DOCTOR! DOCTOR~

[Marcus Brooklyn]

Marcus chuckled loudly as Dalton suggested that they go for pizza. Then again, he had licked his lips in a ravenous manner as well at the mention of such delectable food products - pizza was one of the foods the teenager had rarely eaten these days, due to lack of money. Hell, he was even lucky enough to get anything at all. Nodding, he had almost agreed to go with the Ranger for a slice before two words the male absolutely loved to hear rang through his ears: "Bar fight." Cracking his knuckles, Marcus toothily grinned. "That seriously sounds like an epic idea, dude! Besides; I can kick ass without really kicking!" he playfully teased, before he had gasped aloud. Rubbing the back of his head unconsciously, he jerked a bit after realizing he had two, distinct disadvantages. "Shit. I forgot - I got my head trauma and my lack of psychic awesomeness goin' for me. Pizza it is, then!" he altered his intentional plans of beating down some bar rats, before he had overheard Dalton sarcastically respond about Wannabe not wanting hookers - before asking where he was.

Looking around reluctantly, as Marcus could really give a crap on where he is, he searched around for the yellow sparkplug of a Pokémon in an effort to, at least, get leeway on where he was. Shrugging in a faux aplogetic way, he grinned devilishly. "Who knows? Perhaps they sent him to the Psych Ward where he belongs!" he had mercilessly joked around, before laughing a loud guffaw. The boisterous cackle eventually started to slowly die, as if he was slowly starting to accept a horrible truth he first thought as a joke. Silence then, before a chuckle and a raised eyebrow.

This time, folding his arms in a serious manner, he actually scoffed amusingly. "Well now, I guess we may have to go look for him - in case he decides to assault some elderly people or a cancer patient." Marcus suggested, actually worried about the inhabitants of some of the patients here, rather than Wannabe himself. If he had managed to get Marcus to break down and cry; there'd be no end to the emotional scarring that this fucker of a Pokémon would do to the less fortunate ones here. But before the black haired, Goth-dressed kid went to go randomly roam the hallways, he had taken a quick glimpse at the Oddish that Dalton held. Curious, like a normal Pokémon Trainer would be, he had rummaged through the one of many pockets that his pants stored on him, snatching out a jet-black pocket computer - decked out with cybernetic red lines that seemed to jet out as if it were from a familiar movie on cyberspace surfing. A customized, repainted Pokédex - standard issue for all Trainer hopefuls - Marcus used this handy device to capture info on the various species of Pokémon that roamed the lands. Pointing the small, camera-like lens at the Oddish, he flipped the top of the computer device open and awaited the screen to display info on the tiny Grass Type.

\__"Oddish. The Weed Pokémon."__/

"Oddish is a small Grass type Pokémon that normally wander forests, scattering pollen around. It asborbs nutrients from the ground to nourish its body; the more rich the soil is, the glossier its leaves become."

The voice was deep and robust, like a specific voice actor's; as it verbally displayed info partaining to Lila's being. Smiling in absolute bewonderment, the teenager dismissed the Pokédex back into his pants and wiggled his pointer finger around the Oddish's stomach, trying to be cute with it and play. Smiling bashfully, the human stood up and looked Dalton straight in the eye, putting his hand on the side of his own head. "Sorry. I get along with Pokémon more than I do people, to be honest. They seem to understand me better than most others--CoughsaveforWannabecough." he verbally "coughed" out in a slurred voice, not even making any slight attempts whatsoever to even make it sound like a cough, before turning around and giving a wave of his two front fingers as he headed for the stairs. "I'mma check the upper floors for the bastard. I'll meet you in the Lobby if I find him!" he had spouted as he had, recklessly, charged up the stairs in full, healthy manner. For a psychic who could make himself and other things float, he was rather physically fit for his age; like most children and teenagers should be, as he made quick work of the stairs.

Just like Marcus -- doing things first and asking questions later.

[Dalton[ SMILE!]]

The ranger's face was also cracked with a toothy smile, which still remained even as his words took on a serious tone. It ended with a fatherly one.
"Meh. Actually kicking ass is more fun anyway. But I do realize an issue--as a former cop I can't go dragging children into bars."
Dragging babies into toxic swamps were fine, no laws against that--but taking them into a loud room full of fun was more then a bit over the line. Legs propelling themselves forward, the man continued to hold a conversation with Marcus, not even bothering to watch where he was walking. The aman trusted the other patrons to walk around, if not he would of course smile, and offer up a very sincere apology.
"Pizza it is--even children can do that. So did the bash over the head effect your..."
Shifting Lila quickly to the other arm, Dalton wiggled his fingers in the open air, trying his best to imitate magic.

That would be an interesting limitation.

--

How ironic would that be? The ranger turned toward Marcus, Lila snugly held in the crook of his arms.
"I doubt he'd do that..they might hurt him."
He grinned, abnd turned what could possibly serious situation into a complete joke.
" Cancer?"
A high-ptched little voice asked, drowned out when Marcus began to speak again. The boy's odd device resembled a taser, and for a moment, Dalton was tempted to beat it out of hish ands, but one look at the screen and he grinned.
"I havven't seen one of those in a while.."
Since the war they had all but fallen to the wayside--why did you know the name of a pokemon and its mating habits when it rolled over you like a truck?
"Well Lila you up for spreading pollen through the forest after this appointment ends?"
The Oddish merely blinked, before reaching out a leaf toward Marcus' finger. The ranger smiled--not even caring about how it embarassed Marcus.
"Me too. Heck usually they are my only friends. Wannabe being an exception."
In fact most of his 'family' were pokemon.


When Marcus elaborated on his plan, Dalton nodded.
"Down it is. I wish you the best of luck Marcus! Be careful of that head, no stopping for music or anything."
The ranger shouted, before heading toward the elevator. Pressing the large arrow indicating downward, he cast a look at Marcus retreating form. Even as the heavy steel doors slammed in front of him, he could still here the echoing footfalls. With a little jolt, the elevator began to wind downward. At the next floor Dalton poked his head out, like a groundhog, saw no yellow, and ducked back inside. Only good thing about that little beast was that he was easy to spot!

--

The Elekid now wandered about the lobby of the psyward, passing white tables, and brightly cushioned chairs. A pair of burly men behind the desk observed him with lidded eyes. Wannabe paused to give them a very naughty gesture, before turning back toward the elevator. To tell the truth he had no idea what floor Marcus and Daltbeen were on. Not to mention he was not going to run to them , just because he was alone.

