route_1065 | I HOLD TRUTH LIKE A TORCH-- SHADOWS FLICKER BEFORE ME.

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Current Location: Goldenrod City
Current Music: You know the stuff.

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I HOLD TRUTH LIKE A TORCH-- SHADOWS FLICKER BEFORE ME.

Who: Heather Mason and ANYONE IN GOLDENROD CITY. Anyone.
Where: Goldenrod City
When: In the thick of the Missingo glitching.
Summary: "And this glitch? Basically, the end of the world."
So, weird shit happens in Johto. That much has come to be expected. But everything else at least had an explanation Heather could buy. The Unown and their crystal flood? Crazy haunted stuff from those old Ruins. The nightmarish fog? Turns out ghosts are jerks no matter what world you're in.
This? According to Otacon, it's just the end of the line.
Well, Heather's stopped the end of the world once. Might not be her place to do so again if that's what this is, but at the very least, she doesn't want to go down without a fight. So she's taking to the pixelated streets both in search of others who didn't wind up pixelated monstrosities, AND in search of the missing numbers that caused this.
And guess what? She found a steel pipe.
Rating: PG-13 for language and pixelated violence.
Log:

There was one bonus to this scenario that Heather could think of. It wasn't much, but it was something, and in times like these, somethings were important to keep in mind. They stopped you from going into that disaster mindset where you just curled up in a fetal position somewhere and waited for something to eat you.

That something was that at least this time, she knew where she was, and knew she hadn't gone crazy.

That? Was a comfort.

Unlike on the wet pavement of Silent Hill, where she'd been mentally transported just over a month ago when the delusion-inducing fog had crept across eastern Johto, here Heather's boots made almost no sound against the new floor of the city, which was smooth as tile and covered in bright little squares (pixels?) of light that blinked as they moved soundlessly. It was similar enough to the creeping clotlike things that coated the walls of the Otherworld that it sent little prickles of discomfort through Heather's skin when she thought about it too much, but different enough that it didn't sent that heavy, cloying sense of pure dread that the delusions from a month ago had.

The warped cityscape with its permanent redorangepurple sky seemed almost empty, though that probably had to do with the fact that its usual clamoring crowds and busy population had been turned into still, silent pillars of pixel. Heather... was just trying not to look at them as she walked briskly through the desolate streets. Those gave her the wig way more than the pixels that skittered across the ground like digital mice. In all honesty, the place might have been disturbing but oddly peaceful, if it weren't for the hideously warped music and the far-off screams of the beasts she now knew were drifting around the city. Ghosts and skeletons. Boy, this place really knew how to show its citizens a good weekend.

She'd gone in to work today expecting yet another long, drudging shift of ringing up Pokeballs and pretending to be interested in helping women with way too much time on their hands choose which Pokemon plush to get for their collection. What had happened instead was pretty much the eldritch, computerized equivalent of walking into a classroom, seeing something different and thinking you walked into the wrong room, ashamedly ducking out again while everyone stares at you, and then realizing you were actually in the RIGHT room halfway down the hallway.

The pixel people had kind of thrown her off.

An hour and a half later?

She'd been educated on the Missing Number and told a few unsettling things.

She felt like she should have been shocked by this information-- that this world might well be ending.

But it wasn't the first time she'd had the apocalypse sprung on her like a bad surprise party.

And, well, in rough times, they do say to do what you know.

And the last time this had happened? She'd gone into the heart of the storm.

Fought through the obstacles.

Found the source.

Killed it.

Her Pokemon were back in the hotel room-- no point in going back. This was her kind of situation now-- not the time to conform to this place's weird animal-fighting culture. She'd feel safer fighting for herself, anyway. No uncertainty. You made every move yourself and there was no doubt.

She'd found a chunk of pipe.

It was pixelated like everything else, to the point where when she touched it, she almost expected it to feel fuzzy, like a piece of moldy wood. But it felt like rusted metal to her palms and that was good enough for her. She'd just... avoid looking at it whenever she had to use it and pretend like it looked like the real thing.

Her chances? Probably weren't too good, but... hey. No point in just sitting around, right? She'd rather go down swingin' than just stand and watch the place go all low-res like a cheap jpg. image until it finally just went dark. Or whatever it was that was gonna happen.

