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Post by Ethan "Enigma" McKenna on Apr 13, 2014 0:56:16 GMT -5
The gymnasium seemed crowded—especially for a Tuesday. No flyer denoted a present tournament, event, or meeting. The people within, most of them looking haphazardly dressed, seemed to be younger than thirty. They were hungry, bored, and likely in need of a fight. The current focus of their attention seemed irritated—to those who knew him. Others would think him bored or apathetic. “I am not certain if I am an animal at a menagerie or some sort of carnival exhibit—“ The President, grey dappling his crimson temples, spoke to the figure beside him; the bird, with a shrug, mourned the loss of an old friend. This was not how his beloved Ethan McKenna would have reacted to an audience.
Enough.
One more meeting with the financial board, with their constant whining and pen clicking, would drive the President of Pravus insane. He was tired of posturing. He had enough of spreadsheets. The headless poultry knew who was king. It was not themselves. Finally, as he had cancelled the newest meeting, Ethan had decided to take a break. He was a leader forged in war—it was something far more primal than throwing pocket change at once another.
The man wore a suit. It was plain ebony, expensive, at the peak of modern fashion, and streaked with cream. The sleeves fell directly above gloved fingers. Two of the finger slots, like white flags of surrender, fluttered beneath the ministrations of large floor fans. Whump, whump, whump! The constant noise was beginning to grate on normally placid nerves. “…” Click! The nearest fan, with a final noise, came to a stop. He did not need to touch it. The suit, fluttering in the former breeze, dropped back to his side. At the moment, it was also smoking. A flame, an odd purple color, licked at its edges. Hands clenching into fists, acid-green eyes flickering cerulean, the fire was smothered. “I will ask you, once again, to resist setting me aflame, Anthony.” Hands lifted to run through his hair. Claws scraped the scalp. “Do not make me repeat myself—again.”
A vine whistled through the air. It slammed to a dead stop inches from his face. This time, as his gaze remained their natural color, the assistance had come from the front row. Golden eyes did not so much as blink. “I will ask the same of you.” The Roserade before him, who was meant to be his ally in this battle, just smirked. These two were things brought about by madness and battling. “Sorry, Boss! It won’t happen again! Right?!” The angry piece of foliage, filled with thorns the size of a human thumb, was thrown outward again. Looping itself into a knot, much like the tense body of her trainer, the Roserade aimed to lasso the Metagross.
Crash! Finally, as he had lifted a foot to let loose an attack, the steel-type found itself off balance. The sound of metal collapsing into freshly finished wood was jarring. The spider bellowed in anger as it pulled at the vine. Its opponent, who had not had time to properly ground herself, threw through the air. Chairs collapsed beneath her. “I got you now, you little bitch!” The quiet noise of an order, from the President, seemed to rescue the grass-type. It bled. It staggered. It happened to still be alive.
The white noise of others was ignored. The female Pokemon had something of a following in the audience. Her response, which involved razor-like petals, was quick. The cheers that followed roared in one ear, like a tidal wave, and whimpered out the other. Ethan, who had once been known for his ambitious nature and ability to charm crowds, found the accolades fell on deaf ears. It was just meaningless drivel.
“May I ask the time, Innuendo?” The Xatu was happy to oblige with a whistle and pivot. It was nearly time for his meeting with a certain major. “I sent him a message informing him of changes in our plans.” Telekenitic commands reached across the fields to the Roserade. The green face split with a devilish smirk. Her master, as the grass-ype charged toward the Metagross, did not change expressions.
When had battling become such a bore as well? It was a pity he was forced to face himself. Then again, as they intended to praise and ‘suck-up’, what made this audience any different from the financial board? Idiots. His left foot, twisted into an odd shape and broken multiple times, took a step back.
Crash! The battle would be over in approximately two minutes and twenty five seconds. The Roserade would likely use a hidden attack. “…you may approach, Mister Ryder.” Ethan had been waiting. “Hello there, Mister Ryder~” The Xatu, keeping an eye on the battle, extended his shield. The little succubus, who truly had grown tired of the metal spider, would likely focus elsewhere.
Had the grass-type just looked up at the newest entrant to the arena?
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Post by Deleted on Apr 14, 2014 5:38:15 GMT -5
A deadly silence filled the room as the pokemorph glared at the set of brilliant crimson colored eyes of a part human creature in the mirror, the reflection’s expression flat and unreadable just like the one who cast it. (“Are you alright Mav?”) The mud fish pokemon questioned softly in an attempt to break the unsettled air, his worried golden digits watched his trainer’s expression closely, (“Are you worried?”) The scarred man in the mirror ran his hands through his ebony black hair, being sure to avoid eye contact with the blue pokemon as he got ready. “I am fine Jethro,” the man mumbled as he pulled this black jacket over his black vets and white dress shirt. Maverick’s steady hands brushed his dark dress pants being sure he looked professional for the meeting with the President of Pravus.
