The last scattered remnants of the day's sunlight lie as a thin blue band across the horizon. A slight chill of a stiff breeze ghosting across the alien landscape tugs at the clothes of Devi Ravi, who is and has been oblivious to much other than her breathing for the past hours, occupying herself with thoughts others would rather purge from their minds. The only thing that had spared Yarver's life was her desire to get moving - that had been a few hours ago, though the image of his face kept returning. Tagging along at short distance behind her is Marcus Arsaga - and beyond him, Neike, who threatens to fall behind. Really, no one but Devi seems quite so intent on burning their energies ascending this mountain slope after their struggles through the labyrinthine pathways of Roaring Hollow.

Marcus is silent, moving carefully with the occasional look back to the other girl before he shakes his head slightly, scowling before he looks in Devi's direction, fingers flexing. He speeds up a little, smirking faintly and inwardly pleased that they were finally on the way to Taqnateh.

The thin path winding up the mountain slope at this point is quite firm under their stride, though the occasional layer of dust-like earth and scattered gravel adds a bit of unpredictability. Inhale, exhale. It all seemed like such a bad idea suddenly - but what would her brother think if she not only turned back now, but left behind a friend, however fleeting that acquaintance may've been? No, she had no excuse and, in fact, no desire to turn back… but her rational mind tirelessly wove theories, knitting them together to one concise model of what was going on. What had been going on. She'd not shared her thoughts with Marcus yet, much less with Neike - they didn't have to know, they had their own motivations.

Marcus exhales, heavily and runs his tongue across his drying lips and looks around, almost falling before he opens his mouth to say something then closes it again, eyes cast down. Inwardly feeling bad, he sped up, growling under his breath. He was angry at himself, at his sister, at he Gymleaders and at Rhaptor to name but a few but he didn't let any or very much of his temper show.

Devi seems oddly transformed since Nikki vanished - at least as far as Marcus is concerned. Usually so cheerful, it's as if she had suddenly lost her humour, driven by a purpose as if it was personal for her. But that didn't make much sense - they barely knew each other. How long had it been? A month? It couldn't possibly have been more than a month since they came into Togi. And she was more of a lone wolf, anyway - why she kept them around was hard to say, she didn't seem particularly interested in how the others fared in their battles.

Her left hand seizes the door handle, pushing at it as though with a vengeance - but it doesn't budge. The disappointment of having her stride broken culminates in a frown - she raises her gaze, squinting through the glass of the door, even as her right hand's knuckles rap against the same. “Anyone?” she asks, loudly, grimacing slightly, catching motion within the small shop.

Marcus stands just behind her, one hand flexing around a pokéball in his pocket before he withdraws the hand, chewing a little at his lip, shifting uncertainly. He remains silent though, looking around again, brow furrowing before stretching past Devi and rapping on the door firmly.

“Fuck off, Marcus,” she snaps. “If they didn't hear me, they sure as hell won't hear you,” she adds, in more of a grumble. Of course, Neike's theory as to Devi's sass is that Devi's simply upset that she had to win the hidden machine by herself - Marcus was no help and nearly delayed them with a desire to try again. The motion morphs into the fuzzy silhouette of a person - the texture of the glass distorts the edges, making only the overall shape visible. The sound of the door unlocking fills the silence - then it opens, revealing a broad-built, but friendly looking lady, currently wearing an astonished look. “…I'm sorry, can I help you?” she asks, startled, evidently speaking those words mainly for her own benefit, given that the reason for their knocking ought to be fairly obvious. PokéMart, in close vicinity of a pokémon gym. They probably wanted to buy something.

Marcus growls and steps away, scowling at Devi before turning away slightly. His fingers flex and he ponders inwardly what he might need to buy before glaring at Devi again. He currenty doesn't know what to say though.

Inhale, exhale. “We're looking for a friend of ours - Nikki Arsaga. Possibly came in company with a fellow called Raiko Zelenka,” she explains, gaze imploring the woman to tell her something of use, bitterness and pleading clashing in her expression. Still exuding bewilderment, the woman lets her gaze drift from Devi across to Marcus, and from him to Neike, even as the girl finally comes to a stop nearby. Concerned and quizzical. “I'm sorry, that doesn't tell me anything…?” she remarks, tone like a question, her voice soft, almost cowering, unease lacing through her. Devi's not particularly comfortable to be around.

