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Lexi frowned as the Guardians shot after the fleeing machoke. She couldn’t say she trusted the pokémon after last night, but she wasn’t sure it deserved to be shot either. Luckily, it seemed nothing landed, or if it did, it wasn’t going to present a serious problem to the pokémon. She kept her eyes on the place where the machoke disappeared for a few seconds before turning back to the guardians with a nod. Yeah, he wasn’t likely to be a problem…she hoped. She grimaced when Jeb asked her if she knew anything. She had been through a lot of days that didn’t make sense to her, but today held the record for excessive amounts of pure random. No, she didn’t really know anything.

Luckily no one got stuck having to spell out the details, as the sound of approaching hooves distracted everyone. Lexi gave Jessie a confused look when he pulled his mask off, but smiled slightly too. She couldn’t say she liked too many of the Guardians, but Jessie was one of the easier ones for her to get along with. At least with him, she could pretend he wasn’t the type to shoot first ask questions later, and them both being oddballs for the town helped too. She was even more confused when she heard that the head of the town was actually listening to the Oaks…It made her life a lot easier in terms of possibly being in trouble when she got back, but last she heard the High Commander wasn’t one to take orders from anyone, especially not a couple of scientists. She had to wonder what the two brothers had said to make the man believe their story…In the end she nodded and shrugged when Jessie asked if she had been dragged into this too, and just let it all go. Square pegs wouldn’t fit in round holes without some information to sharpen the edges and corners of the hole, and she doubted anyone here knew anything useful in that respect.

Luckily, it didn’t have to make sense in order for the Guardians to leave them alone and return to their patrols. As they headed off into the bushes Lexi mounted Trouble in anticipation of the continuation of their journey. She was only half-way on, however, when she caught the discussion between the two males. With her face hidden in the pokémon’s fur, no one caught her irritation. If this went down the path of her being a lady…Both her legs on the opposite side of the arcanine’s back from her head, she looked up, propping herself up with her elbows on the dog’s back. With an amused look she butted in. “How about we rotate? There’s a good several miles left, and we’re all decent-enough runners, I guessing.” She swung her leg over the fire-dog’s back so she was actually on properly. She didn’t mind riding first, especially to stay out of the ‘who’s riding’ argument, but she wasn’t about to let the guys think she couldn’t carry her own weight.

After the 'your mom' comment, Ramsden couldn't hold back a small snicker. When the girl spread her legs more though, he called back out. "I'M GOOD TO GO IF YOU ARE! HAVEN'T GOTTEN ANY ACTION IN ABOUT TWO YEARS!" She just responded with sticking her tongue out at him. "NO NO, THAT'S WHAT I DO TO YOU!" Joking time however, was clearly over though. The man had made his demands after Ramsden's last comment, and they weren't small.

"Well, first of all, you ever call her a b***h again and I'll make your death last several days! If you know my name, you must know that's my hobby, so you know it's no idle threat! Second, uh-huh, yeah bullshit! So I hand over the kids and you let the man responsible for more than sixty people's death, some of which I'm sure your friends, just walk away! Oh yeah, I totally believe you! So, compromise! Mainly cause I'm getting sick of yelling! You both come down from your onyx, I get off my bike! No weapons, and I'll set my pokeballs down right over there!" He indicated a section of the road.

"You should know I only have two... I guess, and both kids have none! Then we meet in the middle and talk about this, OR we fight, whatever you guys initiate! But think about this; I want info you have, you want people I have! So how's a trade grab you! I give you Toby, then you answer three questions! Then I give you Juno, and you answer three more! Then you go your way, I go mine! No one dies, we both get what we want! And even if you were not to take this deal, I promise I can get a round off into her head before you can kill me! So then you lose her, when you could lose no one! So, deal!?"

He waited for their response. He hoped his reputation as a mercenary from the old days would have spread enough to describe him as heartless, cynical, and maniacal; otherwise, he doubted they'd believe him. He knew he was probably freaking Juno and Toby out. They didn't know him, thy didn't know if he was joking or not. He needed it to be that way though. Them freaking out would only make this more believable.

Alyssa had watched most of the goings-on with a sordid amusement. This wasn't to say she did not feel frightened or have the appropriate responses.

Heavy-breathing, blood-pumping, and sudden red-eye syndrome. She was in the moment alright. But her instincts kept her from doing anything until Paul gave her the order to shotgun, at which she readily responded by grabbing her shotgun and rolling down the window, and sticking her top half out.

Should she had ever encountered the phrase "riding shotgun" (or rather, payed attention and mused over it when it did happen) this would've driven the point of the phrase home.

Her sights were on the scythers (which her knowledge allotted that a shotgun would be near-useless, and she'd be better off with her dull knife) but she was aware of the biker, who at the time was focused on Paul.