He was a big pokemon--he could take care of himself. That didn't stop him from jumping when a ghostly wail echoed down the hall--and with a fearful gaze he observed the two men who raced down the hallwat, long jagged needles in their beefy hands.

The scream soon dissolved into muttering , and curiousity overtook the electric type, who wandered toward the source. Little white claws trailed along the wall, dropping into empty space upon encountering the stairwell.

[Marcus Brooklyn]

--Cue Spying Theme--

Marcus had thrust his head out of the staircase's opening on the floor he was on, in a rather awkward way, of course. Already setting theme music to mind, he was dramatically looking left, then right, then left again; in an attempt to find Wannabe, whom had suddenly gone missing since Marcus's eventual examination of his wound. Rushing up the staircase again, his coat was jingling all over the place as he clip-clopped up each, individual step, his boots making that distinct sound of somebody wanting to get somewhere within a specific amount of time. As soon as he had reached the midway point of the stairwell, where it had turned to the left, he had taken notice of the sign that had hung above the entrance to the darkened hallway--

"Welcome to the Psych Ward. Have a spectacular day~"

Shuddering upon recalling that comment he made on Wannabe going to a mental institution, he shrugged it off; as a "mission" was to be accomplished. Folding his hands into a gun shape, for dramatic emphasis on how utterly serious this mission was, he had rushed up the side of the wall, pressing against it and peeking out the corridor, to check if anyone was coming. Sure enough, two men in white, carrying jagged needles filled with a clearish-aqua fluid, ran towards what sounded like a banshee's wail. Thankfully, the teenager pulled his head back just in time to prevent the two "doctors" from seeing where he was, and shuddering at the sight of such grisly instruments. To think; they could have stuck one of those inside that wound of his...

Before long, his eyes caught a glimpse of something yellow waddling past his location, Marcus's outfit having already blended into the shadows, thanks to "how ninja it was." A white claw passed over his location, as the human had sucked in just about every single ounce of his body to prevent it from brushing past the one place he feared: his crotch. Being constantly bashed for being gay was one thing, but having the accusing Pokémon touch your junk, even accidentally, was practically begging to be beat up. The gods of fortune smiled upon him as he had succeeded in avoiding imminent doom from the little sparkplug of an Electric type, as he had then peered his head out slightly to see just where he was going.

Tch, no clue; he wondered. In ninja-like fashion, he had instantly rushed the opposite direction of where Wannabe was going, and slid into a conveniently opened janitor's closet. Hoping the little bastard didn't catch glimpse, he sighed in relief as he looked around for a sort of disguise he could use, much like the spies whom beat up innocent bystanders and stole their clothes for a disguise - but without the beatings up of random people. Darting his eyes back and forth, he couldn't find a distinct outfit he could wear, even a jumpsuit would have done fine. Besides, none of them came in black, so he had brushed the unsightly articles of clothing off. Peering out of the door, he had looked at the signs above the slightly dark hallway, rolling his eyes at how simply cliché the setting of the area was. It looked like something from a dramatic thriller/suspense movie that revolved around killer hospitals. A gulp.

"Psych Ward: Schizophrenia Sector"

<Fffff~uck...!> Marcus exaggerated mentally upon viewing the word "schizophrenia". Hell, worry for even Wannabe came to mind on hearing that. Only once did Marcus ever deal with a schizophrenic in his life, and unfortunately, she was a violent one at that. Schizophrenia, in most medical dictionaries, is described from a Greek word meaning "split mind". Aptly named, schizophrenia is a mental disorder characterized by superfluently abnormal perceptions of reality and expression. Distortion of perception usually affects all five senses, but it usually manifests as auditory hallucinations, paranoid or bizzare delusions, or disorganized thinking and speech with significantly noticable dysfunction in social or occupational environments. Putting it bluntly; it meant the affected person was completely separated from reality, unable to distinguish between the former and fantasy.

The schizophrenic Marcus had dealt with was convinced that there were people following her around every corner she walked; whispering evil things into her mind - things that told her to kill her tormentors. So much to the point that she had once assaulted the boy with a meat cleaver as soon as he had approached her - for directions on how to get to the nearest hotel. How she got this meat cleaver, even he cannot figure out. But eventually so, he was able to subdue her and get proper medical treatment for her during that time; a notable achievement in his life, if not a bit morbid to think about.

Note that not all schizophrenics were violent or murderous. Some were actually gifted thinkers or extremely nice people, if one took the time to talk to them. It was all a matter on what world their minds perceived, and how to enter this world yourself. Doing so allowed people to directly connect with schizophrenics, or so Marcus theorized; but he was no psychologist, nor did he want to be - having psychic powers was good enough for him.

Even so, Marcus would continue to "stalk" Wannabe, eager to see how he would deal with such a serious mental disorder, presented practically right in front of him.

[Dalton[ SMILE!]]

While Marcus was sneaking around to 50's spy tunes, Dalton found himself moving to a mcuh different style of music. Trembling violin chords were strummed, overlaying blasting trumpets, and the serene little ring of bells. All of this was mixed together with a fuzzy sound quality--to form the all powerful--elevator tunes. The ranger found himself entranced by the rather deafening melody, which spoke of hollowness and empty space. Fingers tapped at his waist, the ones curled around Lila beat a rapid tatoo against his chest. Eventaully he added in words of his own, much to the delight of the baby Oddish, and the misery of all others in the small box.
"Up and down~
Pulley and Wench~
Going to town ...
In an elevator ....
Without a bench."
So he wasn't a maestro or a poet? It was better then the wordless music--no matter how alluring it may have been. The doors opened, and everyone flooded out, and fled as the happy-go-lucky ranger exited behind them. The room was painted a blinding white, the freshly mopped tile smelt of anti-bacterial cleaner, and shone with a new coat of wax. The floor was free of stain, and was practically begging to be dirtied. That wish was easily granted. Orange eyes quickly caught a flash of yellow, and Dalton stepped toward it. A long tail disappeared around a corner, and he picked up speed, foot prints of muck stood out against the freshly mopped floor in comic releif.
" STOP WANNABE!"
The tail had been mistaken for an arm, and the ranger was forced to backpedal, as he slammed into the back of a none too happy--female--Ampharos. A grin spread across his face, as he picked himself up off the floor, scooping up a happy little Oddish into his arms. The smile remained even as he apologized:
" Oops~ Sorry about that pretty Lady!"
The Ampharos blinked, before shrugging her little arms. In all truth she was pretty hard to anger, after six freshly birthed Mareeps, and a lifetime full of children.
"Have you seen an Elekid bout this big?"
The Ranger questioned, holding his palm out spread abt about hip level. large red orb, and tear-drop shaped head shook in conjecture, before the ranger bolted back toward the Elevator.


