E.ncroaching D.arkness

[Feather]

The once bustling city of commerce looked like a trash sculpture. Spires from the tips of the tallest buildings were wrapped around telephone poles. The giant mammoths of the apartment complexes lay on the ground in a explosion of bricks and dirt. Glass cracked underfoot, and the stark white of bones was easy to spot in the rubble of the old hospital. A white clad figure slowly clambered his way over the fallen buildings, somehow managing to keep the soot and tarnish from his clothing. Every step he took was accompanied by a loud thump. Occasionally the whine of metal , and releasing pistons, was heard along with the delicate noise. The sounds made it obvious that the man wasn’t alone. Of course it was nothing to be afraid of, as long as you were Enigma.

Upon reaching the end of the mile long ruins the Pravus Administrator lowered himself to the ground. Legs slowly folded inward, knees turning in an inhuman way. Ankles elongated, and the smell of dried blood, oil, and dust flooded Enigma’s widened nostrils. Twisting his head slightly, he allowed his golden eyes to rest on his companion. The Moonlight did nothing to make the pokemon seem less terrifying, it might have even escalated the effect.

The large creature was made out of some odd metal, scratches, and dents ringed his ten foot long body. It looked as if some god had attempted to take a bite from his flesh. All four of his pillar like legs had chunks missing near their bases. Both of the thing’s eyes glowed a deep crimson, the giant shining white “X” underneath only adding to the effect. The “X” marked the spot, for horrid and painful deaths. A wide mouth was open in a half smirk, and a pair of giant metal teeth ringed the outside. Each step of the mammoth creature was bone-jarring. One thing was for sure---this was no helpless, and handicap Xatu.

This was the darkest creature on E.nigma’s team, the one most like him at the core. This--monstrosity--was his Metagross; also known as Anonym. Soon enough the steel Pokemon reached his master, and lowered himself to the ground. A smile crossed the creatures face as he glanced at the ruins behind him.
“I remember that light pole. See the wire wrapped around it? Back before the clean up I had wrapped that wire around a very annoying little metal-bug, Scizor, I tied him to that pole, and pulled onto the rope until he burst into two.“
Most would have been terrified by the gleeful manner the Metagross relayed his little story in. Enigma on the other hand; wasn’t, in fact he seemed pleased. Lifting one of his suit clad arms he laid it on the Metagross’ cold body, and smirked.
“I remember that thing. It flitted about the battle, screaming out that it was king, darting out of reach with its nasty little wings. You showed him the truth, I remember the blood and oil that dripped from your face when you returned..”

The Metagross snorted.
“Keep your praise to yourself midget. One question, why the hell are we out in this dump!? I wanted to go stomp on some Pickachus in Shinshu fields--instead your sitting there looking like some Chinese Prophet.”
Narrowing his eyes, the beast peered at E.nigma, his eyes glowing with impatience. Did he have to wait for five minutes before answering the question!?
“I need to check on Inquiry--and see if I can fix his current…condition.”
At the answer the Metagross started laughing, it was a nerve wracking sound that sounded like a cross between a car wreck, and giant nails on a chalkboard.
“You want me to stomp some sense into the bug? Hurr hurr. That fuckin‘ thing is about as useful as a paperweight.”

The silence, and slightly annoyed look from Enigma made it certain that he was not to stomp on the SHuckle; unless asked to.

Unhooking a pokeball from his belt, the trainer pressed the grey button in the center. A flash of red later, a loud:
"TRASHCAN RIBBON~!"
Made it obvious that the third member of the trio had arrived.

As the thing continued wailing out random words, and smacking his head against the pavement, E,.nigma waited with strained patience. After about five minutes the Shuckle stopped and turned to face his trainer and old nemesis Anonym.

The top part of his head had a giant red patch, a unhealed battle wound, it puckered around the edges like the smudged lipstick of anxious aunts. Blinking his black eyes he shouted loudly:
"MAGIC TRASHCAN! NOM NOM!"

Enimga sensed movement on his right, and watched as the Metagross rose a foot.
"You damned crazy coot, Imma put you out of your misery bastard."
Then he brought it down atop the poor shuckle.

There were no screams, blood fountains, or sickening cracks. Instead there was a minute of silence, and then a loud "CLANG" as the Metagross stomped down again.
"Stupid shell!"
E.nigma watched with a look of boredom as the steel type continued his useless battering of the Rock type.
"Please, you, and that metallic ringing are giving me a headache. Leave him alone, and sit down."
The Metagross obeyed with a sigh, and a rebellious glance, and the Shuckle rocketed off into the night. Loud cries of garbage words could be heard as he cavorted around the ruins.

From a poetry spewing, dreamer to a insane useless rock...how far the poor little fellow had fallen.

[Darkrai]

The wind whistled hauntingly through the barren streets of Sky Reach, resonating and echoing through the hollow shafts of shattered towers like the unearthly moans of a crazed ghost bound forever in the chains of eternal torment. Broken spires of concrete and steel reached futilely upward to the sky as if in a desperate attempt to escape the literal urban wasteland they were trapped within. Rot and ruin slowly spread their cloying, destructive tendrils in a creeping web that ensnared what remained of the city like poison fog.

Physical destruction was only the beginning of the devestation to be found here, though. The air was rung thick with a morbid, almsot tangible feeling of sad emptiness. Loss and grief spread like pollutants waiting to intoxicate any poor soul that inhaled them. The bodies of the people who had died within this cursed tomb of synthetic metal and stone were gone now, fully decayed, but their shattered hopes and unfinished desires remained to haunt the living left behind. The rechristened Fantasma City was more than a reminder of war's destruction. It was a cruel and spiteful monument of broken dreams.

There was almost nothing living in what remained of Fantasma City. Humans could not bear to remain in such a haunting place for obvious reasons, and wild Pokemon seemed able to sense the tragedies that had occured here and moved on as if not wanting to defile what remained of the dead's privacy and sanctity. Even plant life was hardly to be seen, as if it could not bear to grow in soil so stained and choked by innocent blood.

However, despite all evidence to the emptiness of the city's remains rumors abounded of souls bound to the earth waiting to eat the spirits of those who wandered too far into the ghost town, among other wild stories. It seemed almost a law of nature that ghost towns had to generate wild stories of spirits and monsters, and Fantasma was no exception. The tales of Fantasma's evils were many and varied, but all agreed upon one thing: the souls of the lost remained trapped within the city boundaries, and if you wanted to find one all you had to do was watch a shadow. If you stared long enough, they were said to dance.

On this day the sun shone brightly over Fantasma's barren and crumbling piles of concrete, striking a stark and very jarring contrast with the air of evil and emptiness wafting through the streets. The sky was a brilliant and beautiful cobalt blue, and there was hardly a cloud in the sky. It was almost as if nature was deliberately making an attempt to bring some form of cheer to Fantasma, but the effort was in vain. Despite the beauty of the sky overhead the air remained tense and unsure, and each of the innumerable shadows dotted around the city seemed like a gaping black void to hell.

As the sun dutifully marched across the sky the shadows flickered and shifted position almost ominously. It was a perfectly natural phenomenon, but it still appeared haunting and intimidating in a place already so filled with tension and latent fear. It was easy for one's mind to play tricks on them if they dared wander the streets. In fact, it would be very easy to convince oneself that at least one of the shadows was moving of its own accord, racing across the walls of the buildings without any source at all.

