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The RESEARCH Team (PLOT)

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Blaine
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The RESEARCH Team (PLOT)

Post by Blaine on Wed Jul 10, 2013 9:06 pm


Underground Lab/Seafoam Islands|Late Morning (1)

"Dah Dah-dah-dah
Hm hm-mmm
Dah dit-ti doo"


As he tinkered away, humming along to a tune only he could hear, the lone scientist sat peacefully oblivious to anything else around him. Including the very loud banging going on at the door to his lab. Smirking to himself Blaine pulled out the syringe he had been using to draw blood from the writhing Pokemon before him and held it up to the light, remarking at the thickness of the liquid inside as the light barely passed through. "Stage 3 infection confirmed," he spoke aloud, seemingly to no one.

Laying the syringe down on a tray the elder human reached over and picked up a voice recorder, holding it close to his mouth as he leaned over the snarling Umbreon on the table. "Closer inspection of the test subject shows no change in physical appearance though initial blood analysis has shown slight regression. Will have to do micro tests to confirm." Clicking the stop button Blaine heaved a heavy sigh before pinching the bridge of his nose, feeling tired of always getting the same result. "Will one of these damn serums work beyond moving back one stage?" At this rate he would run out of Undead before finding an actual cure for them.

Bang. Bang. BANG.

Another smirk pulled at his lips, laying down the recorder and slowly making his way to the door. Pushing a small red button on the door a video popped up of a very familiar figure waiting just outside, seemingly very angry at a comm system that was supposed to ask for the password. Too bad for the guy outside Blaine had changed it as soon as he left. Again. As his own voice filtered out of the comm system Blaine simply sat and smiled as he watched his companion try to get inside.

"What do you throw out when you want to use it, but take in when you don't want to use it?'"
Bang
"What is big and yellow..."
Bang
"A man was pushed out of an airplane"
Bang

Did he forget to mention this time the password was random?
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Red
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Re: The RESEARCH Team (PLOT)

Post by Red on Fri Jul 12, 2013 3:05 pm



Near the Underground Lab/Seafoam Islands|Late Morning (1)


It was quiet as a figure slipped in and out of the shadows, the only sound it made the soft crunching of snow and dirt beneath its heavy boots. It paused, then threw out a rock into an open area, watching it as he drew his gun. The rock bounced, ricocheting against a couple of boulders before finally settling onto the soft bedding below. The figure waited, then waited longer... then longer... then--

"Goddammit," Red cursed before standing from his hide, revealing himself in the dim light of the cavern. Gun in hand, he walked out from behind the boulder and kicked the rock he'd thrown, utterly frustrated. The Undead were actually thinning in these caves, likely because of Blaine's and his own yearnings to destroy the monster. It had been the seventh quiet patrol he'd taken; it was beginning to irk him. He couldn't have possibly killed them all. And with Blaine's crazy experiments, there wasn't an option for anything else. The madman needed Undead, and they were seemingly quickly run out. Meaning he'd have to venture further into the caves, further than he'd really like to go alone with only a couple of guns. At least Blaine had his pokemon...

Frowning, Red turned, putting his rifle on his armored shoulder and turned to walk back to the bunker. There'd be nothing to find today. Just like the other six times. And while that would normally be good news, Red knew that he'd be the errand boy. He'd be the one to risk life and limb to find these monsters to only capture, not kill because some bald psychopath asked him to. And there was no way he could decline. Not with him in charge.

Frown still firmly in place, he reached up with his free hand to adjust his hat, fixing it to where it sat properly on his head. With quick strides, he wove his way through the labyrinth by memory back to a very familiar-looking wall. But as he tried to activate the door panel, he found it inactive and unresponsive. Staring down at the panel with his gloved hand still firmly upon it, he pressed again, but once more, nothing happened. His eyes closed as he attempted summoning his inner strength to not just shoot the damn thing, and took an unenthusiastic fist to the door.

Fucking Blaine.

Bam.
Bam.
Bam.

Of course the old man would change the damn door activation. Of fucking course. Waiting a moment, sure that Blaine was right where he'd left him -in the middle of an "intimate experiment" with an Undead Umbreon- he continued slamming his fist against the door knocking. While he'd like to attribute Blaine's inactivity to either deafness or stupidity, he knew otherwise-- this was just another classic case of the asshole fucking with him. Again.

Bang.
Bang.
BANG.


Red's knocks were a little more demanding, his already tried patience wearing thin. He still had plenty of live ammo he'd been itching to use the entire time he'd scouted, and that door panel was beginning to look like a giant bulls-eye. A small quirk of sound alerted him to his left, where a tiny camera focused in on him. Good. Blaine was finally acknowledging he was there, at least. It was sort of progress. Red stared angrily up at him, knowing the smug smirk Blaine was sure to have. And it disgusted him all the more. But when the door did not unlock, Red's eyes narrowed further into slits. And when he heard Blaine's digital voice squawking at him over the crackling PA, they closed all together while his fist returned to the door.

"What do you throw out when you want to use it, but take in when you don't want to use it?'"
Bang.
"What is big and yellow..."
Bang.
"A man was pushed out of an airplane"
Bang.

"Just open the fucking door, Blaine," he growled softly, not caring if the speakers picked up his voice or not. He wasn't in the mood for this sort of bullshit-- but then again, he never was. He hated being Blaine's errand boy and jester all in one, all while also being his own personal meat shield. It was bad enough to be with the scientist in general, but as literally the only other living person for the eccentric senior to talk to, it was a grueling job.
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Re: The RESEARCH Team (PLOT)

Post by Blaine on Sat Jul 13, 2013 6:34 pm


Underground Lab/Seafoam Islands|Late Morning (2)

He was having entirely too much fun. Every time the automated simulation of his voice offered another riddle Red would get pissed off and hit it, causing the system to kick over and restart with a new riddle. It was an endless cycle and judging by the look on the military brute's face he was about two seconds away from shooting the comm and locking himself out for good. Too bad for Red if he did that it would mean he would be locked out until Blaine could repair it.

"Just open the fucking door, Blaine."

On second thought...let him shoot it. Hehe. With one last look to the monitor the scientist turned off the camera and pressed a small blue button next to the comm on his side of the door, the action causing Red's side to begin to crackle and static. "Ah ah ah, you didn't say the magic word." Releasing the button Blaine walked away, leaving the comm to continually repeat the phrase over...and over...and over...

Moving back to his work table Blaine carefully tightened the restraints on his specimen before once again picking up the syringe containing the blood sample and carting it over to a work station. Gently applying samples to two small vials he put them into a centrifuge, placing the last few drops onto a slide. As the small machine whirred away Blaine moved over to his electron microscope, the device hooked into his computer so that the image would display on his monitor for better inspection. As per usual the heat from the beam and light began to heat the sample enough to reanimate the living virus still within the thickened blood, the viral cells slowly eating away at the remaining damaged blood cells.

Frowning he roughly scratched in a notebook, pages torn and dirty from several such angry scribbles as these, before getting fed up and slamming the booklet shut. "Every time I think I am close this thing pushes me further back. If I could only figure out the original virus then these mutations wouldn't keep getting ahead of me!" But without Patient Zero there was no chance of that happening, any of the original infected likely long since dead or beyond extracting any living virus cells from. He was starting to get desperate, and a desperate Blaine was what created some of the hellions he had running around in the bunker on the other side of the island. No, he didn't need to be making those mistakes again.

Realizing what he needed the elder man smirked ominously and made his way over to the door, clicking the green button to unlock it as he walked casually back towards the workbench. Picking up a small Pokeball he enlarged it, gaze shifting down and causing his sunglasses to glint, the light covering any view of his actual eyes. "I think I may have a job for you..."
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Re: The RESEARCH Team (PLOT)

Post by Red on Tue Jul 16, 2013 3:14 pm



Near the Underground Lab/Seafoam Islands|Late Morning (2)


"Ah ah ah, you didn't say the magic word."
"Ah ah ah."
"Ah ah ah."
"Ah ah ah."
"Ah ah ah."
"Ah ah ah."

Red's eye twitched and he smashed his fist a last time against the comm, teeth bared in a feral snarl. PLEASE! Goddamn, I hate this fucking crap!" With a last bout of rage, he kicked the poor door once more, leaving a small dent where his steel-toed boot connected. Unfortunately, despite his rage, he was still ultimately locked out, and would have to wait until Blaine felt generous enough to open the door on his own. Red flopped angrily against the door, his gun still firm in his grip, he grunted as he hit the floor.

