering his wounds from the Rabid Mightyenas’ attack were still wrapped around his shoulder, barely visible under the plain teal T-shirt he wore. “It’s fine, you can tell them,” he reassured. The others remained curious - tell them what? As far as they knew, Winona had no obvious secrets to hide.

She took a deep breath before taking the pistol from Jimmy, quickly checking to see if it was unloaded (it was) before beginning to speak. “Actually, Roxie... I do have a problem with it. Do any of you know how it feels to keep doing something, knowing that it’s wrong and you should probably find a better alternative, but you continue to do the same thing because it’s easy in comparison...? Because... that’s how I feel when I shoot people. I know it’s a reckless, hasty decision that could most likely be resolved in a war of words instead, but... I guess I just... doubt myself and fall back on it.”

“Why the hell would you doubt yourself?” Flannery kept a mental track record of the amount of arguments Winona had won over the years... and that number was gigantic. Why she still questioned her own ability to talk people down after all this time baffled the Fire-type trainer. “Winnie, didn’t you talk that supervisor guy... what was his name, Tejada? Didn’t you talk him into giving up the FunVax development?”

“I did... but I also shot two Pokemon who, for all intents and purposes, were completely innocent.” Bringing this up only appeared to make the flying ace upset herself, as she leaned against the wall with her head down after doing so.

Deciding to steer the subject away from that unpleasant memory, Roxie moved forward with the concept of death - about as equally unpleasant, actually. “Jimmy, ya think reincarnation happens when ya die, right?” she asked, facing the skater.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah, right. Yeah, I like the idea of continuing to be reincarnated as different people... of course, with no memory of your past life, ‘cause that’d... that’d just be mind-fucking.” Jimmy put two fingers up to his chin. “Maybe I was Sid Vicious at one point...”

Roxie’s face seemed to light up upon hearing this despite the dreary topics the group was covering. “That’d be fuckin’ awesome if it was true! Hey... y’know, speakin’ of the Sex Pistols, I wonder if Johnny Rotten is mad I kinda stole his stage name.”

Meanwhile, Wallace appeared rather unsure with this idea. As he retrieved a bottle of water from the room’s fridge, he wondered aloud, “Now here’s the problem... how long would you be getting reincarnated for? As much as it sucks, humanity... isn’t going to be around forever.” Everyone in the room’s spirits simultaneously sunk. Talking about singular deaths was one thing, but the extinction of their entire race...

“Can we please not talk about this?” pleaded Flannery, beginning to anxiously drum her fingers against her thigh. Both her face and voice expressed her anxiety about such a thing very thoroughly.

Jimmy, on the other hand, seemed to take the flaw in his idea rather well. “Sorry, Flan-Flan, but he’s right. And how long is forever, anyway?”

“As far as I’m concerned, there is no ‘forever.’” Taking a sip from his bottle, Wallace knelt down in front of Flannery and offered it to her. “By the way... I think you need this more than I do.” She rolled her eyes a bit but still took the drink, almost immediately wrapping her lips around the top. As the ice-cold water flowed into her mouth, Flannery began to become visibly calmer once again - the drumming of her fingers stopped, for one thing. Wallace continued his thought in the meantime. “Everything has to come to an end, right? Well, how far can time itself go? Will we ever loop back around and repeat history all over again, or will our entire dimension just... stop?”

The expected reaction was another pause. Instead, Wallace got laughter. The entire group turned to Lou, who had doubled over giggling like a schoolgirl. “Is this funny to you?” Winona asked with a shot of irritation.

It took a few seconds before the guitarist was able to compose herself. “What? No, I just realized... why are we even worrying about time ending?! Fuck, man, we’re millions of years from the Sun dying! We’ve got decades, man... why can’t we just... live our lives right now without worrying? I swear, you guys think way too deeply into these things.” Taking Roxie’s hand in hers, she rose from the bed and started towards the door.

“Ya don’t know that. We could die tomorrow.” Roxie pulled her hand away, letting her pessimistic tendencies seep through. “Any one ‘a us, Lou, we could get into some sorta accident - car crash, house fire, whatever...” Upon hearing “house fire,” Flannery downed another chunk of her water bottle.

Winona sighed, making sure her bathrobe was tied properly before opening the door, Wallace joining the three not long after. “Girls, we’re done with this conversation... you’re staying with us, remember? We’re gonna go to the Finals game tomorrow and we’re gonna have fun, right?” Sure enough, the Stanley Cup Finals between the local Jets and Winona’s hometown Blue Jackets were headed to the MTS Centre for Game 3 the next day, and she had managed to get tickets.