The rouge shadow flashed around corners, under fallen bricks and steel, through openings and out windows so fast it was nearly impossible to keep track of. Fast as thought and just as unruly it rambled about with no clear destination in sight. It would often switch back upon its own route, veer off at right angles for no reason and generally run amok like an electric charge set loose. Finally, after having raced about the city aimlessly for what must have been a few hours the shadow found itself at the foot of one of Fantasma's skyscrapers, where it paused. After a few seconds it dashed at the wall and began scaling the structure at incredible speed, rocketing swiftly toward the shattered top.

Very soon the shadow ran out of room. There was simply no way to go any higher up the structure do to the simple fact that its entire upper half was missing. However, right when the shade was about to reach the top of the tower's remains it literally leapt off the wall and flew at breakneck speed toward a nearby building that reached just a bit higher. The shadow, once a featureless blob, now had a shape of some sort. However, it was moving too swiftly to been seen in any sort of detail, and the only thing that could be truly certain about the creature from the plit second it was physical was that it was as black as the surface of the new moon.

At the moment when the 'thing' would have hit the wall of the buildign itwas flyign towards it seemed to melt into the concrete and was returned to a blob of non-descript black. without missing a beat it resumed its veritcal assent. Once again the shadow thing reached the end of its road, and once again the moment it could go no higher it leapt from the wall and flew toward another, higher-reaching bulding. Up and up the creature climbed, leap-frogging from building to building as it scaled ever more vertically.

Finally, the shadow reached the peak of the highest building for several miles with no easy prospect of traveling higher. It did not pause in its assent but continued to shoot upward until it reached the very surface of the tower. It ruptured from the tower's tip like a bullet from a gun and paused, hovering silently. After a moment it began to drift downward toward a small iron beam jutting from the tip of the tower. When it was just above the protrusion a pair of spindle-like extensions elongated from the bottom of its body and touched down upon the steel as quiet as dust. Now immobile, the creature's form was apparent: a sable demon with pitch-black skin, a red collar, white billowing hair and dangerous ice-blue eyes.

Darkrai slowly rotated his head as he observed the remains of the once-great heart of industry, society, and metropolitan culture with a small but unmistakable smile in his eye. Only he could see beauty in the destruction around him. Only he could savor the taste of pain and loss abounding in the air. Only the spirit of pain, fear, and all negative emotions could relish the fate of Sky Reach as he could. His face scrunched slightly as the skin of his face took an olfactory sample of the air. The scent of rusting metal and crumbling stone was thick and pungent. It was the smell of decay.

It was wonderful.

For what seemed like glorious hours Darkrai stood listening to the silence. The morbid air was undisturbed by any sound save the moaning wails of the haunted wind. With a small sigh of appreciation Darkrai closed his eyes, allowing the silence to gently bear him away to a state of meditation and calm.

And suddenly, the calm was shattered utterly. An unearthly din that sounded like metal being bashed against stone jarred Darkrai out of his meditation. His eyes snapped open and swivled toward the source of the noise faster than any human reflex. For a short while he listened to the appaling racket and tried to determine what on earth could be making the sound, but he was flummoxed. The only thing for it was investigation, so Darkrai retracted his spindles and flew from his perch to the ground like a missile. When he was about to slam straight into the unforgiving asphalt below he took off at a direct right angle to the ground and sped toward the sound, passing through walls and objects on the way as if he were as insubstantial as a thought.

By the time Darkrai had reached the source of the noise it had ceased. He was just about to peek furtively around the corner dividing him from his target when something shot around it with a speed almost as alarming as his own. Instinctively he melted into the wall, hopefully in time to avoid the eyes of what appeared to be a demented Shuckle. However, after a few moments Darkrai decided that the creature was too insane for it to matter if he had been seen or not.

However, the fact that it was even here was strange in and of itself. Darkrai might not know much at all of Remoor's history but even he knew that Fantasma City was home to almost no living creature. What was an insane Shuckle doing here? His curiosity piqued, Darkrai emerged from the wall and slowly peered around the corner.

There was a boy and a Metagross standing about twenty feet away from the spot where Darkrai hovered out of sight. At first Darkrai deemed the child as unimportant and instead focused on the Metagross. He quickly determined from the many scratches and tears in its armor that this was no fledgling fresh from evolution. This was a creature tempered by many hard and difficult battles, and the fact that it was still alive was a testament to how dangerous it undoubtedly was. However, that was not the most unsettling thing about it.

A chance swivel of its head in his direction gave Darkrai a brief glimpse into its eyes, and what he saw unnerved him. Those eyes were more than cold, worse than cruel; they were bloodthirsty and sadistic. In that one fleetign second Darkrai knew that this was a creature who spilled innocent blood and laughed. This creature would kill for no reason and revel in the sufferign it caused. Actually, that was not quite correct. The Metagross evidently did kill for a reason: the simple fun of it.

It was almost gratefully that Darkrai looked away from the metal monstrosity and toward its master, though he hardly expected to find anything more tasteful about a person who raised a sadistic psychopathic killer. However, what he saw was more unsettling still. The child did not seem violent or bloodthirsty as his counterpart did. If he had, he might not have seemed so menacing. Instead, he seemed...empty. He was detatched, emotionally removed from the world around him, as if he couldn't feel anything at all. Worse still, he appeared in no way to be ill-at-ease beside such a dangerous creature. On the contrary, Darkrai could sense subservience in the creature's posture toward the human child, who was clearly something more and something worse than that.

Darkrai slowly pulled back around the corner to process what he had seen. The Metagross was unpleasant to contemplate, but at least Darkrai had experience with demons like him. The boy, though, was something altogether new and not at all pleasant. Darkrai wasn't sure what he was looking at, but it was clearly no normal human child. A child was not that detatched, that emotionless and, in an abstract sort of way, that dangerous.

Something was very wong here.

[E.nigma]

On the outside, the Shuckle was of little consequence, something to be pitied (or put out of his misery), nothing more than a shell (completely figurative, and in no way attached to his turtle like appearance), with eyes and a soul. Inside however, that shell was a cage, his mouth a traitor, jabbing blades into every word he thought and twisting them around. The creature could hear the laughter as his neurons played a rowdy game with his flapping tongue. The scar atop his head pulled each time he moved, making him bitter and sore. Inside however, Inquiry's brain and way with words was not extinguished. The insults, which he was proud of, were transformed into garble, and after a while he had given up trying to use his eyes to communicate. The little heathens, with the exception of a few, could not properly comprehend emotion and fine acting. Enigma, and no one else, had an excuse. It was such an ill fate, and every time he tried to write, his rubbery tentacles rubbed the ink into Rorschach tests.

Yellow tentacles hooked into the silky soil, brushing aside white bones and faded memories. Flying forward, like a hopping rabbit, he continued on his way, onyx eyes flipping about for the camera or prankster that had turned his words against in. Instead he caught a tendril of shadow, flash of crimson, and smelt burnt sulfur.
Like something from the depths of hell, a hellhound's gentle touch. Why can't I say that?.
"ASPHALT MONSTER!"
The Shuckle screeched, brain trying to question, trying to probe, but ending in disaster. The creature slowed down, the little legs flattened out in an exasperated manner. Narrow eyes turned down the alley, neck turning in a spasmodic manner, found nothing. The lids slowly descended, pulling on the scar, and drawing tears to the Shuckle's eyes.
"SLUT SKANK!"
Now it appeared he was seeing things as well, what had he done to earn such a fate as trapped in his own shell. Flying forward, the Shuckle continued to weave his way through memories, and mud. The stars winked in a mocking manner as he picked up to a gallop.

No matter how fast he ran he could not escape the cage.