(“Don’t you think it’s weird that he requested for you to meet him in the stadium instead in his office or a meeting room or something more… practicable,”) Jethro asked softly as he observed his humans reactions. Maverick met the bloody gaze of the human once more. His digits flickered to the golden ones behind him only for a moment before they returned to his own. What was he to tell Jet? Ethan was the damn president. Of course there was something odd about it, but Mav was not going to say no to him. So instead, the trainer turned the subject to something else that was on his mind.
“Jethro…” the man began while he studied the water and ground type’s expression through the mirror to avoid direct eye contact, “Whatever happens… I want you to take care of yourself and the team. I want you and the team to know… I really do love you guys.” (“Maverick…”) Jethro chuckled lightly as a wide grin appeared on his wide mouth, (“I will serve you until the end of the earth and beyond. I am sure the rest feels the same way. Whatever happens, we will all stick by you and protect you with our lives. You are my family, Maverick. Not my trainer or my boss, my family. I will never let anything happen to my family, especially for the one I hold closest to my heart.”) The swampert expression loosened up as the creature placed his over-sized paw on his humans shoulder, a sign of reassurance to his concerned pokemorph.
The scarred male fell silent once more, truly unsure how to respond to his pokemon’s heart filled words. Although Mavii was pleased to hear that he had a family who cared about him and that his pokemon cared for him as much as he cared for them, it only hurt him more to know that there was a chance they could be separated or killed. “I mean it Jet,” the male started again, “I don’t know what is going to happen and I-“ (“Maverick,”) the duel type interrupted with another light chuckle as the swampert’s face grew a little serious, (“Nothing will happen to you or the team, I will make sure of it. I am sure there is a different reason than what you are thinking at this moment.”) The man ran through some of the many things that he was sure going to happen. Get fired, get killed, get separated, get demoted, get told he has lost his mind, get told he has to be put down out of fear he will hurt others, etc. There was so many, yet so few that could be positive.
Again… The man was muted by the swampert’s words as Maverick turned to face the calm face of his trusted pokemon. A hint of a grin arouse on the edge of the man’s lips, once steel gaze thawed slightly when they met the warm golden eyes of his friend. “I don’t know what I would do without you my friend,” the trainer admitted to the only one who Maverick ever told how he really feels about anything and everything. Jethro beamed and nodded. (“As I to you, Mr. Ryder.”) The large blue beast opened his arms, an offer of a console bear hug to his friend. At first, the half human half pokemon only shook his head and rolled his eyes. But after a minute of being frozen in place, the Swampert trapped the human in a massive hug and refused to let go. Both laughed in happiness. It was when Jet finally let go and Maverick punched jokingly, things got serious as time ticked by.
“Alright. How do I look?” the guy straighten himself out and fixed little things here and there that was out of place. The Swampert chuckled and nudged him playfully. (“I wouldn’t mess with you.”) The man rolled his eyes as he put the papers he needed, his identification, his message from ethan, and the rest of the team inside of his suit jacket. With one last look over, the man face the blue creature and nodded firmly. “Alright… Let’s go.” With that, both the pokemorph and the pokemon left his room. Maverick’s expression flat and unreadable like he has mastered over the years.
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It did not take long for the male to reach the stadium that seemed to be way too crowded for any normal Tuesday. Mavii could feel his nerves twitch with uneasiness as his ebony arrow pointed tail jerked back and forth. Each step was confident, bold, and assured as he made his way to the place Ethan told him to meet him at. The scarred male could feel the eyes of other team mate’s glare at him as he got closer and closer. Faint mumbles of inaudible conversations whispered in the pokemorph’s sensitive ears, swearing he heard some mumbles like traitor and mutt and other words he really did not like. The male human and male pokemon shared a brief glance at each other, both their faces flat and unreadable as they approached the door.
Maverick could hear loud crashes and voices through the steel doors while a guard stood before the door. The build guard stepped in front of Maverick and stopped the pokemorph in his tracks with a hand out that hit hard against his chest. A low snarl ripped through the man’s throat as his cold hot gaze met the guards, clearly annoyed with the guard that blocked his path while the guard held his unforgiving face. “Hey! You are not authorized to-” The Major reached into his jacket and flashed his identification before the guard, unsure why this damn guard did not recognize him. Although the Major was not well known, most did know who he was and what rank he held. After all, Mavii is hard to forget. The guard squinted at the Major’s ID and scanned it. When the light came up green, the guard instantly gave a bowed to him and moved. “Oh I am sorry, Mister Ryder. Yes. Yes. Go right ahead. He is waiting for you.” A huff escaped the burnt male, but only ignored the guard’s apology and strolled through the doors as they opened with confidence and pride. His swampert closely followed him for support.