With a somewhat forced nod, Roxie crossed her arms. “Yeah, yeah... c’mon, let’s go.” She headed out the door and began the trip to Winona and Wallace’s room, Lou following close behind.

Wallace followed up by waving towards Jimmy and Flannery while backing out. “We’ll see you two tomorrow, alright? Have a good night.” He disappeared down the hall, and Winona turned back and gave the two a nod that seemed to evoke understanding before becoming the last to leave, shutting the hotel room’s door behind her.

Now alone, Jimmy stretched out his limbs before crawling under the covers of the bed Flannery sat on, both having already switched into their nightwear. “You alright?” He reached a hand out to semi-massage her neck, something she didn’t react much to. “I know how you feel, remember? You can talk to me if you need to.”

“I’m fine... Lou’s right, we don’t have to worry about this kinda shit right now. You and I are twenty-two, Jimmy... not even a third of the way there. As for Pryce... we trained opposite types, but I still respect the man. He had a good life.” The Fire-type trainer reached her hands around to the base of her volcano tail, slowly pulling the band off and letting her hair drape down her back almost like a small cape. She nestled into bed as well, pulling Jimmy close. “I almost forgot we were going to the game tomorrow, too... bet ya wish it’d be Devils-Jets, hm?” she added, followed by a sly giggle.

Jimmy rolled his eyes in good spirits, returning Flannery’s embrace. “Yeah, that was bullshit... it was three to zero in the series. But hey, at least Winnie’s happy ‘bout it - and the Jackets’ve actually got a 2-0 series lead right now. They’re for real... but we’ll save that for tomorrow, won’t we?” Pulling her in just a bit closer allowed the two to share a warm kiss goodnight, holding it for a good twenty seconds before letting their heads fall to the pillows. “Night, Flan-Flan.”

“Same to you...” And on that note, the couple shut their eyes and decompressed, slowly letting sleep overtake them.

LATER THAT NIGHT...
​

“Winnie, wake up... Winnie. Winnie, yer havin’ a fuckin’ nightmare, wake up.” After a couple minutes of hyperventilating and tossing around in her sleep, Winona opened her eyes wide and came face-to-illuminated-face with Roxie, who held a flashlight in her hand that was apparently being used to make the book of bass guitars in her lap legible. Wallace and Lou were lying sound asleep on the other bed - an odd combination, but it wasn’t important at the moment. What was important was why Winona had been having a subconscious panic attack. “Seriously, fuck was that? I’ve seen Lou havin’ nightmares, but she doesn’t do any a’ that shit.”

The flying ace slumped back against the headboard, reaching a hand to her hair instinctively to check if it was still styled correctly - it was, but as it turned out, she didn’t really care. “...Roxie, let me toss you a quick hypothetical. What if... Wallace and I had taken a bath instead of a shower, and... I was charging my hair dryer, right? Well, if I had put it on the other side of the sink... and it happened to fall in while we were bathing...” She finished with a bizarre combination of a sigh and yawn. Clearly, she felt the implications were obvious to Roxie.

Placing the flashlight on top of her book and setting the two aside, Roxie crawled a bit closer to Winona, asking, “So ya had a nightmare about yourself an’ Wallace gettin’ fried in a bathtub is what you’re tellin’ me?”

“That’s the gist of it, yeah... y’know, if anything, I kinda blame you.”

“Me?! What did I do?!” While Wallace did roll over, Roxie had managed to keep herself just quiet enough to not wake the entire hotel up.

Winona shot a condescending look at the bassist. “Gee, I don’t know, Miss ‘We Could All Die Tomorrow.’ That... wasn’t the greatest thing to bring up.” Rolling out of bed without the slightest thought of covering any part of her body, she opened up a small walnut pantry hanging above the room’s “kitchen counter” as it were. “You want beef jerky or chips?”

“Eh, I’ll have the jerky. The chips’ll jus’ leave a bunch of little crumbs in the bed.” While a bit surprised to hear Roxie being concerned with how clean something is (though it most likely had more to do with being uncomfortable), Winona pulled down two bags of beef jerky and lobbed one towards the bassist.

As she returned to the bed, Roxie continued to move the discussion about her nightmare along. “So... sudden death is what ya afraid of?”