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

White fabric puckered and shifted, a clawed hand rose to his chin, and the neck released its burden with a snap of muscle. The golden eyes, empty as always, seemed to retreat inward. In a computer-like matrix the buildings around them began to reassemble themselves, smoke belched into the sky, and screams of terror tore the air. Pieces of long decayed metal were slowly rebuilt, by invisble hands, tugged by strings of wind, and wiped free of crimson rust. The Pravus administrator now sat on the roof of a small department building, the street spread out below, flames belching from an empty store down the street. Cars lay scattered about, some ice blocks, others crushed beneath giant feet and boulders. Figures in blue uniforms climbed between these cars, pokemon lurching behind them. The air was full of screamed orders, as clones fell from the sky like acid rain, bringing destruction and horror in their wake. Stripes, that littered their hides in phosphorescent rainbows, melded together into a great beast of destruction, crowned by a purple ball of angered shadows and heat. Things exploded, creatures screamed, soldiers moved around like chess pieces, families watched their lives and memories end.

Those were the days.

Now it was a thrilling as sitting in an empty garbage cans. It required no wits to walk from end to the other, unless you were afraid of tripping, death did not lurk around every corner. All that remained was the greasy residue of long ended memories. A shiver gripped his spine, and with silky fabric billowing around him he twisted around to fix a nearby building with a dead-eyed stare. The environment twisted into a battlefield, where his Metagross lashed a Scizor to a pole, and his Sunflora tore a screaming Butterfree into pieces like a naughty minded child.
" .....hello?"
An acrid smell filled his nostrils, filtering down from above like black snow, and his psychic DNA uncoiled with a hiss.

A giant metal leg rested in the air above his head, red eyes cheerful.
"It would have been so easy to squash your midget ass back there. What were you thinking about, your lover, your lost high heels, some poem you read?"
Enigma waited a moment before replying:
"War."
"Ah the good old days, so what do you think is watching us?"
"...my thoughts exactly.."
"Which one?"
Enigma retreated back into his skull, yellow eyes glowing in the dark, his eyes momentarily fixing on the black moon above.

The leg above descended slowly, resting atop the silk hat in an almost friendly gesture, the other three legs slowly twisted about, and the Metagross rose to his feet.
"I never did like hide and seek! Come out come out~! I really like to talk to my admirers."
Then mutilate them into flesh sculptures.


(horrid...horrid....horrid...horrrid....eeew...god...sorry.)

[Darkrai]

"ASPHALT MONSTER!"

Darkrai flinched instinctively and melted into the shadows yet again, certain that he's been exposed. He waited, but there were no runnign footsteps, no shouts of alarm. A moment later he realized it was just the inane babbling of the poor demented creature running about behind him. With a sigh Darkrai extricated himself from the wall again, contemplating how it would probably be kinder to all persons involved if he simply put the creature out of its misery. The fact that the words it had spouted caused Darkrai for a moment to question whether it was really as mad as it appeared, since such was a surprisingly fittign description of himself. However, as the creature took off with a screech of "SLUT SKANK!" Darkrai resumed his earlier frame of mind that the yellow tortugan was completely out to lunch.

Deciding not to spare the turtle another thought whatever garbage he spouted Darkrai returned to observing the human and Metagross, the later of whom was holding its large metal claw an inch from its owner's head as if about to squash him. The former did not react to this fact in the slightest, and after a moment of observation Darkrai realized that this was because he was no longer here. His mind had vacated to another time and place, re-living events that were never again to occur. From the way his gaze seemed to pan slightly from one landmark to another Darkrai guessed he was re-living a scene that had occured to him right here in this very place. Was this his old home, perhaps?

The human's gaze suddenly whipped about and for a moment Darkrai feared detection. A moment later however he rejected the notion as impossible, which it was. His saturation with Dark-Type energy was so absolute that it was physically impossible for anything short of Arceus herself, be it mechanical or organic, to sense his presence with anything other than its own eyes.

"...hello?"

It took a moment for Darkrai to reassure himself that his presence could not possibly have been comprimised. There was no possible way that the child should have the slightest inkling that he was here. Yet somehow he seemed to know that he was not alone. His nostrils diluted for a moment, and Darkrai cursed silently. A quick sniff, however, revealed that he had no odor as always. How was the child detecting him? Or was he, Darkrai, merely being paranoid?

"It would have been so easy to squash your midget ass back there. What were you thinking about, your lover, your lost high heels, some poem you read?"

The Metagross' tone and eyes were bright and cheerful, a direct contrast to the downright repugnant things he was saying. Darkrai caused pain and suffering because it was his job, and he appreciated the sight of it in the same way that an architect admires a building he has built. This creature, however, relished in the idea of pain merely for pain's sake, as Darkrai had previously supposed. He had even entertained the idea of killing his own master. Was there no atrocity this moster would not commit, and worse, relish in?

The human child took a short while before deciding to respond. when he did, it was with a tone completely devoid of all emotion, a voice so empty and cold it might as well have belonged to a machine, and it sent a shiver down Darkrai's spine. This was a sensation he was not at all used to, and he did not like it.

"War."

"Ah the good old days, so what do you think is watching us?"

Darkrai nearly fell out of the air. no...no! That couldn't be. It wasn't possible. It simply was not possible! He was completely undetectable to any extrasensory method, invisible to the utmost degree. That he should be detected was a literal impossibility.

...and yet it had happened. Somehow, somehow that boy knew he was here. Despite all the question Darkrai had, he knew one thing for certain: this boy was not normal at all.

The Metagross

"I never did like hide and seek! Come out come out~! I really like to talk to my admirers."

Darkrai snarled quietly in frustration. Well, he'd been compromised. Nothing for it now. Hiding would only prolong the inevitable and while running away would have been the overall safest option Darkrai was morbidly curious about this human. If worst came to worst he should still be able to escape even if attacked.

Of course, that didn't mean Darkrai was ready to give up the ghost entirely. When he rounded the corner and began moving towards the pair, he had adopted his human guise. No need for their guard to be up; it would be that much harder to throw them a sucker punch if he had to.

"Alright," he called, hands over his head in mock surrender. "You win. I give."

[E.nigma]

The destruction spread below him in a suffocating mask, a blanket laid lovingly down on a sick country, and tucked in by the war-loving gods of chaos. Trash echoed out, screamed, as it tumbled down the heap of rubble behind, dislodging memories, and pulling more unfortunate items to their doom, the sound of metal against metal sounded like an out of place sword fight. A crescent of yellow curved over the rubble-top, tentacles anchored into the trash-side like giant hooks, black eyes watching the surroundings with a look of forlorn sadness. The red shell, trimmed in white, stood out against the dreary landscape, the highlight in an artist's painting.
" ...moronic, bear hug telescopic banana..."
War. Unlike that beast Enigma was currently curled up against, he had hated war, it had hurt. Not to mention, he watched as friends died. Enigma and Anonym hadn't, they had no friends. Enigma had associates and the Metagross had toys. The Shuckle could just make out (or could hear through the Metagross' gravelly voice,) the situation.

Poor guy, he was the extra-soldier in a war scene. In short, totally fucked, or the poetic equivalent. Whatever that was.

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

Enigma twisted to eye the Metagross, slim eyebrow raised with question. The golden orbs slid up to where the foot had hovered, seeming to contemplate his near death, before he allowed himself to speak:
"Do you have to be so obtrusive? Now any ambush is forfeit, and your constant warbling is making my ear-drums tired."
The Metagross allowed his eyes to shutter closed, mechanical joints were visible in the pseudo-eyelids, however, it did produce a sense of alarm, unless you were Enigma.
"Shut your ass up midget. You don't have no bird-brain's wings to hide under. Besides, I could sense you wanted to call out tot he man as well, unlike you I have no "image" or "strategy to worry about."
"No "sense" either."
The Pravus administrator now turned back toward the open landscape, which, at least for a bit, was laid out before them like a king's court before the throne. Enigma's posture, legs now forward, head held high, hat resting jauntily, also gave a regal impression.