A sigh escaped him as he let his head roll backward, stopped abruptly by the door. While he normally would be on high alert, being locked out of the only "safe" place on the island, his scout had told him that there was absolutely nothing interesting or dangerous within at least ten miles worth of caverns. But then again, it also meant Blaine would be much more comfortable with keeping him locked outside, so... "Ugh."

As Red sat, listening to the empty, deafening silence that surrounded him like a thick, dreary, boring blanket. And of course, as he was now alone and bereft of Blaine's constant, incessant mumblings to himself, his mind was left to wander... and it always wandered in one direction and one alone:

Pikachu.

His stare was blank, his eyes empty of light or emotion as he went about the possibilities and probabilities of Pikachu's whereabouts or well-being like a macabre routine. A longing, useless, pathetic prayer to a deity that didn't even exist. Was he alive? Dead? A horrible mix of something inbetween? Had he killed him already, and hadn't even known it? He'd killed pikachu before; a few faceless, mindless rats, gnawing and shrieking and clawing... their faces didn't even have the muscle tension to create electricity. He had looked through them frantically, but had been rushed... While he'd initially thought Pikachu hadn't been in their ranks, he could have missed something, been careless...

Was he supposed to hold onto hope... or memories?

A soft click brought him out of his reverie, diverting his attention back to the door he'd previously abused. Quirking a brow, sure that this very sudden change of heart -and taking into the fact that Blaine's mocking voice had now stopped- was somehow worse than being locked outside. Generally, this was when Blaine wanted Red's assistance...

In all honestly, he'd rather scout forever.

Red opened the door quietly, not wanting to disrupt whatever tangent Blaine was sure to be on. Slipping in, then locking the door, he made his way to his normal spot: a derelict metal chair, propped against the far wall, away from Blaine's station of Crazy. But as he passed to the chair, he spotted Blaine with a pokeball; a curious notation, as Blaine only used his own pokemon for very specific purposes... mostly to light the pilot for the heaters. While Red was admittedly a tad curious, it was far more risky to ask what the madman was doing rather than just let an explanation come. If Blaine wanted him to know, he'd tell him. At length. Whether Red wanted him to or not.

Quietly settling into his chair -after making sure nothing suspicious was in it- he merely watched, still curious as to what Blaine was up to now.
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Re: The RESEARCH Team (PLOT)

Post by Blaine on Fri Jul 19, 2013 6:56 pm


Underground Lab/Seafoam Islands|Late Morning (3)

Blaine released the Pokemon hidden within the confines of the red and white ball, quietly whispering to the figure to make sure Red didn't hear what he was up to. The elder male was positive that the military dog assigned as his 'bodyguard' wouldn't approve of what he asking. Probably even if he explained why. But his Pokemon were fiercely loyal and this one was no exception, in fact might even be the rule. Nodding slowly the figure backed away before vanishing into the shadows. Blaine smiled happily as the light from above his head glinted mischievously off of his glasses. Now, to deal with his roommate.

"So, forget your keys again?" Blaine turned and addressed Red with a smirk. How he missed having someone around who understood his odd sense of humor, like his daughter or granddaughter. Hell his granddaughter was as likely to tease and prank him back as laugh which made it all the more fun! But Red...well he was just sour grapes. Tossing a notepad to the boy Blaine brushed past him and set back to work at his station, where his centrifuge finally stopped spinning. "We may be having guests soon so I need you to get those things for me. Shouldn't take you long."

Pointing over to a computer with a blinking screen the scientist only turned his attention from his microscope for a second to eye Red. "You can borrow one of mine while you are out. You will have to go out-out for some of the things on that list and I want to make sure you get back with them alive." By one of his of course he meant his Pokemon. The blinking screen was in fact his storage system. Basically a computer he had jacked from a Pokemon Center during the first raids and horded down here for his own personal use. It served its purpose well as Blaine's lab wasn't big enough for all of his babies to run free. Or flame retardant.

Chuckling at his own joke he waved the hat wearing youth away and turned back to his work without a word. Red knew the drill, after all it wasn't the first time Blaine had sent him out on errands.
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Re: The RESEARCH Team (PLOT)

Post by Red on Sun Jul 21, 2013 12:47 pm



Near the Underground Lab/Seafoam Islands|Late Morning (3)
 
 
Blaine was obviously hiding something; he took the pokeball he'd been caressing earlier into the more shadowed part of the lab, releasing whatever was inside. Red couldn't see whatever came out, but neither did he try to see past Blaine's coat. He could hear intelligible whispering, and whatever pokemon Blaine released remained hidden in the shadows. Red's eyes narrowed into slits; whenever Blaine felt like hiding facts, it was usually to make whatever task he needed Red to execute more... humane? Willing? Coercive? Whatever the case, Red was sure of only a few things: Blaine was going to ask him to do something, likely dangerous, and knowing all the details would make Red say "No". As if he honestly had a choice in the first place; he was as much a prisoner as he was an employee. And while Blaine had never threatened to tattle on Red for disobeyed orders -seemed a bit too childish or Blaine would rather deal out punishment himself- Red knew that calling his superior was a good enough trump card for the soldier to not tug on his leash.
 
"So, forget your keys again?" Blaine asked rhetorically, knowing better than to expect an answer. Red glared upward at him, hand tensing only a fraction on his gun. How he'd love to shoot that smug smirk off that man's face... Not allowing a pause in his movements or mouth, Blaine brushed past him, tossing one of his little notebooks toward Red, who caught it whilst still glaring at the elder scientist. As Blaine checked on the centrifuge with the blood still spinning, Red glanced down at the chicken-scratch handwriting scrawled hastily over the small, delicate pages. Of course, at first glance, it was completely unintelligible. He'd have to sit and really try to read that slew of random marks if he were to figure it out-- nearly everything the man did was covered in code and riddles. Nothing about Blaine was to-the-point. Not even his fucking grocery list.
 
"We may be having guests soon so I need you to get those things for me. Shouldn't take you long," Blaine continued as Red merely pocketed the list and stood, collecting his traveling gear once more. Good. At least he'd be out of this damned bunker a little while longer. As he made sure his gear was properly attached, he saw Blaine gesture over to one of the computers, flickering hastily from the faulty monitor. "You can borrow one of mine while you are out. You will have to go out-out for some of the things on that list and I want to make sure you get back with them alive."
 
"Out-out"? Red pondered, pausing in his routine to stare at the gesturing hand and then to the blinking monitor. "Out-out" meant not only out of the bunker or caverns, but the island all together. "Out-out" was the mainland. Quirking a brow, he pondered just where he needed to go, what he needed to get... and then the rest of Blaine's instructions echoed in his mind. "...and I want to make sure you get back with them alive."
 
..."Them"?
 
Red moved forward toward the computer, pushing the now multiplying questions in his mind. Asking them was useless-- he'd just get the run-around from Blaine, or just be insulted for not knowing the answer himself. He sighed as he reached the PC, as choosing one of Blaine's pokemon was like choosing which little mini-Blaine -or not-so-mini- he wanted for company. He really only liked choosing between a few of them, though, and Red's choices were always fueled with practicality. A pokemon to Surf, to Fly, to Dive, to Rock Climb-- whatever the case was. Since he was being tasked with an entire list of things to grab, as well as get off the island, it was a safe bet to assume a Flying pokemon would be needed. Likely as not, what he needed wouldn't be on the coast for easy access. Scrolling through the pokemon, he went to his default Storage flyer; Blaine's personal Charizard. While using a charizard in general caused uneasiness in the soldier, as he'd murdered his own during the initial outbreak, there wasn't much choice in the matter. It was a strong, fast flyer and would be able to overcome many, if not all, obstacles they'd face. Going through the options out of habit, the charizard's ball plopped out of the shoot, allowing Red to pick it up.
 
Moving silently away and back to the door, pausing only when Blaine gave a soft chuckle to himself, he exited the bunker, locking it as he went-- after ensuring his keys were in fact with him. (He had in fact left them behind.) It didn't take long to get to the surface; he uncovered an old metal ladder from the days when the Cinnabar volcano erupted and climbed up and out. The bright sun and the windy sea breeze hit him hard, causing him to squint and scrunch his youthful face with discomfort. ...You've been in the caves too long, Red... he admonished himself when his eyes struggled to adjust to the harsh lighting contrast. Pulling out the pokeball, he summoned Charizard and without a word, skillfully mounted the dragon and patted its side. Within mere moments, they were in the air, flying upward into the empty, silent sky.
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Re: The RESEARCH Team (PLOT)

Post by Blaine on Tue Jul 30, 2013 10:12 am


Underground Lab/Seafoam Islands|Late Morning (4)

Red left with nary a word, much in his style the last few months they had been here. It hadn't taken long for the elder scientist to work his way into Red's brain and take root, slowly driving the younger male insane. Blaine couldn't help himself though. Poking fun and posing riddles was in his blood so it wasn't his fault the kid didn't enjoy them. He had tried to tailor some of them to his counterparts rough personality but several of those attempts resulted in only making Red angrier rather than lightening him up. He was one tough nut to crack.