IN a very action-movie like move, he leaped toward the closing door. Sliding on his belly, he collided with the backwall, and inbetween the legs of one very confused businessman.
"SAFE~!"
His nose hurt like a bitch--but he was back in.
"What floor next?"
A very shocked voice proclaimed seven, and the ranger settled in for the ride.

--

The Elekid did not look at the sign, and even if he did--that word was not in his dictionary. The yellow beast was just interested in what kind of person required a needle jab from a burly man, and why that siren was buzzing. Little claws clapped against the tiles, and with each glance at the patient's rooms he began to notice odd things, heavy duty locks, bars on the doors, leather straps, thick curtains, and a general feeling of tension. For a moment he considered turning around. A second later ehe did, just to see the janitor's closet door close with a resounding echo.

Stupid cleaning people.

Voices came from the room ahead, and with a resolute nod, the Elekid ducked inside, just as a flowerpor flew a t his head. The two burly nurses were currently wrestling some unseen figure, who was only visible as an occasional flung limb.
"What the Hell ..."


What kind of place was this? It was like something off of Monday night wrestling!

Frankly he wanted popcorn.

Until a beefy fist narrowly missed his forehead anyway.


Fuck.

[Marcus Brooklyn]

At first, Marcus was reluctant to enter the Schizophrenia Sector, but with Wannabe on the loose and his mind probably chock full of petty insults, he had no choice but to at least apprehend the little Electric type before somebody, even he, got injured. If his ability to just have the little guy float worked at the moment, a simple "Mission Accomplished" would have been obtained already. However, overexertion through meditation left him a gift short, at least, for a few more hours.

Slinking out of the janitor's closet, no pun intended, he had noticed that the little beast entered the room that the two, burly doctors rushed into; a bright, red siren flashing on and off. Loud, horrible screeching could be heard as he had tried to comprehend just what this guy's malfunction was. No avail; it was all a mutter to him. He had no choice but to slide up the wall's edge, ninja-style, just to get a good sense of what may have been shouted. Doing so, oblivious to a few skeptical expressions from a nurse or two, he had reached the door's edge, tuning his ears in on the conversation that may have taken place...

___

"LEMME GO! DON'T TAKE HIM AWAY FROM MEEEE~"

Horrible echoes cried through the room as the man on the table, flailing around like a Feebas out of water, had desperately wanted the doctors to simply just go away, and leave him to whatever fantasy world he was in. Enter Red Morris - forty three years old and diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia. Within his delusional mind, a faint and slightly pinkish...blur floated there. It seemed to be desperately crying out to the psychotic patient, wishing for them to go away just as much as Red did, as the beefy nurses kept their clutches strong for as long as they could.

Resisting his inevitable fate, he desperately broke an arm free, executing swift, makeshift boxing maneuvers to try and, at least, get one of the doctors off his case. Successfully, the man in white was sent staggering backwards after being sucker punched in the gut, regaining his wind almost instantly and readministering his death-grip on Red's arm. Another loud scream. "PLEEASE!!! DON'T TAKE HIM AWAY! WE'VE SO MUCH TO ACCOMPLISH~~!!!" he cried in agony, raising a restrained hand towards the ceiling, towards the pinkish blur that zipped around in his own sight, crying for him as well. Red himself could make out slight, feline traits within his illusion of a friend, although nobody else could even really see this "whatever it was", or even prove if it existed.

To most people, he was just a nutcase.

It was time to shut this guy up, as the second doctor gripped his thick syringe, filled with a clearish-blue liquid, like a dagger as he plunged it deep into Red's shoulder, slapping his hand down on the injector as hard as he could. As dramatic as it was, Red only resisted the medicine further, as his pinkish "friend" started to grow fainter and fainter, even as he tried to break free of his captivity. His vision got cloudier, darker, and his speech slurred slowly until his resistance finally ceased -- powerful sedatives, especially for violent schizophrenics, were useful these days. Hell, you may as well use Rapidash tranquilizers to shut people the fuck up.

[[Sorry. I've been busy, so my inspiration isn't high. D:]]

[Dalton[ SMILE!]]

The Elekid was now backed into a corner, one hip against an unremarkable bedside table, the other against a extremely stiff curtain. Underneath the billows of thick canvas like fabric, the tis of jagged little claws, and out of place yellow feet were visible. They stood out only in the drabness of everything else in the rooms, desaturated blues, long dead white flowers, steel colored doors, sheets, and window bars. The red light pulsed along the brick walls like a heart, the wail that erupted from its speakers only drowned out by the screams from the bed. If the words hurt Marcus, they practically pummeled the Elekid--only sheer will kept him planted, watching as lanky limbs struck out at white clad mountains.
"..Who's he talking about?"
The elekid whispered to no one in particular. To him there was only the crazy guy, and the two nurses--so unless the "him" fittied in a pocket, then the guy was obviously talking about thin air. Luckily, unlike the man in the bed, no voice answered his question.

The second the man slumped back onto the bed, the Elekid ran off, little claws slipping on the thick tiles. The curtain blew open as if struck b a thick wind, a striped arm, and a bulbous yellow body soon followed. The sight of someone stabbing another human being in the neck made his skin crawl, what kind of torture chamber was this place?! That liquid had knocked the guy out as surely as a heavy hammer would have. No doubt it would easil do the same to an inquistive little ELekid! Just because the guy was crazier then Dalton, did not mean that he deserved to be treated like that! Aggressive psychoes like Marcus were still walking around. So what if he saw somebody who wasn't there? So would Wannabe if someone made a habit of knocking him out!

Scrabbling for purchase, the tubby little creature flew from the room, knocking down a dusty old vase in the process. It shattered against the floor in a flurry of shards, clay falling to the floor like terracota snow. The instant his feet brushed the waxed floor of the hallway, he was sent flying to his rump, sliding rapidly toward the otehr wall like some kind of dead-end carnival ride. In the brief moment, he caught sight of Marcus' coat.