It was probably disturbing just how easily she found herself slipping back into the same mindset she'd had the last time she was faced with the end of the world, but she'd just... consider the implications of that later.

If there was a later.

A loud cry rang out from one of the alleys. It was one of those things, all right. Those ratcheting, computerized noises that sounded sort of like a Pac Man game mixed with somebody talking into a fan. It wasn't the same kind of hair-raising noise she was used to that made her skin crawl, but it was unsettling enough for her to know good and well that she didn't like it.

"C'mon out, you creep..." she muttered under her breath, hefting her pixel-pipe and stepping towards the mouth of the alley. Briefly it occurred to her that every time shit like this happened, it usually involved her going into alleyways, but she put that out of her mind. The world had turned into a computer crash personified and she was looking to kick a little ass on account of it.

The mouth of the alley was lit in bars and speckles, which twinkled off into the darkness ahead like little fireflies as she stepped in.

.... And there it was.

Pixels fell from its body like dust as it turned its massive head towards her and regarded her with empty eyesockets, its legs and wings splayed out across the alley to keep it suspended between the two narrow walls. Speckles of color flickered all around its skeletal frame like a bad greenscreen effect.

Heather swallowed.

".... Well, uh. You don't look so tough."

A few white pixels trickled down over its lower jaw and hit the smooth ground with gentle plops. They kind of looked like bird poop to Heather but it was easy enough to tell what they were supposed to be.

She took a step back.

"Tell you what, my friend, if you make even one move to eat me, you are BONED."

Apparently Missingnos did not appreciate witty one-liners. It lunged.

Heather swung.

The not-pipe connected with the creature's thick lower jaw with an impact that was real enough-- she could feel it vibrate up her arm painfully-- but instead of the sharp CHING of metal on bone, there was nothing but a rather flat, 8-bit DONK noise.

"Oh, come ON..." Talk about anticlimactic...

She didn't have time to be disappointed, though, because the thing had come down to rest on the floor with a jingle and was now staring at her in a way that distinctly said, despite its empty eyesockets, that it was pissed off.

Suddenly the pipe didn't seem like such a great weapon in such an enclosed space like this anymore.

.... Nnnnkay, time for plan B.

"Hope you can run, bitch!"

~*~TIME FOR A BRISK JOG AROUND THE CITY~*~

_{[ooc: Others can encounter her being chased, encounter her actually FIGHTING one or more of these things, or-- pretty much anything. Feel free to help her out, distract her, yell at her for being reckless, fight her yourself (if that's how you roll), whatever. LET'S PLAY.]}

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"Leading it into a trap, eh?" That was said without any sarcasm or condescension at all, and he smiled at her. "I'll let you have the next one, if you want."

Then he noticed the pipe. "I'm not sure something that's gone the way the rest of the world has will work well against them though."

"Somethin' like that."

It had been a little more along the lines of that she was running until she could think of a better idea. Her head worked best when her feet were moving, after all.

"Well, I couldn't find much of anything else... Do you have any decent weapons on you?"

"Unfortunately, the ones I was making all went the way of everything else and they aren't much use; the balance is off. On the other hand, I still have myself." He grinned, but it wasn't a particularly cocky grin. He was just stating what was for him a simple fact of his existence. He'd been born and raised as a weapon.

"I see," Heather said, wearing a wry expression. That didn't do HER much good... as tough as she was, there was only so much a scrappy teenage girl could do against giant skeletons. Unfortunate... but true. She just wished she had her guns. "Well, I'll take my chances with this."

She lifted the pipe, trying not to look at how fuzzy around the edges it was.

"Better than nothing if weapons are all you're used to, but it doesn't hurt to learn to fight unarmed, especially when your weapons get taken." He frowned at the pipe; it didn't look sturdy at all. "I wish I still had Samehada."

He really, really missed his sword. The Octillery he'd accidentally named for it was a fine companion, but she wasn't his magnificent sword.

"I can fight unarmed," Heather said, standing up a little straighter. "... Just. You know. Not so much against giant dinosaur skeletons."

Fists couldn't actually do much against bone. Unless you were Liquid Snake anyway.

Kisame grinned and spoke with a hint of challenge in his voice, "I'm sure you know the basics. Let's see it."