When the intruder, which Enigma thought of him as (regardless o f who owned this place), appeared, the Pravus member took a few moments before allowing his eyes to focus on the young man.
"Win? Won what? Oh, yes, we did discover you, but the fact that you are surrendering meant ..it was around us.."
" A spy, can I eat him? Or recycle his fuckin' skinny ass?"
"No, he seems interesti -- harmless enough."
Except for the fact that it smelled like sulfur and brimstone, Enigma’s gloved hands trembled from the extertion it took not to cover his nose, his mind still seethed with violence. The Pravus member twisted so he could avoid the worst of the smell and asked, in his normal bored tone:
"What brings you here? It is a rather odd place to come, voluntarily."
The Metagross growled, and with a blur of speed, and a loud noise, rocketed through the air, legs twisted backward into rocket form.

The creature laughed, heading straight for the new-comer, a young boy, who seemed to be quite cheeky.

Well, squishing his lungs would fix that. The Metagross fell like a stone, legs returning to their former position, and the Metagross crashed down to earth, rather gently thanks to his versatile and springed feet, and grinned.

Close enough to feel the warmth from the newcomers breath.
"Greetings."
The smile was friendly enough, if not for th fact that it was done through teeth of scarred metal with a pair of gleaming eyes above. The eyes smoldered like coals, blood-red, coals, with a thirst for more wood, and a hint of insanity.

Okay, a few buckets of it.

--

" Have you seen a Shuckle around?"
Enigma again, talking at the boy, urging him to reply, without even to looking if he was still in one piece. Even if he wasn't, it would be unwise to ignore the question. Dead was a state of being, not a full-ride away from all problems.

[Darkrai]

"Do you have to be so obtrusive? Now any ambush is forfeit, and your constant warbling is making my ear-drums tired."

"Shut your ass up midget. You don't have no bird-brain's wings to hide under. Besides, I could sense you wanted to call out to the man as well, unlike you I have no 'image' or 'strategy' to worry about."

"No 'sense' either."

Although his expression showed nothing to the effect Darkrai was listening to the exchange between Trainer and Pokemon intently. A fella' can learn a lot if he listens, so the saying went and Darkrai liked learning things. Knowledge, after all, was power.

Even from those six short sentences Darkrai had already learned a lot about his opponents. The boy, it seemed, was calm and collected under most circumstances and, if his comment about the potential for an ambush was anything to go by, was crafty in the ways of strategy.

This fact might have been somewhat concerning had not the Metagross made it very clear how little he thought of both his master's opinion and planning. It was as Darkrai had suspected. The metallic thug before him was a simple-minded sadist whose intellect extended to causing pain and little else. He had no appreciation for forthought and so could easily be cut down by anyone with half a brain and the mind to use it. The boy could make all the crafty plots he wanted, but he wasn't going to be the one Darkrai was fighting if push came to shove. If his own teamate wouldn't listen to him his brains would be wasted and the battle lost.

The comment about a 'bird-brain's wing' was somewhat intruiging. Did the child have a protective Flying-Type at his disposal? Of course, the answer to that question mattered little since according to the Metagross it was nowhere nearby.

---

The child's stance as Darkrai approached suggested an arrogance that would have made him sick to his stomach if he'd had one. It was as if the child fancied himself an aristocrat among pesants. It was utterly disgusting. The boy was no better than any other human and certainly no better than the god approaching him. Humans were disgusting.

The boy refused to focus on him for a few moments with an air that seemed to suggest he was debating whether or not the effort was worthy of his attention. If only this brat knew who he treated with such disdain, but then again this was how Darkrai wanted it. Besides, it would be that much more satisfying to tear the arrogance out of him, along with his sanity if the oppurtunity presented itself.

"Win? Won what? Oh, yes, we did discover you, but the fact that you are surrendering meant ..it was around us.."

"I'm sorry?" Darkrai asked, confused by the boy's choice of words. "'Around you?' Are you referring to me? Yeah, I'll admit I was hovering around a bit, but cut me some slack. You don't exactly blend into the concrete with that Bee Gees suit. All-white went out of fashion with the 70s." Or had it been the 80s? 60s? Darkrai had a terrible head for dates.

" A spy, can I eat him? Or recycle his fuckin' skinny ass?"

"I'm no spy," Darkrai asserted calmly, unconcerned by the sugggested violence toward his person. "Just someone who notices things. However, if I really have such a 'fuckin' skinny ass' as you put it, I'm not sure I'd be good eating and I can't say I understand your defenition of 'recycle' either."

The human belayed his subordinate with a brief gesture and a calm monotone.

"No, he seems interesti -- harmless enough."

Of course Darkrai noticed the slip. A deaf man would have. So, he was interesting, eh? It was nice to know he met His Majesty's approval. Ah, well. At least he could take some comfort in the fact that he'd been called nastier things than that before.

"What brings you here?" The boy asked as he turned his head away, as though Darkrai was no longer worth looking at. "It is a rather odd place to come, voluntarily."

"Well, fact of the matter is I didn't," Darkrai responded casually. "A couple 'friends' of mine dared me to grab the shirt off a dead guy and bring it back. Assholes wouldn't know the difference if I brought back the shirt I'm wearing right now, but I never back down from a challenge so here I am." Darkrai let his gaze pan about with what seemed to be complete nonchalance. In reality his mind's eye was taking photographs of the area around him while his brain calculated advantages. This place was a dream come true for him. Everywhere he looked there was something to hide behind. A Metagross functioned best in open areas, so his opponent would be at a serious disadvantage in terms of terrain. Everything about this match-up excluding type seemed squarely in Darkrai's court.

"It is kind of a dump, though," he agreed. "Kinda funny when you think of what this place used to look like. I tell ya, people just can't-"

A sudden loud noise that just barely escaped verbal description drew Darkrai's focus with laser-sharp precision to the Metagross who had at that moment entered its levitation state and was rocketing toward him at what no doubt seemed an impressive speed.

The beast crashed to the ground directly in front of Darkrai, creating a small explosion of dust and debris which obscured the god's form momentarily.

"Greetings."

When the dust settled the Metagross might or might not be surprised to find himself staring directly at the point of a knife. The moment Darkrai had sensed hostility he had stepped smoothly into a fencing pose, drawing his knife from his thigh holster. When the Metagross landed Darkrai had nimbly stepped backward a few steps and pointed his knife directly at the Metagross' left eye, one of the only two vulnerable portions in his armor.

"Someone didn't learn their manners as a Beldum," Darkrai commented dryly. "Careful. that kind of attitude could get someone badly hurt 'round these parts." Okay, it wasn't the best quip he could have come up with, but given that he wasn't prone to coming up with jabs like that in teh first place he felt he hadn't done half bad.

This scenario was fast leading up to a fight, and Darkrai was even now sifting through what he knew of Metagross. As he had just seen, speed was not their finest stat, so much so that Darkrai's own was twice that of the figure before him. Their physical defense was notable, but their special defense and attack was not. Their physical attack was something to be wary of, but since they only learned a total of three Fightning type move, and only one naturally, the odds that it would be something to worry about were small.

" Have you seen a Shuckle around?"

The boy's sudden query cut through Darkrai's train of thought, interrupting his scrutiny of his opponent.