With the way he reacted to his truck being shot up (did he expect anything less?) she figured that though she could shoot at the biker, it'd be better to let him settle his score.

She alternated her attention between the woods surrounding them (should more appear) the scythers (still busy with Paul's poke-pals [my saying not hers]) and the biker.

Seeing a man pop out of thin air up ahead meant only one thing: Terrian was back, and if there was anything akin to a noble god, Dr. Terrian would be a harbinger of good news.

Ulysses parked behind the eltpach and hopped out, feeling good about the state of things. They'd almost made it halfway to Glenville without a fuss, and Terrian had something urgent to discuss. He strode forward. "What's going on, Terrian?"

A few miles out from Riverdale, the onix-bearing duo still stared off with Ramsden and his charges. The man was speaking, and he laughed before starting. "First, we haven't even sent out sixty for you to kill, so get your sh1t straight before spouting it out of your mouth. Second, you think we're idiots, don't you? You stay right the f8ck over there and we'll stay right the f8ck over here and we can pull an information exchange if that's what it takes, but that carapaced [censored alliteration!] isn't getting any closer to me than she is right now. We're not gonna hurt the kids; we just wanna let 'em meet somebody - someone who isn't gonna bullsh1t 'em like the Oaks will. Or hasn't it occurred to you, yet, that it's a little odd Glenville was the only city that wasn't hit? Maybe they didn't tell you." He smirked and shook his head sadly, for once taking off his aviators. His eyes were a soft gray, giving the arrogant grin beneath them a strange, dangerously close to charming slant. His tone became a little less combative as he continued speaking through the megaphone. While he spoke, his partner furrowed her brow in thought, clearly studying the two young'ns. She seemed to be coming to a decision. "Even we don't wanna f8ck with Glenville." He tapped his tattoo to show what "we" meant and his partner calmly took the instrument away from him and began speaking in an explanatory, hardened, alto voice.

"Violence wasn't our best option, no. I told them it wasn't, but I'm not up there like this idiot is. But violence is quick and it gets the job done - at least, it was supposed to, but we think someone must have interfered. Glenville's trying to snatch up all these kids without half a clue why they're important. We know. We call them the Seeds of the End." Her partner gave her a warning look, but she just shot him a glare. "We need them to prevent the Second Dream - the blast that will wipe out everything - that will be more devastating than the First. We think if we take them to our Reverend, he can stop it. Anyway, I'll still try to answer questions if that's how you want to do this, but I'm with Dave, here." Her tone became more guarded and she looked directly at Ramsden. "I don't wanna be within a hundred feet of that bug."

---

Terrian bowed with a smile, then landed gracefully next to Elty and shook Ulysses' hand warmly, meeting his gaze with a friendly sparkle to his eyes. "Good to see you! I've been sent to f8ck with you guys's sh1t for a while. Not my fault, but it is what it is."

With that, he rounded on the five of them and struck a pose like some sort of conquistador or bullfighter. "You three!" he shouted in a commanding, amiably aggressive tone, grinning all the while. He pointed three fingers of one slender hand at Jason, Ulysses, and Madelyn. "I challenge you to a pokémon battle! You know by now that shooting me is the opposite of progress and I can swear to you on anyone's grave you'd like, including my own, that I will not attack, do violence to, molest in any sense of the word, or attempt to kill any of you or your pokémon. This is how I propose to do this battle: I will send out one pokémon of my choice, and you may each send out one pokémon of your choice! Each of you may have one substitute pokémon. Once either my pokémon or one of each of yours has been knocked unconscious, the victorious party will be proclaimed and I will leave. The condition: if I win, I take your vehicles. If I lose, I pledge to each of the five of you my aid the single next time you call for it - like your own personal genie." The childish glee in his grin as he said that was inarguable. "But I won't kill anyone for you. If you decline the challenge, I destroy your vehicles, break your weapons, and knock out you and all your pokémon for the next week. What say you?" He took his hat off, held it behind him as though he'd seen the pose in a movie before and wasn't quite sure how to actually pull it off, and waited.

---

It confused the hell out of the woman following Paul that she hadn't been shot at, and that he was attempting to outmaneuver her with a larger vehicle in worse shape. BIKER hurt itself in its confusion! She therefore took her time to aim and fire at Oddjob, who had not responded to the oncoming attackers, and land a bullet right in his pudgy midsection. This knocked the little lizard against the back of the bed of the truck just as a scyther slashed, so the blade nicked his shoulder and didn't do much more than that. No blood was drawn, so he wasn't down for the count, but he was injured badly. Zoidberg, too, had neglected to respond to his own oncoming bug, and took a slash primed with a sickly color of ether to his arm, the bug-flavored force knocking him against the bed with nearly the power Oddjob had been. He was, naturally, a bit more resilient, but it was no insignificant blow, and as the truck slowed, two more of the remaining scythers got brave enough to close. The other three swarmed Paul's side of the truck, one punching a blade at the roof the Hilux; though it didn't manage to get through, it made more than a little scratch. The biker began dismounting about thirty feet behind and grabbed a less resilient-seeming handgun from her belt as she cautiously began walking towards Alyssa's side of the vehicle.

