route_1065 | It's a bird! It's a plane! It's a... flying shark

Don't ask Scar what the hell he was doing outside.

When everybody was talking about this hurricane, he had thought it would simply be heavy rain. Perhaps a little wind. Scar had never experienced a coastal storm, before. His natural brashness and complete ignorance were nearly the death of him.

Again.

But seeing the danger of the storm with his own eyes wasn't enough to drag him inside. Quite the opposite, really. The network was shaky and he couldn't get a hold of anyone. What if Lust hadn't made it to the next town, yet? Scar, in top idiotic form as always, wasn't thinking rationally at all. The shock of the hurricane only made his impulsive instincts worse.

With the Stone gone from his body, he wasn't as resilient as he used to be. In the Great Scar Tradition, he just had to get hurt in some completely absurd way. In this case, it was taking a flying Sharpedo right to the side of his head. So here comes his Growlithe, Daniel, dragging him back to the Pokémon Center. Scar was unconscious, soaked, and covered in mud. His head was bleeding. He was probably sporting quite a few new bruises. He'd been worse.

It was better than his usual sewer escape routine, at least.

Sure, there was more rain than usual. Sure, there were flying sharks. But there had been bad storms in Johto before, and Greed had looked like he was having fun out here. And Envy'd be damned if Greed could do something that he couldn't. So out into the storm he went, and was promptly near-blinded by rain and almost blown off his feet by the wind.

Maybe this hadn't been the best idea ever.

But bright orange Growlithe fur is easy to see no matter the weather, and that Growlithe looks like it's...dragging somebody? Hm, interesting. Envy decides to go check it out, holding his hair back with one hand to stop it whipping around his face and completely blinding him. The man's covered in so much mud that Envy doesn't recognize him until he gets closer.

Oh.

It's Scar, the giant wall of fearsome serial killer. Who has apparently had his ass kicked by the weather.

Maybe being out here is really not a good idea.

Scar is starting to stir when Envy finds them. His head is throbbing, his eyes won't focus, especially with the rain pounding on his face.

But that is definitely a homunculus looming over him.

The Ishbalan groans, but it's more than likely drowned out in the gloom. He tries to get up, but his balance quickly betrays him and... oh, that doesn't look like it was a comfortable landing in the mud. He doesn't want to be seen like this. Not by Envy.

But he kind of pathetically can't get up right now.

Envy just watches as Scar tries and fails to get up, making no move to help him. He really can't say he's concerned about him or what happened to put him in this state, and honestly he could just laugh at him and go back inside...it's tempting. And, no lie, it feels good to be in a position where he's the more powerful one again.

"Wow, what happened to you?"

He tosses out the sarcastic comment as he leans over Scar, one hand on his hip and the other still holding his hair back. He could just leave him to be dragged in by his Pokemon. It would be easy.

But then there was what Lust had told him. Scar was...well, her person in a way, even if Envy doesn't like it. And what if he left Scar out here and she found out?

From outside this internal debate, it just looks like Envy's staring down at Scar looking very considering about something, and that's not worrying at all, is it?

Scar shoots Envy the most hateful glare he can manage in this sorry state. No. You're not getting an answer, Envy. He tries again to get up, but as soon as his head is upright, he's back on the ground with a splat.

Miriam catches up with the group right about now, and she's clearly in a panic. Too bad a tiny Skitty can't really be of much help, right now. She does try, though, bless her, pushing at Scar's head with her own and trying to get him up.

Come on, Envy, doesn't that instill a little sympathy in your blackened soul?

No.

...okay maybe a little, tiny bit. But he rolls his eyes at Scar trying to get up again. "It's not going to work any better the second time."

And he seems to have decided something, because he sighs a heavy, begrudging sigh and pulls a Pokeball off his belt. In a flash of red light, out comes a large Swampert. Lucky he had his water types already with him for the weather. Kip is one of his calmest team members, and so he just sits there and enjoys the rain. And looks curiously at the human lying in the mud.

"But guess what, it's your lucky day. Kip, you can carry this guy can't you?"

Kip looks up at Envy and nods slowly, then moves to lie down next to Scar to make this easier.

Scar is just going to ignore you, Envy.

