(ACE) The STARK Team

Gaear seemed to have come out of nowhere.

The moment Carl’s scraggly form had disappeared within the building, the lurking Haxorus had acted. Moving swiftly, his eyes were locked to the Bayleef, unable to pass up the opportunity to take out the grass-type whilst there was chance. Sahara was proving a poor ally – she’d failed to kill any of them yet, so the dragon had decided to take matters into his own bloodied claws.

He came up behind the Bayleef, roughly snaring one of its hind-legs. In the same movement, Gaear had advanced to slam the creature’s mouth shut, hyper-aware that the cavalry lurked dangerously close. Fortunately, he allowed little more than a surprised gasp to escape Vale’s mouth. With no time to waste, the dragon – his vice-like grip on the struggling victim now cemented – retreated from the doorway, catching glimpse of Carl muttering to himself within in the process. The cat was oblivious as ever, clueless to the fate of his gossipy companion.

Dragging his victim to one side of the building, the shadows welcoming the Haxorus back with open arms, Gaear’s cold glare finally fixated to Vale’s fearful features. A wicked smile momentarily flashed over his features as he suddenly moved to slam the grass-type to the wall, holding him by the throat to quietly suffocate him with a single set of claws. Vale couldn’t scream if he tried.
“You’ve been spreading rumours,” The dragon scolded lightly, his voice quiet as he shook his head in mock disappointment. He increased the pressure on Vale’s neck, taking a twisted pleasure in the hitch in his breathing, whilst a free claw absently scratched beneath the creature’s chin – a fine trail of blood slowly oozing from the cut. “I can’t have you ruining the fun just yet,”

Carl’s muffled ramblings within the building had quieted, suggesting that he was now becoming aware of Vale’s absence. The Haxorus’ expression darkened as he found himself running out of time. No doubt the shaky feline would go wandering before he could finalize his plan – no, the games weren’t over yet. His eyes back on the slow-suffocating Vale, Gaear gave a quieted sigh.
“It’s nothing personal,” Without a flicker of further emotion crossing his hardened features, the Haxorus snapped his claws together – the powerful talons sinking deep into his victim’s throat as a deathly gargling resounded through the barren streets. The blood poured down the dragon’s arm, spouting uncontrollably until he suddenly tugged his clawed hand away – a generous chunk of Vale’s oesophagus with it. The twitching body fell to the ground with a dull thud, the Bayleef dead as Gaear stood before it, breathing in the heady scent of blood. He had little time to relish in the kill however; Carl’s voice was loudening.

“Vale? Vaaallleee?”

Carl had spent the minute unconsciously talking to himself, wandering deeper in the ramshackle building as he busied himself in locating supplies for their escape. The place had been cleaned out, only a few rotten-looking berries left in the depths of the ghostly home to leave his mood sour. Vale’s sudden choice to ignore his questions was also starting to grate. Yet as he turned, peering through the rooms in demand of an answer, the Meowth found the place abandoned. Frowning, he grumbled something unintelligible beneath his voice before trudging back to the main room.

The cat only got so far when something came plummeting through the roof. His heart bursting out of his chest, Carl instinctively leapt away – fear consuming him as the object landed in the room’s centre amidst a flurry of blinding dust. Cowering behind an upturned chair that failed to disguise his scruffy form, the Meowth took a breath and summoned the courage to behold the gory scene. As the dust settled, the stench of blood hit him with the force of a lorry – more worryingly intermingled with a familiar scent; the scent of a friend.

Vale…

Carl’s cry of terror was ear-splitting, an embodiment of raw horror that touched every corner of the area. He clutched the chair in a desperate bid for support, eyes bulging out of his skull as he stared at the corpse. The hole in the ceiling in which Vale’s body had been launched was left casting an almost soothing light on the limp creature, the scene almost serene save the crimson liquid pooling about the broken form. Sickened, Carl gave a crazed laugh, unable to register what he was witnessing. Vale. Dead. The only one he could trust in this damned mess – dead.

Too shocked, too horrified to even consider searching for the attacker, the Meowth collapsed – fiercely hugging the chair to him as the tears began to form in wide, frenzied eyes. He was alone now.

---

Gaear had heard the terrible scream, leaping from the building’s roof in the moment of its highest volume to land lightly just beyond. Whilst he wanted nothing more than to witness Carl’s hysterical sorrow, the Haxorus knew better than to linger. It had been out of sheer luck that he’d managed to kill the damned Bayleef and despite his confidence, he remained reluctant to push it further. With a snort, he sprinted away – a quieted rustle of leaves marking his disappearance into the surrounding foliage.

He could do nothing about the trail of blood that had marked not only his ruthless attack, but also his path of escape.


(( I was given permission to kill Vale. Sil, I wasn’t sure whether you wanted chance to post the moments before he died or not, so let me know if I need to edit. I’m definitely going to miss him though. :’c ))

Vale hadn't known his death was only a few silent strides away. If he'd known, he wouldn't have hesitated tromping after Carl. If he'd known, he'd shouted for help, for warning, something... If he'd known, he would have lit out of there the minute he woke that morning. But as he made his way after the meowth, something snatched his leg and clamped over his mouth, the sudden cry of shock and fear useless to warn his companion. He only got a short glimpse of Carl meandering off, oblivious to what was going on.

The hold on his leg moved speedily to his throat, too quick for Vale to struggle. For the few moments that he was drug into the shadows, away from the only help that could save him, fear overrode whatever rational thinking was trying to surface. He choked and gagged, tears already building as he struggled in vain against the vice of claws that suffocated him. It wasn't until he was pinned against the wall that he knew was true trouble he was in. It wasn't some infected that had managed to snatch him.