With a quiet ripping noise, the flying ace opened her bag of jerky and ate a few pieces before responding. When she did, her tone of voice seemed much more concerned than normal. “Listen, Roxie... I’m a free-runner, right? I fly around a lot, I’ve got a tendency to confront murderers... so I’m fully prepared for anything that could come from that. Free-falling to my death is actually one of my greatest concerns, believe it or not.”

“Hey, didn’t you stop free-runnin’ for a while ‘cause ya bashed your face in on a dumpster?” inquired Roxie with a tiny chuckle, flicking her flashlight back on.

A slight rose shade tinted Winona’s cheeks. ”Er... yes. I don’t like to think about that. The point is... something like being electrocuted, or dying in the presence of - and possibly alongside - Wallace... most of the time, it seems outside the realm of possibility. What you said probably made me a little paranoid.”

“Yeah? Well, here’s a quick protip for ya: don’t charge ya fuckin’ hair dryer while takin’ a bath.” A simple solution, really.

Winona couldn’t help but let loose a small giggle at Roxie’s blunt, vulgar response - not like she’d expected anything else. “Well... I guess you’re right, Roxie. You’re going to stay awake, I assume?”

The bassist nodded as she aimed her flashlight back at the pages, putting a five-string jet-black Ibanez bass in the spotlight. “Uh-huh. I really ain’t feelin’ tired at all... hey, get some rest, a’ight? Don’t wanna fall asleep while the Jackets are wreckin’ shit.”

“Of course not... thanks for talking, Roxie. Good night.” Winona pulled the covers over her body once more, slowly but surely drifting back off to dreamland. As she did, she confidently convinced herself in her head that there was no need to worry. As long as she refrained from doing anything too stupid, her life would be long and fulfilling. And if she did... well, Altaria would be there to stop her from falling, anyway.

 

[Jimmy 3 People 0]

Re: Jimmy's International House of One-Shots [This Is How I Disappear]

-HOMECOMING-

JUNE 11TH, 2015, 1:21 PM
RURAL MAINE​

Even during the middle of the day, driving down the seemingly-abandoned roads of rural Maine was quite unsettling. Trees towered on both sides, appearing to reach higher and higher with each passing minute until they’d eventually block off the sunlight anyway. At the very least, no Trevenants had made their presence known... yet.

A rented car - specifically, a Toyota Celica coated a shade of red that had gradually faded with time - traversed down these roads by itself, not trailing or being trailed by any other vehicle. In a way, this was something of a relief for its driver. The man she was visiting didn’t exactly have the greatest past, and very few people knew she was his biological niece - a fact she had kept under lock and key since the second she found out.

This woman, of course, was Flannery, who had been accompanying Winona during her inspection of the Boston Gym. While there, she had gotten the idea to quickly hop up to Maine and see how her uncle Freddrick had been holding up, and practically begged on her knees for Winona to take her. While she was skeptical at first, unsure if the man who had pretty much been hired to kill them just a month and a half ago could really be trusted, she eventually caved in and flew herself and Flannery out to Lewiston.

Despite not having physically met in over a month, the Fire-type trainer had heard a lot of good things. For one, Freddrick had managed to get power routed to the Gorgote Farm once more, in addition to making an average living by farming potatoes and corn - finally giving him a purpose to actually live on a farm.

After around a half-hour of driving past nothing but trees, the thick woods finally began to clear, almost opening up like a stage curtain to show the Gorgote Farm in front of her. It had improved quite a bit since Flannery’s last visit, for sure; the buildings looked much cleaner and numerous crops were being grown, a refreshing change from the fields of dead corn she remembered. “Heheh... the guy really was serious about turning his life around, wasn’t he?” the Fire-type trainer contently asked herself. The fact that all this belonged to a man whose split personality once directed some of the sickest things put to VHS tape was nothing short of astounding.

She turned into the farm as the bumpy dirt road leading to Freddrick’s farmstead made her wildly-styled hair bounce around like a Mexican jumping bean... and she had just cut it to be somewhat shorter the day before. After a while, though, the car gradually halted in front of the house. Seeing a television running smoothly through the window - even if it was an old fat-backed one from the nineties - lit Flannery’s face up instantly upon seeing it. With no hesitation, she practically kicked open the driver’s door and sprinted up to the porch, knocking on the door so fast one would think she was drumming out the beat to a Pig Destroyer song.

