Welcome to Gaia! ::

"Alright! First up for me is Weedle!" The man said tossing a poke ball down and out of it appeared a small yellow bug with a horn on both its head and tail. Eraku looked at it not sure what exactly think. Is this guy serious a weedle? Well I bet he probably has some sort of trick up his sleeve.

"Alright Hurricane we'll start off with you." Eraku said looking at his trusty companion. I'll have to advantage on this one. Bug types are always weaker against flying. Hurricane fluttered into the air hovering just above his trainer. "Hurricane use a Gust attack against it!" With the command Hurricane flew up a couple more feet and then swooped down gave and flapped its wings a few feet away from the weedle.

"Quick weedle, use your string shot and slow it down!" The man replied. Just as the gust hit the weedle sending it flying into the air a small silky thread shot out of the weedle which managed to wrap itself around Hurricanes wings making it much harder for the bird to stay airborne. However the weedle which had been sent flying did a somersault in the air and landed on its back looking quite dazed.

Kilik nodded, stopping on the corner of the street. He decided to check himself out. He slowly opened up his shirt and slid his hand onto his shoulder. No, no wounds had been reopened. Still the same bumpy stitches from before. He whistled and Cable lifted up his pant leg a distance, allowing him to examine for anything. "I think I'm fine," he said. A hint of Mazarin and Mike's influence began to overtake him. "Though I think my cheek hurts a bit. Perhaps you could make it feel better." What in GOD'S NAME are you saying, Kilik!?

Even Cable was taken aback. He had never seen Kilik act, say, or even do anything remotely involving a girl or anything of the sort. The plug kick him in the shin, hoping that it would snap him out of it. Stupid humans and their silly emotions.

Tears immediately welled up in his eyes and he bit his lip to keep from saying anything. He closed his eyes, and his entire body tensed up. "Thhhhh" he gulped, "Thanks, Cable. I needed that." Kilik looked down at his Pokemon and gave him a very shaky thumbs up.

Sabrina and Whitney smiled to Nina. "Good job," the pink-haired girl commented. "Hah!" Nina laughed, sheepishly, "that was pure luck and nothing more." Reaching for another Pokeball, despite the fact that Mewtwo had just used an Ice-type attack, she felt it was time to send out one of her most reliable Pokemon. "Go, Krystal!" she hollered, throwing the Ultra Ball forward, releasing the majestic blue dragon, who let out a soothing coooo. Whitney took the hint from her sister, and decided it was time to send out one of her own reliable Pokemon. "Miltank, go!" In an explosion of white light, Whitney's faithful Miltank exploded from her Pokeball. It mooed, seeming to be rather indifferent of the threat it faced. Nina grinned at Mewtwo, who gave her a terribly dark look. She knew that no matter how strong any Pokemon was, if enough time had passed, they would expire due to Perish Song. Now, it was just a waiting game. "Krystal! Flamethrower attack, now!" The other girls prepared their Pokemon's attacks as well.
"Miltank, it's time! Defense Curl-Rollout combo!"
"Anastasia, hit it with another Ice Beam!"

Krystal stared down her opponent, taking in a deep breath and rearing her head back, lurching forward a moment or two later and loosing a stream of fire towards her adversary. Simultaneously, Anastasia charged up her own power briefly, shooting another Ice Beam with a powerful whoop! Miltank was last to follow the trend, as she curled herself up into a ball for a moment, tightening her muscles. She waited a moment, and barreled down the field at a breakneck speed. Mewtwo was growing increasingly irritated. Whitney's Miltank? he thought. Seriously? Trainers far and wide speak of that Pokemon's unbridled and nearly unbeatable power... Standing his ground, Mewtwo extended both arms out in front of himself, his eyes darting to the three incoming attacks. Both arms glowing, his eyes began to glow as well; in a swift movement, Mewtwo used his psychic powers to deflect Krystal's Flamethrower at Anastasia, while also redirecting Anastasia's Ice Beam attack toward Krystal. Both Pokemon were struck by essentially friendly fire, each attack strong enough to knock out the Pokemon that it had hit. Miltank, however, was the only untouched fighter; she slammed into Mewtwo with mediocre force and power, as Rollout hadn't been in use long enough to be extremely powerful yet. After her attack ended, Miltank returned to Whitney's side, ready to attack again.