It was Gaear.

His heart nearly stopped upon seeing the dragon's face, all attempts of breaching the hold quelled by the hideous fear. “You’ve been spreading rumours,” the dragon chided lightly, his deep, rumbling voice akin to the Devil's. The hold tightened, causing Vale's eyes to bulge more, mouth flapping in a pathetic attempt for air, his legs lightly struggling. The dragon trailed a sharp claw, releasing a line of dark blood down the bayleef's chin. “I can’t have you ruining the fun just yet.”

Despite nearly already passing out from suffocation, Vale managed a weak shake of the head, only able to silently plea for his life. Of course, deep down, he knew it was futile. His mind raced through his wants, his fears, his regrets, his hopes... all now, for naught, as he stared his death straight in the face. If only... If only he'd been stronger... maybe... maybe he could have saved someone... Warned someone... done... something...

Carl...

...I'm...

...sorry....

“It’s nothing personal.” The words were already distant, but the pain was still very real when Gaear moved, latching his sharp talons into Vale's throat and ripping a good chunk of it out. Falling limply to the floor, the bayleef could only twitch and gurgle, eyes still bulging in terrified shock as he quickly bled out. Unable to scream, he could only stare vacantly as his senses slowly left him, death consuming his consciousness. His breath hitched as his heart failed, already out of blood to pump.

This...

This was...


[[That was perfect, Snitch, thank you. And I am gonna miss this team hardcore. ;n; Maybe I'll be back later; I just can't handle so many teams right now. Bye, ya'll~!]]

Smith idly scratched his belly as he took a look around, trying to catch sight of either of the younger males. The Aggron growled to himself; just his luck to have them wander off at a time like this. He really would've fancied having them around after his suspicions about Sahara had been reinforced; not that he was scared of her, but if she had any ideas of attacking him she'd be less likely to go through with that with more of them around.

"Oh fer fuck's sake," Smith grumbled after about a minute of silence and turned to Sahara. "I think I'd better go and--" But the a scream, easily one of the most terrifying, heart-stopping screams he had ever heard, rang out from one of the houses. It was a sound that struck terror at even Smith's heart, and he was immediately fully alert. "Fuck!" He turned back to Sahara and urgently barked, "Stay here, lass!" as he marched off in the direction of the screams. He trudged along as quickly as his great weight and short legs allowed him to; it was times like this when he wished he could move faster.

Slamming his fist into the half-open door, it flew straight off its hinges and crashed into the wall at the opposite side of the room. The sight as he stepped inside shocked him to the core. Vale lay dead in the middle of the floor underneath a hole in the ceiling. A pool of blood was slowly seeping out of a massive hole in his throat. Carl was trembling like a terrified child nearby, his claws embedded into a chair.

For a few moments, Smith was immobilised by the scene, but the tiniest whimper from Carl broke the silence and the Aggron marched forward, the wooden floor shaking precariously under his huge weight. Rage and fury were all he could feel in his immense shock as his hand swung round and grabbed hold of the wooden chair that Carl was attached to. Picking it clean up off the floor with the Meowth still attached, Smith's raised arm shook with anger as he shoved his face straight into Carl's. "WHAT THE FUCK ... HAPPENED?!" he roared.

Things had become quiet, almost awkward for the canine who sat in the company of someone who likely suspected her a killer. Sahara was also beginning to wonder where Carl and Vale ran off to. The silence was finally broken by the Steel-Type, "Oh fer fuck's sake," Hm? What now? "I think I'd better go and--"

Just then, a scream pierced the morning, Sahara flinched a little at the sheer horror felt in the sound. "Fuck!" Sahara's ears had fallen. She had a feeling she knew what happened, and prepared to race to the scene, but Smith had advised her to stay. She couldn't resist rolling her eyes at the suggestion. She wasn't a child, and she was no stranger to seeing terrible things. But she doubted that was the reason she was wanted to stay back.

That wasn't going to happen. She did wait a moment, but a second afterwards, she was running paw after paw in the direction of the scream. "WHAT THE FUCK ... HAPPENED?!" She heard as she neared the house, prompting her feet to move faster. The fiery dog peered into the house as her senses were overwhelmed with the scent of blood. Her mouth hung open at the sight of the Bayleef laying dead within the house.

Vale...?

"WHAT THE FUCK ... HAPPENED?!"

Carl hadn’t even registered Smith loudly storming in until the Aggron was suddenly roaring in his face. The feline had just been staring blankly at the corpse, trembling violently whilst he clung stubbornly to the chair even as it was hoisted into the air. As the scent of Smith’s thick breath hit his face, the feline instinctively leapt away from the noise to land roughly on the dingy floor, silencing a hiss of pain. Yet he recovered quickly, scrambling to his feet as his attention reaffixed on the steel-type – his expression soon sharing the creature’s anger.
“The fuck happened?!” He repeated, voice scaling high with hysteria. “What’s it fucking look like, Smith?! He’s dead,”

As he said the word aloud, the rage vanished. The Meowth seemed to shrink, closing in on himself as his features dropped into a disbelieving sorrow. He repeated the word quietly, looking back to Vale’s body only to find bile rising in his throat. Forced to turn away, Carl had begun pacing – his fur standing on end as he clutched maddeningly at his head in a vain bid to rationalise what was happening.
“He was fine a minute ago, he was okay. I came into the building, talkin’ to him as normal – yeah, just like normal. I turned around and he wasn’t there, I got pissed but that’s okay, because he weren’t far away – I thought. Then he fell through the FUCKING ROOF,” Carl spun on his heel as he shouted the last two words, his wide eyes latched onto Smith as his claws left his head to point desperately at the gaping hole in the ceiling. He hadn’t realized how erratic his breathing had become, heart thumping loudly in his chest as he looked past the Aggron to notice Sahara lurking in the doorway.