Thirty seconds passed, but Freddrick didn’t come to the door. Flannery merely knocked again, assuming maybe he hadn’t heard the first time. After another minute passed after the second knock with no response, she began to grow a bit concerned. Why isn’t he showing up? Is he listening to music or something...? Maybe he keeps a spare key around here... She dropped down to her knees, and sure enough, a spare key had been lying right under the mat. Flannery took it without hesitation and slipped it into the lock, flinging the door open not long after.

“Freddrick, where are you?!” she called out, her worry seeping into her tone. Again with no response, Flannery quickly checked the time on her phone before heading off towards the bedroom. “I swear to Reshiram, if you’re still sleeping...”

Eventually reaching the bedroom, she found it to be relatively bare-bones. There was a twin-sized bed, clothes drawer, end table with a lamp, and a bookshelf. That was it, aside from the closet... well, that and Freddrick out cold on the bed.

Flannery groaned as she reached a hand out to her uncle’s shoulder, shaking him abruptly. “Goddammit, Freddrick, get up... it’s past noon... hey! Wake up!” Becoming more frustrated with each passing second, the Fire-type trainer suddenly delivered a backhand slap to Freddrick’s face before taking a few long steps back.

Thankfully, Freddrick didn’t instantly try to slit her throat upon impact; he merely rose groggily from the pillow, taking a few seconds to adjust before staring down Flannery. Another moment of silence came and went, only interrupted by the white noise of the television outside. It ended when he asked, “How did you get inside, Flannery?”

“Maybe you should find a better place to keep your spare key than under the mat.” Flannery flashed the key towards him, eliciting a small groan. “Anyway... I just wanted to visit and see how you’ve been holding up. Your crops look nice, at least.” Did I just compliment someone on their crops? That’s... a first.

Regardless, Freddrick rolled out of bed to reveal that he was still in his work clothes from the previous day. As for the rest of his appearance... at least he had the decency to cut his hair. In spite of looking like one of the unfriendliest people on the planet, he accepted the compliment. “Thanks... it’s not like I’ve got much else to do these days.” With that, he immediately exited the room while motioning for Flannery to do much the same.

The two made their way to the couch, both crashing down at pretty much the exact same time. “So things are fine, then?” Flannery questioned, a small smile forming on her face as she turned to the TV just in time to see a highlight from the Diamondbacks game that had happened last night.

“Yes, absolutely... as you can see, I have power again.” While there was no reason to prove his point, Freddrick did so anyway, gesturing towards the television. “It’s nice to be able to walk around my house at night with the ability to see... having one eye doesn’t help with that, you know.” He tapped lightly on his glass eye, causing Flannery to cringe a bit - it did look rather realistic, after all.

The Fire-type trainer did her best to shrug off the thought of Freddrick actually touching his eyeball, which in itself nearly made her reach for her own eye by instinct. Moving the conversation along, she responded, “Yeah, it must’ve sucked to live without power. I mean... no light, no working fridge, no television... how’d you even manage?”

The sinister-sounding chuckle Freddrick responded with unnerved Flannery enough to make her scoot over to the side a few inches. “How did I manage, Flannery?” parroted the former director, almost mockingly. “You do know that I was almost never actually here, right?”

“So... you’re telling me you were a drifter?” Flannery raised an eyebrow to accompany this question.

Freddrick shrugged in response. “I suppose you could put it that way... I - well... Forenzik... lived all over, Flannery. Off the top of my head, there was central Florida, eastern Michigan, southern Alberta, south-central Washington...” While it was a bit impressive that he had been able to travel around the continent and settle down in so many different places... it wasn’t like he was working for a charity organization while doing so. Simply put, Forenzik was a complete monster, one of the sickest individuals anyone could have come across. The likelihood of him having filmed his sadistic show in all of the listed locales was too high to ignore.

Flannery suddenly rose from her seat, walking off towards the kitchen while fiddling with her leather vest - scalding weather ruled the day, and the temperature and humidity combined were making even her, who had lived in the middle of Arizona for every part of her life she could remember, a bit uncomfortable. “S-so... Forenzik... didn’t get his ‘cast’ from one specific place?” Ever since discovering they were related, it had become very difficult to discuss things like Forenzik and Happy Appy with Flannery. Knowing that the man who did such horrendous things was technically her uncle, her biological father was apparently even worse, and that she herself wasn’t immune to her own little outbursts... it all added up, but the Fire-type trainer would’ve personally felt much more content if it didn’t.