And he's almost. Almost too proud to drag himself onto Kip's back. But he eventually does, after a moment. At least the Pokémon doesn't seem to bear him any ill will.

Unlike its trainer.

Once Scar is on, Kip rises to his feet...just as another strong gust of wind slams into all of them. Envy staggers, reaching out and grabbing the back of Scar's shirt to keep him on Kip's back.

If he's going through with this helpful business, he doesn't want to have to keep putting Scar back on, and he's not sure that Scar can hold on right now. So he's just going to keep his hand there while they move towards the Center, and if Scar doesn't like it he's going to have to deal.

Scar barely has the wits about him to hold on. He does make a feellble grip at Kip, but it does little.

Yeah, Envy, he's going to be needing that steadying hand.

If he were completely conscious right now, this would be humiliating. Even in Scar's half-aware state, he still feels some sense of wrong about this. About being helped by this homunculus. But at least he's still on the Swampert.

At least Envy's stopped with the sarcastic comments. Scar's not in any state to react, and he's too busy balancing Scar and watching out for sharks.

It's slow going, but finally the drowned rat brigade reaches the doors and gets inside where it's blessedly dry and not windy. Envy looks around for a nurse to offload Scar onto, but there's too many people milling around, other injuries, shouting...no nurses near the door. Of course.

But there is a free bench, and that's where he leads Kip. With the Swampert's help, he starts trying to pull Scar onto it, muttering under his breath about Scar being way too damn tall and heavy.

It's not his fault Envy's so damn short and skinny.

Scar settles onto the bench in the commotion with a pained grunt. He's starting to come more to his senses, and that panic from earlier is starting to rear its ugly head, again. Miriam jumps onto the bench, sitting next to her trainer and mewing nervously.

He regards the homunculus with a suspicious glare. Why is he helping? So he can rub it in his face, later? More than likely. Scar's been in rough shape like this before, though. Actually, he's pulled through significantly worse. He just needs to recover enough to be able to attend to himself, that's all.

He's doesn't want to ask this rat anything, but there are a scant few things that will win over his pride. This is one of them.

"Did you hear from Lust?"

When Miriam jumps up, Kip raises one big blue flipper-hand and pats her gently on...well it's meant to be the head, but really it's more like her entire body. Don't worry little one, everything is going to be just fine. Envy is glaring right back at Scar, but he does give Kip an absent 'good job' scritch behind one head fin without really thinking about it.

He might have gone for rubbing it in Scar's face, because goodness knows he can't just do something helpful or good without making it out like he didn't at all. But then Lust comes up, and something like nervousness passes over Envy's face before his frown deepens. He crosses his arms, not looking at Scar.

"No. I was going to call her. But I talked to Greed, he would have said something if she was hurt."

He's definitely more trying to reassure himself than he's trying to reassure Scar.

"Call her," he says with a glare at Envy. He doesn't trust Greed to mention anything. Maybe he's a good natured man, but there's barely two thoughts in his head at a given moment. And Scar's always been the type to need to hear things for himself.

He would simply call her himself, but he can barely string together a sentence right now.

Miriam, soaked to the bone, is comforted by Kip's gentle pat. It's appreciated. Her trainer gets up to such stupid things...

"Don't tell me what to do."

It's a good thing he really wants to get in contact with Lust, or he might have refused just to be contrary. As it is, after shooting Scar another glare he's already digging through his bag and hoping that his 'Gear wasn't ruined by that jaunt outside. But the bags here are usually pretty waterproof, it should be fine...

Without looking up, he adds, "Hey, Kip. Go track down one of the nurses, will you?"

Kip nods, patting Miriam one more time. See? Trainers are silly all the time, but that's what Pokemon and nurses are for. He starts pushing his way through the crowd, not intending to come back until he does find a nurse.

"Do it."

Scar only continues to glare at Envy in spite of the throbbing in his head and the nausea. Damn this miserable state that he can't just do it himself. At least he hasn't thrown up... yet.

A nurse approaches and begins to look him over, urging him not to move around too much as she prepares an ice pack. Miriam curls up nervously on Scar's lap.

"What do you think I'm looking in my bag for?"