But Blaine was bound and determined to get through to the kid one way or another if only to serve as a buffer between him and his work. He hated to admit it but sometimes he did get a little too lost in his experiments and before Red they had taken some...darker turns. As the former failures came to mind it was suddenly like a light went off in Blaine's head, a darker shadow casting over his face as he lowered his head and grinned. Double checking the cameras to make sure Red had indeed left the area the older man walked over to the PC to pull out two of his babies, noting that his Charizard was gone and giving a little pout. Of course Red would choose that one.

Settling with his Magmar and Rhydon, Rhydon being the most necessary for where he was going, Blaine set out of the lab satchel in tow. It took him nearly an hour of winding through the cave tunnels, mostly barren thanks to Red's scouting, but once he came to the underground lake it was a different story. The ocean had carved out these caves millennia ago, this small bit of salt water pushing up from the vast underwater network that still lay below the surface. There was physically no way to get around it since it emptied into a giant hole, the next tunnel laying far on the other side inaccessible unless one had the ability to swim or fly across. This is where his beloved Rhydon came in.

Summoning the rocky brute out of his ball Blaine gently scratched its head before pointing towards the lake. "Time to Surf buddy!" he offered cheerfully, smiling as the rock type grimaced as it stepped into the salty water. Despite being able to learn Surf his particular Rhydon hated water, really only getting in when Blaine needed to cross this lake. Thankfully he was quick and the duo was across in a little over five minutes. His boy practically begged to not go back in the ball and Blaine finally obliged, walking over to a large metal door blocking off the next tunnel. This was the one place he knew Red would never find...especially since he didn't have his own Pokemon anymore...

It took almost another hour to reach his destination. After a series of passwords, voice commands, fingerprint analyses, and retinal scans Blaine finally made it through the natural maze beneath the islands and to a metal bunker obviously out of place in the cave. Summoning his Rhydon back Blaine stepped up to the heavily armored fortification and uttered one phrase.

"Temptation is the devil looking through the keyhole."
Click!
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Re: The RESEARCH Team (PLOT)

Post by Red on Sun Aug 04, 2013 1:42 pm



Near the Underground Lab/Seafoam Islands|Late Morning (4)


Red took a long, steadying breath as Charizard reached cruising altitude, the whole of Kanto sprawling out before Red like a welcoming mat. His eyes went straight to the nearest mark of a city-- the small cove where his birthplace once stood. From his height, he couldn't see the destruction, the bodies that still lingered. From his place high in the heavens, there was no way he could smell the lingering death that clung to that town, nor any other town. His gaze did not change from their cold stare, however; his sentimentality did not hinder him. There was nothing left in Pallet Town. No supplies, no food, no healthy pokemon, no people. Nothing. There was no reason for him to go there, and frankly, he liked it that way. Turning to his side, he grasped the note Blaine had scribbled, frowning as he stared at the first few entries.

---------/\/\3|)!(47 $u|>p7!35---------
---------/\/E3|)L35---------
---------|303N $4w---------

He hated this fucking code. Red squinted, crossing his eyes a little-- a trick he'd found worked while trying to decipher what the hell Blaine wanted. Red knew that the code wasn't even necessary. It held no classified information, no sensitive knowledge. Not only were there no rival or enemy factions beyond the vast number of mindless walking corpses, there would still have to be people around to fucking read it. And even then, it was just a shopping list.. So, the hastily marked code was nothing more than one last riddle for him to solve because fuck Blaine and fuck his riddles. But the first three seemed to make sense before Red gave himself a migrane.

The first entry was "Medical Suppiles", which was... vague, to say the least. What medical supplies? A lot of things entailed that particular entry... what, was he supposed to lug back an entire fucking pokemon center? Hadn't they already sort of done that anyway? Sighing, he dismissed the first entry as a "Blaine can fuck himself" item, reading the next two with a little more ease. "Needles" was the second and "Bone Saw" -spelled incorrectly- was the next. Ok. Those were specific enough and held enough significance to actually pursue. Placing the note once more back in his pocket, Red searched the horizon for a place to raid. Pallet being out of the question, Red directed Charizard toward the next nearest town, Fuschia.

It didn't take long to arrive, as Charizard was a speedy flier. Dismounting and automatically bringing his gun out, he steadily made his way to the Pokemon Center located a little ways away from the beach. The few Undead that came into his way fell quickly at his bullets, Charizard knowing by now to reserve its energy until needed. Once inside the Pokemon Center, a quick sweep of the place told him that they were in fact alone, save for the actually dead things littering the floor. Motioning Charizard to stay by the door on watch, Red began pilfering through the remaining useful items strewn about the Center in a bloodied mess. All he wanted was to get Blaine's shopping done and get back...

...For some reason, Red couldn't shake the strange bad feeling that had taken hold in his gut.
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Re: The RESEARCH Team (PLOT)

Post by Blaine on Thu Aug 08, 2013 5:24 pm


Underground Lab/Seafoam Islands|Late Morning (5)

As the door slowly moved open, the hiss of depressurizing hydraulics filled the silence. Blaine stared at the thick wall of metal as it gradually shifted out of his path waiting until it came to a full stop before stepping inside. He passed a small white cylinder on the wall and as soon as he did it blinked rapidly, the door closing behind him and hissing closed once more, leaving the scientist sealed within. The inside of the bunker was deceptively larger than the outside left it to appear, many cells lighting up down a hallway before the sounds of mewling and growling filled the air. Whatever he kept in there was now fully awake and obviously terrified he was there.

Walking a short distance down the hall he stopped in front of a white barred door and stared inside, the light from the hallway the only way of illuminating the inside leaving much of it still bathed in shadow. A small figure skittered quickly into the darkest corner of the cell, pressing hard into the wall to keep away from the elder male. Smiling sadly he opened the door with a key card and stepped inside, pulling something out of his coat that glinted in the light before stepping into the shadows to fetch the other. A scream pierced the air like that of a very young girl, causing every other creature in the bunker to quiet themselves as they listened for her fate. The screams quickly began to fade before they ended all together in a soft mewl, dying off completely and leaving the entire space in horrifying silence. everything aware that the little one was no longer among them.

Blaine stepped out of the cell with a blank expression, his eyes downcast and the light reflecting off of his glasses which prevented any onlooker from observing him. Even knowing he was alone he couldn't raise his head after such an act. His coat was splashed with blood, his shoes sticking to the floor with the substance as he shut the door and walked back down the hallway. It was only when he lifted his head for the retinal scanner to get back out of the door that a single trail of tears finally fell into view, the old scientist forcing them back down as he stepped back outside and turned to look at the massive doorway. He stood there for several minutes before finally swallowing the lump in his throat and uttering the password to seal the bunker once again. "Yielding...is opening the door and inviting him in."

And that's what he knew he had done when creating those failures. Invited him in. But it was too late to go back now and even he could see the slippery slope in what he had just done to that failure but right now Blaine had bigger problems. Without this he wouldn't be able to finish setting up for his guests and certainly wouldn't be able to extract what he needed to work on the cure. The cure needed to be his top priority. His only priority. The door finally closed and after hissing a series of loud clicks could be heard before three repetitive beeps. It was done and sealed once more, not to opened again without going through the whole process over, a process which only he knew. Feeling that his secret was safe behind solid walls once more Blaine turned back to the lake and summoned his surfing Rhydon. The only clue to the purpose of his visit was the small red jewel he stuffed into his pocket before donning the stone beast to head back.
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Re: The RESEARCH Team (PLOT)

Post by Red on Sun Aug 18, 2013 7:06 am



Fuschia City|Late Morning (5)
 
 
Red easily skimmed through the pathetic remnants that lay at his boots as he slowly, stealthily traveled through what remained of the pokemon center. Most pokemon centers were built the same, but it was obvious that Kanto's centers had undergone upgrades while he had been in Mount Silver, training. There was another floor, but it was obvious that the escalator was no longer able to carry weight to it. The stairs were utterly destroyed, broken in the middle to a point where even he couldn't jump it. And even then, who knew whether or not all of that effort would actually get him what he needed?
 