"Eh?" he asked distractedly, his eyes not leaving the creature before him. "You mean that little psycho's yours? I saw him motoring around that way." He jerked his head in the direction he'd just come from. "Poor sap's completely lost it. You'd be doing him a favor by putting him down."

[E.nigma]

Enigma blinked slowly, one leg slowly drawing back inward, head tilting to the side.
" For what? I haven't accused you of anything, no need to act guilty. It is a free region after all....."
The metal-spider, though that was a very inaccurate description as the Metagross did not have eight legs or belong to the same family, unleashed a series of grating laughs, and the small-man behind him reached up to the brim of his hat, pulling it downward. A slim green eyebrow was raised in question, mouth twisted in a question.
"Remoor free? Please this place is under Pravus' thumb, they pull the strings and choreograph the news. All a bunch of uppity assholes if you ask me."
Trying to ignore the loud noises, which were slowly boring out his nerves of "steel", he processed the rest of Darkrai's statement.
"It is not a bee-gee's suit, thank you. Though, appearing to be so young, you seem to know a lot about some things around before your parents likely reached puberty."
The word "appear" was emphasized with a brief pause, our little Enigma knew all about costumes and misleading appearances.

The Metagross snorted.
"Spy, not a spy, who really fuckin' cares. I don't like fat anyway, it just makes me sluggish. "
A large clawed leg tilted upward, patting the spot where a belly would be, if he had one.
"...who cares about the definition, I was trying to be witty and environmentally friendly..."
Trees didn't need another meat-bag sucking up the air. A calm voice, which made the Metagross groan, interjected once again:
" I do not understand his use of recycling, it doesn't really match any true definitions, seeing a eating is a product of stripping and waste. I remember saying no Anonym."
The Metagross sat back down, oil and liquid boiling underneath his recently refurbishes coat, what had happened to the man who loved a fight? Why wasn't he allowed to eat that tall, rather smug, fucker? It would almost be like eating Enigma, except without the bitter taste of cannibalism.
" That's a bit foolhardy, and it was voluntary. Your own stubbornness did the volunteering for you. A gloved hand, riddled with ridges and odd bumps, picked at invisible dirt on a snow white shirt-sleeve.
" ...if you really want a dead-body though, I've heard that the former hotel...."
The same hand slowly removed itself from the button it had been playing with, and gestured down the street:
" Was the site of the most slaughter."
The Metagross barely managed to keep his mouth shut, the whining sound of his jaw opening, a cool look being given, and same jaw closing was obvious. The large creature turned to observing his surroundings, hoping to find something to drop on the computer that lived in his master beside him.

Something very heavy. Otherwise the little fuck would just crawl out from underneath it like a cockroach.

---

Even over the noise of rockets, which made him frown and growl, Enigma's eyes could make out the newcomer speaking, even as the Metagross landed in a cloud of flying metal, and dust.
" .....it was beautiful."
Though afterward it had its appeal as well, it had been a victory for Pravus. The blood only served as a badge to prove the hard work, the fact that some of it was multicolored, served to prove who really carried the day. The boy did not scold the Metagross, and even seemed to smile when the dust cleared. No tears dotted the boys face, nor were his pants a shade darker, the aspect of anticipation brought up by the attack quickly faded, helped along when the Metagross began to speak again.

The knife however drew a smile to his face.
"Bravo, very brave......"
Stupid, but brave.

The giant steel type focused on the knife point, a grin, or what served him as one, consumed his face.
"What ya gonna do with that, kiss me? Little thing is like a damn toothpick?"
The next words made the beast scream with laughter.
" Oh hohoho! You my dear need a comedy act, I didn't learn my manners? You obviously didn't learn any sense, waving that thing at me.."
A red glow slowly spread up the Steel type's arm, as he took a single step backward.
"No."
Another step, the foot was raised. The voice repeated itself, the "N" emphasized with a hiss and a narrowing of the eyes.
"No."
"Fuck you mommy, you never let me do anything fun!"
"Psychiatrists might call that an Oedipus complex if I was actually your mother that is. Do you really wish to start this now....you just got out of the workroom...."
"Whatever
The Metagross turned away from Darkrai and glared at Enigma. A twinge of pain rose in one of his newly welded joints, and he shook his head. That Gallade had some kick, and besides neither of these lumps stood a chance against him. The Metagross quieted, dwelling in bloody thoughts of death in pain. That little dwarf shoved into an iron maiden , nails biting into skin , blood pouring down in little red (if his blood was not tar colored) rivulets, or bloody-eagled on a cross, maybe a nice roasting would do , or an even larger stick up the ass. It soothed his male pride. So did actual violence. The creature began to hum happily, but was otherwise silent. During this thoughts he had turned toward the remains of a skyscraper, taking his eyes away from both humans.

Enigma nodded.
"Yes, Inquiry is mine,. Though psycho is not exactly the right word. Put him down? Euthanize him?"
"Or squish him."
The administrator seemed to ponder this, it was not that he felt morally obligated to keep the creature alive, it was something else.
" He still has uses...he can understand...though his constant babbling can be grating...."
Words trailed off, instincts seething, and not at the now constant smell his mind had stopped hissing at, something was wrong. The yellow eyes trailed down to the belt of the newcomer, before sliding over to the Metagross. Ears perked up, the back of the large creature was to him, but a strange sound , the whine of metal was audible.

A pile of debris nearby was layered with an electric blue blanket, that registered itself on the planes of Enigma's mind as a car came hurtling toward his skull. A wheel flew off into the dark night, the lights flickered on like the eyes of a demon, and the horn let out a loud beep.
"Uppity little midget..."
The Pravus member stared at the car like one stared at a movie screen, he remained stock still, the car descended.

Fell....

Fell.............

A peal of laughter echoed around the city.

The moon was blotted out by a shadow, a car-shaped shadow, that briefly seemed to glare at Enigma.

The cold gaze did not send the beast of gears turning tail, and it continued to plummet. Its descent monitored by the blue string connecting it to the Metagross.

" .....you are making this boring Anonym. I thought you were angry? "
The string snapped.

BOOM


(EEEW).

[Darkrai]

"For what? I haven't accused you of anything, no need to act guilty. It is a free region after all..."

"Says who?" Darkrai said with a blithe smirk while his inside boiled with rage. "Even in the state it's in, I'll bet my left arm that someone thinks they own this place. I wouldn't feed that 'free region' shit to my Ponyta."

'How dare these arrogant humans think they have the right to lay claim's to Arceus's sacred soil,' he seethed internally. 'and worse still, defile it so completely that even our finest efforts cannot heal it. Why She doesn't just wipe them all out now is something I will never understand. How much more must they sin?'

Almsot as if to prove Darkrai's statement, the Metagross began to laugh in a grating, steely tone that aggravated Darkrai as much as it seemed to the boy. He winced slightly at the sound, which was like steel scraping harshly across steel. Though of course, nearly any sound a Metagross made sounded that way.

"Remoor free? Please this place is under Pravus' thumb, they pull the strings and choreograph the news. All a bunch of uppity assholes if you ask me."

'Pravus?' Darkrai thought to himself, though he acted as if he did not register the steel arachnid's statement. Was that a political group? A shadow government? A terrorist organization? This meritted further investigation, for sure.

---

"It is not a bee-gee's suit, thank you. Though, appearing to be so young, you seem to know a lot about some things around before your parents likely reached puberty."

"Would you believe," Darkrai asked with a mocking grin, "that I'm actually 36?" He decided not to address the fact of his knowledge of the Bee Gees unless pressed again. It wasn't as if he couldn't have come up wit ha believable answer, but he felt no need to tax his mental capacities for the sake of this boy just yet.