Although to a normal person, they would have walked into the arena with wide eyes and mouth open in a gasp as the steel type crashed before them. Maverick, on the other hand, kept himself together as he paused just inside the door as they closed behind him, bloody digits first scanned over the many people who have gathered to watch their president battle with himself. It was clear no one was willing to battle against a well experience man and his powerful team. With the many years of practice the man had under his belt, the pokemorph’s held his flat yet self-assured expression when his name was spoken.
For the first time, Maverick was grateful that they could not read his mind as his deep red eyes met the ones held by Ethan. He almost could feel the place go quiet when he entered the arena as all eyes suddenly fell on the man who the President wanted to meet. If the Major was not trying to control his expressions right now, Mav would have swallowed hard in an attempt to get his heart rate to slow down and his unsureness stable. But instead, the scarred male felt the lump in his throat swell while his Swampert stood proud next to him. With a deep breath, the Major let a friendly soft smile appear on his face as he took a respectable bow to Ethan and his pokemon.
“Hello Sir,” the man greeted in a firm and fearless tone as he rose from his bow, “I see you are taking a break from your busy work. I am sure this is well deserved.” The houndoom mixed within the man smirked in pure pleasure at the sight of a bloody battle taking place just before them. The human let the long tail behind him flicker, but made sure the creature did not get carried away. Maverick gave a polite nod to the Xatu as he adventured out further from the door and more in the light, each step bold and confident as he felt the burn of more than a fifty pairs of eyes. The man did not suck up to him, yet he did not stand against Ethan as he fell silent and waited for the President's response. Maverick wondered what was going on in the President’s head, what he had planned for him today and possibly the rest of his life.
TAGS ♔ Ethan "Enigma" McKenna
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Post by Ethan "Enigma" McKenna on Apr 17, 2014 22:20:17 GMT -5
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The noise sounded deafening in his ears. The world swam before his eyes. The light felt like spears. How long had he been asleep? His mind began to spit out numbers at a surprising pace. It had counted his heartbeats. It had kept track of time via the intravenous drip in his left arm. His brain, which was far more powerful than most humans, felt as if it had been upgraded by the world’s best engineer. Muscles responded to his prompting. Left hand. Right hand. Left foot. Tail. He would soon master that final appendange.
The experiment had been a success. It had accomplished all tasks within its parameters. The heart monitor was behaving oddly. Pain gripped his chest, skull, and the various joints of his legs. When he attempted to bend his lower extremities, regardless of direction, the movement was misaligned. That will have to be examined at a later date.
Who was crying? It took him a moment to decipher the rasping noises as something resembling sobbing. The action had meaning. It was the act of expelling water through the tear ducts; it indicated sadness in human beings. Opening his mouth to respond, or question, his jaw flooded with the taste of iron. Possesses the teeth of a predatory animal. Speaking must be undertaken cautiously. Ethan frowned with introspection.
When the mirror had been brought in, revealing a face that literally made some children cry, golden-green eyes gave a blank stare. It would have to be more carefully examined in the future. The body would serve its purpose. It would shift, move, and battle. The redhead did not seem to care in the slightest about that nonsense.
Some small part of him knew better—it was wrong to feel this level of apathy. A diagnostics system allowed him to conclude it was not within normal parameters. The indifference itself was likely a symptom of failure. Unlike Maverick, who obsessed over his new features and personality changes, his defeated any attempt to deal with the issue.
Did he truly care? Negative.
Those same eyes, which many compared to those of a corpse or robot, fixed firmly on the battle. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Maverick would, if he possessed any abilities of time management, would arrive soon. Ethan McKenna had wished for the world at his feet. The bright eyed man, who had been wholly human, wanted three simple things: power, privilege, and respect. He had undergone the procedure, which had destroyed his human identity, to give him power. It was meant to amplify his abilities, put his wishes within reach, and assist the world. The atheist found that ‘god’ had a payment plan that some might compare to the mafia. The President was rarely seen outside his office. His day was spent surrounded by financial advisors, stately offices, and stacks of administrative inefficiencies. The latter, to most individuals, would be called ‘paperwork’. The war had passed. The days of strategizing, constantly fighting wits, fast-paced action, and rapid scientific progress had left over a decade ago. Leaving in its wake, like thousands of scattered corpses, were expenses, wounds, and the day to day operations of a country. Worst of all, left drfting beside the battlefield like a discarded ammunition shell, had been the president himself. The powerful tongue that had moved thousands lay crippled by scientific terminology and a lack of empathy. Left behind was rational thought, arrogance, apathy, and mechanical precision. It was a being that disliked inane chatter. It despised dishonesty, fanciful words, dreams, and vagueness. The thought of socializing, when it served no quantifiable purpose, was sickening. The boardroom table held more value as