Ignoring the broken escalators, he continued to glance about, his mind carefully focused on his task. He managed to find some incomplete first-aid kits, which wrapped up "medical supplies", as well as a couple of needles. They were in no means sterile, but he knew that Blaine wasn't using them on anyone that wasn't already infected with something. Carefully placing them in his bag, he continued to look for a bone saw, but quickly found that there were none. Well. Either he continued into another town or simply went back with an incomplete list...
 
He paused as he realized that even with 2 of 3 items, it wouldn't be near enough to satiate Blaine anyway... he had to decode the rest of the note. Reaching back into his pocket and grabbing the worn piece of paper, he looked back over the note in its entirety:
 
---------/\/\3|)!(47 $u|>p7!35---------
---------/\/E3|)L35---------
---------|303N $4w---------
---------M@$73r |341L---------
---------(134N #00|<3RZ---------
---------@ |347#- U $7!/\/|<---------
---------L3|>r!|<@n5---------
---------/\/\017r3$---------
 
---------4 |=3R|< !n& $3/\/5E 0|= #u/\/\0R---------
 
Red stared, exasperated with all the strange coding. Blaine liked making decoding it difficult-- trading out multiple different characters to represent the same letter. He liked switching them, as well, so Red had to remember an inane amount of stupid little markings to try and figure out the damned code.
 
Ok. The first three, he already got. The next looked like "Master Bail", but that couldn't be right. Wait, that's right, Red corrected himself inwardly, realizing his mistake. "1" is always an "L"... So... He wants me to find a Master Ball?! Staring down at the list with an uncharacteristically confused gaze, his mouth agape from the sheer audacity that Blaine had to request a Master Ball of all things, Red shook the item off, ridding it from his head. Blaine could go fishing for one in his stringy, withered ass-- it'd have about the same success rate, anyway. Looking down, processing and decoding the others, Red's hands began to tremble with rage.
 
"Clean hookers, a bath, 'Leprikans', Moltres, and--" he stopped at the final entry, his mind made up. Yeah. Blaine was getting a fucking bullet to the head (or twenty)-- fuck Lance. Ripping the list apart in a fit of fury, the young soldier swore off his precarious allegiance with that bald psychopath. "I'll show you a fucking sense of humor, you withered old burlap sack," he growled to himself as he shouldered his burden once more and stomped back to Charizard, who seemed a little wary of Red's sudden change of persona. Pausing at the now slightly defensive dragon, Red gave a heavy, exasperated sigh. He didn't want to be abandoned here, even though staying might have more pros than actually going back.
 
"...I hate your owner." It wasn't news, but the Charizard seemed cautious nonetheless. Red wouldn't have put it past Blaine to instruct his pokemon to abandon the soldier if the latter were beginning to become violent again. As he moved to mount the fire dragon, a snap sounded in the near distance, behind the building. Cocking his gun and turning immediately, his somber mask on once more, he waited until whatever was stalking him emerged. No sense in wasting ammo.
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Re: The RESEARCH Team (PLOT)

Post by Blaine on Wed Sep 11, 2013 9:26 am


Underground Lab/Seafoam Islands|Late Morning (6)

Blaine was happily humming to himself now that he was safely back in his lab, taking his time setting up one of his older inventions. He hadn't used it since the failures he had locked away in the bunker he just returned from but after a bit of tweaking it was back in full working order. Once his prize arrived the jewel he obtained would be the perfect catalyst in guaranteeing the success rate for this particular subject. But he didn't want to waste the power of it just yet so he needed to do a test run using the old method, he had plenty of Pokemon to choose from so he just needed to figure out a good sample to test on...

Going into the back, ignoring the snarling and hissing of the caged undead raging in their confinements, Blaine stopped at a strangely silent cage. Peering into the slits that served mostly as air ventilation the older man eyed the small Piplup inside. It was huddled in the corner, shivering and frightened, but eyes beginning to tinge a tell-tale red. He was lucky Red had brought him such a recent infected, it was still sane enough to accept the small amount of comfort the scientist could offer when he picked it up and cuddled it close. "There there, you don't have to be afraid anymore," he cooed softly, gently stroking the little penguin's head as he walked back to the machine. "I won't let the infection take you." The blue bird calmed a little and began to snuggle into his white coat, a sad smile passing across Blaine's face.

If only the child knew how Blaine was going to stop it...he probably wouldn't be as happy to hear those words.
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Red
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Re: The RESEARCH Team (PLOT)

Post by Red on Sat Sep 14, 2013 3:45 pm



Fuschia City|Late Morning (6)


Red's body remained perfectly still as whatever was in the bushes meekly made its approach: a chansey, obviously scared and trembling, its eyes pleading with his own cold, emotionless stare. His com crackled a little as it stuttered a moment, trying to find the right words. P-Please... it whimpered, its hands shaking so terribly, it caused the rest of its body to shake as well. Please, I-I... I haven't seen a-another human in so long...! Are-Are you a t-trainer?"

Red only stared in reply, his gun still cocked at the chansey's head.

The chansey swallowed, watching for some sort of answer, but none came. Its anxiety heightened, it glanced around for something. "I... Can... Can you even understand me?"

Silence once more, the gun unmoving from its sight on the chansey's vulnerable forehead.

Still, it seemed that the plump motherly pokemon wasn't to be defeated with such a terrifying situation. Reaching slowly back into the brush, it brought out a little baby kangaskhan, its body pale, thin and weak. There was no way it would last much longer without help. Professional help. Red's dull eyes glanced over the baby as he took in every detail, and that much was true: this was this baby's only chance. S-Sir, this child, it--"

RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT

Red's barrel had shifted slightly to the little one, and his aim had been true. The small kangaskhan's head wasn't even there anymore, and a frail arm had been dislodged from its mount as well by his merciless bullets. The chansey, now sprayed with the baby's blood, stared in shock and horror at the maimed pile of meat the little one it had likely worked so hard to care for had become. Red's barrel returned to its previous target and discharged more bullets before the pokemon had the chance to even ask why.

As he lowered his gun when the pokemon plopped down dead beside the baby, Red stared for a moment, reminding himself why he had even bothered pulling the trigger. He could have just left them. Mounted Charizard again and headed back to the bunker. He could have even brought the kid with him, given the chansey some satisfaction that it had done something right before likely being torn limb from limb in the near future. But he knew that a well-placed shot to the head was now a sort of merciful euthanasia. Better they die quickly than by starvation, being eaten, or worse-- become the next test subjects for Blaine. No... he'd done them a favor. He'd ended their suffering.

What he'd done was right.

If it wasn't... well...

Red closed his eyes against the small feeling of indigestion that began to churn in his stomach. What he'd done was right. Correct. If they hadn't died by his hand, it would have been something else. Starvation. Undead. A bad fall. Blaine's cruel imagination...

A ruthless killer with a gun.

The single thought caused his eyes to open once more, taking in his recent slaughter again. His own pokemon replaced the unfortunate duo, his five dead piled high in the blockade's courtyard, lit aflame. Their skin peeled back like paper, the fat boiled and popped, the blood blackened and steamed. The smoke was a thick, choking blanket of death that haunted, seared his senses even here, miles and miles away. His expression did not change, however; he knew these ghosts. They did not startle him, scare him... No... he nearly didn't feel anything anymore.

Blinking once more, he saw only the chansey and kanga-baby. The vision was over, and the stink of the smoke clung to him like hungry hands. He turned back to Charizard, who still stared at him uneasily, and mounted the fire dragon again. "I have what your trainer wants," he spoke, his voice flat and lifeless. "Let's just get back."
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Elm
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Re: The RESEARCH Team (PLOT)

Post by Elm on Mon Sep 16, 2013 1:16 pm



Fuschia City – Late Morning [1]

The photograph was crumpled, torn and water-damaged to leave the individuals it captured fading away into a growing, ugly smear of pale-gray. Much like Elm’s memory, the faces of his loved ones were again slipping away. It wasn’t even a good photo. His wife’s attention was elsewhere while his daughter, goodness she was young in this one, was caught mid-sentence in a particularly unflattering expression. It had been taken by a family friend, and of course Elm himself wasn’t in the shot – no surprises there.

Pangs of regret pierced his chest. He no longer remembered what they were doing that day, or where they had gone. He wouldn't be surprised if it were Olivine. He remembered the beaches there.

It was where he'd met his wife to start with.

I should have gone with them. But even as he thought it, his stomach squirmed. He would have regretted going if he had. He knew that. The honeymoon period in the lives of himself and his then-dear wife was over so quickly. Before his child was even born, he was beginning to avoid Macy.

Yes, but you would have enjoyed your daughter's presence.