---

"Spy, not a spy, who really fuckin' cares," the Metagross said with evident disinterest. "I don't like fat anyway, it just makes me sluggish. Who cares about the definition, I was trying to be witty and environmentally friendly..."

"Well," said Darkrai as he looked around himself as if expecting to see some miraculous change inspired by the Metagross's words, "you seemed to have failed marveously on both accounts."

"I do not understand his use of recycling, it doesn't really match any true definitions, seeing a eating is a product of stripping and waste," the boy said in a cool monotone, his eyes still strangely devoid of emoiton. "I remember saying no Anonym."

The boy's casual scolding almsot caused Darkrai to raise an eyebrow, but he became even more dumbfounded when the Metagross actually obeyed, settling onto his stomach with a small huff. Just what was this child to command and, more astonishingly, receive the obedience of a beligerent psychopath who could kill him as easily as he might kill a beetle?

---

"That's a bit foolhardy, and it was voluntary," the boy asserted, adjusting his outfit with a gloved hand that seemed to bear an odd assortment of strange ridges and bumps. Did the cloth hide scars?

"Your own stubbornness did the volunteering for you."

"'Stubborness'?" Darkrai repeated with a slight sarcastic lilt to his voice. "I prefer 'pride', thank you very much."

---

"What ya gonna do with that, kiss me?" the Metagross leered with a cruel grin. " Little thing is like a damn toothpick."

"No," Darkrai answered calmly, a cocky gleam in his eye and a steady grip on his blade. "But I could stab your eyes out if you like." He feignted a swift jab, just to see how the Metagross would react.

"Oh hohoho! You, my dear, need a comedy act!" The Metagross laughed boisterously. "I didn't learn my manners? You obviously didn't learn any sense, waving that thing at me."

'If only you knew who you were talking to,' Darkrai thought with just the glimmer of a smile. 'Let's see how cocky you are then.'

A red glow suddenly appeared on one of the Metagross's legs, spreading like some sort of red moss. The steel giant stepped backward one pace, and from the look on his face it seemed to be involuntary.

"No." The boy stated calmly, and for the first time Darkrai looked away from the thug in front of him. Was that boy doing this? What the hell was he?

Then Darkrai gave himself a firm mental shake. Humans were not capable of this. Whatever the explanation, it could not be this boy. The alternative was too grotesque for even Darkrai to stomach easily.

After a brief exchange between human and Pokemon (in which Darkrai learned that his aggressor had recently been patched up. Were there potential weaknesses to be exploited?) Anonym backed off, looking away from the pair and observing a skyscraper instead.

---

"Yes, Inquiry is mine. Though psycho is not exactly the right word. Put him down? Euthanize him?"

"Or squish him."

"Call him what you will, but he's out to lunch. No two ways about it," Darkrai said without pity. "Euthanization would be a mercy to him in this state."

"He still has uses," the boy responded. "he can understand...though his constant babbling can be grating...."

The boy suddenly trailed off, and Darkrai felt his eyes slide to about the mid-region of his disguise. He looked down himself, but saw nothing out of the ordinary for a human. For a moment he considered making a joke about the boy's sexuality, but even for the sake of his diguise that was too low. He settled for raising his eyebrow inquisitively at the boy.

However, the child was no longer looking at him, and Darkrai could tell why almost immediately. The sound of scraping metal was rapidly approaching a loud din. Darkrai shot a quick glance at teh Metagross, but he was still facing the opposite direction. what in Arceus's name was happening,

A moment later, Darkrai's answer erupted from the piles of wreckage and debris in the shape of a burned out old wreck of a car. Suspended eerily in the moonlight, it lurched through the air and came to hover directly over the boy's head. Darkrai could see the rich blue light of a psychic field enveloping it.

It was as Darkrai had suspected. Anonym was a deranged psychotic so dependant on violence that any attempt to shackle or control him could only result in failure. His bloodlust was so complete, apparently, that even his own trainer was not safe.

Darkrai made no attempt to move as the car fell towards the seemingly helpless child. He had no reason to. What was one more human life? He had no pity for the boy's fate. Besides, if the boy died his mystery would die with him, and thus it would no longer be something for Darkrai to worry about. In a few days this entire performance would fade into the back of his mind as he returned his attention to the matters of Destinae.

In any case, this was a chance to observe if the boy really was anything more than he appeared to be.

[E.nigma]

[size=1

Enigma's right eyebrow rose briefly, seeming to pull the edges of his pursed lips with it. For just a moment a smirk was visible after Darkrai's words, but it soon sunk into the shallow mire that contained his emotions. Mysterious, and unexplained smile aside, he made no comment. Deep inside however he felt the tiniest hint of admiration for this stranger. The man had spine, mixed in with equal amounts of uncensored stupidity and over-confidence, but still, it was to be admired. The seditious, if not rebellious comment, of the Metagross went ignored by the Pravus administrator.

Golden eyes narrowed briefly, quickly scanning the stranger before a monotonous reply was issued:
"Why not? Though...I doubt it."
Enigma replied with a shrug, surely there were aging diseases besides his own mutation. Not that he believed the excuse. The Metagross snorted at the question, the grating noise began again, a gloved hand rose to cup over Enigma's ear.
" ... Hey shorty, would you believe he's almost fifty?"
Enigma rolled his eyes as if to amplify how ridiculous that statement was. In reality though he turned upward to avoid glaring at the metal arachnid, such a childish display was beneath him.

Enigma found himself chuckling. His voice sounded raw, and odd to his ears when trying to portray humor. The Metagross did not like being teased, a growl reverberated throughout his body, his shattered jaw rose in an expression of discontent. Eyes narrowed to accompany the scowl, and the gears in his head began to creak as he tried to think up a witty, without being childish, retort. Finding none he settled for a chuckle, and a simple:
"Touché."
The further embarrassment of being pulled to the ground by the short-ass midget added to his growing resentment of the boy, if he hadn't arrived he would be chasing down the little Rattata's, not sitting at his master's feet like some loyal dog.

Enigma did not consider the sarcastic statement worthy of a reply, he didn't believe in endorsing the rebellious attitude he found displayed in most people. He was not in the mood to play a game of semantics, especially with the headache that was now budding between his ears. The gloved hand rose to his temples, circling the pain like some predatory animal, the pressure leaving little claw-marks dotted around the area.

--

"I'd hate to agree with Whitey here, but he's right midget."
Enigma paused, lips pursed. Could it be that his reasoning for keeping Inquiry was much more than a tactical option? Could it be sentiment? Wait, he was almost listening to the brashest, least tactical creature on the planet, one who saw Inquiry's normal personality as a direct insult to his own violence. Not to mention, as he had said, the Shuckle had his uses.

The boy had no pokemon that he could see, or had not moved in a threatening manner. The problem was obviously the Metagross, who when insulted or reminded who was boss became quite nasty. Well, much less predictable, he was always quite nasty

---

Enigma's mind lit up with a variety of equations and formulas. Instantly he comprehended the falling car, it's speed, and how much time he had.

One ear registered a dry laugh.

Eyes narrowed, and Enigma threw himself backwards, muscles straining as shoes tore, toes briefly became claws, and his body flew through the air, only to be followed by the demonic car as the Metagross flicked the headlights on and sent it charging, like a mad bull toward ENigma.

The administrator landed, and debris slid out from under him, leaving a shallow scratch one one foot, and drawing out a growl of pain.

"Uh-uh. Sorry Niggy. That's not gonna work."