Envy sits on the bench once he finds the device, which doesn't seem to be waterlogged or ruined. He pulls one leg up onto the seat to rest an arm on, turning so that Scar won't be in the picture once he makes the call.

So, while the nurse is taking care of him, Scar will get to listen to this conversation.

Scar is quietly thankful that Envy isn't including him in this. He'll still call her later, but he's fine with listening in, for now. She's clearly inside. That's all he needed to know.

The nurse is finished patching him up quickly enough. There isn't much to be done, other than ice, rest, and pain killers, so this is where Scar's going to be staying for a while.

The only real reaction Scar gives to the conversation is a quiet rumble of "idiot" when he overhears that Greed is outside. This is why he hadn't wanted her running off with him. He has no concept of common sense.

Envy is perfectly happy to ignore Scar for the entire conversation, only looking back over at him once it's done and the 'Gear is put away. The easy, animated manner he got while he was talking to Lust starts fading quickly when it's back to just him and Scar, although the conversation clearly helped his general mood.

"I told you she would be fine. Happy now?"

Scar settles against the back of the bench and continues to glare at Envy. He's noticeably less uptight now than before, though he still isn't thrilled to be under the homunculus' care. A nurse retuns, then, with an ice pack.

"Greed is outside?" He's not talking about Lust with Envy. Not that he talks about her with anybody, but especially not Envy. He'd rather piss and moan about Greed, thank you very much.

Edited 2014-08-06 04:12 (UTC)

Envy just snorts. He and Greed might be sort of maybe friends again, but that doesn't mean he can't complain about him a little bit. Nevermind that Envy went outside because Greed enabled him.

"Of course he is. He's always wherever it's the least safe to be."

Now that there's no more emergencies, Kip sits down in front of Envy and drops his head into his lap, rumbling for attention. Envy makes an almost dismayed face down at him because now there's going to be amphibian slime everywhere...but then sighs heavily and starts scratching his headfins.

He's not in a big hurry to bring it back up that he did something helpful.

"What an idiot," Scar grumbles under his breath as he presses the ice pack against the side of his head. He adjusts on the bench to sit back more properly.

At least Lust was all right. So Envy said. Scar likes to tell himself that he isn't overly preoccupied with her safety, but that's a lie.

It doesn't mean he can't keep telling it to others, though.

Kirikou insisted on it (with nagging and threats) that Maka should take a break once in a while and not throw herself into everything. So she sits near the door of the Pokemon Center and waits, just waits to catch her breath after running around delivering warm drinks to everyone sheltering in the building.

In the grayness of the outside, she spies a flash of orange, then she sees the Growlithe dragging a body and--without thinking--stands and runs outside to investigate.

It's much worse than she thought, this man is in bad shape and it's all the little Growlithe can do to tug his trainer along. "Here," she says to Daniel, moving to heft Scar's arm around her shoulder. "I'll help the rest of the way."

Or try to, this man is tall and much bulkier than she is. But heck, Maka's been through worse for a girl of sixteen years old, what's carrying some extra weight to the door going to harm?

"Sir? Sir? Can you hear me? Are you all right?" He might not be able to, but if she can find some semblance of consciousness in there, Maka can be sure that he at least doesn't have a concussion.

Is that... a young woman? God, what the hell is she doing out here?

"You should be inside..." He's regaining consciousness, vaguely taking note of the girl's surprising strength as he tries to lift himself on the support of Maka and his Pokémon.

He can tell that he's not all right, though he's survived significantly worse. The first thing in his mind, though, is that she shouldn't be out here in the wind and rain and... sharks. Not if she doesn't have to be.

"I am going inside," she says with a good-natured smile. "I just happen to be taking you and your Growlithe with me at the same time!"

It's not as though Scar is effortless for her to support, but it's doable, Maka doesn't mind a challenge. With the lack of activity encouraged from humans in Johto, she welcomes it with open arms.

Or rather, arms that are hauling extra weight and treating it like going up to a heavier weight for the first time at the gym.

"I couldn't just let your Growlithe go on its own."

--Whoa, that Sharpedo flew a little too close overhead.

Scar isn't in any state to argue that she should leave him and take his Growlithe. He only goes along with it. Even talking is expending too much energy right now. And God, it hurts. He can feel his head throbbing, and his balance is constantly veering off to the side.