The next moment he saw nothing but white, as he slammed into the wall in front of him, right underneath a padded bench. Letting out a quiet moan, he sat up, and slamemd his head against the bottom of the seat. Backing out bottom first, he rose to his feet---swaying uncertainly, before stumbling down the hallway, deeper into the dangerous wing.Three doors down, he rapidly shook his head, and turned to glare at the spot where Marcus had been. Just because everyone else in this damnedp lace was crazy didn't mean he was!
"HEY GAY GUY! WHATCHA SNEAKING AROUND FOR ? LOST YA HOUSE KEY?!"
If one peeked past the tough exterior they could see he was obviously troubled, and he kept throwing worried glances at the room with the knocked out patient.

And Pokemon were monsters?

[WHOO SUCKY!']

[Marcus Brooklyn]

Marcus had listened in with quite the attention span he had, hearing the cries and pleas of Red Morris, whom was desperately calling out to "him", whomever that was. Sneaking his head around the corner, peering through the open crack of the door, he tried desperately to catch a glimpse of what the insane human was grasping for, seeing his tears of agony streaming down his face. The boy's eyes widened as if he, too, had seen some ghastly image or heard a disturbance in the Force; but nothing was there, like his physical eyesight would see. However... Gut instinct alone told him that this man really wasn't as crazy as he looked. Within Marcus's distinctive perspective on reality, he could tell that something, or someone, really was hovering above his head...

Or so he speculated.

Then the door suddenly flew open, the teenager flinging his head back safely to prevent a good concussion to his face as the loudmouthed Elekid stumbled out on his bare back, sliding against the wall opposite of where the human was. Before long, he had caught a glance at the look of pure terror in his face; a startling first for Marcus, or perhaps Wannabe, even. Before long, he slid over underneath the bench Marcus was sitting on, wondering just what the hell was this guy's malfuction, before a slight bump forced him to stand up. Lightly grunting after being subjected to a makeshift Headbutt to the bottom of his seat, he only looked down as his uber-baggy, mondo-style pants slushed about, Marcus walking away from the seat to allow Wannabe some space.

Looking back into the room, Red was now sound asleep, or at least sedated to make it look like he was. The teenager furrowed his eyebrows in empathy for the middle-aged man - he agreed with whatever Wannabe was thinking: nobody should have to suffer some form of horrible treatment like that, even if it isn't your fault, necessarily. Before he could send mental condolences to Red, a thought struck him - his behaviour and whom he was shouting to. Putting his thinking cap on, Marcus dug within his mental archives as to how he was behaving and reaching up for whatever the boy had felt by sheer, gut instinct. Something invisible...

A lightbulb went off, before flickering.

___

Marcus had seen this behaviour in two others during his travels in Remoor; and not through schizophrenics. The first sign of speaking to invisible beings was when he had encountered an eight year old girl as he traveled through Fantasma City, trying to search for a Gym he could take by storm. Failing his mission, he encountered this girl - whom seemed to be speaking to nothing but air. Questioning her and whom she was speaking to, she only giggled and pointed towards Marcus's opposite end. He only turned around to see nothing. She had then explained that her friend only showed himself towards those he thought were kind and gentle, as well as pure of heart. Marcus was pure of heart, somewhat; but the main emotion he was feeling was "skepticism" at that point.

The second account was within the eyes of a twelve year old boy swimming out at sea. The young child was pulled under by the tides, and as Marcus had made his dashing hero-like entrance to save him, he had recalled seeing a "pink cat" floating around him, keeping him alive by some form of energy. Of course, as soon as Marcus got to the drowning child, the kid only smiled towards Marcus's opposite side before passing out. This time, however, he was positive he felt a warm breath, or at least an energy, crawl down his spine as he latched onto the boy while simultaneously swiveling his head in an owl-like fashion to stare down his aide. Nothing, as usual.

To think that a middle aged man like Red Morris could encounter this "thing" that Marcus had always associated to hang around smaller children and pure-of-heart human beings. An enigma, it was...

___

Back to reality, Marcus's thoughts were interrupted by a trademark, snide query by Wannabe. As if he were trying to piss him off further, and to make it sarcastic, Marcus reached behind his back, underneath his coat, and pulled out a small ring of keys; some of them looked as if though they went to nowhere. Pulling a distinct one out - one that was decorated with a rubber flame key protector - he shook the rest, allowing them to jangle as he had twitched his bottom left eyelid up in snide response. "Keep 'em with me at all times! Besides, I'm... Five, six regions off target; but still." he had sniggered, sticking his tongue out childishly as he had watched the yellow, tubby Elekid waltz right down the sinister Schizophrenia Sector.

Groaning, he could only flip his keys back onto his multiple back straps, shaking his head in the process. After experiencing something as terrifying as getting a needle stabbed into your neck, you'd think you'd have enough. Just when he was about to lose sight; Marcus's mental lightbulb flashed on again. Cupping his hands to his mouth, he called out to the Pokémon that was now walking down the hallway. "Hey! You want pizza? I was told to find your tubby ass before we went!" he had whooped out, getting an annoyed "SHHHH!" from a doctor whom looked as if though he had inhaled a little too much with whatever he could have possibly been on. Oh well; if Wannabe doesn't want to come, then he can just roam Crazyland for the rest of the day - Marcus wouldn't mind.

[Dalton[ SMILE!]]

[size=1

The Elekid could see the shadow of Marcus leg swinging on the back wall behind him, and even though he had not sensed the boy poking his head into the room, he had no doubt that he was a nosy little fucker and had done so. Turning back toward the boy with both hands pressed in on his hips--so hard that little furrows were visible--he sneered. It was still obvious that he was in shock, but Marcus would provide him with some much needed therapy, and a distraction from the utter callousness of the human race. If one watched closely, they could catch his eyes flickering to the man inside the room, who was sleeping soundly.
"What more bars on the windows where you come from? Little more drab?"
The pokemon could now see the heavy sign swinging further down the hallway, pronouncing the occupants of this ward "crazy" and " unstable" , and underneath in small text he could even make out the word dangerous. No doubt it was dangerous with big white mountains running around with knife like syringes!
" ..so which security guard did ya steal those keys from?'
No doubt in some other place they did lock things like him up--maybe that was why Red went crazy. Speaking of which what was a region? There were more then this hellhole? Huh. More hellholes with a bunch of people dressed like Marcus running around no doubt.