His eye twitched. The same sickness was rising in his stomach as he staggered backwards, fear overcoming his features.
“You,” He pointed a paw accusingly at the fire-type, tone bitter despite the tinge of genuine terror lacing it. “You did it – didn’t you? You fucking killed him, you- you bitch. He was right, he always was right,” Carl sounded akin to a madman, his feral expression perfecting his new mindset as he backed away from the towering duo. ”And you,” His half snap-half whimper was directed at Smith. “You’re helping her, aren’t you? You psychopaths… murderers…”

Carl leaped off the chair as soon as his distant gaze managed to reach Smith's. The Aggron let the piece of wooden furniture fall to the ground with a crash as he took a step towards the hysterical Meowth. "The fuck happened?! What's it fucking look like, Smith?! He’s dead." Smith's lip curled into an annoyed growl as his fists clenched. "I can fuckin' see that, lad. I'm not fuckin' blind. What I wanna know is how it happened!"

He listened and barely managed to make sense of Carl's explanation. He had gotten the hint about Vale smashing through the roof as soon as he had walked in, but resisted the urge to shout what was in his head: No fucking shit! The absurdity, the scale of the situation was starting to bother him greatly. Smith heaved a sigh and rubbed the back of his aching head as he tried to get his mind around things.

"You." Carl suddenly pointed a trembling paw at the doorway. Smith turned to see that Sahara had ignored his orders and was standing in shock, her mouth gaping open at the scene. "You did it – didn't you? You fucking killed him, you- you bitch. He was right, he always was right." "Now let's not jump to conclusions, lad," Smith said, his voice stern as he stood beside Sahara defensively. "That's impossible. The lass was with me the whole time." While he had suspicions about Sahara in many aspects, her innocence in this incident was a certainty for him. "And you," Carl whimpered, pointing his paw right at Smith. "You're helping her, aren't you? You psychopaths... murderers..."

That did it. Smith had been willing to reserve any impatience he had to allow Carl to come back to his senses, but that remark had set him off. In a flash he had stomped back to the other side of the room and had swiped Carl up off the floor with a single swing of his huge hand. Holding the Meowth by the scruff of the neck, he held him aloft just above his face and vigorously shook him. "And give me one fuckin' good reason why I would do that! I think yer need to get yer brain back in gear, lad, before yer end up regrettin' yer words! Yer hear me?!"

Sahara only half understood the story flying from the Normal-Type's mouth. His explanation was crazed, leaving the her to wonder just how much was true. But when he finished his story with a point towards the gaping hole in the roof, Sahara knew he couldn't be lying. Gaear was a brutal killer. She had no doubt he was responsible.

“You,” Carl pointed at Sahara. Her eyes narrowed dangerously, waiting for just what this cat had to say. “You did it – didn’t you? You fucking killed him, you- you bitch. He was right, he always was right,”

How... How dare him! Sahara's anger had hit a pitch, she could barely hear Smith even though he stood beside her.
He was... defending her? "Now let's not jump to conclusions, lad, that's impossible. The lass was with me the whole time." That was the last thing she expected. He could've placed the blame on her then and there, and that could've been their chance to take her down. But... he didn't...

"And you," Smith was apparently the next for accusation, "You're helping her, aren't you? You psychopaths... murderers..."
Sahara's face spread into a feral snarl, "You mangy feline!" She growled, stepping forward, "Had I been responsible, you would be lying dead next to him!"
She stalked towards the offending cat, her bulky weight rattling the floorboards with each step.

Past her stormed the Steel-Type, who swiftly yanked up Carl by his scruff. Sahara watched angrily, being beaten to the punch only infuriated her more. "And give me one fuckin' good reason why I would do that! I think yer need to get yer brain back in gear, lad, before yer end up regrettin' yer words! Yer hear me?!"

Sahara waited for Carl's response, her threatening growls rebounding off the walls.

"You mangy feline! Had I been responsible, you would be lying dead next to him!"

Realizing the danger accompanying his accusations a moment too late, Carl darted when Sahara snapped. Spinning on his heel, the feline attempted to scramble away, aware that both giants were rapidly closing in on him and that time was most definitely not on his side. Sliding on the floor as claws grasped desperately at the grimy ground below, the Meowth’s escape was cut drastically short. The exit had seemed so close and yet he’d barely moved a few feet in his panicked state – his hopes completely utterly destroyed as he felt himself roughly lifted with a powerful, steel hand.

Yowling loudly, limbs flailing wildly now that there was nothing left to grab onto, Carl found himself dangling before a very unhappy Aggron. There was no escape, nothing that would save him as he hung petrified in Smith’s grasp. Eyes wide, the anger forgotten in light of his current situation, the feline could do little more than wriggle in a vain attempt to escape.
“Let go! Fucking let go!” He shrieked desperately, heart threatening to burst through his scrawny chest. His request was of course, denied, as he suddenly found the world shaking madly around him. Giving a half-hiss half-scream as Smith proceeded his harsh attempt at non-verbal reasoning; Carl choked back the need to vomit. Appealing to whatever sense of civility left in the steel brute, the cat began screeching his apologies amidst the personal earthquake swirling about him. “Alright, alright – o-okay, I’m sorry! I’m SORRY! Stop, stop, stop, stop!”