firewood in his eyes. It was nothing but useless words, restatement of simple facts, arguing about necessities, and lacquered in layers of stupidity. In truth, while he fought migraines on a nearly constant basis, dealing with idiots made it worse. The battling allowed the President to concentrate on something besides juvenile triplicate forms, the clucking of the members of the public relations board, or the whining of the seemingly mathematically-disabled accountants. “Dodge.” Battling was cathartic. It lacked needless movements, parasitic kisses, and allowed for the same judgments as a chess game. Ethan would take a moment’s reprieve within his schedule. Maverick Ryder had not specified a reason for his meeting; it had been insisted it was a matter he could conquer with little outside assistance. “ . . .again. Thirty degrees to the right.” The lithe grass-type, currently tying the spider in a web of emerald vines, nimbly leaped to the side to avoid a hammer arm. Claws twitched against the wooden floors. He was surrounded by children. Among younger individuals, it was rumored Ethan lacked the spine for battle. Harsh words circulated behind the oddly shaped spine, backwards facing joints, and monstrous features. It was ironic when the President considered the percentages of the young adults involved in recent wars. Did they not understand how little courage was involved in true battle? The President, while he put little value in As many of those members were finding out, some having to lean back to avoid poisonous vines or meteors, the President was possessing of vertebrae. Cold eyes turned toward the Houndoom Pokemorph. It was relieving that Maverick managed to hold away any resemblance to a gaping fish. It was no more invigorating to converse with aquarium-life than parroting financiers. Truthfully, as the man likely felt, the Xatu attempted to push past any dark-type resistance to grasp any juicy tidbits beneath the surface. His smile remained in place. The President, face cold, continued to stare at the Pokemorph with lips a thin flat line. “I hope your morning is going well, Maverick.” The words sounded bored. The battle was over. Probability had determined the victor. “I am merely allowing myself a moment of respite; it makes future work more efficient.” The headaches had abated somewhat. Golden eyes moved away from the Roserade. Orders continued telepathically; the larger of the two beasts found itself pushed into a corner. There was a quiet click.“You may rest, Isabella.” The words were directed at the Roserade. The Metagross had collapsed onto the stage. One leg had been pulled apart and dislocated; bolts were scattered across the floor. “You informed me there was an important matter to be discussed. Begin.” President McKenna, while he had room for a brief meeting, disliked wasting any time. He knew exactly how much money it was worth. He paid wages. He calculated risks. He knew the price of dawdling. The Xatu on the other hand, as he usually did, took a much less harried approach. Walking past his trainer, brushing aside a flying piece of debris like a gnat, he reached out for warm hands. “Hello there Maverick! I heard you met our niece! It’s nice to see you! There’s a table in the corner. We need to oil up.” The Pokemon were in need of a stretch as well. Eyes moved to the Swampert. "Is this lovely young hunk, Jetthro? If he's not busy--my calendar is free." A flirtatious wink followed. One. Two. Three. Here comes captain obvious.Ethan felt compelled, in the face of the irrational, to comment. “There is no manner in which Aubre could be your niece.” Beak parting slightly, air rushing out, the elderly Xatu gave a tiny sigh. Must his trainer be so blunt?
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Post by Deleted on Apr 20, 2014 23:11:37 GMT -5
The burnt male held his confident posture before the President of Pravus and his many admirers that surrounded the arena, vermillion red gaze flickered from the battle that appeared to be about finished over to the bored golden eyes of Ethan’s. Once fake friendly grin fell into an emotionless and expressionless front when the male spoke, clearly and truly uninterested in both the hardcore battle that happened between his pokemon and what Mav had wanted to meet him for. The pokemorph could sense the presence of some kind of telepathy or mind reading ability trying to tap into his mind and into his thoughts. But the attempts failed, Maverick could feel his mental barrier pushed it away and kept his thoughts private. Once again, Maverick glad that he had this ability to keep other out. Was this the reason why they strongly suggest him to join the military? Was this the reason why he was given the chance to be a Major at the time? Was it because the male’s mind could block out any psychic-ability to gain information or to know what his next move was? The major assumed it was because he was brave, bold, and willing that they told him to join. But after being a pokemorph for several years now, the scarred up male is realized there was more than just that. Could they see Maverick could be so much more?
His thoughts swiftly turned south when Ethan greeted him in a lazy tone, the houndoom that haunted Mav even growled with distaste at the President’s attitude. Even if Maverick was only a commoner or a pawn in Ethan’s eyes, he should show at least a little more interest than what he was showing now. “Makes sense,” the male replied softly in a slightly dull tone as his long tail twitched, “Everyone needs a break from the normal. It refreshes your mind and helps to keep your head focus on the next task.” The man could understand this logic, especially for a man who has to deal with the amount of crap Ethan had to deal with. But the houndoom morph still did not like how this meeting was going so far and this was just the start, Mavii needed to show the President he was much more than just a commoner like the idiots who gawk at the President now.