“Basically.” Turning to look towards her, Freddrick couldn’t help but notice that her face had gone blank as she reached for a can of soda. “Are you alright? We could stop discussing this, if you want.”

Flannery released a small sigh as she walked back towards the couch. “No, i-it’s fine,” she returned, albeit unconvincingly. “I just...” Sitting back on the cushion had the side effect of causing her thoughts to scatter, evidenced by her falling silent.

An awkward pause soon followed, again undercut by the television playing MLS highlights. This one lasted significantly shorter than the one in Freddrick’s bedroom, as he began to speak after only a few seconds with his head tilted downwards in a dejected fashion. “You’re... you’re uncomfortable around me, aren’t you? Because of what Forenzik did...” Instinctively, he turned away.

“Hey, you’re ashamed of it, I get it.” Flannery gave her uncle a friendly pat on the shoulder while taking a sip of her drink, at the same time silently contemplating why he bought RC Cola. “That’s perfectly fine... I mean, I’m ashamed of some of the things I’ve done in the past.”

“But you were able to accept you did those things. That it was you who screwed up, and resolved to make yourself better... I... I don’t exactly have that luxury.” After all, Freddrick saw Forenzik as a completely separate entity, a parasite that would have occasionally overtook his consciousness. This gave him the impression of taking all the blame for another’s actions.

As expected, Flannery found this to be a tricky question to answer. Technically, Freddrick was right to be so guilty; after all, he was the one directing that show, schizophrenia or not. At the same time, though... he seemed to have genuinely turned his life around. A normal person making a normal living.

Contemplation went on like a game of tennis in her mind until she buried her face in her hands in an attempt to refresh. “I... I don’t know what to say,” finally responded the Fire-type trainer. “I really don’t. It would be equally easy to make claims that Forenzik was you and that Forenzik wasn’t you... is this something you think about often?”

“Often? Sometimes it feels like it’s the only thing I think about.” Freddrick again began to fiddle with his glass eye. “Especially when I’m out there alone on the farm... it’s probably not smart of me to dawn on the past so much, but the thoughts just keep returning. You know what I’m talking about, right? Sure, this is what I am now... but is it who I’m supposed to be?”

Flannery sat up once more, giving her uncle a vaguely concerned glance. “I hope you aren’t implying you were meant to kill people on video.” He probably wasn’t. Probably. She just wanted to make sure.

Even Freddrick didn’t seem to know what he was saying, as his reaction to Flannery was noticeably alarmed. “Wait, is that what it sounded like? No. No! I didn’t mean that at all!”

“Hey, relax... anyway... I get what you’re saying.” As the two looked each other in the eyes (well, in the eye, in Freddrick’s case), they could each sense a feeling of... understanding in the other. “Like I said... I’m not proud of some of my actions, either. I-I mean, whenever I’ve gotten upset, I’ve practically resorted to...” Flannery paused once more, this time with an audible gulp as she struggled to keep herself completely collected. “I’ve used my friends as punching bags to unleash my anger on... and there’s nothing I can do to convince myself I didn’t.” She took another sip of the cola in her hands, which at first seemed to soothe her a bit. However, her eyes began to water almost instantly after, dashing that idea as quickly as it arrived.

Freddrick rested a hand on her knee to comfort her; after all, Flannery was pretty much the only family he had left. He had to look out for her. “You could easily apologize,” he suggested. “I’m sure they’ll forgive you, right? They are your friends, after all.”

Unfortunately, it appeared that this did next to nothing to cheer his niece up. She didn’t even give him a proper response; only a small sigh before turning back towards the TV. “Flannery... they’ve accepted your apologies before, even immediately after you’ve lashed out at them... am I not correct? Honestly, there isn’t that much of a reason to apologize again... but listen. If you really want to, do it. I’m sure they’ll be happy to hear it anyway.”

“...yeah, you’re right. Maybe... maybe I doubt myself too much.” Flannery made it known she had finished her drink by crushing the can in her hand.

As she walked back to the kitchen to dispose of it, Freddrick continued, “You came here with... Winona, right? She’s the one that... uh... she trains Flying-types, right?” The hesitation made it rather clear that he was trying to not mention Winona’s interactions with Forenzik.

“Yeah... what about her?”

“Apologize to her first, alright? Just to reinforce things.” Freddrick stood as well, again showing just how tall he was - even with Flannery’s hairstyle taken into consideration, he towered above her. It was still a bit hard to believe that this man - the same person who had been hunting her and her friends down not even two months ago - had turned out to be her uncle, and a rather... caring one, at that. Maybe it was the isolation, being alone for so long before discovering a long-lost relative, someone he could talk to.