The second man in weight exited the room, and Wannabe leapt up into the air, skittering background, even as the first returned with a broom. Even from this distance it was obvious they were making jokes about their sleeping " friend".

Even the smart mouthed Elekid found it in bad taste, and turned away--doing his best to drown out their gruff, inappropriate comments. Instantly he turned back to Marcus, hastily stepping up to the teenager.
" ..tubby ass? This is all muscle ya little prick. But feel free to lead the way, just not too close.. you stink like hell."
Walking ahead of Marcus [ ignoring his own words], the Elekid began to make his way toward the elevator, occasinally glancing back at the broom holding nurses, no doubt they could use those as effectively as any syringe.

"Damn Rob.. what the hell that was kinda freaky...first this stupid jar breaks! Then the lights go all fuzzy......"
"You wanna end up her too Jake?"
Silence on the other end, followed by four eyes sliding to the resting man on the freshly rumpled sheets.

--

Dalton had finally been through all the floors, and now sat on a u-shaped chair in the lobby. His legs were crossed in front of him, his head thrown back, staring at a dazzling mural that covered the ceiling. The Oddish in his arms kept falling over as she tried to do the same. The ranger's arms were curled around the young pokemon, as he slowly evaluated the tilted picture above his head.
" .. so it is supposed to be Celebi...and Jirachi. Or one of those legendary buggers--and they are both floating over a Chansey. The one on the very end shows the same scene, but with the Chanssey in a nurses uniform...I wonder what it ..."
The elevator let out a loud DING beside him, and he turned to look at the open door--waving at the occupants.

Regardless of who they were. If you didn't already guess, he was grinning from ear to ear.

[/size]

[Marcus Brooklyn]

Marcus, apparently well aware of when a smartassed comment from Wannabe was coming from, only looked around in faux pas confusion. "Wait... Where are you seeing security guards? I could swear that these were mine..." he had replied, scratching the back of his head. Then again, he was now only focused on how harsh the Pokemon's words were - he could obviously sense within the nasty venom Wannabe laced his sentences with that he honestly didn't think of the boy as human. Or think of him as being sane, nonetheless. Shaking his head in defeat, he only could do one thing -- ignore him. That's all Marcus could do these days; nobody listened to any explanation the teenager would ever try to offer. This Electric type only proved his misery.

Jerking his body upward at the statement of being told he stunk like hell, he had clenched his fist tight; ready to get the jump on him before a lightbulb popped up in his mind. Looking down, he could only mutter an "oh." Yes; the Sildios swampwater/mud/ooze/gunk/whatever that had been caked on there from before. It had still remained, yet most of it dried off. And thanks to the rather refreshing scent of lavender that lingered in the air, most of the smell had been masked over quite effectively, so people could only assume he had either been street fighting in rain, or simply playing mud-tackle football; and Marcus hated sports! Chuckling in skeptic thought at his statement on his lardass being all "muscle", he only thought of a crude statement as he followed behind, taking the staircase instead of the elevator.

<Explain why you couldn't beat Sasuke then...>

___

As the elevator had approached the bottom, it would indeed open to a black-dressed figure - but not Marcus. Instead, it was a rather sharply dressed man in a black suit, black hair that did happen to go to his shoulders; but was kept up in a ponytail. Taking his leisurely dressed self out of the elevator, it would eventually reveal Wannabe. Instead, Marcus had come zipping down the railing of the staircase that led to the main lobby, landing in an effortless crouched pose before casually walking towards Dalton and his newly acquired Lila, an Oddish. "Fatso's back. Let's pig out!" he had exhuberantly suggested, throwing a "rock fist" into the air before triumphantly headed out the doorway. Marching like a tin soldier, the boy made his way down into the streets as he had patiently waited for the duo of Wannabe and Dalton - wait, make that trio, if you include Lila.

But something had caught Marcus's mind, even as he had reached the bottom step. The Abra he had rescued. He was wondering whether or not he should just stay behind and let the others go have fun this time around. A worried look overtook his face, a serious stare of concern glancing back at the hospital behind him. He could only stand there now, unsure of what closure he wanted to go by; stay behind and wait for the news, or go have fun and hope for the gods to work their magic.

[[Ugh. Sorry, I seriously wasn't in the mood to post today; boring day at work sapped me of my muse. ;__;]]

[Dalton[ SMILE!]]

The Elekid was not the least bit amused by Marcus' words. Which was as obvious as the irritation flooding his voice:
"You know very well I was picking on you! So drop the damn act candy-pants!"
The pokemon raised a single claw, and pointed it at Marcus--judging by the last few words he was obviously running out of truly effective insults. Instead of the normal derogatory comment, Wannabe quietly asked:
" ... what was wrong with that guy...the screamer? Then again I doubt your dumbass knows..."
It was fairly easy to read the sign that proclaimed this the land of schizophrenics, and those with invisible roommates buried deep in their conscious. The Elekid was merely asking why they did it, he knew nothing about human medical disorders--besides crazy people wore the weird white jackets with the wrap-around sleeves, and the zippers with the straps.

When Marcus clenched his fist, the Elekid raised an eyebrow.
"Can't handle the truth?"
Earlier, in a paralyzed state--or even walking in the lobby he had been able to ignore the smell. Mostly because he was used to it. Now however, after a refreshing warm bath, and some time away from the trash-heap duo, the smell practically scorched his nostrils. In fact the horrid stench made him want to hurl, and sneeze at the same time.
"Maybe before you go anywhere.. you should go change--or get a damn bath."
The boy wouldn't fit into one of those little tubs, but he doubted any patient would mind if the boy nipped in for a shower--probably think he was a swamp beast or something. Crazy people saw those all the time, right? Either way , he merely smirked at the realization, and tried his best to stay upwind from Marcus.

When the boy broke off to run down the staircase, the Elekid watched him disappear with a wicked smirk. The electric type was extremely relieved to be free of the smell, and took his sweet time heading toward the elevator, glad to be encased in his lavender cloud.