The car swung outward again, Enigma fell backward, the car fell like an axe, and hung there. A much brighter blue, now clung to the frame, and it hovered in the air inches from Enigma’s nose.

He hoped that he had fallen far enough to avoid the newcomer's detection.

Enigma's eyes were now a bright blue, his gloved hand glowed with the same particles as the car, rolling to the left, and mourning the loss of his shoes and jacket, he allowed the car to fall with a loud "thump".

Picking his way over the junk, avoiding the step offered by a pair of bleached bones, he reached the crest of the hill once again. Eyes narrowed at Anonym.
--

During this the psychic type had risen to his feet, and turned to smile at the hill. He offered a friendly wave, a mocking wave.

[/size]

[Darkrai]

The eye is never stationary. It is contantly moving, constantly making corrections and re-focusing on its target to maintain visual clarity. When focusing on a stationary or slow moving target, the human eyes makes about 150 tiny movents called 'twitches' every second. When pursuing a fast moving target, the human eye instead uses rapid, simaltaneous movements called saccades that last between .01 and .07 seconds. The speed of these movements is relative to average human movement speed. The eye moves at the speed needed for the human to be able to take in its enviroment while moving.

The speed at which the eye moves is very important, for it determines the relative speed at which the eye's owner perceives the world. For example, something moving at a speed lower than the eye was meant to process will appear to be moving slowly, sometimes to the point of seeming stationary. Conversely, something moving faster that the eye's speed will appear to be very quick, sometimes being too fast for the eye to follow at all.

Creatures' eyes move at the speed necissary for them to view the world at a pace reasonable for them. A fast creature's eyes move at a considerably higher rate than a slow creature's because that is the speed they require to process the world while they move. As a result, the faster a creature can move, the slower the world seems to them.

Darkrai was capable of moving at such speeds that he could completely escape human vision for a time. His eyes moved at speeds many times their own, and as a result things that seemed swift to them appeared to him as though they were wading through a sea of mud with every motion. It was for this reason that Darkrai was able to see clearly what a normal person would never have registered.

The demon car descended upon the boy with the lethal finality of a guillotine's blade. There was not a drop of hesitation in the car's motion, and Darkrai could taste, nay drink, the malicious bloodlust enemating from Anonym like a fountain of blood red wine. Darkrai knew without a doubt that this was no bluff. If the Metagross had the chance to kill his master, he would.

The moment of impact came. The car was but a few sparse inches above the child's head, about to exstinguish his life forever. Darkrai could see no way for the boy to save himself, and fully expected to see the car smashed forcibly into the ground with an eruption of displaced dirt and red gore. He was not prepared to see the child leap backward with inhuman agility, narrowly avoiding a death that no normal human could escape. However, that was not the most shocking thing Darkrai was now witness to.

With growing horror and disgust Darkrai watched as the child-no, the monster's shoes split open, its feet grotesquely morphed into monstrous talons. With these demonic new appendages the abaomination propelled itself backward at a speed that seemed remotely fast even for Darkrai's swift eyes. What he was beholding was so utterly shocking that he completely forgot to animate his avatar. For ten critical seconds the dark-skinned boy made no movement of any kind. His head did not swivel to follow the monster. His chest did not rise for breath. Not so much as a hair on his body twitched in the wind.

His initial attack thwarted, Anonym angled the car to land on its wheels, engaged its headlights, and sent it charging at his master like a deranged killer about to mow down an innocent. By now the mutant was landing from his leap, his talons already reverting to vulnerable feet. In fact, Darkrai registered a small trail of blood as the backward momentum tore its vulnerable sole.

The mutant's leap had carried him just to the edge of a mound of garbage and dirt, and his backward slide proceeded to send it completely beyond Darkrai's field of vision. The demonic car swung around the mound in pursuit, leaping into the air like a wolf about to pounce on its prey. Then it stopped.

Darkrai wasted little time in marvelling at the car's suspension. Anonym had been bent on killing his master. He was not suddenly going to break off the attack an inch from the abomination's nose. The child was rsisting the attack, and from the looks of things he appeared to be succeeding.

Darkrai carefully glanced in the direction of Anonym, realizing as he did so that his avatar had immoblized and hastily correcting his gaff. His back was still turned. The entire assualt must have been directed using his psychic sonar.

The smartest thing to do would have been to leave his avatar in one place and go observe the scene on his own, but Darkrai was not going to risk having the illusion make some critical error because his concentration was just a little more taxed. therefore, assuring himself once again that the Metagross could not see him, he scraped a spindle across the ground to mark where he was standing. He then took the avatar with him as he dashed across the field, scaling the mound of garbage and peering carefully over the edge.

The monstrosity was now setting the car back on the ground. Without touching it. The field had almsot faded by now, but Darkrai could still see the tinge of psychic energy clinging to the mutant's hands. His disgust continued to mount. This...thing was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, a sin against nature. This abomination was a disgusting...words failed even Darkrai's vocabulary as his revulsion reached bounds he'd never known before.

The monster was circling the mound now, so Darkrai swiftly returned to his former position, hoping that Anonym had seen nothing. His psychic sense would have told him nothign at all, so unless he'd actually turned around and looked Darkrai's movements would have gone unnoticed. Darkrai stared at the mound as the monster emerged, his avatar wearing an expression of shock.

"The hell was that all about?" he demanded. "And where did you learn gymnastics?" Unseen by either, Darkrai was now clutching a primed Dark Pulse, just waiting to be fired. This sin against nature was a blot on the face of the earth, and it needed to be destroyed. Just one opening, the slightest gap in attention and Darkrai would execute this monster without hesitation.

Just one slip up.

[E.nigma]

Metal whined as the Metagross turned toward his audience, he hoped to see tears, or terror. The image reflected in the creature's crimson eyes showed neither however, it was as if he had paused to look at a statue in a very rundown museum. A trunk like leg briefly lifted off the ground, shifted toward Darkrai before it paused and sank back to it's former position, a plume of grey dust followed it, and almost resembled curling smoke. The dust lean itself to the demonic laughter that tumbled from the metallic beast's mouth mere milliseconds later. It was shock the fellow was so shocked he must have forgotten to breath. The look on his face as priceless, with a disappointed grunt the Metagross swung away, no lovely little squish or bloody fountain, a fountain that was likely a color other then red. Before his cocky little wave, the Metagross shrugged, rolling his eyes (which had now faded to their normal color) at Darkrai.
"You win some, or you have a nasty little Cockroach for a trainer."
That was a good name for him, Lil'Cockroach. Though someone out there woul---that pursed lips look was perfect for him, the path of his hand however was chilling, and from here he could see the rage in the lines of his face and the bursting seams of his glove.

A glove that was moving.

--

Darkra's prediction had been correct, the psychic-type did not notice the movement of the Legendary, he had been much too busy praying for a god-sent catastrophe to come and spite his trainer. Of course, god didn’t usually answer prayers from creatures like him. The creature that happened to be his trainer crested the hill, golden eyes surveying the things below, the slightest hint of a pupil, something a bit more brown than the gold around it, hovered in the pool that formed his eyes. The slits seemed to shorten when they landed on the Metagross, and the muscles of the jaw were set in hard lines.
“That, was rude.”
“What was rude, oh merciful master?”
The deep voice replied, but the question was ignored as Enigma turned toward the guest. The voice, that was normally very flat, occasionally growled or grated as he spoke. The gaze narrowed in a look of annoyance as he fixed his gaze on Darkrai, he was anxious to punish not prattle, but manners were manners.
“Anonym likes to play games, and I have never learned gymnastics,”
A momentary pause followed, and soon Enigma spoke again:
“I have been trained in a martial art or two however…”
Which, to him, amounted to the same thing quickened reflexes. Hopefully the boy hadn’t seen too much, killing him would be a pity, no he didn’t lie, it might be fun.