This was true. Esme had once had a knack for making even him feel at ease, regardless where his wife may be at the time. This grew ineffectional over time as the rift widened ever so slowly between himself and Macy, but Esme couldn't be much older than six or seven in this photo, if he judged it based on height. There were still occasionally pleasant times between all three of them, at that point. And if he had gone, he would have had that much more time to spend with his little girl. Now it was doubtful he would ever even see her again.

He had tried to be a good father despite his work and his terrible marriage. He had, in a sense, been a father to a total of four children. Esme, Gold, Lyra, Kris...

Where no one had looked after the other three children, he tried to step up. And for Gold, Lyra, and Kris, this had proved easier than with his own daughter. They loved the lab. Gold was easily distracted with shiny things and with his own pokemon, who could keep the boy from trouble, as well as "Would you like to see something really cool?" followed by something probably a little flammable, maybe colorful, and most definitely cool. And as for the girls, they proved to be unbelievably helpful. Kris, Kris; she could have gone on to be the regional Professor herself, someday...

But Esme... his dear Esme... her interests aligned with his on many, many things, but not science. She adored science fiction, and was fascinated by some real science, but ultimately, she had no desire to pursue it in depth. And that was fine. He had never begrudged the girl that. But whenever his obsessions spiked and the lure of discovery and progression kept him working all hours of the day, and night, and his wife got into her moods, and it was easier to stay out of her way and absorb himself in what he enjoyed rather than potentially endure her presence...

It all kept him from her. He had allowed that.

Elm had abandoned her on an emotional level; it was only inevitable that they’d both abandoned him in turn when evacuations were underway. Only fair.

But, his memory pointed out, Esme hadn't wanted to. She begged you to go with them. You kept telling her that you were so close to a cure. 'Just a little longer.'

Professor Elm visibly flinched at the memory, guilt-stricken. Yes, he had deserved to be abandoned. He had never felt angry or resentful over that fact. But he had still forced upon his daughter a situation where she had to choose which parent to stay with, and that was... inexcusable.

The man, gaunt from the weeks isolated in the wilderness, had hoisted himself into a tree and sat uncomfortably on an outstretched branch. He wasn’t far from the ground. It had taken almost half an hour to reach his current position and by the time he’d gotten there vertigo had started to kick in. For the sake of his already precarious health, the professor had nestled close to the tree trunk and distracted himself with the only surviving memento of a life he’d truly missed out on. On reflection, it wasn’t one of his better ideas.

Sufficiently miserable, Elm hurriedly tucked the photograph into his shirt pocket and rested his head against the coarse trunk. Yet a series of nearby shots was quick to inject a dose of fear into the professor’s veins, rudely plunging him back into reality as he struggled to keep his balance on the branch.

His heart was pounding in his ears; once-dulled eyes now alighted with an intense panic as they desperately scanned the immediate area. It was dead. There was no movement, no further indication of life as the gunfire fell back to that tormenting silence. For a moment, Elm was convinced he had imagined it.

“S-surely not…” He muttered to himself, voice shaky as he persuaded himself that he wasn’t going mad.

It took a further few minutes of internal argument before the professor summoned the courage to investigate, confident of the sound’s direction as he hesitantly, and somewhat reluctantly, slipped from his perch. Stolen boots hit the ground with a light thud, Elm’s slim arms extended in a bid to catch his balance upon landing. Surprisingly, he was successful in the descent.

He searched for one of three pokeballs at his hip, fingers wrapping about his target as he proceeded to release a sharp-eyed Typhlosion. The fire-type, whilst towering over the shaken professor, was perfectly harmless... to Elm. Though she smiled at him gently and nudged her head against his, he knew the power she could weild; she was more than capable of holding her own in battle.

But Elm liked to think that such violence wouldn’t be necessary. Undead couldn’t operate firearms. Only one species were capable of handling such monstrous creations. It was irrational to feel fear when there was opportunity to meet one of his own kind, a human survivor.

“Hey, Pele.” Elm was instantly eased by the presence of the pokémon, raising a hand in which the creature reassuringly butted against in an act of camaraderie. It coaxed out a shy smile. Elm, instilled with a temporary sense of comfort, heaved his satchel onto his shoulder and tentatively felt for the handle of his gun. It was icy to the touch, biting at the man’s palm as he held it before his haggard face. “Come on, th-then.”

With the bulky Typhlosion following his every move, Elm slowly made his way towards the city’s centre, gun in hand. The professor was trembling again, a recurring trait that he’d picked up in the weeks following the shipwreck as the earthy terrain turned to manmade streets. His boots made an unwelcome clack against the pavement, sounding louder in the man’s head as he quickened his pace to match his unsteady breathing. The fire-type gave an uneasy growl behind him, falling to a halt with eyes turned towards the flicker of a flame. Elm followed the creature’s stare, swallowing hard as he forced himself to approach.

Charizard.

It immediately triggered alarm bells, Elm stopping dead in his tracks and tightening his grip on the firearm. No one could deny the power of such creatures and he had absolutely no intention of reminding himself of their capabilities. But the dragon showed no telltale signs of infection, instead standing rigid until another figure came into vision.

“It can’t be…” It was a man, young and adorned in military-style clothing. Elm’s fear was stifled at the sight, a sense of relief washing over him in cool waves to quell the fire of internal panic. He acted on impulse, the desperation not to return to a life of isolation dictating his rash actions.

“Wait!” Elm shouted, the alarm returning now that the stranger was perched atop his pokémon, apparently ready to depart. He stumbled forward, tripping over his own feet with arms raised to both seek attention and indicate his submission. Even with the gun hanging limp from his hand, Elm was no threat. On the rare occasion he found the courage to use the damn thing, it took a genuine miracle for him to actually hit something. “Please! Please don’t go!”
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Blaine
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Re: The RESEARCH Team (PLOT)

Post by Blaine on Thu Sep 19, 2013 11:22 am


Underground Lab/Seafoam Islands|Late Morning (7)

It was almost too much strapping the young penguin into the machine, settling the youngling down knowing that its nervous calm would be broken once the machine started up. It wasn't in his nature to hurt Pokemon, but in this crisis sometimes even personal morals needed to be broken. The elder scientist moved about mechanically, face set and lips drawn in a thin line as he worked silently around the child. He would hear the occasional chirp and mutter from his patient, once a flipper reaching out to grab at his coat, but Blaine refused to allow it to break his concentration. The more he ignored it the less attached he would be once the experiment started.

Stepping away for a moment he walked towards his desk chair and sat down, pulling out a small silver box from under a false bottom in his lower drawer. Laying the box on the desk he pulled out a long rubber hose and rolled up his sleeve, wrapping the tube tightly around his right bicep before tapping his forearm firmly with three fingers. It took almost a minute before the lower circulation caused his older veins to rise but once he saw a good glimpse of his median cubital vein he pulled a silver syringe from the case and stuck the glimmering needle into his arm, withdrawing two vials of blood before untying the tube and flexing his arm.

Frowning at the darkly colored liquid sloshing within the vials Blaine sighed, his blood reflecting the truth of his age in the loss of its formerly red glow. "You're getting old buddy," he muttered to himself, rising out of the chair and grabbing his cane. He rarely needed it to balance but his arm was sore and he needed to be able to balance himself when he began the test. Returning to his little Piplup Blaine inserted the two vials into small openings where the blood was quickly drained, the machine beginning to hum ominously. Looking to the small child he allowed himself one brief moment to gently scratch its head and offer a reassuring smile. "I promise you will come out of this alive," he offered, not willing to frighten the child with anything more. It was starting to shiver in fear as the machine began to glow and move, Blaine stepping away to allow it sufficient room.

Slowly shifting his hand into his pocket he gripped the red jewel tightly and wishe that nothing went wrong. He needed the old experiment to run exactly the way it used to or the jewel would be useless. He needed this to work.
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Re: The RESEARCH Team (PLOT)

Post by Red on Thu Sep 19, 2013 2:34 pm



Fuschia City|Late Morning (7)

“Wait!”

Red halted in his ascent onto Charizard, his body freezing in place as the revelation that someone else had actually spoken to him, and not through the translator. Turning slowly, as if checking to make sure he hadn't completely lost his marbles, he looked to where the strange, likely crazy-induced voice sounded, his heart nearly stopping as his eyes laid upon the first human -besides Blaine- he'd seen since his transfer to the bunker. The shock of seeing someone besides the riddling clown of a scientist took him enough off guard to allow the man to continue his wild approach, even for a few more seconds than normal. “Please! Please don’t go!”