By the way. Lavender was not a feminine scent! That was like saying trees were masculine. Lavender apple blossom was a completely natural--very manly scent.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The ranger's hands continued to wave at the business man in black, who merely observed him over the thin silver rims of his glasses. It only took a few seconds for his grey eyes to narrow, and become hooded. Without a word, or greeting [unless you count the very small nod] the business man disappeared outside the large doors, and into the warm Nada night. A thin black briefcase swung at his side, accenting his very stern appearance.
" Not a very happy man him ~ eh Wannabe?"
Dalton questioned with a grin, as the Elekid walked out the elevator, one hand over his nose, his face more sour then any lemon. The ranger kept on smiling, the Oddish in his lap did the same.
"Hello Wanna monster."
Not only had he [Wannabe] walked into the fire--he had walked right back into the psyche-ward, and into a horde of giant skunks.

" ...I heard gay ass say pizza? So ...we going?"
The ranger inclined his head, just as Marcus appeared on the scene--and the Elekid was obviously displeased. Even more so then when he had stepped from the fresh smelling elevator.
"Hello Marcus--it is rude to call people fat. They prefer chubby."
" I ALREADY FUCKING TOLD YOU--YOU FREAKING TINKERBELL! I AM ALL MUSCLE!"
A single finger shattered that idea--as Dalton's dirt covered hand pushed past thin yellow fur, and right into the Elekid's belly, which jiggled like a bowl of jello.

The ranger followed Marcus, the Elekid right behind him--and a few feet to the right. The Oddish was still clutched in his arms.
"Man Lila--you get to have pizza you are going to loveee it..."
Wait.. would she want dirt on her pizza? Dalton was willing to try it, but it probably would probably lack any true favor. Dirt was a little flat. A grin remained on his face, even as he ran right into Marcus, shoulder colliding with the teen's upper back.
"Sorry man..."
Oh. The Abra. Unless he had found a girlfriend that had to be his current worry. After all they had kind of just left the guy.

" Hey--you can't do anything for him. If you stay there, you'll throw them off. Come have fun, and get some food--and we will check on him when we get back. Making yourself sick won't help him."
Once again, his voice was calm and steady not to mention encouraging.

It was not an order. Just a suggestion.

" LET 's JUST GO--WITH GAY BOY..OR WITHOUT HIM!!"
The Elekid's stomach chose that moment to let out a rumble, and Dalton began to laugh.

[Marcus. Mate. If ya don't feel like posting~ don't force yaself. I can wait.]

[Marcus Brooklyn]

Marcus felt a rather strong pat on his shoulder, turning to see Dalton try and claim to simply let it go; nothing could be done until results came back. Of course, the psychic wanted to believe that, but it was really difficult to take the words seriously. Especially since his life was practically saved, hopefully, by him - learning it was rescued only to die later on would break the human's heart to no end. He took one, final look at the hopsital, before he only shook his head. "Give me some time, please. I'll catch up with you in a few minutes." he pleaded, before he had went to go sit down on a bench that led to the bottom of the stairs of the hospital. He only waited for Dalton to take his leave, hopefully. Thinking his head wound was only minor, he'd have no reason to stick around - especially since he, himself, was hungry like the bowl of fat called an Elekid he lugged around.

Sitting down, ignoring Wannabe's usual gay-bashing comment on Marcus's preferences, he only put his gaze on the lights of the hospital, thoughts of the Abra dying of blood loss filling his heart with slowly-rotting grief. It was painful to think about such morbid thoughts, especially since you took the time to take out a bunch of street thugs just to rescue him. Sirens wailed in the distance - looked like the crooks who did it got caught, it seems. Marcus sighed with a chuckle. Some subliminal, community service was okay these days; and would probably gain skeptical and concerned, yet assuring and laid back, praise from the former police officer known as Dalton Swift. Probably. Another sigh, as he looked up at the night sky, his hair flailing around the back of the seat.

"What're you staring at?" a voice called out, almost childish and innocent, completely chock full of guileless tone.

"The stars." Marcus answered, oblivious to what was talking to him, nor caring as to lower his gaze and crane his head to the source of the voice.

"Why do they glow?"

"Stars are large bodies of flammable gas in the sky. The gas produces light thanks to special, chemical reactions in the molecules that make each, individual gas up." Marcus intelligently answered in a teacher-like way before he had then finally craned his head down
to see just who the hell he was talking to. His eyes widened like dinner saucers, as he caught wind of just what the hell he really was talking to. He saw an Abra, the same Abra he had rescued in the alleyway back yonder, looking straight up in the sky, with a rather clueless look on his face. He took notice to the large, brown plate that covered where he knew was the bullet wound, strapped in place by a leather band. Slowly pointing towards the yellowish-brownish creature, whom looked down in an innocent tone, he stuttered like that of a kid in front of a large audience. "W-wh...?! H-how'd you get out here?!" he asked in flustered comment, before the Abra placed a slender finger on his chin, tilting his head.

"I dunno... I kinda just... Thought about it and... Here I am!" he answered as best as he could, a kid-like giggle escaping his mouth as he smiled. One, he spoke the human language, for a Psychic clearly capable of telepathy; but it was possible he either didn't have that power, or simply didn't like using it. Two; apparently he just described his ability called Teleport, which allowed him to instantaneously transport himself and/or any other object within his brainwave length towards anywhere he had been before. Breathing a bit heavier than normal, Marcus shook his head before a worried expression came to his face. "Dude! You're supposed to be, like, in bed or something; not roaming around with a bullet wound that needs to be treated!" he hissed under his breath, frantic for the Abra's safety. Abra only tilted his head again.

"What's a bullet?"

Marcus's eyes stared on, in dumbfounded shock. This wasn't possible. Was this Abra recently hatched?! It was feasible, especially with his seemingly clueless outlook on Marcus's explanations. But then again, why would anyone try to shoot a baby Pokemon like that; it was inhumane! Looking at the leather plate that covered up the wound, strapped on by leather straps, he only shook his head. Either the doctors did something complicated where it required a leather plate to cover the wound, or they were really low on gauze and medical tape. But even so, if he was healthy enough to roam around the joint like that, then apparently they did their job right.

Shifting his head back and down, from Abra towards where Dalton and Wannabe went, he weakly raised an arm towards the latter location, nervously giggling as if he was trying to tell them to wait for him. Wannabe would have probably ignored him, of course, and Lila would have probably shook her leaves around like the tiny ficus plant she was; for a cute Pokemon, that was. Sighing, he rummaged through his pants pockets to see if he had any Poke Balls - the tools of the Pokemon Trainer in an effort to capture wild ones - so he could try and do this the official, honest way.

Fuck.