"And give me one fuckin' good reason why I would do that! I think yer need to get yer brain back in gear, lad, before yer end up regrettin' yer words! Yer hear me?!"

Gasping as the world finally came to a standstill, the Meowth hung limp, exhausted and thoroughly sickened as Smith bellowed down at him. It took a moment to the register the words, eyes blurred as he swallowed the rising bile – only then confident enough to meet his captor’s glare. Carl looked pitiful; thoroughly exhausted as fear swam superior in his bulging eyes.
“Please don’t kill me,” He whimpered pathetically, attention volleying across to Sahara who was also uncomfortably close. Squirming, he ran his paws down his face in a bid to rationalise things. Okay, just breathe, he told himself, knowing that only cooperation with these monsters would see him through the worst. It was just a matter of playing along.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” The feline started, dropping his arms to meet the Aggron’s glare. “Meant no offense – to either of ya – but you gotta understand, I-I’m a little freaked out. No undead kills like that,” Carl’s voice adopted a more serious tone as he caught glimpse of Vale’s slumped body. “They don’t... plot things. I mean – why didn’t it kill me too? That’s what undead do, kill fucking everything. Geez, they didn’t even eat ‘im – it just wanted to like make a point or something…”

Smith maintained an iron grip on Carl's scruff as the Meowth twisted and protested in his grasp. "Let go! Fucking let go! Alright, alright – o-okay, I'm sorry! I'm SORRY! Stop, stop, stop, stop!" He had considered pinching harder on the soft, tender skin underneath his thumb and finger, just to teach the little shit not to make accusations against him after what he had done for them all: allowed them into his territory, found them a place to rest and gathered food. Whenever Smith did something for other he expected something in return, namely gratitude - not accusations of him being a murderer.

Finally, Carl stopped squirming and Smith lowered the Meowth down a foot or so until he was at eye-level. "Please don't kill me." Carl's pathetic whimper softened Smith's desire to give him a good thrashing and the Aggron sighed, lightly shaking his head. "I'm not gonna kill yer, lad. I would never." The feline then apologised, and Smith could feel in Carl's voice that he meant it. He then went on to say that, from how it happened, an undead had not killed Vale because, clearly, there had been a plan of sorts for this kill. Stealing a glance at Vale's body, Smith had to agree. He knew from experience that an undead would've simply torn its victim to pieces. The Bayleef had almost a neat little wound; the product of a Pokemon that wasn't necessarily inflicted with the virus. It was clear that Vale's killer wasn't after his blood.

"A'right, lad, a'right." Smith's voice was gentle as he carefully placed Carl back on the floor. "Instead o' pointing fingers and jumpin' to conclusions, let's deal with this first." Shuffling over to Vale, the Aggron bent over and tentitively picked him up. "I'm gonna go and bury him," he said, cradling the dead Grass-type in his arms. "Come along if yer wish." Without another word, Smith was out of the door, heading to the many trees that lined the settlement.

It was fun watching the fear in Carl while it lasted. His panicking was the most amusing thing Sahara had seen in a while. But eventually it just got pitiful. He quietly pleaded for the Aggron to let him live, hanging in the behemoth's grasp. Sahara scoffed, she wouldn't ask for her life even at the hands of Arceus himself. But she was kind of stupid like that...
“Okay, I’m sorry,” Sahara's rage lightened now that they had made their way above name-calling.

“Meant no offense – to either of ya – but you gotta understand, I-I’m a little freaked out. No undead kills like that,” How did one curse and call someone a murderer without meaning offense?
It was surprising what some more intelligent Undead would resort to in their deathly boredom though. She gave a glance to the Grass-Type's body. It was a bit hard to believe he was alive just a while earlier, and now... he just laid there. It wasn't the first time someone she knew died, but that weird feeling of knowing they wouldn't come back still bugged her. Toby...
“They don’t... plot things. I mean – why didn’t it kill me too? That’s what undead do, kill fucking everything. Geez, they didn’t even eat ‘im – it just wanted to like make a point or something…”

"Something is out there." she cryptically added, making her way out the door. "We're stuck here. So watch yourselves at all times." It was like they were in a horror movie. Sahara didn't doubt she would be killed too if it were convenient, so she needed to be on guard just as much as the others.

"A'right, lad, a'right. Instead o' pointing fingers and jumpin' to conclusions, let's deal with this first. I'm gonna go and bury him, come along if yer wish." Smith passed by Sahara, holding the passed Vale in his arms. She cantered alongside the Steel-Type, not failing to bitterly look around for that familiar dragon.

"Something is out there. We're stuck here. So watch yourselves at all times.”

Carl looked to Sahara, his comfort at the Aggron’s promise not to kill him now wearing thin at the female’s cryptic remark. As if he didn’t know to watch out already, but honestly, what could be more horrifying than the undead? Only one image came to mind. It scared the feline more than he’d like to admit, a shiver running down his spine until he forcefully reminded himself that Gaear was dead. He had to be.

"A'right, lad, a'right. Instead o' pointing fingers and jumpin' to conclusions, let's deal with this first. I'm gonna go and bury him, come along if yer wish."

As the ground was reacquainted with his trembling paws, the Meowth heaved a sigh of relief, thankful to have survived the situation. Of course, he would have liked to see Vale standing shit-scared alongside him, but when it came down to it, it was survival of the fittest. Carl was by no means fit, but he had an uncanny ability to escape the worst. As Smith proceeded to scoop the Bayleef’s limp, bloodied body into his arms, intending to bury their fallen friend, the Meowth found himself wiping away a final tear.