“And yes Sir,” Maverick nodded lightly to Mister McKenna as he recalled the bouquet pokemon, the familiar two toned ball sucked the injured duel type and locked it in, “This morning as been rather interesting so far. Thank you for asking.” Hot digits flashed over to the clearly disassembled and severely injured Metagross, his thoughts turned to his own Metagross that rested inside his black jacket. Although the man has seen and even had his own pokemon in rough shape before, it was something about this Metagross that made Maverick almost cringed at the sight. Of course, the Major kept his expression flat and unreadable when his attention was promptly turned to McKenna once more. But before Mister Ryder could respond to the Presidents demand, Ethan’s Xatu was quick to jump in.
The scarred male blinked for a moment as he was greeted by the Xatu, the soft feathers embraced his hot scarred up hands. “It’s nice to meet you as well,” the pokemorph replied in a softer tone as he gave the duel type bird a hint of a grin, “And Yes. Vollen… I mean… my Charizard and I met Ms. Aubre outside the wall about a few months ago after we… investigated some infected pokemon spotting’s that people of Pravus reported.” It was a lie, but Maverick hid it very well. Ethan or his pokemon did not need to know Maverick was out practicing battling in his houndoom form, trying to understand his other half and learn how to better control it’s infected like behavior. “She said she was out with a group who had gotten lost. Ms. Aubre volunteered to get help in the city,” the male continued after a moment to think about his words carefully to not get that strange woman in too much trouble, “I escorted her to the wall to be sure she would not be harmed all by herself with the increase of infected roaming about.”
When the Mystic Pokémon turned to the Swampert, he was nothing but polite to Ethan’s pokemon. His once body guard like stance relaxed slightly, the true swampert that Maverick loved showed for a moment. (“Why yes I am Sir?”) the water and ground type chuckled lightly and fell into a bow, (“I am Jethro.”) The mud fish pokemon rose from his bow to meet the Xatu gaze as he gave him a wide smirk and smooth digits sparkled in delight. (“Of course I have time,”) the swampert replied as he looked to Maverick with a raised brow, Jethro gazed hinted that he had an idea that he could not say out loud at this time, (“Would you mind Sir Maverick?”)
Did he just say Sir Maverick? When did he ever call him that? The male blinked once more, confused on what the heck was going on. It’s that Xatu a male and doesn’t Ethan have a say in this. After minute for a silence and to try to understand Jethro’s gaze, the pokemorph muttered quietly in surprise. “Of course not Jethro... If that is what you wish.” (“Great!”) the swampert nodded firmly to his trainer as he faced the Xatu, still a wide grin on his face as he motioned for the Xatu to lead the way, ("You lead the way Sir.") Mavii could only looked to Ethan, unsure if this was okay with the President as he fell silent.
TAGS ♔ Ethan "Enigma" McKenna
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Post by Ethan "Enigma" McKenna on Apr 24, 2014 0:24:41 GMT -5
(Guess who is back? This guy.)
Disinterested? Little could be further from the truth; the Houndoom Pokemorph was one of the few beings that captivated the President. If he found him dull or worthless, like many of his coworkers, it was unlikely he would have been allowed into the stadium. The calendar would have remained tightly closed; it had required effort to create a gap for this appointment. “I hope your day goes well, Major.” Nostrils flared at a scent. The face of his companion shifted from a smile to displeasure. It bewildered the President. Little had happened that might create such a reaction—it was still likely that his words were the cause. Remaining composed was second-nature to Ethan McKenna. Emotions drained him in the same way that intense logical thought drained other minds. The room, like a stormy sea, was overflowing with dark and bright feelings. People laughed. People smiled. It was likely, by simple probability, that many of those emotions were thoughts. “I have grown tired of this nonsense. These false faces, shallow lies, and half truths, Innuendo. This world would be a much more efficient machine if people were honest..” The words were spoken to no single person in the room. In fact, as his mouth did not move, they were not verbalized—it was a single thought given to his Xatu.
The dark-typing of the Houndoom kept the bird at bay. The banded wings, scarred from countless battles, rippled with another wave. Hiding the intrusion was low on his current goals. In truth, it was mostly a gesture of curiosity. The large majority of the organization knew how nosy the bird was. It was as if he gripped at a bar of soap—if it had been rubbed liberally with ice and grease. “I always wondered if we should allow dark-type Pokemorphs. Even ones as attractive as yourself~” Some security processes, which relied on both ghost and psychic-types, found themselves challenged by dark-types. “ It’s quite handy isn’t it, Maverick?”
