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Quick Attack

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1. Happiness Is A Warm Meowstic

This procedure served as an alternative therapy method, his psychiatrist had informed him. Service Pokemon, if you will. Able to help stabilize one’s emotions (or lack therefore of) and assist with basic tasks.

As Cyrus stared blankly at the male Meowstic which sat upon his doctor’s desk, it seemed to gaze back to him. The creature’s slanted orbs were mainly a sea-foam green hue, with irises of bright teal within their centers.

Their species was referred to as the “Constraint” Pokemon, and it was apparent in this specimen. Though Meowstic tried to remain cool and collected, Cyrus could sense a tumultuous conflict within the creature’s inner self. It was common to joke of Espurr possessing such a quality, but it still lingered in the adult’s form.

Meowstic sat up stiffly, rather like he’d forced himself to do. His movements were calculated and jerky, as evidenced when he rose his dark paw into the air. His eyes reflected a grand storm of power and drive within himself.

As if drawn by an eerie impulse, the man reached out to pat Meowstic’s white, head fur. Worn, bare fingers rubbed against the creature’s plush fur, encouraging it to purr soothingly. On small, tapered legs, it stood up to further partake in Cyrus’ tender caresses. Careful attention was given to avoid his folded ears, which held a great, terrible Psychic power within them.

The longer he petted Meowstic’s soft, fluffy form, the more at ease Cyrus felt with that notion. His face remained as stoic as ever, but within his addled mind, a faint spark of cheer burst forth. It was an ache of sympathy, or something greater.

Though the man instinctively brushed that feeling away, another gentle voice from within chided him for doing so. “No, that’s good!” his conscience cried out sharply. “That’s what Dr. Martin wants from us!” Weary, pale blue orbs peered down to Meowstic, who appeared wholly content in his arms. A small, gentle smile crept onto Cyrus’ face, the likes of which he hadn’t known for ages.

The creature’s twin tails hung upon his limbs, tickling them through the terry cloth robe he wore. Content to keep Meowstic in his possession, Cyrus peered over to his psychiatrist, who sat in her large, cloth chair. She also seemed very much at ease, overjoyed that her most difficult patient had found an outlet of his own.

Maybe there was something to the greater bond between man and Pokemon after all.


2. The Initiation of Gemini

"I stayed ‘pure’ and chaste for this?!" Liza cried out, her voice raw and pulsing with the anger she’d held within throughout her life. In spite of all she and Tate had witnessed in their time, nothing could have truly prepared them for what lay in wait at their "initiation" ceremony.

A red, heated flush had grown upon her pale cheeks, joined by a hard scowl upon her painted lips. “Really, me and Tate trained all these years for this?!” she pressed on, the scent of burnt Pure Incense heavy in the air. “This?!” Within their gathered masses, assorted chatter sprang up: Sabrina argued with their region’s local Psychic Trainers, while others hemmed and hawed over their next move.

Eyes dark as the night’s sky turned their focus upon Lucian and Olympia, who stood firm in their resolve. His glasses acted like a makeshift shield: Clear enough to permit his luminous, mystical orbs to shine through, yet able to withstand any assault that may come. Though the elder woman had no such protection, she remained confident in her own mastery.

Though all present were astonished by Liza’s bold, livid display, most felt they could control her if things became too chaotic. “Yes, that’s it,” Lucian calmly stated to the young woman, a hand raised in the air for self-protection. His sleeve was pulled down, revealing a puncture wound on his lower arm. “Once Psychic ‘officials’ come of age, we do this. Always has been, always will be.”

"Look, I get it," Liza replied back as she eased from the shock and disgust within herself. "I know we’re ‘special’, and need to honor that." She peered back to her sibling, who sat alongside Will and Caitlin in lawn chairs. From the way they carried on, one would think they were on vacation or the like.

Their trio remained bright and relaxed, despite of what they’d forced upon themselves. They bore wounds like Lucian sported, dotted at varying spots. Her blush had begun to drain away, as did the warmth within her slim form. “But, does this have to be so creepy?” Liza asked as she pulled on a strand of her dark hair.

"Nothing comes without consequence," Olympia remarked earnestly as she cradled a clear chalice full of a red liquid. Its texture suggested it was crafted from mashed Berries, but a luminous violet swirl within it said otherwise. "All blessed, we are. We must retaliate for our gifts." Her gaze upon Tate, she mouthed a few words to him. Seemingly encouraged by her speech, the young man eased up from his chair, motioning for Liza to take his place.

With a final, resigned nod to her elders, the woman approached the chair on shaky steps. Her brother stood by its side, his eyes gleaming with a sympathetic tenderness. Once there, she swallowed a gulp of air, her form quaking with fear and ire, as it had before. “If I have to do this,” Liza murmured under her breath while she pulled her loose top away. “Let’s get it over with, then. Still better than the Cult of Goodra.”

Dark sapphire orbs glanced up to Tate, and then to Will, who lay at her left side. Their eyes met, both sparkling with that immutable Psychic allure. “Such beauty,” she thought to herself, enraptured by their gleam. “Such power we have, that it’s come to this.” Though she still felt conflicted over their appointed ritual, Liza began to grow accepting of her ultimate fate. Like she’d done in her youth, the woman instinctively reached for her brother’s hand.

At once, Tate eased himself down to grasp her palm, softly caressing its warm flesh while Lucian examined her pale shoulders. When he’d found a suitable area for the “removal”, he gazed into Liza’s fretful orbs, the question of preparation upon his lips. “It’s fine,” she replied to him softly, clutching her sibling’s hand with fearsome anticipation. “Go ahead.”