Fortunately, Devi does not throw the words back at her face - but then, she's practically minded. Clasping her right hand onto the doorframe as though to steady herself, she leans against it ever so subtly. “Okay,” she acknowledges, nodding once and no more. “In that case, what can you tell us about this settlement, before we go try our luck in there?” Her left hand thumbs across to the half-ruin, indicating.

Marcus scowls a bit then nods. “Have you even seen either of them?” His tone is almost biting before he shakes his head and moves in the direction of the half ruined building, determinedly. “I'm going, anyway,” he suddenly says to Devi, hands curling into loose fists.

“Fine, go and get yourself killed, just like your sister,” Devi remarks with an eyeroll as Marcus moves to saunter toward the building. The tension evidently unsettles the lady of the Pok<E9>Mart, but she stays near the door. “That's just a pokémon gym, miss,” she explains, voice having dipped to a mouse-like volume. - “Nothing odd about it?” Devi asks, brow arching. - “…nothing, miss,” the lady assures, nervously. - “…right,” Devi responds, deciding she was tired of this particular game. She could spend hours trying to weasel information out of this woman, or join Marcus in head-on collision with whatever awaited. Latter was a far more glorious way to go. Gritting her teeth in irritation, she manages to utter an insincere: “Well, thank you,” followed by a: “And have a nice day. Night. Whichever.”

Marcus whirls round and stalks back towards her. “You heartless little bitch,” he hisses, attempting to grab her by the shoulders and if he succeeds he shakes her. He flicks a look to the other woman though and smiles, although it's cold and toothy. “Thanks.” He moves away from Devi then, disgusted with her.

Perceptive, she twists from out of the range of his fingers, a distant part of her flaring up in rage that he would be so stupid. But there is too much focus in her ways - she's not about to get into a quarrel with him now. “Just shut the fuck up, Marcus,” she throws at him - it would be tiredly if she had less energy at her disposal. “And look in the mirror,” she adds in more of a murmur, not disguising her words, but not deliberately casting them his way, either, sating a reflex. She stalks away from the store, leaving a confused shop owner standing by the door. “…hi,” Neike says as the other two head toward the ruin, smiling weakly toward the shop owner. Anything to have some distance to those two - they were both unbearable at the moment, if for vastly different reasons. Realising just how emotionally shattered she comes across, she clears her throat, then smiles to the lady. “Don't mind them, they mean well,” she assures, softly, but almost with enough bitterness to invalidate the statement.

Marcus ignores Devi, his own worry for his younger sister overshadowing anything he may feel for anyone else. He flicks a look back in Neike's direction then walks even faster, hands coiled into tight fists. “Cheeky bint,” he mutters under his breath in regards to Devi.

The PokéMart owner glances slowly from the receding shapes back to Neike, eyes slightly wide. “…whatever you say,” she says, flusteredly, before inclining her head to take in Neike's appearance - anything to rope herself back into a semblance of reality. “Can I help you?” she asks, stepping aside slightly to allow Neike to enter should she wish it. The girl shakes her head. “We're rather low on cash, I doubt there's anything I could buy.” A pause, mustering the lady - then the soft shaking of her head, and a sad smile, like a regrettable decision felled.

Devi slows to a stop as she nears the doors, craning her neck to look up at their sheer size. It looks like it may be better befit for a Tyranitar than for any human residence, dark, wooden surface littered with meaningless engravings, rune-like at best. Her fingertips trace across it, gaze aiding them in their search for a knocker, bell, or anything of the sort. Nothing. Grimacing, she gives one wing of the door a push, palms pressed against it - feeling it give way ever so slightly, extremely reluctant to move, requiring strain from her wirey arms. Gritting her teeth, she leans against it, stemming her weight against it to inch it open.

Marcus narrows then rolls his eyes, reluctantly standing next to Devi and shoving at the door with his own weight, taking great care to not look at her. He exhales then, without that he says anything, his gaze flicking across to Neike before his thoughts drift to his sister.

At this point, Marcus might notice that Neike is still by the shop, about a hundred metres removed from their current position, making no immediate antics to follow them. On the other hand, the door has just inched open enough to allow passage into the inky darkness beyond - a line of light from the dimming skies falls across a long, flat plane, then zigzags up what may be a broad flight of stairs or a simple seating area of an arena.