Tragedies happened and it was now simply a matter of learning to overcome them. Obediently trotting after the Aggron and Arcanine, Carl was ready to move on.

Smith said nothing as he stomped back out into the open, Vale's limp form cradled in his protective grasp. He made his way over to a cluster of trees on the outskirts of the settlement. Reaching a small clearing in the centre, he gently laid Vale back on the ground and began to dig. His huge hands made short work of the grass and dirt, and within a minute a grave had been dug, just the right size for the Bayleef to lie in comfortably.

Tentatively, Smith picked the Grass-type up again and closed his eyes with his index and middle fingers. "Rest well, lad. Yer've earned it." His voice was barely more than a whisper as he gently laid Vale into the hole, arranging his body into a comfortable position. "Yer need any time?" he asked Carl as he noticed the Meowth standing near to him. "I know he was yer friend."

(OoC - Skip. Sahara is just standing there.)

Carl watched Smith work with the feeling that he was dreaming. That this entire fiasco was some twisted creation of his subconscious. It just seemed so surreal. He’d been talking casually with Vale only ten minutes ago, planning their escape and the start of a life free from psychopaths, obvious or otherwise. Now, the grass-type was being bundled, lifeless into a grave. Everything had changed in the blink of an eye.

"Yer need any time? I know he was yer friend."

Smith’s voice freed Carl from his melancholy reverie, the feline lifting his head to find the steel giant staring down at him. Once the words had registered, the cat eventually shook his head, almost ashamed that he lacked the ability to say goodbye.
“Nah,” He replied quietly, voice weakened by the reality of the situation. “It’s hard to believe I only met ‘im yesterday. Ju-Just let him rest, eh?” With a final weak smile, a silent apology to the Bayleef he wished he’d known better, the cat turned from the grave to get some air. It seemed unnaturally difficult to breathe looking down into an open grave. Smith might as well start digging another.

"Nah. It's hard to believe I only met 'im yesterday. Ju-Just let him rest, eh?" Smith stared firmly at Carl for a moment, his hardened expression hiding the pity that was welling up in his heart. The cat turned away from him, obviously wanting the burial to end as soon as possible. If he was honest, Smith felt the same. With a sigh he gently began to push the piles of dirt back into the hole, watching sadly as Vale gradually began to disappear beneath it. When a fair-sized mound of earth was in his place, Smith shuffled over to a small patch of flowers nearby and began to pick them. A big, loud-mouthed hardass like you pickin' flowers? Who'd have seen the day? he thought to himself with a pinch of dark humour as he lay the flowers down on the mound.

"...Right." Smith stood up from his work and turned around, his blue eyes staring out of the trees at the house they had just left. "I think it's time I had a look 'round." Starting to head back, Smith suddenly swore violently and pounded his fist into a thick tree, sending several leaves tumbling down and leaving a tear in the bark. "I swear t'Arceus, Carl, whoever did this will pay. I'll find 'em, and when I do I'll break every bone in their body." With a determined look, Smith looked down at the Meowth and gave a firm nod. "I promise yer that, lad. I'll make 'em regret they ever did this."

Sahara'd had enough. She took a final look at the soil blanketing Vale's lifeless form and darted off. The whole scenario painfully reminded her of the days best left forgotten, and for that, she had to slip away. Her walk slowly sped up until she broke into a run, quickly distancing her from the others. The unwelcome scent of rotting flesh became overwhelming, stopping the Arcanine on a dime.

She glanced around for the source, but nothing made itself known. Whatever caused it had to be big, but where could something like that hide?
Up! She looked in time to see a log being carelessly tossed at her from an airborne behemoth. Sahara jerked out of the way quickly enough for it to just barely miss her. "You started it, now stop hiding up there!"

It tilted it's head, as if to try and understand Sahara. As she looked over the beast, she knew why such a rotten scent would come from it. It was hideous. What used to be a Dragonite was nothing but a mess of gore now. It's tan body was dirtied by blotches of purple, and it's throat appeared to be ripped out, showing it's last meal hung in there, chunks of the said flesh falling out when it moved.
One of it's arms was missing, nothing but a stump and shard of bone stood in its place.
The antennas on it's head were swollen and oozing some Arceus-awful fluid onto it's face, just to throw a Cheri Berry on top.

A Flamethrower erupted from Sahara, shooting towards the Dragonite. It's flesh bubbled under the her flames, but the dragon wasn't horribly fazed by it. I hate Dragon-Types.
It beat it's wings and a Twister formed, ripping at the trees and kicking up enough of a distraction for it to swoop down and throw an electrified fist at Sahara, knocking her a fair distance back, electricity surging through her body. Pathetic undead!

Sahara was back on her feet in an instant, ablaze with a Flame Wheel and leaping from a tree against the Dragonite. The two collided and met the ground with a harsh thud, both scrambling back into their battle poses for round two.

(OoC - If y'all wanna throw in some other undead, we can make this a party! lol)

As Smith quietly filled in the grave, Carl had let his mind wander. He mourned the death of a friend but the sorrow was quickly, characteristically smothered by thoughts of his own wellbeing. Could he trust his remaining company? Vale had distrusted Sahara, he had been sceptical of Gaear’s death – and now he was dead. It just seemed too convenient. Carl’s paranoia had been alighted, the feline staying close to Smith as he came to the conclusion that no matter how convincing his ‘friends’ were, he could never trust anyone again.