Tired. Exhausted. The last thing the President felt his tone was happened to be lazy. The words were polite. Each one was inserted into the sentence from a prescribed formula. It was the voice of someone used to being listened to, talked about behind his back, and forced to endure the burden of Atlas. Finally, peeling himself fully from the battle, he turned toward Maverick. The voice managed to sound a bit more lively—just the tiniest bit. “I rarely do things that are illogical, Mister Ryder, as dull as that might seem. I lack the ability.” Ethan stared out at the crowd. Some of them began to filter away. His ears became less stressed. “It does. My Pokemon wished for a battle as well. They grow tired of office work—“ The Metagross, the most savage of all, would likely have razed the building without a distraction. “I apologize for the strange venue for this meeting. We will return to my office once Anthony is repaired.” It was unlikely the paperwork could be filled on this floor---air was a poor writing surface. “I trust you did as I asked.” The probability was high that a person like Maverick Ryder, as opposed to others, could obey simple instructions.
The Roserade was a danger. In fact, when training, he had hung a sign upon the door warning of possible dismemberment. The foolhardy privates had giggled at the idea. “I hope it is a positive interesting—as opposed to a politely positive answer.” From across the gym, gears clicking and shifting, the mound of metal began to shift. Male laughter, deep and reminiscent of a trash compactor, echoed. “Let’s do that again! Fuck Arceus that was great!” A potion was shattered beneath a clawed foot. Scratches began to heal themselves together. “What about you, Pretty Boy?” The Metagross directed the request at Maverick. The Xatu just waved off the request—he knew he was handsome. “Stupid bird.” Like a conductor, as he had upgraded the large beast on his own in the war, Ethan began to throw missing parts at the behemoth.
Looking into the eyes of the avian-figure, who had been with the President since the middle-aged man could walk, it gave a glimpse into the redheaded man himself. The suave, charm, and charisma had been split evenly between them; Ethan, while more reserved, had been capable of wooing. “I’ve heard a lot of things from your superiors—all good, mostly.” A wink came past long lashes with a whistle. “Ethan’s impressed. You just can’t tell, I’m his translator.” Beneath all that blank-faced apathy, under the next layer of apathy, was a person who might resemble his old friend. “We know the names—just assume we know everything.” While he was aware no such report had likely emerged, he did not recall one, he let the dishonesty pass. “While it’s not quite her testimony—I’ll just ignore that. Close enough. She’s safe.” The little girl, like all his nieces and nephew, held a dear place in the bird’s big heart. “Thank you for that—she’s not her parents.” If the President could have pulled sarcasm off properly, without sounding like a robotic entity, the word ‘duh’ might have escaped his lips.
Wasn’t he just a cutie? Most of the higher-up Pokemon avoided the Xatu. Many of htem lived their lives with rods embedded in their colons. The other part were mad, boring, or not to the bird’s taste. The few that were refused to speak with him—while he was a gentleman, or seemed to be one, the psychic-type was known for being manipulative. “I do hope, Maverick, that you don’t die of boredom with Ethan—I really make him fun. I’ll just take the pants with me.” For the first time in the encounter, lips moving upward slightly, the redhead gave a response: “I think you’ll find my clothing too large.” Was it a joke? Maybe.
The Xatu clapped. Unlike Jethro, as he was his own being, he moved without permission. Ethan McKenna did not mind in the slightest. Be careful, Innuendo. Dark eyes lit up bright blue as the Xatu turned. This cutie wouldn’t hurt me. The President stared at the battlefield; he did not need to look to respond. I do not think he could. The wink from the psychic-type seemed to say two words: I know. “I have need of your services for the 1 pm board meeting.” Beckoning to his new companion, waving farewell to the Pravus ‘humans’, the feathery-fiend departed.
“Do you wish to retire to my office immediately?” How long would it take for a mind as strong as his to be driven mad by boredom? “If you do not, Major Ryder, I have a request.” The Metagross, shaky and cracking, rose to its feet. It disappeared into a Pokeball moments later. “I find myself bored of anticipating my own thoughts."
Shuffling forward, feet clapping against the tile, the bird chattered his way outside. “So, sweetie, I do hope you know my intentions aren’t innocent. I’m a notorious gossip and ‘leave them’ type. I want to crack your head open like an egg.” The laughter could be seen as humorous. It did not make the words any less true.
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Post by Deleted on May 31, 2014 18:05:57 GMT -5
Thump. Thump. Thump. The steady yet fast pace of the man’s heart pounded against his rib cage as he tried to seem unaffected by the President’s presence before him. His hot digits observed both Ethan’s front behavior and the ones he controls with quiet curiosity, much like the trained soldier he was raised to be. Long ebony pointed tail twitched, the sounds of the noisy crowd both made him want to set them on fire and thank them for being here if things do turn sour. Laughter. Where they making fun of him? Maverick’s blood colored eyes flickered to the gawking crowd, grins placed on their face like they know he is a dead man and an idiot for showing up. Ignore them Ryder. They are only here to be a pest, to distract him and to annoy him. A low warning growl rumbled in Mav’s throat as his attention was turned to Ethan once more at the sound of his name. “And I hope your day Mister McKenna,” the Major replied with a slight bow of his head, “goes much better than mine after our meeting as you need it more than me.” Respect. One of the many things Maverick shines in.