Marcus growls lowly and deeply in his throat. “Are you coming Neike?” he snaps. Scowling, he glares into the building then rolls his shoulders before entering, paying no attention to Devi. His hands flex and he stuffs one deep into a pocket, reaching for a pokéball.

Not wanting to be the cause for another row, Neike lets her shoulders sag, shifting her glance sideways as though to say 'All right then,' it a private gesture between her and the lady. “I better go,” she says, softly, trying to wield a somewhat reassuring tone. “Don't worry about us,” she says, catching a glance from the shop owner, fleeting though it may have been. “Sorry to have disturbed you,” she adds, bowing her head respectfully, before thawing out of her slow motions and swirling to dart after the other two. “Coming!” she calls across, fighting her reluctance to deal with either of them.

Devi slips quietly through the crack, quiet sideways steps easing her into the darkness. The sliver of light's expansion slows, driven by momentum and deceleration - and a moment later, begins to slowly shrink, even as her gaze lances through the inky black trying to find outlines, features, anything. “Hello?” she calls into it, forehead wrinkling. She didn't like the look of this place - but she was far removed from letting it get to her.

Marcus sighs heavily then without a glance at Neike, he steps inside, following Devi. He doesn't say anything although tension lines his shape and he is starting to get fairly angry. He wasn't letting any of this show though, or at least attempting to hide it.

Silence is all that answers her for long moments - before a strange glow shimmers into view near the shrinking line of light. Neike's body, meanwhile, impacts gently with the door, slowing its closing, and a moment later, she's slipped in after Marcus… and the darkness becomes that much more absolute, the soft, diffuse light beside where the slash of light had been notwithstanding. A figure, vaguely human, edges of a cloak of sorts hovering near his ankles. The light bleeds out from a small, cat-like creature curled around his neck, a soft, reddish hue. “Well, that took you forever and a day,” a voice remarks, pretences of grandeur ditched in favour of a casual, biting sneer.

Marcus inhales sharply then stifles a soft snarl. “It didn't take us that long,” he said, his voice cold, without anger, but it is nasty. Hissed in fact. The big built man's fingers flex and he flicks a glare in Devi's direction before looking over his shoulder at Neike, eyes warming slightly.

The chuckle echoes through the hall - whatever its shape may be, it lends itself to refracting sound. A soft thud sounds behind Devi and Marcus - Neike has let herself back against the heavy doors, intimidated by the myriad of implications of those few initial words, regretting that choice she made back in Vale. “So, come to battle, the lot of you, have you?” he asks, unmoving, the creature around his neck raising its head to look at them with bright eyes, only to narrow them slightly, its long, glowing tail curling and coming to rest across the man's chest. “I mean, beside the obvious - and I recommend you spare your breaths and keep your questions to yourselves.”

Marcus exhales then growls, pulling himself to his full height and stalking forwards. “I don't speak for anyone but myself. I do come to challenge you for the badge and be warned. Gymleader. If that's who you are. I intend to win.” To himself he mutters: “For my sister if for no one else.”

Resisting the urge to cut across either of them, Devi scowls into the darkness, trying to stay focussed, trying to take in all the new information and string it together, add it to the fringes of her own theories, grasping for consistency. It comes easily, much to her idle horror, though she expels her fear in a single snorted breath. - “Good, good,” the gymleader remarks dismissively. “Then we'll battle first, shall we? Of course only once you've listened to my terms and accepted them,” he remarks, a certain coldness lacing into those words, as though daring Marcus to continue - as though there were something special about those terms, perhaps, that few would be sane to accept.

*Marcus flexes his fingers, growling under his breath. “All right. What are your terms?” he's cold now, all efficiency. He pushes one hand through his hair, smirking faintly, confidently. “I'm ready to battle whenever you are.” He flicks a look to Neike then before glaring at Devi, daring her to say something.

If Devi can see him in the darkness, he can't make out her reaction - it's really quite a pointless gesture in the inky darkness. The gymleader seems to have far less issues spotting their motions, though, waiting for Marcus to complete the glance and glare before responding to his words. “A very simple one on one fight, a six pokémon cycle. A K.O. is a loss - a death of an opponent pokémon disqualifies you. If you win, I give you the Astral Badge - if you lose, you lose everything.” The last word seems hissed, though it is not spoken with any more emphasis than the rest of the neutral, explanatory words. So far unprompted, he does not elaborate.