Definitely concussed. It's a feeling he's well familiar with.

When the Sharpedo sails overhead, he doesn't even have the energy to pull her safely to the ground like he would have under normal circumstances. It's a relief when it passes them harmlessly. Scar does, however, try to pick up the pace as they near the Center.

"I hope they'll be all right..." Maka is half-saying this to herself and, yes, she is indeed saying it about the Sharpedo. "Back in my world, sharks die if they stop moving."

She's just trying to keep him focused so he won't slip off into unconsciousness, that's about the last thing one should do when they have a concussion. Thankfully, the doors slide open and Maka hauls Scar to the nearest cot laid out for guests staying overnight. The girl takes a moment to check over his condition, then calls over Nurse Joy to help attend to the man and the Growlithe and brings a washcloth over to start wiping off the mud and blood from his head. Nurse Joy should be bringing over towels and blankets for the two, but for now Maka concentrates on Scar.

"Sir?" she asks again. "Are you still with us?"

Scar makes a small growl to let Maka know that he is, at the very least, still conscious. He knows he should remain awake with a head injury like this, tempting as it is to just give into the pounding and close his eyes.

This is a far better treatment than he's used to. Clean towels for the water, dirt, and blood. Daniel comes to stand at his bedside, resting his chin on the sheets and whimpering quietly at his trainer.

"Are you all right?" Scar finally asks, his foggy eyes turning to the young woman who had helped him get inside. Priorities.

A sigh comes from Maka...he's really asking about how she's doing? Honestly, the lack of self awareness people have is frightening sometimes.

(As if she has room to talk, running out in a storm to help somebody.)

"I'm fine, sir, just a little wet." So she'll take one of the towels and drape it around Daniel, then wrap one around herself. "I know we just came in from a huge storm, but can I get you anything to drink? Maybe something to eat?"

There's nothing out of the ordinary about the man to her, although she did pause momentarily when his scar was revealed from underneath the messiness. It's not as though she hasn't seen scars before, she's got some of her own--crisscrossed on her legs and torso, generally out of sight--but the size of it surprised her. Something awful must have happened in this man's past. Something that she won't ask about, her mom always said that every scar is a story and can only be shared in confidence. Confidence meaning not somebody one just met, asking or lingering on it would be incredibly rude.

"...What are your names?" Meaning Scar and the Growlithe. "My name is Maka." Obviously chitchat with a concussion patient is something to prioritize.

"Scar." No, it's not his name. He doesn't even consider it to be. But it's what people have called him for years, and he has nothing else to go by. It's another moment before he realizes that she also asked about Daniel.

"The Growlithe is Daniel." Maka. He tries to commit it to memory, but there are no guarantees right now. Names are very important to Scar, though, so he does his best to remember it.

"I do not need anything further. You have done enough." He doesn't want to waste supplies for others who need and deserve them more.

"I see...all right, Mr. Scar."

"Mr. Scar" sounds a little like a comic book character, not that she read any of those, of course not. That was more Black*Star's style, but thinking of her friends and things back at home is the quickest way to bum Maka out, so she stops and gently applies an icepack to his head in the meanwhile.

"I can go see if I can find something for Daniel to eat, though." If he's hungry, anyway. Or she can introduce him to her Arcanine so they can play, anything so he doesn't look so forlorn like that.

Scar automatically reaches for the ice pack when Maka presses it against his head. She doesn't need to do that for him, he can hold it himself. Grumblegrump. At the mention of food for Daniel, though...

"Yes, please find him something." That, he will accept. Daniel is his responsibility, and he needs to be attended to.

What possessed Raikov to go outside, no one knows. Maybe he forgot something out there. Maybe a certain fuzzball had gotten blown off his shoulder and the poor man had to go rushing after her in the terrible storm.

It was a miracle he hadn't died considering a Sharpedo slammed right into him just as he managed to return Katya into her pokeball. It knocked him flat on his back and he blacked out for a second or two. When he snapped back to his senses, he looked up to see the rather large shark pokemon lying on top of him. The weight was... well, he had experienced heavier. It almost made him nostalgic.