The houndoom morph turned to the Xatu at his name once more, but no words came out. How was he to respond to such a statement? Was Maverick one of the few they felt was a threat to their organization? Was he the only one they allowed to be a dark type pokemorph without being able to read his thoughts? Did they kill the others who were like him and is that what they want to do today? So many questions zipped thought his mind and raised red flags, yet none of them escaped his impassive look. But instead, Maverick played the tricky birds teasing games. The man let an impish smirk spread across his lips, crimson colored eyes intensified as if he knew the dangers that Maverick rose forth to their desperate control on the population. The glimpse of a possible rebal and revolution the Major knew he could bring if he desired too. “It has its benefits,” the Major responded, a hint of playful uprising in his tone. Of course, the pokemorph has never really thought he could do so. Until now…..
It was odd to him the way Ethan spoke. It was like… Ethan’s mind was far more advance than computers or even the smartest of humans. Even as the President’s attention turned on him, Maverick could not shake the feeling like the man could see right through his flat expression and has located the weak spot the Major has tried so hard to cover or overcome. “Understandable.” Maverick fell silent as he followed Ethan’s death glare into the crowd, shocked that some of them started too disappeared while others seemed to be more interested in their meeting. “It is quite alright Sir. Although it did take me by surprise, I was sure there was a good reasoning,” the houndmorph uttered as a lump formed in his throat, “and of course Mister President. I have everything you asked.” Maverick opened his long black jacket, reached into one of its many hidden pockets, and retrieved everything Ethan needed and maybe even more before he replaced the jacket back over his white dress shirt. But before the man could offer that paperwork Ethan asked for, sinister laughter erupted in his ears as his red digits flickered to the pile of metal that started to move.
The grey and steel colored creature began to heal almost instantly as the Metagoss challenged Maverick, words laced with a death threat. The houndoom inside the man snarled with impish delight, ready to fight that oversized creature that was awaking the creature that breathed fire inside Maverick. But the human part of him flinched, uncertainty of whether it was something more than just that. Was that a challenge to a trainer to bring out another pokemon or for Maverick himself to battle in his houndoom coat? The male did not respond to the Metagross’s queation, only looked to Ethan’s Xatu as the president throw parts of his dismembered creature back to him.
“I do my best to serve the leaders and my city,” Maverick responded coolly as the bird whistle echoes of the walls, “My job is to protect and serve. Is it not?” Mostly all good. What did that mean, mostly? Was it because of the fight that almost broke out in the cafeteria with that other pokemorph? Did they know he sneaks out sometimes to get more in touch with his pokemorph side or just to get some fresh air? Could they really think he was really that much of a threat? Maverick held his flat emotionless expression and confident stance, not letting himself falter in front of such high of a leader. “I must have did something pretty good to impress the President of Pravus,” the man tried to give a polite chuckle, but it came out more fake stiff laugh, “It is good to hear that I am doing something right.” In truth, the burn male had no idea what he did to make the President be impressed by him or even his superiors who mostly hated his guts anyway.
The awkward sensation crept up on the half human and half pokemon creature once more. It was as if, Ethan and Innuendo were talking to each other without their lips moving to form words. It was like, there was a hidden meaning behind their simple words and Maverick could not put two and two together to decode it. So instead of responding to their little secret language even in facial expression, the male just waited patiently and gave a polite nod as Jethro grinned like he understood even though he clearly didn’t.
After the swampert gave his trainer a firm nod in farewell as Maverick watched them depart, the pokemon strolled next to the feathery friend. His massive slightly moist body move carefully and surprising large flowing river. His bright colored eyes gaze at the Xatu with a wide smile. (“I see,”) the mud fish creature responded with a smooth masculine tone, (“I will be delight to assist in this board meeting of yours.”)
As his water and ground type disappeared behind the large door and left him and Ethan to discuss business in a private matter, the man felt as if he was not vulnerable. Crimson red eyes turned to the President as he recalled the steel monster and addressed Mavi. A request. What kind of request? The houndoom pokemon inside the man snarled darkly, tail twitched even so slightly. “It is up to you Sir,” Maverick replied with a more powerful casually tone in hopes he sounded more confident than he felt at this point, “I have no other arrangement at his time. If you wish to do something else, you are more than welcome too.” The man tried to hide the lump in his throat the built every passing minute he stood before President Ethan.
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Jethro’s massive head gazed at Xatu’s, unsure if he meant something different entirely. (“Oh. Alright,”) the male pokemon replied with the same joyful grin though his thoughts turned sour, (“And what are your intentions than? As you may know already as I am sure you can read or sense my thoughts, I don’t have much to offer on information.”) The swampert tried to keep his thought limited so that even if he can read them, he would not get to things that would hurt his master in anyway. It was a trick that Maverick did teach him, but even the swampert could accidently let things slips or the bird could be more powerful than the average mind reading pokemon Jet had battled against. After all, sometimes you cannot control all your thoughts. And yes, he was much stronger than Jet but strength was not everything. Was it?