Marcus narrows his eyes, thinking before he shrugs. “I lose my pokémon? Then if that's all… fine… I'm not only doing this for me I'm doing it for my sister.” He rolls his eyes, flexing his fingers and thinking, pondering his strongest pokémon. His tongue flicks across his lips and he smirks, nastily.

The glance shifts aside, and those wirey arms fold before him as though battling irritation. “'Everything' means everything, boy,” he says, a definite hiss in his tone now. “Your pokémon, your other belongings, your life, your identity, anything that can be assuredly said to pertain to your person specifically in any way, shape or form. Everything.”

Marcus backs a step, tanned skin paling. “I… - I need to think before I rush into this. My sister wouldn't rush and neither will I.” He swallows hard. “No I will not battle you just now but I am not withdrawing my challenge. I will step aside for the lady here.” He gestures to Devi, tone mocking.

The hiss from 'the lady' in response to the gymleader's elaboration subsides as Marcus addresses her, making way for a tense silence. She shifts her weight, stepping sideways once, the motion evident only due to the sound. “You should leave,” Neike whispers softly, extending her right hand to brush fingertips against Devi's left shoulder, seeing her against the man's fleck of light up on the simple, bench-like rows of seats, his little contained orb of reddish, diffuse light. Devi shrugs her shoulder, though the gesture could be multitudes harsher - there's a softness to it, perhaps appreciation. “I'll battle you,” she says, strange malice in that tone, suggesting a different interpretation of those words. Fingertips slide across the fabric of her trouser's pocket. “Justly,” she adds, hissing the word - and a moment later, five thin lines of colour lash through the air beside her, shimmering a soft blue.

Marcus scoffs a little at Devi as she hisses and moves to stand back against the door with Neike. “You're not advising me to leave?” he hisses, almost spitefully at her. He glares for some seconds then flicks a look back to Devi, head shaking slightly as the lines of colour whip at the air beside her.

Neike cringes back against the door, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to find a shred of calm in her body, fearing Marcus might get physical in reflexive spur of the moment, raising her arms slightly in protective, defensive motion. “…you're her brother,” she explains, voice flimsy, full of fear of saying the wrong thing.

The moment the lines of the whip appear, the creature on Jagdish's shoulders jolts into a motion, reflexively winding itself away from the neck it had settled against, uttering a medely of mew and chirp, before it vanishes abruptly, popping out of existence, the light vanishing. In the brief moment of illumination before its vanishing, the gymleader's face could be seen to darken perceptibly, brows furrowing with some emotion quite distinct from fear. Recognition?

Briefly bewildered by the fearful reaction of the pokémon, Devi snorts softly, keeping herself tense, forcing her breathing to remain regular, forcing her voice to remain level and domineering. “I'd argue my terms are far fairer than yours,” she hisses. “Now come down and play - unless you're scared of me,” she throws up at him, voice thick with venom.

Marcus smirks. “Clever girl,” he smiles then warmly, chucking a light tap at her chin, approving. “Personally though… I only care about you, myself, my mother and my sister. Everyone else can go to hell.” He looks back towards Devi then and shakes his head, sighing softly as the little creature chirps.

Marcus blinks again as Devi speaks and he flicks a look to the Gymleader's face before smirking wickedly, cruelly, laughing under his breath.

Or rather, flicks a look at where the gymleader's face had been moments ago, when there was still a hint of light in this darkness. Footsteps suggest he's moving, though it's slow and does not seem to be a descent toward them.

Neike remains silent, not wishing to repeat herself, both for redundancy and because she fears Marcus might snap if she did. Of course he's not interested in other people - but that's exactly why she didn't suggest it. He's her brother. He'd rather die than abandon Nikki up here, right? …right?

Devi utters something of a soft snarl, but does not bother with verbal rebuttal to the silence, instead launching herself forward into the shadows, away from Marcus and Neike, toward the sound of footsteps, lines of the whip dragging across the floor, her left hand flexing, but mostly stretched out before her, arm angled slightly to lessen the brutality of the blow should she crash into something unseen in the darkness.

Marcus curses softly, blinking a bit and trying to estimate where Devi is and where the other man could be. “This is as bad as that other Gym… Naomi's I think it was,” he mutters to himself. “Only there's not even the hint of light here.” He flicks a look in Neike's direction then sighs softly. “I just want my sister back,” he mutters. “That's all I want now.”