After a quick deep breath, Flannery smiled warmly while extending her hand. “Sure thing... thanks, Freddrick.” Without a word, he gladly accepted the handshake. “Oh, and one last thing before I go... do you have any idea what happened to my dad?”

Casually grabbing a can of beer from the fridge, Freddrick responded, “Johnny? Dead. He was killed by police a few years back.”

While the answer was pretty much exactly what Flannery expected, it was still something of a disappointment. “Alright... I kinda wish he was still alive so I could have closure, but... whatever. Judging by what you’ve told me about him, he was worse than Forenzik.” As she bent down to re-tie her loosening shoelaces, she decided to come up with something else so her visit didn’t end on a sour note. “Hey, I’m... really happy for you that you were able to turn your life around. Looks like you’re doing pretty great.”

“Heh... thanks, Flannery. It’s certainly a step up from what used to go on around here, is it not...? Regardless, I’m really happy you came to visit. I’ll see you soon, alright?”

The Fire-type trainer nodded in confirmation before heading for the door. “Of course. Nice seeing you too, Freddrick!” And with that, she exited the house and entered her rented car once more. As she pulled away from the Gorgote Farm, she couldn’t help but crack a smile at the healthy crops and much-refurbished warehouse. People really can change, huh?

JUNE 11TH, 2015, 3:14 PM
HAMPTON INN, LEWISTON, MAINE​

While she had been expecting it for a while, the knock on the hotel room’s door still caused Winona to jump a bit. She shook it off as she jogged towards the door, opening it wide to reveal Flannery. “Hey, welcome back!” she cheerfully greeted. “So, how did things go?”

“Pretty well, actually.” Giving her friend a quick hug, Flannery welcomed herself into the room and instantaneously crashed onto the bed, beginning to untie her sneakers not long after. “Freddrick seems to be doing pretty well for himself. He’s farming, for one thing... he looks a lot cleaner, power’s finally getting directed out there...” As she explained, the Fire-type trainer was able to feel a smile slowly forming across her face.

Winona noticed this, giving her a small smirk in return as she joined her on the bed. Pulling her bag closer and beginning to fumble through it, the flying ace responded, “That’s good to hear... I’ve gotta say, Flannery, I wasn’t feeling too good about this at first considering what happened. But it looks like the guy really meant it, hm?” Finally she came up with a standard Poke Ball as well as a Luxury Ball, as both released her Swablus, Sunrise and the shiny Sunset. The two cotton birds flew up to each of the flying ace’s shoulders immediately upon being let out, Sunset playfully nibbling her ear.

Flannery chuckled at the adorable sight while reaching for the TV remote. “Yeah, he did... I’m really proud of him. I actually wouldn’t say I’m above calling him my actual uncle... wonder what Connie and Florence would think of it, though.”

“Your parents?” Winona nonchalantly signaled for Flannery to stop flipping channels when she came to highlights of the Blue Jackets’ Cup-winning game, grinning wider upon seeing a beautiful glove save by Sergei Bobrovsky. “I think they’d understand... biologically, he is your uncle, after all - ow!” Abruptly grabbing Sunset in both hands while pressing her shoulder up to her ear, she scolded the shiny Swablu in a somewhat calmer tone than expected. “Sunset, you bit too hard. Don’t do that, it can really hurt, okay?” Sunset chirped somewhat sadly in response, obviously remorseful.

Nodding, Flannery pulled a package of Starburst out of her bag and began unwrapping it. “I guess you’re right... though it’d be kinda awkward. I mean, they’ve never met, and considering what Forenzik did... that’s another thing we talked about...” Her voice trailed off as she finished, though she did hand Winona the orange-flavored candies (they were her least favorite, anyway).

A bit curious, Winona raised an eyebrow in her direction. “You talked about Forenzik and... its... relation to Freddrick?”

“Uh-huh. Mainly about how Freddrick feels responsible for what Forenzik did now that he’s distanced himself. He wants to move on and forget about it, but the sheer magnitude... you get it, don’t you?”

“Of course I do, Flannery. It’s complicated, sure, but I get the gist of what you’re saying.” Sunrise chirped in agreement, hopping to the top of Winona’s head and folding up her wings.