"...Right. I think it's time I had a look 'round."

Just like that, Vale was gone. Carl turned to regard the grave a moment, complete with flowers, as Smith trudged past intent on investigating. The expression the steel-type wore was enough alone to persuade the frazzled cat that he wasn’t responsible for the tragedy; his thoughts confirmed when his anger was released on an unsuspecting tree trunk. Flinching away from the punch, Carl did salvage an amount of comfort in the creature’s words – it’d be nice to see some vengeance dealt by someone truly capable of dealing it.

Suddenly there was movement. Jumping, his senses acute to even the slightest changes around him, Carl spun around to glimpse Sahara rocketing out of the scene. Frowning, his jaw dropped in utter bewilderment.
“Where the fuck’s she goin’?!” He exclaimed, flabbergasted. Why would she run? Only one motive stood out clear in the feline’s mind. Realization numbed the irate surprise, casting a glance to Smith as he came to the conclusion that something was most definitely wrong with Sahara. “You sure she was with ya the whole time? ‘Cause that seems mighty-fucking suspicious to me,”

"Where the fuck's she goin'?!" Smith didn't know how long he had been staring at the tree's broken bark and wanting to just uproot the whole damn thing as Carl spoke. The Aggron vaguely turned his head round to see Sahara disappearing in the distance. "You sure she was with ya the whole time? 'Cause that seems mighty-fucking suspicious to me." "Yer callin' me a liar, lad? Of course she was with me. What, yer think I was just imaginin' it?"

Smith growled under his breath as he gazed off into the direction that Sahara had fled. While he had no doubts to her innocence in this case, he was beginning to think that she might know more about this than she was letting on. "I'd better go see what's up," he said gruffly, trudging off back towards the settlement but stopping abruptly when he heard a noise. He quickly held out his hand to halt Carl's movements. "Quiet, lad." He knew the sounds of a conflict like the sound of his own voice. "Come on, but be careful. I think somethin' is going on out there."

Dang. This thing just would not give up!

Part of Sahara just wanted the creep to shove off, while the other part wanted to murder it. It's Twisters were powerful enough to lift the heavy dog up, those had to be avoided. Another whirled around, throwing debris in all directions, one of which, a stick, hit Sahara on her muzzle. She licked the blood that trickled down her mouth, disturbingly savoring the metallic taste.

Her flames had burnt it's skin until it was a bubbly mess, it didn't seem to have the common sense to dodge her long ranged attacks. It was uglier than before!... And Sahara didn't think it was possible...
She ran beneath the dragon, the two racing through the woods with no outside thoughts but to kill the other. Electricity crackled from her fangs -- Stopping instantly, she leapt up and caught it's tail. She shook erratically, hoping to do some type of damage. She could feel the muscles tug, and then snap!

It tried to cry out, but it's ruined throat permitted no such thing. They weaved between trees, flying so quickly it was kinda shocking they hadn't ran into anything.
With the sound of a disgusting rip, it's tail gave in to the canine's weight, sending her crashing into the ground. She let go of the severed tail as she rolled, hitting a tree for her grand stop. The tail laid there twitching and oozing miscolored blood. Disgusting!

Sahara got back up and into a defensive stance, the Dragonite landing in front of her. It looked more furious than ever, it's red eyes were fixed on her with a renewed intent to kill her. She found amusement in it, giving a devious grin that offered but one phrase;

Bring it.

"Yer callin' me a liar, lad? Of course she was with me. What, yer think I was just imaginin' it?"

Carl flinched away from the steel-type’s blunt response, not entirely trusting of Smith following first-hand experience with his explosive temper. He was a big guy, powerful, and the feline knew that some time or another, he’d end up pushing him just that little too much. The moment he did, Carl wanted to be well out of reach regardless of how kind he usually seemed.

"Quiet, lad.Come on, but be careful. I think somethin' is going on out there."

Sharing the Aggron’s frown, the Meowth trotted aside the metal behemoth until sounds of a ruckus met his hearing. He paused in his movements, finding that his companion had also heard the noise, a grand steel hand now blocking his path. Carl didn’t particularly care. He had absolutely no intention of running off into battle; Smith’s gesture completely unnecessary as the feline already began backtracking, shaking his head in defiance.
“Uh-uh, nope. I ain’t going anywhere,” He grumbled stubbornly, eyes flashing around the vicinity for glimpse of danger. “She can fight ‘er own fucking battle,” The ruckus wasn’t on top of them yet, but there was no telling what undead force Sahara had stumbled into. No, in Carl’s mind the best idea primarily consisted of getting the fuck away from this place.

-

As the stubborn Arcanine valiantly defended herself against the demonic Dragonite, Gaear watched from the sidelines. His expression was blank, impossible to read, as he absorbed the sight – silently judging the canine’s battling prowess as she ruthless tore the dragon’s tail from its decaying body, wondering whether now would be opportunity to tell her the bad news. Their agreement no longer stood.

Sahara was taking far too long. She tiptoed around their contract, forcing Gaear to take matters into his own bloodied claws – Vale’s life source still moist on his armour. He was growing impatient, keen to act before the female voiced her second-thoughts to the one who might actually be able to do something about it. Why the Aggron wasn’t dead yet, Gaear couldn’t say. Yet it was another failure to place a beacon over Sahara’s pretty little head. She was wasting his time, a false hope as the Haxorus was reminded of why he typically chose to work alone.