But once the stranger breached the imaginary line of Red's comfort zone, the soldier's instincts flared once more, snapping him back to reality. There was an unknown human, flying full-speed -albeit clumsily- toward him, gun in hand and large, lumbering typhlosion in tow. Red's semi-automatic rifle shot up, pointing straight at the newcomer's large, bobbling head. "STOP RIGHT THERE!" he barked, dismounting Charizard so his feet were both firmly planted on the sand. Once the man stopped, Red moved forward only a little, if to just have a better shot to plant a few bullets right into the man's beady little eyes.

"Drop your weapon, civilian. State your name, put your pokemon back and give me a reason why I shouldn't shoot you here and now." His gun came up more, allowing him to stare at the man through the scope.
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Re: The RESEARCH Team (PLOT)

Post by Elm on Fri Sep 20, 2013 6:57 am



Fuschia City – Late Morning [2]

For a moment, Elm was unsure whether the stranger had seen him. The idea seemed ludicrous. How could he not notice a half-crazed man in a tatty lab coat, arms flailing and voice hoarse with desperation, running towards him? He met the man’s quite vacant eyes, a feeling of unease suddenly overcoming his earlier hope as the stranger seemed to finally register the situation. And he did not take kindly to it.

"STOP RIGHT THERE!"

Even without the man’s gun trained on him, Elm wouldn’t have questioned the order. He froze dead like a frightened animal in the headlights, staring at the possibility of a premature but thankfully sudden death. His jaw hung open a fraction, mouth dry whilst his own frantic heartbeat pounded relentlessly in his ears.
“Okay… O-Okay,” His mutterings were too faint to hear, oozing with a strange combination of fear and pitiful reassurance to the hunter. Ironic considering it was most definitely his nerves in need of settling. Nauseous, he felt the warmth of the giant fire-type behind him to remind him that he wasn’t doing this totally alone.

Rationality managed to surface as Elm forced himself to stand straight though his legs had turned to jelly. He raised his head to allow the man to see he was, contrary to popular belief, perfectly sane, before proceeding to hold up his hands.  Small eyes tried valiantly to keep their position on the man’s face, rather than the barrel of the gun threatening to end his life; and for the first time in his life, Professor Elm could find nothing to say. The silence surrounded him; a fitting coffin.

"Drop your weapon, civilian. State your name, put your pokemon back and give me a reason why I shouldn't shoot you here and now." His command, flat and completely unsettling to the professor saw a bead of sweat slowly descend down his forehead. He hadn’t the courage to wipe it away. Instead, his eyes darted to the gun still hanging limp from his hand. Elm’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment, only then becoming aware of what a terrible state he was in. It was a welcome reminder of social normality, injecting a momentary calm in the panicked scholar. “O-Okay,” He hurriedly obliged, crouching to place the weapon on the ground with a soft clack before slowly returning to his previous position.

Military personnel, Elm presumed amidst the chaos of his mind. His silent observations of the stranger’s mannerisms and behavior was keeping him grounded; brain planning intelligible responses at the realization not everyone was happy to have company. He felt stupid, realizing that his desperation for a savior could may well cost him his life.
“M-My name is Elm – Prof-Professor Elm,” Whilst the words formed a strong answer in his head, spoken with clarity and rigor; the emerging result was quite pitiful. Part of him cringed away, though panic numbed the sensation of growing humiliation. It can’t get any worse. Clearing his throat, he cast a sideways glance to the pokemon stood loyally, albeit uncomfortably aside him, and contemplated the human’s second order. It took a moment of internal argument, before Elm sighed and obliged, returning the creature to its pokeball.

“I-I’m from Johto. I helped trainers, uh… I studied pokemon…” The panic was creeping into his tone more blatantly, the pace of his speech growing faster and faster as he struggled to remember what the man had asked in the first place. “Oak!” Elm exclaimed suddenly, everyone had heard of the legendary Professor Oak and his connection to man seemed a useful bargaining chip at the time. “Professor Oak – h-he taught me. We were friends in fact- good friends. Surely you’ve heard of him?”

On reflection it was of little relevance as Elm, unnerved by the silence, continued to fill the space with the ramblings of a desperate man.

“I’ve been out here fo-for months. They wanted me to study the infected bu-but then – shipwreck. I-I-I don’t know how I got out alive – don’t know why I’m still alive now! I mean-” He gave a short, unkind laugh at his own expense. Look at me! I-I was never going to hurt you- I would never. I- I couldn’t,”

Professor Elm caught himself, gasping for breath as he found his attention had shifted immovably to the barrel of the gun. He briefly wondered whether it would be kinder, even easier, to just… die. Suicide had crossed his mind before, but he was a coward. He could never go through with it. Defeated, he let his arms flop to his sides – the intense terror wearing off to render him thoroughly fatigued,

“…I’m sure we could help each other,”
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Re: The RESEARCH Team (PLOT)

Post by Blaine on Tue Nov 26, 2013 7:48 am

((Terribly sorry friends, it seems these old bones aren't what they used to be. It seems at my age catching the flu is notoriously easy. Who knew?))

Underground Lab/Seafoam Islands|Late Morning (8)

Blaine had a sad smile on his face as he gently lay the cloth over the dead, face still contorted in fear, forever frozen in its final moments of life as evidence of what had been done to it. The experiment had been a success, running exactly the way it always had, and the child would have survived the experience if the shock of witnessing its new form hadn't sent it into shock, stopping its heart cold. The elder male let out a regrettful sigh, actually hoping that once of his experiments would understand for once and let him help them. But after they turned it was always the same. Shock. Fear. Anger. Betrayal.... How many had he put down over the years simply because in their altered state they had become more dangerous than they were when they were alive?

And the worst part? Autopsies and further test proved that they held a new resistance to the virus if the host body had been infected during transformation.

It why he wanted the undead so badly but he had learned quickly that the longer the infection had been within the host, however, the more of their mind was gone and turning them into his experiments only made them more like rabid beasts than living dead. The virus halted, but whatever damage was already done. Saddening really. Expecting Red any minute Blaine gently picked up the small body and cradled it close to his chest, the slight feathers of the Piplup's back tickling his forearm as his coat sleeve road up. It never seemed to change.... but Blaine knew he could not give up his pursuit of the cure. And once his messenger came back with his 'parcel' the experiment could take its next step and he would finally get his vaccine. Red and his honor code be damned.

Disposing of the poor child in a magma chamber just outside the lab the senior scientist watched as the body caught light and slowly sank into the molten rock, the light from the flames dancing across his shades and hiding well the tears brimming in his eyes. He never wanted to hurt Pokemon or people in his pursuit of redemption, but having been so close to the cause of the epidemic he knew that he had to do whatever it took to get the world back on track, before Ragnarok became factual rather than myth. The last of humanity and the pure taking the final stand against the god-like undead, a battle that would likely wipe out the rest of the world and plunge them into eternal darkness....

No. It had to be stopped.

Wiping his face on his sleeve Blaine pushed himself to his full height with the support of his cane, tilting his head back and allowing the heat from the underwater volcano to wash over him Blaine steeled his resolve. His face set into a firm line he whirled around, coat swishing behind him like a windblown cape, and marched back to his lab. He had preparations to make for his 'guest' and as long as Red was gone he was going to see to it that they were ready. Where the hell was that boy anyway?
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Re: The RESEARCH Team (PLOT)

Post by Red on Tue Dec 03, 2013 2:57 pm



Fuschia City|Late Morning (8)

The squirrely man stopped immediately when Red's rifle rose, his forehead almost instantly breaking out into a sweat. He stuttered out an acquiescence, letting the small mouse gun in his head go limp. Red's eyes watched every jerk, every panicked breath the man took with cold analysis. Fear saturated the air around the stranger, anxiety kept his body trembling. Obviously, this man wasn't a threat, or he was a very, very good actor. But it seemed that the man remembered that Red had demanded information, rather than just pull a firearm on him, and began to speak.

“M-My name is Elm – Prof-Professor Elm,” he began, seeming to realize that he'd already made a few mistakes by charging a military grunt with both a gun and a pokemon. He returned the typhlosion, essentially disarming himself completely. But Red's defenses remained firm; there was no way he was getting caught off guard. The name itself meant nothing to Red, and the lack of a response seemed to egg on the professor's panic.
“I-I’m from Johto. I helped trainers, uh… I studied pokemon…” Voice crack, quivering lower jaw, eyes darting. He was looking for something, any information to quell Red's steel bloodlust. The soldier's eyes narrowed; something in him, a predatory side of him tightened his hold on the trigger by a fraction. A weaselly, sniveling waste of a human. People like him were bait. Something to keep the enemy gnawing and occupied while the more worthwhile people ran.