A blinding light floods the area suddenly, tearing a cry from Neike, who cringes further against the door - and a fierce, frustrated shriek is heard from Devi. As eyes adjust to the new source of light - a sun-like sphere hovering in the center of what is now clearly identified as an arena - the outlines of a purple pokémon can be seen behind Devi, half obscuring her to her comrades, humanoid figure having slung a left arm in stranglehold of her neck, right forepaw seizing her right wrist - the one holding the whip - and yanking it back with almost enough force to dislocate that arm, soft but guttural snarl surfacing from it, its tail lashing in pure irritation behind it.

The gymleader stands at a distance on the rows of 'seats', fingers flexing, expression entirely unfazed, perhaps considerably more calculating that they might have estimated. His hair, of all things, is blue, streaking up like a crowd of hot flames. His skin seems white against the black attire, making his appearance seem almost like that of a modern painting rather than a depiction of a real human being, much less a photorealistic one. “You will play by my terms or not at all,” he remarks, proving the image is his own, the recognisable voice coming from him, passing moving, pale lips. His gaze seems latched not on Devi, but on the weapon her right hand's fingers are desperately locked around, knuckles whitening.

Marcus growls softly then shivers a little. He's not scared now, just furious and for once for Devi and not at her. He glares at the Gymleader then at the pokémon holding the girl. “Let her go,” he almost hisses, eyes narrowing venomously.

His gaze drifts up from Devi's writhing shape, away from the source of aggressive, snarling whimpers, a feisty display of pure fury, unrelenting; up to Marcus' face, though the gaze seems almost unseeing. A moment later, Devi shrieks, and the whip clatters to the ground beside her, her fingers letting go as she seemingly twists forward unnaturally… until it would become obvious that it's her shoulder joint that's bent beyond its natural limits, no doubt dislocated. Pinky and ring finger of her right hand tremble, wrist unmoving in the pokémon's grip. Her eyes have closed, though Marcus can't see it, leaking reflexive tears. “My terms - or not at all,” he repeats, emphasising the words more like a threat, his eyes narrowing a touch.

Marcus hisses, taking a step forwards as he reaches for one of his pokéballs. His fingers flex and he licks at his lips, furious now with how much pain Devi seems seems to be in. Flicking a look to the Gymleader, he growls venomously, but doesn't actually say anything.

“Have I made myself clear?” A quirked brow underlines the inquiry, gloved fingers of his right hand flexing as though denoting some distant thought coming to closure. Devi snarls - but it's a weak sound, pitifully broken apart by the lines of pain coursing through her, spawned by the furious ache of her shoulder. Her breath hisses past her teeth. A moment later, another shriek fills the arena as the joint pops back into its socket - her wrist is abruptly released, letting her curl in on herself to sob. A purple foot kicks at the whip, blue glow of eyes taking in her fallen shape as though to gauge whether she would be able to attempt a leap at it, before the pokémon strides, indifferently, toward the weapon, tail tip describing elaborate patterns in the air behind it. It leans down, picking up the deactivated device, fur of its nose wrinkling as it eyes it - sliding a glance up at the gymleader, quizzically, but at the same time full of scorn. A glare is returned - before the pokémon, right along with the device, pops out of existence.

Marcus snarls lowly and starts to move towards Devi before he holds himself still, face still contorted in a grimace. Fingers flexing he returns the pokéball in his hand to his pocket and waits for Devi to stand, smirking very faintly.

“Now you just have to decide,” the gymleader smiles down at Marcus in mockery, obviously having decided that he's made himself clear, even if Marcus wasn't going to verbally respond. Neike, meanwhile, has taken those extra steps toward Devi, seemingly dissolved in worry for the girl, a thin voice uttering: “Devi, Devi,” over and over, lank arms sliding around her torso, seizing her into a protectively meant hug. In any other situation, it would be comic - Devi was rarely one to need anyone's aid, she was usually the one giving it. But right now, breath is still hissing from her, those eyes squeezed shut, trembling quietly, feeling like her shoulder has been consumed by fire. “You're a fucking coward,” she calls up at the nameless figure, lips peeled back from her teeth in silent snarl, nose wrinkled, eyes narrowed to thin slits, not caring that it's a generic insult, not caring that it's probably incorrect.