Launching a Dragon Pulse towards the pair of battlers, Gaear stalked after just as the powerful attack slammed into the unsuspecting Dragonite. The undead, already damaged beyond recognition by Sahara’s ravenous flames, was launched back on contact, chunks of flesh flying from its chest in the process. It could hardly cry out, voice hoarse as the Haxorus lumbered forward, his attention never leaving the Arcanine.
“That was meant for you,” He stated bluntly, his eyes a darker shade of that terrifying red. He looked across to the weakened undead, confident that the dragon would not interrupt for a good minute or so – that was all he needed, after all. “You’ve let me down, Sahara. I thought everything would be over by now, but instead I find you all alone. Running away from your job… again,”

He inhaled deeply, relishing in the stench of blood that tinged the air. He couldn’t remember the smell being so intoxicating, something clicking in his mind as he impulsively dismissed the idea of waiting for a perfect moment. Nobody was coming to save the female and if they did, well, he’d just kill them too. Gaear was tired of waiting. He wanted to kill, and so consumed by his lust for blood, abandoned his usual restraint, his patience.

Cuts from yesterday’s battle continued to bleed, a purple tint marring the wounds, as Gaear flashed a cruel grin towards the hound.
“You’ve become a hindrance,” He sighed, claws glowing purple in preparation of a Dragon Claw attack. “So, with regret, I think it’s about time this ended. It’s nothing personal…”


(( I hope it’s okay to hurry on our plan a little bit, Nightdaze, and begin the final stand-off we talked about. I was thinking that the battle could be lengthened by the initial fight attracting more undead, so it ends up in complete chaos, lol. Nightfall, Smith’s more than welcome to join the battle too. :3 ))

"Uh-uh, nope. I ain’t going anywhere." Carl's words earned a private sigh of relief from Smith, who was somewhat glad that the Meowth was reluctant to investigate. At least that way, if there was a fight going on, he wouldn't be in danger. The Aggron's nerves were already on edge after Vale's death, and if anyone else was killed he was sure that he'd lose control of his actions. He'd level the entire forest if given the prompting. "She can fight 'er own fucking battle."

"Suit yerself. I'm going t'see what the ruckus is about." And with those words, Smith had trudged out of the clearing, through the thick foliage towards the Survival Area. "Fuckin' trees," he grumbled, uprooting a sapling from the ground as the sounds of the conflict grew closer. A sudden shockwave forced Smith to raise his arms to his face as the ground rumbled beneath his feet. What the hell was that? His concern grew as he pushed a few more small trees out of the way and stepped into the view of--

Shit. The scene was both chaotic and incredibly confusing. A horrendous undead Dragonite lay in a state after clearly being hit by a powerful attack. Wonder if that was the shockwave I felt? Upon seeing him, the dragon gurgled angrily, black liquid oozing from its open mouth. From where it lay on its belly, it managed to stretch out one mangled arm to grab Smith's ankle. But after seeing latching eyes on the figure that was advancing on Sahara, the half-dead thing was nothing but a pest.

"Oh piss off," Smith groaned, reaching down and clamping both of his hands down on the Dragonite's head. In a second, it was all over; with one mighty pull, the creature's weakened skin and crumbling bones only made its decapitation easier. With a grinding crunch, a swift snap and a squirt of the foul-smelling blood, Smith held the Dragonite's disgusting head in his hands. The rest of the rotting corpse twitched feebly before going completely still as Smith turned his attention to the Haxorus.

"Hey!" After grabbing its attention, Smith hurled the decapitated head right at the other dragon. "Who the fuck are you?" Nah ... can't be...

Oh...
Heck no...

The miniature war of the Arcanine VS. the Dragonite was cut short by a Move bursting against the Undead dragon, sending bits of flesh flying in every which way. From it's position flat on it's stomach, it didn't seen like it would be getting up all too soon. Sahara broke her attention away from one dragon to another. Gaear.
“That was meant for you,” Aw. What a nice gesture.

Sahara couldn't resist a smirk as she looked over Gaear. Purple had began to adorn his body, bringing the canine to one conclusion. Her smile faded to that of a serious glare as he spoke, “You’ve let me down, Sahara. I thought everything would be over by now, but instead I find you all alone. Running away from your job… again,” Running? Running? Sahara played that word through her mind a few times. Well, that was offensive.

"It's been only a few hours." Sahara scoffed. "Would you had rather'd me skip off every twenty minutes to report to you? Yeah, there's nothing suspicious about that." Sarcasm dripped from her bitter retort.

“You’ve become a hindrance,” Gaear's claws began to glow purple. She wasn't any kind of Move specialist, but she was pretty sure that was some type of attack he was preparing for her.
“So, with regret, I think it’s about time this ended. It’s nothing personal…”

"Oh, I think it's very personal." She growled, a Flamethrower building in her jaws.
The last thing she expected was to see that Dragonite's head flying at Gaear. What the heck? Heads don't just pop off and fly around! "Who the fuck are you?" Oh crap-- Smith.

What was she supposed to say?

He felt a rare rush of excitement at Sahara’s curt response, a sadistic grin momentarily flashing over his features as he approached – attack ready to send the hound to an early grave. But there was movement. The rustle of leaves, the thudding of an extra pair of feet – heavy a that – ensnared the dragon’s attention, Gaear turning in time to catch the decapitated head launched at him. The Dragon Claw destined for Sahara’s form instead sliced through the Dragonite’s head, blood, brain matter and shards of skull spraying out in a macabre firework on contact. Gaear didn’t even blink; crimson eyes unmoving from his latest attacker.

"Who the fuck are you?"