“Oak!” the stranger suddenly exclaimed, as if coming across a lifesaver. “Professor Oak – h-he taught me. We were friends in fact- good friends. Surely you’ve heard of him?” The only change in Red's expression was the slight quirk of a brow. He knew Oak? Well, technically, just about everyone did. The legendary professor lived well up to his description: legendary. Known in even the furthest regions of the world, it was hard to believe Oak knew this chattering bobble-head. Still, he didn't recognize Red; that meant he wasn't from Kanto at all, solidifying his Johto origins. And if he said who he said he was... Red's mind thought back to the infuriating coded message, a small, dark smirk playing at the edges of his mouth.

Looks like Blaine was getting his "clean hooker" after all.

“I’ve been out here fo-for months." Elm continued, the silence proving too much for the terrified professor.  "They wanted me to study the infected bu-but then – shipwreck. I-I-I don’t know how I got out alive – don’t know why I’m still alive now! I mean-” A curt, terrified laugh caught his throat, his voice near hysterical.  Look at me! I-I was never going to hurt you- I would never. I- I couldn’t,” Red watched, as always, as Elm's desperate panic finally gave way into a grim sort of acceptance, his arms lowering to his sides in a defeated limp gesture.

“…I’m sure we could help each other,” he finally stated, looking like a trapped rodent facing its own looming cat.

...More than you know, little man...

Red's assault rifle lowered, then swung backward to rest on his backpack. He strode forward, pulling out his personal handgun, pointing it at Elm's now drenched forehead. "Mount the Charizard," he ordered in a staccato bark, placing himself behind the man and following him back to the dragon, taking the mouse gun from Elm's limp, moist grip. "Keep your hands on his neck at all times. Do not turn, do not speak, do not pull out your own pokemon. Failure to restrain yourself will result in me shooting you, do you understand, Professor?" Every word was a recited, memorized growl, the orders an unenthusiastic word-vomit. Once the man boarded the dragon, Red mounted behind him, his pistol digging itself deep into Elm's ribcage. Without another word, Red gently nudged the dragon with his heels, urging Charizard upward. The dragon grunted, then launched itself into the air, all too ready to return to the bunker.
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Re: The RESEARCH Team (PLOT)

Post by Elm on Wed Dec 11, 2013 10:46 am



Fuschia City – Late Morning [3]

It was torture.

Whilst Elm’s mind ran wild with a sickly concoction of painful and beautiful memories, the silence between the two men only drew tauntingly on, beckoning the man’s psyche to its breaking point. He couldn’t take it. It was suffocating the shaken professor, cutting off whatever glimmer of hope he’d deluded himself into believing he’d found. This man was cold – a stone wall, an analytical drone staring him down. Elm was shrinking into the ground, quietly trembling as the combined strength of the soldier’s stare and that cruel silence wore away his defences.

The moment the man moved, a fluid motion which saw his rifle perch soundly against his back, Professor Elm’s legs nearly gave way. Relief slammed into him, the confirmation that he wasn’t going to die proving a sensation almost too powerful for the scholar’s slender frame to bear. He caught himself however, sucking air into his deprived lungs as he valiantly attempted to gather himself. He may have succeeded hadn’t the stranger’s sudden approach plunged him back into a state of subdued terror.

It wasn’t a rifle, but the barrel of a second firearm was now pressing into the creases of Elm’s sweaty forehead.

"Mount the Charizard,"

Elm couldn’t speak, staring cross-eyed at the handgun as an incredible heat filtered through to his skull. His eyes, battered glasses slipping further down the length of his nose, now focused on the man who controlled his fate.
“O-Okay,” The professor didn’t trust himself to ramble, instead offering the shaky agreement as he was marched towards the patient fire-type. It was about the only thing that Elm didn’t fear. Pokémon he understood – it was his own species he found alien.

"Keep your hands on his neck at all times. Do not turn, do not speak, do not pull out your own pokemon. Failure to restrain yourself will result in me shooting you, do you understand, Professor?" Had he been rehearsing? Professor Elm was suddenly struck with the feeling that another unfortunate survivor had heard those very words – but why? What good was a hostage in this day and age? Where was he being taken? Questions threatening to spill out from their internal prison, Elm barely noticed he had been relieved of his weapon.
“… I understand,” He cleared his throat, rationality slowly replenishing itself as he saw the opportunity to save himself. If this man wanted him dead, there would be no need for conversation at all – Elm knew he’d be bleeding, skull split open, on the ground five minutes prior to this very moment.

Obediently, albeit rather clumsily mounting the Charizard, the professor’s moist hands rested lightly at the creature’s neck. He had flown a number of times before but it wasn’t a pastime he particularly enjoyed, especially when the mount belonged to such a man as the one who currently held a gun to his ribs. Elm flinched away at the jab of the barrel, silencing the question he so dearly wanted to ask. Where are we going?

The dragon took off, Elm’s grip tightening on the creature’s neck as he found himself a prisoner to a complete psychopath.

It would have been easier to deal with an undead.
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Blaine
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Re: The RESEARCH Team (PLOT)

Post by Blaine on Tue Dec 31, 2013 9:54 am


Underground Lab/Seafoam Islands|Late Morning (9)

Blaine was getting antsy. Red had been gone a notoriously long amount of time and it was starting to wear on the older male. He had already paced a firm path into the floor and wrung his hands to near pretzel like formations. He didn't do anxious well, never had.

While Red was a pain in the elder scientist's ass he was still someone to talk to. It took a lot of work but eventually Blaine was always able to weasel his way under the youth's skin and get him to yell or argue back. It wasn't much for communication but it served him well enough. He tried not to use the translators because he didn't want them getting destroyed but he always had one on hand if he needed it. But the thought that drove him mad at this current moment was that his Charizard was still out there. Did Red have no respect for other people's Pokemon? Really.

Currently to occupy his mind and his time he had let out his Growlithe, the puppy Pokemon hopping around and barking to try and get the former Gym Leader to sit down. It wasn't working and it was driving the puppy crazy. Finally the little one grabbed Blaine's ankle within his sharp little teeth and Blaine let out a loud yelp, the Growlithe running underneath a desk to try and hide from any anger. But the man knew he could never hurt his little Growlithe. "Come here big guy," he cooed, kneeling down and waving his hands towards his chest. The small fire type crept slowly out to make sure it was safe before barreling into Blaine's chest for a hug. "I'm sorry I had you worried." Burying his face into the soft warm fur of his Pokemon Blaine allowed himself a small moment of peace, allowing his mind to wander away from the present if only for a little while.

At least until a sharp, stabbing pain shot from the base of his neck up into his head. He dropped his Pokemon and held his head in both hands, pressing hard against the sides and temples to try and get the new throbbing ache to go away. He hadn't felt anything this strong since back when....Oh shit. His eyes widened behind his tinted frames and Blaine jumped to his feet as quickly as his age would allow, moving to the security desk Red used to monitor the few cameras they had set up around the perimeter along with one or two outside the base. 'Where the hell are you Red?!' he hissed in his mind, almost desperate to have the warmongering youth with him. 'If you don't get here before him then I am screwed!' That kid better have a damn good excuse when he finally got here, too.
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Red
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Re: The RESEARCH Team (PLOT)

Post by Red on Tue Dec 31, 2013 6:02 pm



Route 19 |Late Morning (9)


The flight was long and quiet, save for the sound of the wind rushing past them and Charizard's wings beating against it. Red's gun remained firm against the professor's lower ribs, the soldier noticing more details about the man he'd suddenly taken hostage. He still wore a lab coat, one dirtied with life in the outdoors; its white stained a tawny sort of color, frayed and threadbare on the edges. While the coat was full, the winds made it easier to see his slight frame, giving some indication that food was not terribly available. Not surprising. He certainly looked the part he'd claimed to be, the stink of fear blowing directly into Red's face as they flew back to the bunker. Red's lip curled as the smell refused to leave him.

Disgusting.

As Red's gaze glanced downward, his thoughts went to the man's future with Blaine. He wasn't exactly sure what the crazy old fuck would do with a person, but for the stranger's sake, hopefully, he'd told the truth about knowing Oak. It might give the crazy scientist some reason to hold back... or more reason to torture information out of him. Either way. Blaine didn't like liars, and his fate as one would be much, much worse than a timid professor. In either case, Red wasn't sure whether or not he cared if this sniveling, shriveled sack of meat lived or died. At least him being there would divert Blaine's riddles away from Red for the time being.