None whatsoever. Marcus groaned in defeat, Abra mimicking the groan in almost the exact, same tone as he did. The human inquisitively raised an eyebrow, before the Abra did the same thing. Awkward silence. Now he was playing copycat with him? Slowly shifting his body into a standing position, he had instantly turned towards the location where Dalton and his Pokemon odd couple went, waving a thumb towards Abra in a smile. "Well, I'm glad your okay! See ya' 'round!" he had said farewell towards him, before not even making three steps outward as he felt a gigantic pressure on his head. Lurching forward, he eventually figured out that Abra had Teleported directly on top of him, in a sitting position, his tail brushing against the back of his neck, the childish Pokemon latching on desperately. An anime-esque sweatdrop. Okay; maybe he saved his life, that was cool and all. But give a human some neck space, will you?

"Dude. Get off."

"Mmm-mm."

"Get off!"

"Mmm-mm."

"Get off, Abra! I'm serious!"

"..."

"..."

"Mmm-mm."

"You're crushin' my spinal column, yo!" Marcus squealed in pain as he tried to weakly tap at the base of Abra's tail, to try and at least get him to cling to his back instead. He was a defiant little one, all right; but the boy eventually knew he wouldn't succeed. Sighing in defeat, he only shuffled forward before an anime-style vein bulged. "Once I get money, you're soooo getting caught..." he had bemusingly threatened to capture the little freeloader, as Abra hummed a little melody to himself, swaying his head left and right like a metronome as his tail happily slapped against the human's neck without any care in the world, getting grunts with each thwack of the extra limb. Slowly, he trekked over towards the Pizza A'mour, hoping to catch Dalton, Lila, and Wannabe in the process.

[Yay. Better post. :D]

[Dalton[ SMILE!]]

With obvious hesitance, Dalton removed his hands from the younger male's shoulder. Fingers splayed in a fan shape hovered inches above the curve of Marcus' leather covered shoulder. Slowly the fingers folded inward, and when it was simply a fist it dropped back to the ranger's side. A smile was now perched on his face, somewhere between understanding and disappointed.
"Alright. Just don't worry about the little fellow too much--I'm sure he'll be jus--"
"QUIT THE HEART TO HEART! I AM FUCKING STARVING!"
The Elekid interjected, already to the next corner --but even at this distance one could see the anger rolling off his flabby features. Both of his arms waved about in wild circles, jagged little claws curled into pulsating little fists. The lemon yellow of his fur was tinged a vibrant red.


Sheepishly smiling at the rather dejected Marcus, the ranger trotted after the Elekid. No doubt Wannabe was going to piss off a biker gang, or call forth an angry demon from hell if he waited with Marcus.
" ..be sure to catch up.. stay gone too long ..and I'll come drag you with me by your coat-tails--all seven of them."
Dalton paused to state a few feet in front of him, before waving fondly. With a few long strides the ranger drew even with the Elekid, who immediately sneered, and drew ahead. Within a few seconds they were lost to sight behind the facade of a large brick building.

Dalton however, was not deaf. The sound of conversation reached his ears, even as Wannabe told the tale of his psych ward adventure. Maybe Marcus had been exposed to that place too long? Craning his lithe body around the corner , Dalton peered at the step--just in time to hear the Abra reply. The little comedy continued, and ended with the Abra sitting atop of his head, likely turning his entire back into a string of cramps and pain. A few hearty chuckles wormed out from between his upturned lips. The Elekid now was in a similar pose to his trainer, his face one of annoyance.
"Well.. the little stunt Abra is all well and good0--let's hug and sing! Actually no! LET's JUST FUCKING EAT!"
Shaking his head the Elekid bounded away, following his rumbling stomach to the glowing pizza joint nearby.

The ranger stopped his subtle spying, and stepped into the open street. The Oddish in his arms giggled, and reached out a trio of glossy leaves toward the Abra masquerading as a hat.
" Don’t know if I can afford food for four. Hopefully he's not too hungry. Also little one--Marcus has a hurt head, feel free to come over here. I do need a new hat."
Dalton had never owned a hat. Nor had he ever wanted to own one. However, even he could stand a hat as cute as the battle-wounded Abra.

"Come on Marcus--before the hospital discovers your little runaway."
Hopefully the kid would not ask for a pokeball, he was not in the mood to lecture anyone. Especially a person who had saved a pokemon's life.

[Sorry mine sucked. I was at a loss.]

[Marcus Brooklyn]

Marcus sighed, out of relief, as he had finally approached the table in which the duo of Dalton and Wannabe were happily chewing away at delicious pizza slices, Abra simply looking around with its confused and relaxed expression on its face. Eventually hearing an invitation to go sit next to Dalton, Abra only smiled before a second-long flash of purple had popped up on the human's head, with the yellow and brown Pokemon instantly flashing into existence next to the Ranger. Marcus let out a loud yawn of happiness as he had stretched his neck around - having it slapped repeatedly wasn't good for the spine.

"Buy food for the little guy, I don't care. I just want to relax." he stoically responded to Dalton's suggestion on having enough money for four, before he went over towards a bench to lay down once again. Honestly, the human was either too annoyed with human presence already, or he was simply just growing cranky for staying up too late; considering most eighteen year olds never had curfews these days. The black haired boy only contemplated what had recently happened, sighing out loud as the stowaway Abra happily chomp away at the combo of cheese, bread, and tomato sauce.

<*sigh* Do I have to stick with these people forever? Especially with an apathetic Elekid...?> he wondered to himself, honestly thinking about breaking his temporary shackles that bound him to this "couple" for quite some time, or at least, since Sildios Swamp. He shrugged - nothing like this usually lasted forever, so it wasn't really much to think about. The Elekid would always be the loudmouth he was, and there was probably no way to change that. But it was all part of a Pokemon's personality; much like his own team. He even grinned after thinking about it, knowing it was an irrelevant topic that couldn't be altered in any way. But then there was Dalton... Dalton Swift.

The teenager had his suspicions about him. Sure, he was a rather chummy guy to hang around, for someone in their late twenties to early thirties, but something about him seemed... off. Like as if though he knew more than what he was putting off. Like he, too, had difficulty trusting others who possibly dressed up like obligatory mall Goths and had powerful mental powers at their disposal, or even held a Poke Ball for that matter. As if though he was trying to pry into Marcus's life, while simultaneously, trying to keep himself distanced enough to avoid causing unwanted trouble. Cops used this technique, and quite frequently. Most specifically, they used it in undercover missions, to avoid being detected as the heat when they needed to infiltrate enemy lines.