TAGS ♔ Ethan "Enigma" McKenna
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Post by Ethan "Enigma" McKenna on Jun 5, 2014 5:18:08 GMT -5
The crowd was annoying. Too loud. Feet scraped against metal bleaches. Each scratch on the aluminum represented lost revenue. His face remained impassive. His heart did not beat against his chest in a rapid manner; such things, resulting from raised adrenaline or arousal, were a rarity for the President of Pravus. His level-head tended to be more stable than the floor beneath them. The sounds of mockery drew toxic-colored eyes briefly. A slow reptilian blink. Gaze redirected to a dent left upon the stadium floor. “You seem agitated.” The growl was easily audible to his augmented ear. “Allowing people to control your emotions will, to speak figuratively, turn you into a marionette.” Hands now resting in the pockets of his pants, one claw left jutting outward into the bright fluorescent lights. The word ‘better’ was vague. He wished it would be less occupied with appointments. He wished fewer headaches would emerge behind sensitive eyes. Regardess, attempting to remember the human tongue was largely illogical, Ethan took the statement as intended. “I am appreciative for your concern, Mister Ryder.” A pause followed as he analyzed words pushed past sharp canines. Various meanings, interpretations, and potential consequences quickly moved through his mind; far quicker than many would have comprehended it. “You do not have t wish ill upon yourself to assist my evening in becoming more pleasant.” While many thought otherwise, saw a tyrant, he did not wish for misery without cause. He was no sadist, nor was he a bitter being. Ethan McKenna just existed —unlike whatever illogical karma would help Maverick’s sacrifice produce. Idiotic karma. Life did not care. Life did not live. Ironic, is it not?Waltzing around words, humans saw little fun in indulging in real dances with him, he chortled. “Oh my, my!” Laughter was followed by a somewhat warning glance. “it certainly does. Tall. Dark-typed. And handsome.” The Xatu appreciated the rebellious look; Innuendo also knew, if it was ever anything but teasing, he could snap the boy’s back like a twig. While he believed in anarchy, to his core, he believed in a better world too—that required some cages. Some locks. Banded wings laced together. “Just do not let it go to your head—it’s all calculated risk after all.” The President meanwhile just moved his eyes between the pair. Rebellion would be crushed. Illogical or not. ”It happens to be a joke, calm down Ethan. He has no dark intentions.” The redhead would not speak on the matter. He had heard the bird’s ‘words’ regardless. The single word reply, ‘understandable’, did not require a response. His chin gave the slightest of nods. Again. His suspicions were correct. Fingers reached for the paperwork as it was pulled forth. It would more efficient to finish the required tasks quickly. Golden eyes, flickering teal, turned to the Metagross.“You will cease this nonsense, Anthony. We are not at war.” Dark gaze broached little argument. A single bolt, held beneath oddly-contoured loafers, was sent clattering towards the metallic spider. Threaded into a leg, until it clicked, it vanished from view. A groan of pleasure followed from the pile of metal. The President, pivoting on his weak leg, turned to speak. “I believe ‘Protect and Serve’ is in the seal of the Nada Citadel Police Department.” Judging by his lack of response to either the appreciation or claim, Ethan would not divulge further information on the matter. Telekinetic waves produced energy that sensitive beings could feel—if attuned to their instincts. Arguments between the bird and his master, or more accurately (to Innuendo), servant, were to occur in relative silence. Wasting energy on verbal communication was nonsensical. “I am tired of battling myself.” A pause followed. Brief. One. Two. Three. Three point four seconds. “It becomes dull.” Predictng his own movements was a simple matter. The Pokemon before had been sculpted by his hands. He knew their reactions as he knew his own twisted body. “You may utilize a companion of mine, if you wish.” Some of the denizens who had left, one at a time, began to trickle back in. “I will complete the required paperwork whilst we battle.” One hand, emerging from his pocket with a pen, waited for a sheaf of papers.
Smiling, bowing his head to his new acquaintance, the bird continued to walk. “I am the one to be delighted, Jethro, truly~” A tweet. A ruffle of feathers. Wings drawing back as he shifted his shoulder joints. Innuendo truly despised turning into an old man. The accusations of mind reading, which he had been doing, drew a flush to his cheeks. “Now now, Jetty, just because I can do something does not mean I shall—it’s rude to poke in someone’s skull.” The psychic-type cared little about rudeness or manners in life or death situations, he was being honest. “I just want to know about you—tell me about yourself!” Pausing, deciding it was his turn, the bird began: “My name is Glen. I was given to Ethan when he was two years old, by his father. I prefer Innuendo though.” @tagged
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