It wasn't long until they landed, the landing itself a bit harder than normal on account of the extra weight. Red dismounted easily, slipping off and backing away a few steps to allow the professor some room to dismount himself... and to keep a better eye on him. Charizard glanced backward, waiting for his next command, to which Red just nodded. The dragon nodded back, then began walking toward the entrance of the caves. Red stepped forward a little to gain the professor's attention, gun still trained on the squirrely man, and said simply, "Follow him. Don't speak."

It was another long scene of endless caverns, copies of themselves in a seemingly never-ending labyrinth of empty, hollow corridors. There was no life at all, not the breath of the wind or the sound of rushing water. It was still as death in the caves, the only sounds the echoes of their own footsteps. Red calmly followed behind the professor, gun still aimed at the man's head, eyes focused on his hostage and the surroundings. He doubted any Infected had wandered in during the small window since his last patrol, but it was always better to be on his toes. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Charizard stopped and moved aside to reveal a large heavy steel door; a door that looked like it was built to withstand just about anything. "Knock," was Red's simple, soft order.

His eyes flicked upwards, waiting for the camera in the corner to move. Once it did, he said in a tone that could be described as "disgusted" more than anything, "I have your fucking 'hooker'. Open the door."
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Elm
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Re: The RESEARCH Team (PLOT)

Post by Elm on Fri Jan 10, 2014 5:13 pm



Fuschia City – Late Morning [4]

Elm found the icy jab of the wind in his face the perfect way to restore a temporary tranquillity within his erratic mind. His thoughts drifted away from the subject of his imminent death and instead set about warming his failing sense of hope. He wasn’t dead yet and it seemed illogical and totally sadistic for a killer to bide his time. Even a man who treated him with such hostility wouldn’t waste his time contemplating such a matter.

The Professor had significantly calmed, sucking up his sheer terror and blind desperation in favour of a more restrained concern for his wellbeing. Busying his brilliant mind with ways to escape this predicament and appeal to whatever humanity still lurked within this soldier, Elm, despite his best efforts at distracting his nagging fear, wasn’t allowed to forget his identity as a hostage. Hyperaware of the firearm probing at his side, he knew that his calm was only flitting. The moment they landed, his emotions would crash into him like a wave once more.

Elm was right.

The Charizard came to a halt, standing firm on solid ground as the Professor took a sharp inhale in preparation for the next stage of his kidnapping. He heard the man’s boots thud against the ground to his left but refrained from making any sort of eye contact. Keep it together. Professor Elm would take his time.

Clammy hands leaving the creature’s next – their position completely unchanged from their original starting point – Elm followed his captor’s example and dismounted with a stumble in his step. Pushing his glasses back to the bridge of his nose and giving the lapels of his dirtied lab coat a quick tug, the scholar looked up from his bedraggled appearance to the callous drone soon to dictate his actions.

"Follow him. Don't speak." Gulping, not trusting himself to speak in fear of falling victim to word vomit, Elm quickly nodded his head in understanding.

It was a strange place, a maze of dimly-lit corridors set in the discerning backdrop of a cave. Quite a fitting home for the soldier. There was nothing to look at as the Professor obediently stumbled after the fire pokemon, his eyes looking for some sort of distraction from that terrible silence. He tried to memorize the various pathways, building a vague internal map to keep his mind occupied as the stillness of the place began to nip at his heels. It was dead. Totally lifeless as the Professor’s breath escaped heavily, faster, to break the unending silence.

By the time they reached the door, Professor Elm was near-hyperventilating. His face was re-moistened with a thin layer of sweat, hands lightly trembling against his sides as he stared up at the ominous entrance. He didn’t hear the soldier’s command over the screeching within his own head; didn’t hear anything to leave the man’s mouth as dread overcame and numbed his senses.

What was he to face? Was this how it ended? Fed to rabid undead? Locked in these damned caves for all eternity? Die here?

Any concept of his fate being anything but horrific had vacated from his entire being, Elm left expecting the worst as the seconds only allowed his mind to take more and more illogical jumps. Left staring fearfully at the cold steel separating him from no-doubt a painful demise, Professor Elm found himself reduced to a mere child – no, smaller than that.

Elm was a rabbit, already crippled, caught in the headlights.
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Blaine
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Re: The RESEARCH Team (PLOT)

Post by Blaine on Sun Mar 23, 2014 11:20 am


Underground Lab/Seafoam Islands|Late Morning (10)

He was pacing again. The little Growlithe had long since given up getting him to stop and sat quietly in the researcher's chair, eyes following his human companion as he wore a path into the floor. The pain in his head was slowly growing stronger and he knew that if he didn't get Red's ass back here soon he was going to have a whole other kind of visitor and one that was capable of far more destruction than the edgy soldier boy. It wasn't until a soft electronic ping followed by a hollow knocking caught both of their attentions that he stopped his nervous habit, the Growlithe's head perking up to look at Blaine while the former Gym Leader moved towards the console to turn on the outside camera's remote access. Shifting the view he witnessed Red standing at the door with his Charizard and what appeared to be another human. Where had he found one of those?

"I have your fucking 'hooker'. Open the door."

Red's disgruntled voice came crackling through the comm system and Blaine couldn't help but bark out a laugh, the loud sound startling his Puppy Pokemon and sending it sailing off of his chair with a spin, lowly growling at his master for the upset. The elder man cooed gently and rubbed the Growlithe's ears before standing back up the console and flicking a small silver switch. "I expected you back hours ago," he jested, not needing the screen to know the expression that would grace the soldier's face. "And I see you still didn't get that bath so tell me, why should I let you in when you didn't finish your chores like a good boy? Hm?" He never could resist an opportunity to piss Red off.
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Red
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Re: The RESEARCH Team (PLOT)

Post by Red on Sun Mar 23, 2014 4:25 pm



Underground Lab/ Seafoam Islands |Late Morning (10)


There was a pause between Red's announcement and Blaine's reply; likely from the latter trying to regain his breath from laughing. Legends, he hated that man. "I expected you back hours ago," the voice jeered back cheerily on the PA, only gaining Red's normal scowl. "And I see you still didn't get that bath so tell me, why should I let you in when you didn't finish your chores like a good boy? Hm?"

The soldier's gaze narrowed as he glared upward at the soulless camera and its equally soulless pilot. "He said he knew Oak," was his simple reply, allowing himself a ghost of a smirk. "But I can just kill him and take it later." He brought up his rifle to the back of the man's head, prepping the gun for a rapid fire. Though he didn't care whether or not the self-proclaimed "professor" lived, having something like leverage over the crazy old fuck was somewhat refreshing. "...You know... if he's useless."
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Blaine
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Re: The RESEARCH Team (PLOT)

Post by Blaine on Tue Apr 01, 2014 6:52 am


Underground Lab/Seafoam Islands|Late Afternoon (11)

"He said he knew Oak,"

Even as he pushed the code to unlock and open the doors a million different scenarios slammed into Blaine's head, each one progressively worse than the last as to why some lackey of Oak would be stumbling around his secret labs. Did Oak know where he was? Was that old codger going to try something again to get Blaine to stop his research? He was trying to help people and Pokemon! He was just willing to go further than Oak was to get the results needed to save lives. That old bastard only cared about making himself look like the most important man in the world, he probably wanted to see what Blaine had accomplished so he could take it for himself and claim the cure. This spazzy idiot was just a decoy....had to be....Damn that Oak!

"But I can just kill him and take it later....You know... if he's useless."

Blaine's mind snapped back to the present, face twisted in a hateful scowl as he settled his gaze on the new lab rat. He lowered his head so his gaze was hidden behind his trademark sunglasses, eyes trailing slowly from the intruder's face to where Red's gun perched almost prophetically against the man's skull. It was so tempting to just let Red do it, to not have to worry about that bastard Oak interfering again with his work, but he had to know for sure if Oak even knew where he was or if this spaz really was that stupid in getting lost. "Not...now." he groaned out, fists clenched at his sides so tightly that his nails were beginning to puncture his palms. His Growlithe yipped frightfully at the scent of blood, running up to Blaine to gently lick at the back of his hands hoping to get his fingers to release.

Straightening up the former Gym Leader raised one arm and pointed to one of the metal tables against the wall, eyes still trained firmly on Red. "Put him in one of those chairs and make damn sure he doesn't touch anything. I wanna know who the hell this guy really is before we start putting any new holes in him." Oh yes, but as soon as he got his answer Red could feel free to do whatever he wanted with the intruder. But first, "Where's my Charizard?"


Last edited by Blaine on Tue Apr 15, 2014 2:04 pm; edited 1 time in total

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Re: The RESEARCH Team (PLOT)

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