"Tw-moo," Miltank said, indicating just how many turns of consciousness Mewtwo had left.

"You get back---" he held up his arms and coughed, waving the Smokescreen out of his face. "Blast it! He got away!" Mazarin stomped his foot and looked over at his Banette. "Some use you were," he mumbled. For once, he actually recalled his Pokemon and clipped the ball back to his belt. If he were to go asking anyone if they saw a lunatic running around, chances are they'd think he were the lunatic. Mazarin explored Vermilion City, weighing his options. There wasn't much he could do. He didn't see Mike fly away on that Charizard of his, and he couldn't have gotten too far. The safest bet is that Mike is still here in Vermilion, he thought. Gulping, Mazarin called up his superior.

"This is Mazarin," he said into his watch when the man appeared, "I've got a bit of a situation. I chased the target to Vermilion, and engaged in battle, the only kind of engagement that I'd ever do. The suspect fled through the use of a Smokescreen. It's needless to say that the target is very dangerous and should be handled like a woman: carefully, but with excessive force when apprehended."

"Very well," Wesker said calmly, ignoring the boy's attempts at humor, "Perhaps I should have issued this job to Alastor or Jill. They're both much more capable than you are." Mazarin's eyes widened and he frowned.

"S-sir!" he pleaded, "I can do this! I know I can! Just..." he scratched the back of his head with his other hand, "It's really hard. I--" he didn't get to finish his sentence before his superior hung up the line. "...I can do it! I know I can!" he clenched his fists. Maybe I should call Alastor. Ask for some advice. He does owe me for all that womanly advice I gave him, even though it didn't work for some reason... With that thought, Mazarin headed down towards the Vermilion Gym.

Mary-Anne continued to stroll along, not particularly thinking much of it when she passed the northern limits of the city. In fact, she hardly noticed, having been lost in her rambling thoughts that stretched from musings of her future to irrelevant things like how grass was a plant, and wasn't it sad to it that people walked all over it? This tall grass business, along with her sudden sympathy for the beat down green weeds, made trekking through somewhat uncomfortable, and so she avoided it for the more worn down paths. Thus she and her little crew saw relatively few Pokemon.

Some subconscious part of her realized that these were wide open spaces here (despite her never realizing she left Slateport, somehow), and so she figured that hey, Tora might like some exercise and fresh air. The Donphan materialized at her side with a flash of light, and Diego was glad to see the tank of an elephant. With some effort, he climbed up the Pokemon's side and sat down on his luxurious seat with his sketchbook, deciding to draw what he saw. Tora, too, was invigorated by the nice sea-side air, away from the tension in Slateport. She chased after the wild Wingull she saw like an overeager, snorting with laughter when she was able to sneak up on them. Diego somehow maintained his utter composure despite his ride's bucking, and still managed to draw rather decently. Ulani, meanwhile, couldn't stay gloomy long, and although she did not forget her shame, she didn't see the point of moping around on such a lovely, sunny day! She would have liked to battle one of those Wingull they kept seeing, just to prove to herself and M.A. that she was stronger than she ... was?, but Tora scared them all away.

Above them ran a huge elevated road, and M.A. could vaguely distinguish high speed helmets flying by. How fascinating, she thought with childish awe at the world. She couldn't tell if they were on motorcycles or bikes or mopeds for all she knew, but it was nice to muse about it for a little while.

A queer little building with black-tinted windows appeared before her at a T-intersection in the route. "What's that?" M.A. pondered, stopping in front of the little house. Something was very intriguing about it. She was about to peek in the door, possibly invading someone's personal privacy, but Diego stopped her. "Eye haf seen thees in de movies b4," Diego wrote in the air. "Venden cosas malas allí!"

"No... understand-o?" M.A. offered, a poor excuse for Spanish.

"Dey sell bad tings," Diego wrote gravely.

"Like what? In there?" M.A. whispered, backing up from the house now, eyes wide.

"Sí. Como... you know," Diego answered, standing up on Tora and very slowly and rhytmically thrusting his hips three or four times with the composition of an elderly man. It was more of a nonchalant twirking than anything, and but M.A. gasped and covered her mouth.

"I see," M.A. nodded, just as grave now. "'Kay then, we gotta pick a direction. Left, right?" They flipped a coin that Diego painted for them, heads being right, and right it was.