Speaking of enjoyable activities.

A gloved hand shot down to the worn leather belt, which was ivory in color, and removed a small round orb, this he tossed toward the Metagross.
“Thoist..negate threat..or ….please teach him some manners.”
You had to teach a dog after all, even if this was a bit worse than a newspaper.

Coiling red light solidified into the shape of a Gallade which dove toward the Metagross. The metal creature reared up and opened his ‘arms’ in an embrace.

“..As you were young man.”
Enigma murmured, gesturing to Darkrai to continue whatever he had been doing.

[Darkrai]

Darkrai watched with laser-sharp focus, awaiting the opening, the laps in concentration that would be the abomination's death sentence. His words washed over Darkrai without meaning, unregistered in the god's singular focus. Nothing mattered except that this...thing needed to die.

Suddenly, the boy's hand whipped to his belt and pulled away a Pokeball. Centuries of instinct conditioned by constant hunting caused Darkrai to flinch, but it soon became apparent that the newly summoned Gallade's target was the disloyal Metagross, not him. The abomination did not seem aware of the danger he was in. The Gallade presented a new variable to equate, but as long as Darkrai managed to retain the element of surprise in his assualt the swordsman's presence would amount to nothing. Still, to be safe Darkrai primed a Shadow Ball to hurl at the Gallade jsut in case.

“As you were young man.”

Darkrai's eye lit up with a fire of triumph. Disinterested statement. Half-hearted gesture. Diverted gaze. He was no longer the object of the creature's attention. In fact, it seemed that the mutant barely had any attention at all to spare him.

The time to strike was at hand.

Darkrai's disguise shattered like cheap glass as he leveled his palm at the boy and released the pent up Dark energy. Wild, tangled bands of blackness erupted from his grip like frenzied tentacles, flying at the freak with cruel direction and deadly purpose. Not waiting to see whether his strike had landed, Darkrai hurled himself forward at his target, fully revealed as the sable spectre of suffering and fear. The very air seemed to warp in the presence of the dark god as he hurtled like the angel of death toward the monstrosity, moving at speeds so great a normal human would not even be able to see him.

Without bothering with precision aiming Darkrai hurled his Shadow Ball in the general direction of the Gallade and Metagross. All his attention was focused on the monstrosity that had to be erased from the face of this earth. He drew his arm back as he lanced forward, murderous Shadow Claws gleaming with almsot palpable bloodlust as he prepared to decapitate whatever was left of the monster that managed to survive his Dark Pulse.

[E.nigma]

"What the fuck is that?"
The Metagross squawked, temporarily forgetting the tri-colored torpedo heading his way as he turned his crimson gaze toward Darkrai. The grin that had spread across his face when the Gallade appeared faded, even beating up his rival was nothing compared to this. The boy had just shattered like a pane of glass, the normal kind, not that bullet-proof shit. The Metagross was too shocked to even consider moving, the Gallade crashed into him with the force of a semi truck, legs bending inward and screeching, the sound was something that would not be out of place in a car wreck. Even as the leg joint began to dip toward the ground the Gallade's gaze was fixated on the billowing shadows that now claws at the sky. Eyes lowered and met the gaze of the Metagross, who was obviously in pain. With a nod of is head the Gallade climbed down from the twisted limb, in an almost leisurely, walk-in-the-park manner. The second his broad feet touched the ground however he was running, first toward the thing attacking his master, than to his defenseless (even he still thought of him that way) trainer, who had turned at the intruder's body-shift, determining the distance to be much shorter he turned back toward the interloper, cursing himself for his indecision, even as his eyes lingered on Enigma . It was obvious that his master was contemplating and plotting, instead of dodging, the Gallade could practically see words, ideas, and hypotheses rocketing across his cold eyes.
"MASTER! MOVE! MOVE HIM! INNUENDO! ROIST....PLEASE?"
The Gallade was not given to yelling, especially when desperation was involved, which likely explained why his voice seemed to crack and tremble while he spoke. Eyes widened as spindly tendrils reached toward his master , the Gallade let out an unintelligible yell, aiming to smash into Darkrai, instead he found himself grasping little more than darkened smoke.

The Gallade was momentarily off balance, and slipped forward, arms splayed as he prepared to launch himself toward the enemy once again. The pause allowed him to examine the bedsheet of shadows and his eyes widened.
"Sweet merciful Arceus.."
The Gallade was not given to emotion but the shock was evident on his face. The threat posed to Enigma however drove him forward regardless of his astonishment, or sacrilegious thoughts.

---

The air was instantly filled with the stench of darkness, and Enigma's body stiffened as he turned toward his 'human' guest. Though not accompanied by the noise the man literally shattered, dark tentacles flowing from the body. The vipers of darkness rocketed towards him but Enigma was too fascinated by the possibility of his opponent's identity to move. His mind took in statistics such as weight and size , storing these away for future use. His thoughts trailed toward an old project of his that was made to catch a creature such as Darkrai, then he began to think about possible strategies one could use to capture and defeat Darkrai in a variety of circumstances. Not one of them involved dodging, until a voice, which cracked from misuse, shattered his mechanic thoughts. Enigma stopped calculating the speed of the shadowball and tried to drop out of its way, legs twisting painfully and reforming to allow him to get closer to the ground.

The legendary was coming. The temporarily sporadic thoughts dissipated as if a window had been opened in a stuffy room and he found himself excited and ready, even as the Shadowball smashed into the hillside, sending him flying. rit stinging his eyes he managed to hook his hands into his belt and send another pokeball flying. That was when his back smashed into the ground and the world, momentarily, went black.
--

Enigma did not shout out commands, his pokemon were trained to act in an automatic manner, and in all situations to protect Enigma, the only one who truly ignored that prerogative was the Metagross.

The Pravus official smashed into the ground, blood spurting from an arm as it smashed into an exposed piece of steel. The world slowly swam back into focus. The creature quickly regained his balance however, features seeming to run as he fought animalistic desires, and agony. His lungs pained him when he breathed but he turned back toward his opponent dust and grit falling from his body even as his pokemon began to attack. Enigma found himself smiling as death, or nightmare itself, came after him. If he died, at least it would be with an interesting puzzle to solve, he would go out with a "bang" as some said, not that he planned on going out at all, but it was a slim possibility that factored into his percentages.

The first barrage came from an unexpected place. A loud shout echoed across the field:
"TRASHCAN RIBBON!"
A blue shieled chased with yellow fibers popped up around Enigma, aiming to protect the human before any further damage was done. The SHuckle was currently poised on top of a nearby mound, and had hastened his approach when the noises had begun to grow louder, and the Metagross had shouted in astonishment , at first he had hoped to see the Metagross in pain, but was now saddened to find his master in dire straits.
---
The Metagross was currently trying to reset his broken leg before rushing into battle, hs leg was currently held up in the air with telekinesis while he used various pieces of rubble to beat it into a more desirable shape.

--

The pokeball burst open and a dainty Sunflora stepped out.
"HOO-HAH! I SMELL FUN! AND THE BLOOD OF AN ENGLISHMAN! Or at least my Niggy-ma."
The Sunflora smiled, but even she faltered when she realized what they were up against.
" ... you pissed off a god Niggy, and without my help, you make me proud sometimes."
The creature murmured to herself, savoring her pre-battle jitters.

(This is horrible , my brain is currently gone. I decided to post regardless.)