Marcus finally caves, emotionally and bounds down towards Devi, glaring at the Gymleader in passing, clearly agreeing with the girl's statement. Reaching her he sighs, softly. “I'm sorry,” he mutters, wanting to get that out of the way with first, meaning it. He moves to wrap both girls in a hug.

Noticing that his words are, while having their effect, not being used to enter into any sort of dialogue, he sighs, giving his head something of a shake, before moving to turn and head down the stairs leading down the far end of the rows he had stood amongst, stride casual, dismissive, planning to head back into the depths of the gym and return once the lot had blown off some steam - at least judging by appearances.

Devi is whimpering, even if the sounds are almost too soft to be audible even at hugging distance. Very slowly, her erratic, hissing breath adopts regularity, slowing, steadying, her right hand's fingers flexing somewhere beside Neike's shape, forcing the muscles of her arm into motion, fueling the pain, but trading that for swifter recovery. It's hard to say if she's heard Marcus' apology - chances are she has, since she's perceptive, but she's giving no indication thereof, clearly otherwise preoccupied.

Neike, however, glances up toward Marcus in a mixture of stern, parental look, thanking gesture, and concern for his person. “Careful,” she whispers, shifting under his hug to protect Devi's shoulder from pressure.

Marcus flicks a look to the Gymleader, snarling softly before he nods and carefully wraps his arms around Devi, murring softly, trying to be soothing. “I know,” he almost purrs. He stares into Devi's face then. “Come on Devi, on your feet… I know it hurts.” He does actually care of course, no matter what he may say, his head tilted.

Even as Marcus is coaxing her to rise to her feet, Devi is pushing her left arm down against the ground, sucking in breaths determinedly, brows furrowing, throwing her glare over to the departing figure. What would she give, to feel just a little less naked and vulnerable right now - to have the strength to throw words at him again, to not be held back by this thin layer of fear on her senses. “Devi,” Neike whispers. “Don't. Just… calm down.”

Marcus doesn't say anything, arms wrapped loosely but supportively around both girls as he glares in the Gymleader's direction. His nose wrinkles but he remains quiet, concern and worry flicking over his face as he eyes Devi.

Abruptly, the light extinguishes, letting darkness descend back down around them, absolute, unrelenting, uniform. A single tremble travels through Devi in response to the dissipated light, which prompts Neike to tighten her hug slightly. “Fuck,” the Togi girl remarks, bitterly, softly, more to herself, before shifting into half a crouch. “What was that, anyway?” she asks, softly, not yet wanting to ask the inevitable 'Now what?'.

Marcus scowls. “Seems to me like he's an arse.” His voice is low though as he tries to look through the darkness. He shake shis head then. “I wonder if Nikki's here somewhere…” He gnaws at his lip then. “I think one of us is going to have challenge him and win before we get any answers from him.” He pushes a hand through his hair, aggravated.

Tiredly, Devi lets her shoulders sag slightly, letting her eyes, useless as they are in this absolute darkness, drift back closed. Why did Marcus always have to be so difficult? Couldn't he just answer a simple question? Couldn't he just- “I'm not sure, the 'dex doesn't know it. Psychic type, probably - with it teleporting in and out of here as it did,” Neike whispers softly, trying to be helpful.

Marcus gives himself a shake then. “Yes… I agree,” he finally says, rubbing at his eyes with one hand. He doesn't apologise for his loss of concentration though and the arm around the girls flexes a bit before he narrows his eyes. “I wonder what its species is.” His brow furrows.

Devi nods quietly, before realising it can't be seen. Huffing a breath - the dull ache of her shoulder slowly becoming inconsequential - she turns her head toward where Neike is as though to look at her over her shoulder, before responding with: “Thank you.” It's calm, with her fury and fear annihalating each other, meshing into an almost relaxed state. She lets silence linger for long moments after Marcus' comment, before asking: “Now what do we do? Grab us a make-shift FLASHlight and see if we can follow that… that… thing?”

Marcus exhales, quiet for some moments as he rakes in his pockets, thinking. “Yes. We do,” he says, decisively. A soft growl is audible in his voice though and he's beyond angry but that is all that shows.

Briefly, the fury flares back up. Why hadn't Marcus simply spoken to him? Wasn't that why he'd left in the first place? Again, her eyes drift closed in the darkness, as her thoughts spiral back to the scene a few moments ago. Her right hand's fingers flex around air. Sighing softly, she nods once more, this time to herself, before responding to Marcus verbally with acknowledgement of the plan: “All right.”