He hadn't had a good spar in ages; it would be fun. He'd have to pull his punches, of course, but he was curious about her skills. She obviously was used to fighting, but was she self-taught or...?

Abuh?

At first Heather looked a little blank at the challenge. Then realization dawned on her face and she rose her brows, looking around, then back at Kisame in an unmistakable 'Right now?' gesture.

Assuming he didn't reply 'No lol I meant next week', she'd shrug and toss the pipe aside, swinging her arms lightly to limber up. He'd said he was a ninja... which probably meant that making the first move was totally a bad idea. But you know what, Heather had never claimed to have very good ideas.

Rocking backwards on her feet slightly first, she then launched into a spring, aiming a punch at Kisame's midsection.

Kisame grinned, making a 'come here' gesture in response to her questioning look, and settled into a basic, defensive stance. It wasn't often he fought without his weapons, and even then, given his opponents ninjutsu was more called for. But while he might be a little rusty in facing a sparring partner, he was far from unskilled. After all, taijutsu was the basis of weapons skills and he kept himself well trained, even here.

On the other hand, he was doing this in part to see her skills and the best way to judge her physical strength was just to take a punch. He timed his breathing and adjusted his stance to take it with the least discomfort. "Not bad; you've got potential."

Then he pushed off, spun and aimed a kick at her side. He was holding back quite a bit, but he also ascribed to the school of hard knocks. If it hit, it hit.

Heather's punch had a pretty good amount of force behind it for someone as small and stringy-looking as her. She had spunk, that much was obvious.

"Potential that's been realized, old man."

Was Kisame old? Hell if she knew! She just knew that particular nickname was pretty good at getting a rise out of people.

As he kicked out at her, she fell back to avoid it, almost dancing out of the way in an unorthodox but not entirely ungraceful movement. Heather hadn't ascribed to the school of hard knocks so much as been enrolled in it by force-- furthermore, Silent Hill was less like the school of hard knocks and more like the school of horrific mutilations and reality-bending torment. So she knew the value of being able to avoid taking hits wherever possible.

"Potential that won't reach its height without a few more years and a lot of training." Kisame just laughed at the old man comment, and slowly drawled on, "Kid, you're not bad, but you're self-taught. You've got more to learn."

He was very pleased with her style though. Training would make a good fighter into a beautifully deadly one, and she was good. But his "old man" status made him a formidable opponent. He'd had years of fighting experience, and struck out with another kick--a feint--followed by a sharp jab.

"Height's overrated, but I'm always learning!" Self-taught was right-- Heather had been molded into what she was by a hell of a lot of experience, but apart from whoever had taught her how to aim a gun and pull a trigger, nobody had ever really shown her how to fight. You picked it up by osmosis when you were the kind of person she was... and for good reason. Maybe her roots had always known what would come on a fateful summer night not long after she'd turned seventeen.

But the feint fooled her, and the jab caught her by surprise. She stumbled backwards, letting out a startled gasp but bringing her hands up defensively against any further blows that might try to come while she was caught off-balance.

"It's good to keep learning, no matter how good you think you are." Kisame was, if not nearly as much or as quickly as he used to--it wasn't often he came across new things to learn.

He didn't pursue immediately--this was a spar, not a serious fight-- but when he did he went right for her weakest point with a combination of punches. "Shore up your stance or you'll be knocked on your ass!"

He was favoring his recently broken hand and wondered if she'd notice and try to take advantage.

Although she was not unfamiliar with scraps with others in the slightest, it sort of went without saying that as a general rule, Heather was more used to fighting monsters than she was at fighting sentient opponents who knew what they were doing.

But that said, she still wasn't bad at it.

He drove her back at first, but you bet she noticed the imbalance of handiwork. Squaring one foot behind her for stability, she wrenched herself to the side to avoid a punch and tried to snag his wrist with one arm in an attempt to throw him off-balance.

"Shore this!"

If she had expected him to be surprised or upset, she would have to be disappointed. Kisame grinned and moved to counter the attack smoothly. He had to sacrifice the offensive to do it, but that was no problem as far as he was concerned. Sometimes defense really was the best offense.

"Very good! You picked up on my hand quicker than most would!"

Kisame stepped back to get a little more space and made another come here gesture, still full of energy and ready for more.

As much as she loved it when people got riled up over her impudence (it tended to make them a lot less focused, which was not only hilarious but also tended to give her the advantage), she never counted on it.