---

Greasy, black hair appeared in the window to Commander Brighton's office. Next, two sets of dirty fingernails gripped the frame. Those tugged, and brought up yellowed white surrounding dull brown surrounding pitch black, which peered out of a thin, though not unhealthy face, into the office. Had that really just happened? Surely not... no, surely they couldn't have finally made a move... but no, there, right there, on the floor, Commander Brighton was surrounded in a steadily-growing pool of blood, and shouts were issuing from outside his locked door. Huh. A skittering noise brought a large, ferret-shaped creature scuttling back out the window. It perked its ears up and surveyed the surroundings in the little alley this window observed, its brown-and-tan-striped tail twitching playfully before it nuzzled the knuckles that were brought up to pet its head and disappeared into a pokéball. The silent observer was out of sight before the door to the room burst open and cries of shock and furious betrayal began filling up the previously quiet air.

Ulysses's expression speedily soured. He knew it was an unavoidable conflict, but even so he demanded to know why. "Terrian, what is this?" It was a growl simmering in withheld anger. Even as he asked, though, he was considering which pokémon to use. To most it would seem obvious: Djinn and Gloria. They were experienced and mature-- but Junior had teleportation. In just a few seconds, he decided silently to himself.

Then he immediately began thinking about Morgan, trying to keep the decision out of mind. If there was anything capable of capturing all his attention, there was no better topic- although in retrospect it was also the most uncomfortable. Those thoughts were his to have, however, and in the end he simply shut out everything but his immediate senses. Even so, Terrian had made Dr. Shonevsky paranoid with his new slew of abilities. If Terrian was capable of teleportation and repelling bullets, it wasn't a great stretch to imagine he was also capable of some form of telepathy or mind-reading.

"And what? You have to make survival even more difficult? You have to threaten aging men and young children who are striving to help everyone find some modicum of normalcy?" His words were ripe with disgust. "Explain yourself this instant, Alex." He was no longer paying respect to his former colleague; Ulysses would never offer his respect again if this was how the sable-hatted enigma intended to treat Dr. Shonevsky and company.

The more damage the truck suffered, the more furious Paul became. Paul didn't even flinch as the scythers came down. His foes had proved more maneuverable than the mildly damaged truck, which meant really, slowing down was probably the best thing he could've done. Now he had a stable platform to fight from, and he was going to be able to do it personally. Next time he'd have Alyssa drive, he decided. He wasn't sure about trusting her with the truck, but he really needed to be able to fire on the go.

Paul twisted in his seat, leaning back across Alyssa's legs, giving himself room to lift the rifle, flip the safety off, change it to full auto, and empty an entire magazine through the door and roof (grimacing slightly as he did so). As soon as they were clear, Paul determined to get out and start taking shots at the biker. The truck would provide concealment, and the rifle had an ACOG. At any range longer than zero, she'd have a massive disadvantage; at any range shorter, Paul would have to get creative.

Zoidberg, this time, was prepared. Furthermore, he had an idea. It took him a split second to communicate this to Oddjob, and less than that for Oddjob to decide MURDER TIME. He righted himself, sore as he was, then leapt onto the cab, then was teleported upward and back, coming out of a brief arc to land directly on a scyther's back, into which he sunk claws, front and back, and began biting at the back of the neck and the base of the wings. Zoidberg kept watch, prepared to catch at any range, anchoring a mental checkpoint on the smaller of the two.

He promptly turned to the next foe, only a second wasted. This time, he wouldn't let it just come in. With visual contact, it was a linear search to confirm his foe's location, and once he had a lock, he moved on to a short suite of simple tactics. First, a mere touch of psychic activity was enough to spook most creatures, man or pokemon. Second, a psychic dart was nothing but a weak etheric wave, a force of will imposed across space and impacting as though a light explosion of a sort. Scythers could handle this, but this wasn't the attack. This was the preparation. Finally, the foe spooked and perhaps slowed, Zoidberg set into motion a full psychic attack.

Such an attack was often referred to simply as a "Psychic." It was simple: Bombard your foe with simple etheric force. No explosion, no dart, no fancy maneuvers, simply overpowering force. With such pressure, two things could happen: The body could cave, or the mind could cave, each as violently as the other. Under correct conditions, Psychics had been known to destroy wartortles upon contact and crush entire tanks like tin cans. This was not a correct condition; the correct condition involved an absurdly overprepared attacker in an ambush position with an unprepared foe. The best Zoidberg could hope for was a kill, and that might be a stretch - he hadn't had much time to build up a good burst. At the least, though, it would do some pretty severe damage.