His eyes widened almost instantly at the startling revelation. Was this Dalton's real identity?! He made no sudden body movements save for the widening of his eyelids, as the speculation was a bodyshocker to begin with. Had he been traveling with the heat for sometime, without even realizing it? It was possible, but as soon as Marcus pieced together the fact that he had Wannabe, whom was obviously lacking in the battle department, as well as Lila, whom looked as if though she had yet to battle either; he started to slightly doubt the possibility. But it was a surprising discovery, at least, if not; a rather good speculation. It explained why Dalton was always so prying in Marcus's personal affairs, and why he was always so calm and collected whenever the boy tried anything funny or stupid. Either that, or he was just impossible to anger whatsoever. Then there was the fact that if he were the fuzz, he'd've tried to apprehend him for having a stowaway Abra, or even bringing him in to the hospital when he came zooming by. But for some reason he didn't...

Was he a former cop, instead?

The thought processes of Marcus's brain were too much to handle, as he had instantly scoffed before turning his face around to the back of the bench, immediately dropping the mental subject on hand. Abra, on the other hand, was oblivious to his newfound friend's thought patterns and eventually continued to eat away at his pizza, making quite a sloppy mess all over himself. Just like a human baby, even Pokemon had that sort of innocent and guileless charm to them that just made you want to squeal in delight.

Well, except for Wannabe, anyway.

[Sorry it took so long. Been busy with stuffs. >____>]

[Dalton[ SMILE!]]

The entire restaurant was one of chaos, brightly colored tables lay littered on a thick carpeted floor. A ball pt dominated the back of the room pipes, and slides grew from its depths like some kind of plastic forest. Children swam through the brightly colored "leaves" generally acting like fools--and the ranger had an urge to join in. The giant costumed man--dressed up as a giant violet rattata--who was now glaring across the room, made him rethink that urge. After all--adults who dove in ball pits were considered a tad weird, unless they were grabbing a child. An order had been given, and with an efficiency to rival any factory, a large confection of cheese and sauce found its way to the table. It sent steam erupting into the air over their fire engine colored table, offering a signal for Marcus.

The ranger grinned at the Abra, asking for another plate.
"bet your starving--all that blood loss~"
Somewhere during the academy Dalton had lost his manners, and spoke while chewing on a mouthful of pizza. Occasionally he stopped, dropped his piece to the plate, and broke a small bit off a second piece--which he fed to the Oddish in the toddler chair next to him.
" ~ Marcus~ Aren't you going to eat?"
Hopefully the boy would get off that bench, no doubt some rambunctious youngster was going to use him as a springboard--or some such nonsense. Not to mention the boy was probably starving.

Why was he acting so anti-social? Turning about in his chair, legs on either side--arms resting on the backing he shrugged.
"Hopefully these little bellies can't handle anything more then a few pieces. Otherwise, a certain little freeloader. Or two .. might have to wash some pizza pans."
The tone made it obvious he was only joking, after all he did not just live off his ranger salary. The ranger also had some money put away from his former job.

The Elekid glared at the ranger, and resumed his eating. Two slices had already disappeared to feed his jiggling belly, and another one was already rapidly disintegrating.
"Shut the fuck up--you're giving me indigestion."
The little brat rolled his eyes, before poking at the giggling Oddish with a jagged claw.
"...and get rid of this thing!"
Lila giggled, and murmured:
"WANNA MONSTER TICKLES."
The Elekid put more force behind his shove, and found himself on the floor, his chair now lay on its side.


Thick carpet fibers tickled at his nose, and he let out a groan, and pushed himself to his feet. Dalton leaned over from his chair, his face stern. A quick shake of his head warned the Elekid off of touching the Oddish. The ranger made no move to help the electric type to his feet--but did not hinder his return to his chair.

Occasionally the ranger turned toward Marcus, scrutinizing the boy's face. What was he thinking about? Why was he so tired ? What was wrong with him?
"Marcus..buddy? Where you sleeping tonight?"
Hopefully after being here five years the kid had a job. Or at least somewhere he could crash without worrying about his safety.

This wasn't Johto after all.
--

[Marcus Brooklyn]

Marcus snapped out of whatever delusions he had gotten himself into after Dalton addressed him, reflexingly snapping up and... letting loose an unamused face. Color was what he had seen - lots of it. Of course, the pizza parlour they had walked over to was more or less of a kiddie's place, and Marcus, of course, was no kid. He preferred the company of isolation and his Pokemon's company, rather than the screaming of toddlers running about. Hearing Dalton talk to him about where he was going to bunk for the day, Marcus only shook his head. "Anywhere I want." he stated, uncaring about the tone of his voice, as it was nothing but just that - the truth.

Turning around, flopping over horizontally, he only stared at Dalton with the most serious expression he could muster, a sort of half-smirk on his face. "That's the luxuries of doing what you want as a Trainer. You get to camp outside, rely on nothing but gut instinct and survival to get you out of tight spots... Even if this is a nuclear wasteland..." he had continued, his eyes trailing off to the Abra, happily munching away at his pizza. Then, he simply glanced up at the brightly lit ceiling, as if it were bare, empty sky. "Even if this is Remoor, the stars are beautiful at night. I wouldn't give up a life of danger, peril and survival, just for the opportunity to sleep in a bed and have food in my stomach."

"But that's why teamwork was invented." he continued, sweeping his hands to the Poke Balls on his belt with a grin. "They may be hungry and cold, too, but I'm with them all the way. I suffer just as much as they do, in both thick and thin. And as retarded and cruel as that may sound; we - as a team - work together to survive. In the end, it's the journey that matters, not the destination - and it just makes the destination so much more satisfying." he finished with a smile. Okay, the first thing somebody could come up about Marcus: he was nuts. Full. Fucking. Nuts. The guy honestly either didn't care about his team of Pokemon, or he was just downright wanting to die an early death. Wasn't this one of the more dangerous regions this side of the planet? Why would he give up living in the lavish lap of luxury, just for the opportunity to do... The opposite? Hell, didn't he say he hated the outdoors earlier?

He may not like Bug Pokemon, but other than that, that was probably the only reason he didn't like it. To Marcus, the world was his oyster, and he could do whatever he wanted, wherever he wanted.

[[Urgh. I had to force myself again to post, Feather. Sorry for the wait. X_X]]