So, this was the Aggron. Sahara had a cavalry after all, union with the metal behemoth seemingly unmarred and flourishing. He should have expected it – it was foolish to think that such a partnership would work. Betrayal was inevitable and Gaear had learnt his lesson the hard way. But the Arcanine’s features suggested otherwise. She looked panicked, shocked even. So she hadn’t confessed everything quite yet?
“Oh, you don’t know?” Gaear started. “I’m a friend of Sahara, here – a colleague, per se. We exterminate pests…” A dark smile briefly alighted his face, his eyes casually wandering between his opponents. He always did like a challenge; a chance to remind the world exactly why he was the one worth fearing. But of course, Smith didn’t need to know where Sahara’s loyalties lied just yet; it was hard enough to distinguish himself, surely an aging lump of steel would have no chance. “One Bayleef down; only some scrap-metal and a mangy feline to go…”

Gaear attacked then, allowing a moment for his words to process, before launching a Razor Wind towards the Aggron’s form. Sahara could wait; he wanted to savour her death. Her metal companion however deserved no such luxury; his death would be quick.

(( Carl will be back on my next post – probably trailed by a hoard of undead, lol. You both have permission to attack Gaear as long as there’s nothing too drastic like dismemberment or anything, haha. ))

“Oh, you don’t know?” Sahara bit back her flames in a grimace. The truth was about to be spilled, and likely in the most unfavorable way. For Sahara anyway. “I’m a friend of Sahara, here – a colleague, per se. We exterminate pests…” Friend? They were a few things, but friends was not one of them. Bitter foes? That sounded a lot better. Sahara shot a glance to Smith. How would he react? Would he lash out at the canine?

“One Bayleef down; only some scrap-metal and a mangy feline to go…” He admitted it. She knew he was responsible. But it also meant Gaear wasn't just talking tough -- He intended to go through with whatever he said, that much Sahara was sure of. His dark smile was met with a feral snarl, Sahara's instinctive way to offer a threat. The whipping sounds of a Razor Wind filled her ears as it ripped it's way towards Smith. "He doesn't have anything to do with this, Gaear!" She roared.
Another Flamethrower built in Sahara's maw and expanded to that of an inferno inside her jaws. The powerful flames bursted towards the Haxorus. No more playing. She was going to take down this dragon or die trying.

She was prepared for everything.

(OoC - Feel free to attack Sahara, as long as it doesn't cripple her or somethin' lolz. Azelf said I could go ahead and post.<3)

Gaear had moved with a surprising deftness; closely following the attack that sped towards the Aggron. He wasn’t stupid; the dragon knew well enough that a little Razor Wind wouldn’t cause much damage to a creature of his opponent’s stature, but rather used it for the purpose of a distraction. His fast-approaching image distorted by the sharpened blades, Gaear sought the opportunity to strike at close-range – quickly and with the full intent to kill. He was never one to dawdle and would make no exception for the metal thorn in his side.

"He doesn't have anything to do with this, Gaear!"

He was so close, claws practically grazing the steel-type’s armour – but Sahara had to interfere. The flames expanded in his periphery, violent reds accompanied by the fierce heat quick to alert his senses as Gaear reluctantly, bitterly retreated. He swung away from his target, the flames coaxing him back as he raised an arm to protect his already blood-stained face. The attack hit, sweeping over his rigid stance in a hungry consumption; but Gaear was silent. His body was numb; there was no pain to feel. If it surprised him, he didn’t show it – his burnt arm gradually lowering to reveal the scowl he had disguised.

His body-armour darkened, small defiant flames still dancing down his tail, Gaear turned his attention to Sahara. He shook his head lightly, disappointed.
“It’s a matter of formality,” He muttered, red eyes flashing across to Smith. “I intend to finish the job. Your friend got himself involved – intentionally or otherwise – and I’m obliged to kill him too,” Gaear gave a half-disinterested shrug, his body beginning to glow a strengthening shade of purple as he prepared a Dragon Pulse – Smith, his target once more. “As I said before, it’s nothing personal,”

“SMITH!”

As Gaear’s attack flew towards the Aggron, a familiar voice was quick to pierce the tension in a terrified screech. The dragon gave an amused chortle, retreating a ways into the shadows as Carl burst onto the scene. The Meowth’s eyes were bulging, his fur standing on end as his attention volleyed wildly about the standoff. There seemed to be a certain lack of registry in the cat’s mind, the creature already frazzled as his wide orbs eventually fell to the Haxorus’ sinister form. Whatever terrors that had plagued the feline were lost, Gaear watching amusedly as sick realization dawned on his old friend.

“Hello Carl,”

Carl was certain he was hallucinating, that this was just some twisted creation of a fragile mind. Gaear was standing there; a flicker of a smile on his features. But that was impossible. Gaear was dead. It felt like time had stopped in that moment of recognition, the feline’s jaws quivering as he momentarily rendered paralyzed, speechless, numb. It took the bellowing cries of his second problem to snap him out of his terrifying trance.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” It was all he could utter, the word repeated with a growing combination of terror and anger. Vale was right. Vale had always been right. But if Gaear’s return wasn’t bad enough, a herd of undead in hot pursuit put the cherry on the cake.

Obviously, he couldn’t trust Sahara – or Smith – for that matter, and so took his chances. Still cursing to himself in a vain bid to cling onto a shred of rationality, the Meowth made a desperate sprint through the stand-off; knowing his initial attackers would be on the scene in a matter of seconds. He hadn’t the words to give anyone warning of the five monstrous Rhyhorns, instead putting everything into his escape.