Unable to hold back a giggle at the sight of her literally Swablu-covered friend, Flannery continued on nonetheless. “Right, anyways... we tied this back into how I feel about some of the things I’ve done.” Winona’s smile turned to an expression teetering between neutral and sorry for the Fire-type trainer almost on a dime. “Things like... like how I take my anger out on you, Jimmy, Wallace... and I can’t blame that on someone else, like Freddrick says he does. That was all me, Winnie, and it just... it makes me feel horrible.” Sighing, she unwrapped a cherry-flavored Starburst and popped it into her mouth, chewing noticeably slowly.

“I’m aware... we’ve only discussed it about two million times.” Normally Flannery would appreciate the sarcasm, but it appeared she wasn’t in the mood for it at the time. Regardless, Winona motioned for Sunset to approach her. “Go on, cheer her up,” encouraged the flying ace. The golden-feathered bird hopped towards Flannery, eventually poking at her hand with his beak softly.

To Sunset’s credit, Flannery picked said hand up and affectionately scratched his head. However, her response wasn’t nearly as joyful. “Winnie... I just...”

The flying ace crawled a bit closer, softly stroking one of the strands of Flannery’s hair to comfort her as she visibly choked up. “What? Flannery, it’s fine, you can talk to me...”

Without warning, the Fire-type trainer coiled her arms around Winona’s waist and pulled her right beside her, startling Sunrise enough to get her to flutter off Winona’s head. Holding back tears, she simply let everything go in one shot. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry that... that I scream at you guys, push you around so much... a-and I still have the damn gall bladder to call you my best friends. Especially you, Winnie... ever since we first met, you’ve done nothing but help me be a better trainer, a better person... and... all I’ve done to repay you - all of you - has been... just...” While admittedly impressed with herself she had come so far, Flannery found that she had reached the point where she couldn’t hold everything in anymore. As the metaphorical levee broke, her head dropped onto Winona’s shoulder as she began softly sobbing.

“F-Flannery... it’s alright, everything’s alright...” Out of all the things Winona hated to see, Flannery crying was definitely high on the list. Deciding to apply what she had learned from caring for Sunset, who had backed away upon sensing he wasn’t needed at the moment, Winona almost subconsciously rocked slowly back and forth to calm her friend down. As she did, she eventually found herself softly humming... similar to Altaria, in fact.

Passing seconds turned to minutes, as Flannery slowly but surely began to cut back her crying. She pulled herself up, looking Winona in the eyes once more; she found her friend’s gaze to be much more reassuring now, like she truly cared. “...Flannery, I accept your apology,” she lead off, instantly removing a huge weight on the Fire-type trainer’s chest. “I’m aware that you’re unable to control yourself at times, and... you can lash out. I know that... everyone does. Myself, Wallace, Jimmy, Sabrina, Roxie... we know that, most of the time, you don’t mean it. Trust me when I say that I hold nothing against you, alright? You’re... you’re my best friend, Flannery, nothing will change that.”

Finally, Flannery reached a hand up to dry her eyes. “...You mean that, right?” Winona couldn’t deny the skepticism in her voice was a bit disheartening.

“Of course I do.”

“...Thank you, Winnie.” With that, Flannery quickly planted a kiss on her friend’s cheek before embracing her once more, this time with a sense of gratefulness... grateful to have Winona as her friend, as someone who’d stick by her. And there was no doubt Jimmy, Wallace, and the others felt the same way.

Once the two finally broke apart, Winona picked up the two balls lying on the bed and held them up to Sunrise and Sunset. “I think it’s time to go back inside for now, you two.” While Sunrise did release a playfully protestful tweet, both cotton birds pecked the balls’ front buttons, being retracted inside. “Anyway... just know that myself and everybody else... we want to support you, okay, Flannery?”

“Alright... again, thanks, Winnie... anyway, again, I’m really proud of Freddrick.” As Flannery leaned back against a propped-up pillow, she shut her eyes and smiled blissfully. “He... how do I put this? He finally seems... happy.”

Winona rested her hand atop the Fire-type trainer’s, sharing her positive expression. “Wonderful... it’s a definite step up from what Forenzik did, that’s for sure. It goes to show that, if someone really puts their mind to it, they can turn their lives around and change for the better...” The two nodded towards each other as their fingers intertwined, just as the Reds game Winona had been waiting on started up on the TV. Meanwhile, both mentally made a note to remember their conversation to better themselves from then on - especially Flannery.