But now wasn't the time to lie around and think of days past. After a bit of struggling and possibly some punching when it set in that a freaking shark was on top of him, Raikov quickly reconciled with the thing and decided to catch it for the time being. He could let it go once the storm was over.

Now that the shark was taken care of and Katya was safe, he had to get himself back to the safety of shelter. While he hadn't broken anything, there was definitely some bruising going on around his ribs. He slowly rose to his feet and hunched over, holding his sides and grimacing in pain as he made his way to the Pokemon Center. Once inside, Raikov felt the toll the storm had taken on his body and prompt collapsed into a nearby chair, completely exhausted.

Why, oh why, did he care for that electric puffball so much?

Edited 2014-07-31 00:11 (UTC)

There was grumbling in the basement of the Pokemon Center.

Shit, after a few hours with a crew stacking sandbags around to keep the roads from washing out and to try to keep water away from at least one building in this town, Blake was soaked to the damn bone. He was stripping off his raincoat and sitting down on a stool to wring out his socks.

The bare bulbs overhead gave a strong, steady light. The chug of the generator was textured with a few crackles and the ting of teeth tapping metal.

"Tired, Steve?" he said. "The squirrel can take over."

Steve made a firm snub around her mouthful of metal. Blake didn't speak dog, but he caught the gist that she had a few more Thunder Fangs in her.

From upstairs, somebody yelled that there were sharks flying around in midair outside.

"No there aren't," Blake said to nobody in particular.

"Yes, there are." Because Scar could be a contrary asshole, too.

He was shuffling downstairs, the side of his head patched up after his... collision. He was really down here to check on the generator keeping this place running, but he couldn't resist the side comment.

Oh, was it a contrary asshole-off he wanted? Blake just grunted. "There's no such thing as flying sharks."

A few sparks went up as Steve kept gnawing on the generator. Blake tossed a glance at the guy coming down the stairs. He was a pretty distinctive-looking fellow. Kind of Middle Eastern-looking, huge white scar all over his face. How the hell would you even get something like that without getting dead in the process?

It looked like he had something more recent, too. Bandage stuck to his head.

Blake squeezed water out of his sleeve. "The hell happened to you?"

"A flying shark," he said pointedly as he approached the generator to take a peek at the Snubble currently sinking its teeth in. Hm. That was certainly useful. It was a shame he didn't have any electric types to contribute.

Not that he particularly wanted to be stuck in the basement supervising with someone who, gasp, didn't believe in flying sharks.

Blake looked at him dubiously. "A shark flew by and bit you in the head."

He thought about that for a wile, then sighed deeply.

"Fuck, I've been here too long. That sounds plausible."

"The wind is picking them up. I was taken by surprise, and I got knocked into something by one of them." What it was, exactly... He couldn't remember. But those Sharpedo were surprisingly heavy.

A Skitty, who was following at Scar's ankles, bounced over to take a look at what Steve was up to.

"Wind's supposed to pick up plastic bags, not fish with big teeth."

Nothing around here tended to do what it was supposed to.

He grabbed a clean rag from a low shelf and rubbed at his wet hair. At least, he hoped it was clean.

Steve was focused on her job, keeping a steady flow of power into the generator. It took some concentration, since it was not made with the intention of being gnawed on.

Blake threw another glance at the guy, and says, with all the social graces of somebody who's spent the last few hours slinging sandbags around in the rain, "I'd ask if a flying shark tried to bite your face off, too, but it looks like somebody got there first."

"That's what I thought as well." He's about to urge Miriam back upstairs, to stop bothering them.

But then the stranger speaks up again.

It's always the eyes, that they mention. Those scary, bloody eyes. Offhanded comments. How dare he get angry? But it's rarely the scar. No one ever has the gall to mention it. Perhaps stare, but that's unintentional. They always stare. But they never say anything.

"And you would be wise not to." Maybe there isn't much threat in the words, but there certainly is in how they're spoken, or in Scar's stance, or in the way he's glaring daggers into Blake. That there is the look of a triggered serial killer.

"Or to even open your mouth again."

Blake hadn't gotten a good look at his eyes yet. Hell, he's almost used to red eyes. Ishimaru had those, too. He couldn't figure it out and he probably didn't want to.