In an instant, a thick metal tip bore into the woman’s flesh, causing her to howl in sudden pain. Dark eyes snapped shut as their owner attempted to bear through the racing agony. Liza grasped Tate’s hand for dear life, her senses attuned to his touch and the blood which rapidly escaped her body.

As soon as it had begun, the awful process was over: Liza hesitantly opened her orbs to be greeted by the comforting faces of her Psychic companions. She glanced around to see Tate and Will’s gentle smiles, grateful that she was safe and sound.

Lucian was within sight as well, an appreciative grin on his face. The syringe he used lay in his hand, fresh blood within and upon itself. A dull ache lingered in her shoulder, but Olympia was there to apply a Super Potion on it. “Thanks, Oly,” Liza breathed out, still disoriented from the experience. “It wasn’t that bad, I guess. At least it’s outta the way.”

She did know what was to follow, but couldn’t bear to look: On swift steps, Lucian approached Olympia and injected the syringe’s contents into her chalice, which sat upon a nearby coffee table. Once the wet squirting had ceased, Liza popped her right eye open to witness the aftermath. To her eternal shock, her blood merged seamlessly with that of her companions, forming a bright, crimson elixir.

"Now that Liza’s given her essence," Will exclaimed in that luridly cheerful tone he possessed. "We can finally get started!” A broad smile crept onto his lips, followed by thunderous applause by all present. Her chalice still on the table, Olympia mixed the concoction in its glass frame with a long, glass stirrer.

While she did that, Will fished out a handful of Rare Candies from his pants’ pocket and crushed them in his fist. When they were ground to his liking, they were sprinkled into Olympia’s chalice. The remains in hand, he dumped them into his open mouth. His violet orbs instantly clouded, as though he were under a drug of some sort.

In the distance, the twin siblings could hear Sabrina and Caitlin chanting in an ancient tongue, unknown to mere mortal ears. All were surrounded by the lit candles that had been placed throughout their chamber. The local Psychics they’d gathered were dancing around in a frenzy, having shed their clothes earlier. Shortly after he’d taken the sugar “drug”, Will joined their forces, though he remained fully dressed.

A burst of amethyst light filled the room as a ringing, static-like cry vibrated all about. When the blinding glow became soft, a silhouetted figure became apparent to all there: It was a small, feline-like creature, whose slim form floated in the air. A furred length wound against its body, somewhat like a Skitty’s own puffed tail.

"Meeew, meewww," it cried forth, large blue eyes upon Tate and Liza. A soft titter escaped its snout, which was curled into a soft smile. "Mew! Mew!" The creature’s delicate paws pointed to them, little pink digits wriggling playfully about. The bright, enchanting orbs of all focused on Mew’s form, overcome with joy.

"Great Mew, please accept our gift!" Lucian shouted forth, the chalice having exchanged hands. The man’s lilac eyes had grown even paler, nearly blending with his sclera, as they were want to do. "Please bless Tate and Liza, like you’ve done for the rest of us! Please let them be strong, healthy and the best Psychics they can be!"

As the creature hovered lower to drink his “offering”, the twin siblings peered at each other in equal parts intrigue and fear. Mew turned to gaze at them, its eyes glowing with the enchanting, mystical glow they’d seen among their, now, blood-brothers and sisters. As Tate and Liza awaited the Legendary beast’s blessing, their hands remained locked while a single, shared thought ran through their minds:

"This is where it begins: This is where it starts getting weird, amazing, wonderful-“


3. Rags And Riches

"Seriously, what’s a nice boy like you," May flirtatiously asked of her companion, who sat opposite her in a white, wooden chair. "What’re you doing in a place like this?" His slender form, clad in a fine, steely-blue suit, lay languidly as he mused on how to answer her. Black sunglasses hid his eyes, and (he hoped) his conflicted feelings.

"Winston? Winston? Hey, are you there?!"

When the Rich Boy’s focus returned, May’s bare fingers hung across his face, wiggling ever so slightly. Between their outstretched digits, he could make out her silver orbs, dull with concern. “I’m, I’m sorry,” Winston replied back, his voice soft and shaky. He shook his head, tossing meticulously styled, golden locks around. “Something just came to me, but anyway-“

"I hang around here to kill time," he elaborated as he sat up a bit. "And to get away from my dumb-ass parents." Once he was comfortable once more, the boy faced her head on while Hoenn’s bright sun beamed on them. A stray Wingull’s cry rang through the pure, blue sky. "Why do you care?"

"Nothing, it’s just," May said with a sudden hesitation in her tone. The girl’s stray hand had returned to her person, and now stroked her crimson bandanna "bow" nervously. "You’re always on Route 104, you’re always so fancy and nice!" Winston pulled his sunglasses off in a flash, revealing widened sky blue eyes. "And here I am, looking like a wreck! How can you stand losing to me when we battle?”

A breathy laugh escaped her twisted lips, but both were aware it was an insincere affect. Winston knew it by heart, as he was “fortunate” enough to witness his parents’ friends during their many exclusive gatherings. Their interactions tended to be showy and artificial, devoid of any true feeling. All he knew was that he didn’t like it there, and certainly didn’t like seeing upon May’s gentle face.

"Listen, don’t feel bad!" he replied tenderly to his companion, reaching across the way to embrace her. Though she squealed in surprise, Winston could sense she was inwardly grateful. "Nobody can help what they are, so just relax!" Their limbs hung upon each other, her tanned flesh upon his milky skin. "Like my dad says, ‘we all have our paths in life’. Maybe I’m destined to be just a Rich Boy, but-"

Sun, sand and sea surrounded them in perfect harmony, creating for a fleeting, perfect moment either wished would end. To them, it was the most natural thing in the world, in spite their disparate nature. “-But I think there’s better things out there for you, May. You just have to go out and find them!”