"What can I say, I got natural talent."

She paused for a second or two to catch her breath, then dove forward again. This time she feinted-- coming in for a fake punch before ducking away and to the side, aiming a kick at the back of one of his knees. A dirty tactic, but Heather had never, ever claimed to fight fair. She didn't really expect it to hit, anyway-- Kisame obviously knew what he was doing.

"More natural talent than some ninja. I've never met a self-taught fighter that had reached your level."

That was high praise from Kisame, but that didn't mean he was letting up on her in the least. The dirty tactic actually got a very pleased laugh out of him, but he was far quicker than a man his size should be and managed to catch her kick with his good hand. It wasn't the best hold--she could break free without inordinate difficulty--but it was enough to stall her offensive.

"Nice feint." Then he let go instead of pursuing the advantage and went almost fully on the defensive. If she left an opening he'd attack it mercilessly, but she would have to work hard to force even the slightest opening out of him. In short, without realizing it, he was encouraging her to get better.

"Well, experience's the best teachERRH!"

Her boast trailed into a startled exclamation when he caught her foot-- she crow-hopped backwards, giving her leg another kick to break out of it. Once free, she backed off to recollect herself, prowling for an opening. When none came, she sprinted forwards again-- this pattern would probably repeat as she tried various tactics. She knew a few pretty good tricks, but nothing he probably wouldn't be able to fend off.

He complemented her on creative tactics, and pointed out faults that needed improvement, all the while keeping track of what skills she'd shown and her stamina. All in all, he was very impressed by the time he went on the offensive again.

Kisame aimed several hard, fast blows at various points to try to get her off balance and then followed up with a leg-sweep in her direction.

Whatever Heather made up for in lack of finesse, she made up for in stamina. She'd get out of breath, sure-- but it was obvious that even if she was a bit rusty, she was used to fighting (or at least moving around a lot) for very prolonged periods of time.

The first couple of blows hit, drawing surprised growls, but after that she ducked around them, and avoided the leg sweep completely by jumping-- HAH. Saw THAT coming!

As her feet hit the ground again, she sprung off once more immediately, trying to take advantage of the momentum of the leg-sweep to bull straight into him with surprising force.

If anything, Kisame was getting more and more excited and into it. This was so much fun. She was full of surprises--even if she still wasn't at his level--and countering them was enough of a challenge to keep his interest.

Her last tactic made him grin and he had the barest split second to decide whether to brace against the attack--he knew he could--or go with it and use her momentum against her. He decided on the latter, and came out of the leg sweep in what looked for all the world like a really awkward stance, but when she bulled into him proved effective for what he was planning. He rolled back, grabbing onto her with his good hand and trying to bring his knee up into her stomach to flip her over.

That was Heather in a nutshell. You had to be open to improvisation when you came from the kind of background she did-- planning was never something you could count on when the Otherworld was involved.

Though in this case, a bit of planning probably could have served her well, because she fell into that trap hook, line and sinker. Eyes widening as the world suddenly turned upside-down, she let out a bark of surprise before hitting the thankfully-smooth ground on her back.

"... Ow."

Kisame let his own momentum give him a little push and came down on top of her--pinning, but not an impossible pin to get out of. Of course, he was making sure she couldn't land any really painful blows if she struggled--he could be reckless about taking injury but there were some even he would avoid if he could.

"Nicely done, avoiding that sweep. But intuition isn't always reliable."

Once pinned, Heather tensed.

Nah, she didn't think Kisame would hurt her. But let's just say she does not like being pinned, 'least not by someone she still doesn't know too closely. BUT, at least this was just just a spar-- she could deal. Still wanted out of it though.

Gritting her teeth, Heather slammed her elbows against the ground and set to trying to writhe her way out of his grip-- this was where her experience would probably shine more than anywhere else, because she was good at this. When the alternative was dying (or possibly worse), as it was in Silent Hill, you learned how to escape from tight situations like that pretty quickly.

"S'served me pretty well for the most part, though--!"

Kisame saw how she tensed--that wasn't a good reaction for a friendly spar--and was letting go and leaping back about at the same moment she started struggling. He didn't apologize, of course, because backing off was as good as, in his opinion.

"It has, but intuition under guidance would serve you even better."

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