"Settle down, buddy." Blake waved his hand without looking up. His gut told him this guy was nothing to worry about. One of those guys who got by on size and a scary face and never actually hurt a fly.

"You don't wanna chat about it, fine." He tossed the wet towel back on the shelf. "I got uglier."

That was what had made him curious, really. You didn't get a lot of pretty symmetrical scars.

"Do not tell me to settle down." Though Scar shows no intention of becoming any more riled up, he's not going to let himself be calmed down by this guy, either. There isn't anything further he wishes to say, at least not unprovoked. Scar turns to return upstairs. To remove himself before he loses his temper.

"Think again, pal." Ralph heard the exchange as he passed by.

"Shrew! Shrew!" Aaaaa no no no Bossy hated the water! The ground-type all but galloped into the center. With her lumbering owner and his gaggle of useless friends in the lobby, she scurried for any place she thought could possibly be safer than the puddle-scattered entry way. Oh, look, a door!

She instantly metroid-rolled down the stairs.

Blake remembered that voice. A punch to the head tended to do wonders for recall.

Then a yellow round thing came barreling down the stairs. Steve yelped in surprise around her mouthful of generator.

"Hey!" Blake yelled up the stairs from where he sat on the basement floor. "Don't go throwing armadillos down here!"

"What?" Ralph's voice came from above. He leaned around the corner and looked down into the gloom where his Sandshrew was unfurling and trying to shake her senses right-side-up. "Bossy! Quit runnin' off like that. You're down half and need to see the nurses!"

"Shrew!" Bossy shot back as she dusted herself off. Then she spotted the last 'mon she expected to meet face to face. Steve! Ignoring her trainer completely the Sandshrew bounded over chattering excitedly.

Ralph just groaned and started to squeeze his way down the stairs. Fine, he'd just grab her himself.

Steve looked up and Snub!bed in excitement. It was her friend from the network! She jumped away to go say hello.

When Blake looked up, there was a guy about the size and shape of a boulder lumbering down the stairs. "She's fine," he said, pouring water out of his boot.

The lights dimmed, and Steve started back guiltily. She'd forgotten her job for a second there.

Blake waved her off. "You're on break. The flying rat can take over."

He pulled a ball from his waist. "You're up, Tom Landry."

Soon there was an Emolga electrocuting the generator to life. Blake threw a glance at ~~Donkey Kong~~ the big old bastard.

"If you're here to punch me in the head, a couple thousand gallons of water beat you to it."

Ralph let out a chuckle and lifted both of his FACE DESTROYING HANDS in a 'no weapons' gesture.

"Not today, chief. Nobody's put a hit out on you far as I know. Bossy, c'mere!"

"Shrew!" The Sandshrew shot something quite rude back at her trainer before throwing her stubby arms around Steve's neck. Somebody SANE! Somebody who genuinely liked her! If someone had told her after that prom that she'd be so eager to see a pink blob dog with a built-in dress again she would have called them crazy. She gestured to Steve's chrome chompers curiously.

"Bah," Ralph waved an arm. Fine, ignore him. See if he cares. He looked around the dank basement and can't help but freeze up at every little electrical pop that he hears. "Been a while..."

That wasn't that comforting, when they're hands that could bend fucking sewer pipes, but it was a good faith kind of gesture.

"Good. I got enough of a pain in my ass from the weather."

Steve, for her part, was returning the hug with enthusiasm. It was a rare treat to see a friend in person. She explained how she was Thunder Fang'ing the generator into working. She was helping! Also she'd thrown a bunch of sandbags around.

"Yep," Blake agreed. "Funny thing, how we never go get a beer or anything. You're stuck here too, huh?"

He looked up at Ralph and saw the odd, stiff way he was standing. "Relax. The rat won't blow up anything. It's just keeping the lights on."

"...Good." As somebody who used to live in an electronic device that plugged into the wall, Ralph wasn't a huge fan of storms. His attention lingered on the living sparkplug before looking up at the ceiling. "And yeah, me an' the kid were hikin' and before we could get too far outta town the sky opened up."

It's a bird! It's a plane! It's a... flying shark

mentions of blood/head injury in here

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Open to all!

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