Marcus scowls into the darkness, letting the girls go as he stands, kneading at his lower back slightly before he summons one of his pokémon; Claw. “Use FLASH,” he orders, quietly, his voice threatening.

A moment later, after a soft sound of acknowledgement from the Parasect, the arena lights up again, revealing it empty but for the three of them. Shifting her weight into her right knee and foot, Devi lifts her unscathed left arm and extends her index finger to point at the pathway winding out of sight near the back and left of the arena. “That way,” she instructs, almost gruffly, even as she slowly rises to her feet with Neike's help, the sound of the shuffling filling the silence.

Marcus nods and growls a wordless note before pointing in the direction, Claw scampering ahead slightly. The tall man shifts then and gently rests an arm around Devi's shape, offering support should she want it.

Of course, nothing is wrong with Devi's legs, so she doesn't need any. Left hand's fingers sliding to grip her right shoulder soothingly, her fingertips knead into the aching skin. There's something about her, a strange emotion, an air of confusion, as though she were not entirely sure what to feel - shock? Her glance toward where she had pointed seems almost empty, though determination does still swirl in her eyes - but there's little else right now. “…did he introduce himself?” she asks, tone betraying just how bewildered she is right now.

Marcus shakes his head, the growl clear in his voice, he's barely controlling his temper. “No. He did not.” His tone is almost cold and he stalks after Claw, still concerned about Devi but more wanting a piece of the man who was the Gymleader.

With the Parasect's light illuminating their immediate surroundings, the surface of the mushroom's porous skin luminescent, the group moves into the passageways of the building. Swiftly, it becomes apparent that it won't be easy for them to find their way through it, even with a destination in mind - and they didn't even have that. Realising this, Devi stops her stride abruptly, fingers curling to fists, though the motion rippling through her right shoulder in effect elicits the softest wince from her. “Stop,” she says, simply, sternly. “We don't know what we're doing,” she remarks, in a voice struggling for calm - that irritation of hers threatening to resurface.

Marcus tells Claw to stop then turns and glares at Devi. “^BI^B know exactly what I'm doing.” He smirks a bit. “Firstly we're looking for that… person… then Nikki.” He pauses. “Since we don't know where he has gone to we can look for my sister.” He flicks a look to Claw then calls out one of his other pokémon. “Stay in the light and look for my sister's scent.” The pokémon nods.

Devi's face - as one might expect it to - scrunches up in response to Marcus' statements, fingers of her hands flexing. “And get lost in the process,” she manages to append to his 'look for my sister' line, speaking the words past gritted teeth. Neike winces in anticipation of another row, raising both hands defensively, about to interject: “You two! Just, cut it out!” - but before even the first of those words leaves her, a sound ricochets off the walls, a soft 'mew', coming from one of the three darkened corridors at the fork they're at, but with a source evidently out of sight, not even the thin light bathing most of the area finding any outlines to reveal. Perhaps down it and around a corner?

Marcus gestures down the corridor that the sound came came from. “After you? Or shall I go first and 'get lost'?” he glares at her again, anger raging through him although his face remains calm. His fingers flex and he smirks at Neike, but warmly. “Or do you have a better idea?!”

Arms raised, lips pulled taut in a grimace, a dismissive, irritated huff of breath surfaces from Devi - and a moment later she's stalking seemingly with her usual level of energy toward the sound, left hand's fingers once more clasping her right arm, this time only near the aching shoulder, palm resting against the sleeve of her shirt. Neike stares at Marcus - it's hard to pick out the emotions of that glance, but there's at least a part incredulousness, perhaps a touch of being offended by his immaturity. A slow headshake later, she jogs toward Devi as though hoping to catch up.

Marcus sighs softly, raking his hands through his hair before bounding after the two girls, scowling all the while. He remains silent though, brow furrowed. His fingers flex and he flicks a look to Claw then away again.

Sure enough, a corner further away is a soft glow of light, the hue familiar. The tip of the long tail of the tiny creature seems to be trapped under a brick, its tiny paws latched onto its wirey bodypart, tugging, while making somewhat pitiful sounding noises - though it seems rather self-absorbed and doesn't look up as they approach, as though it were perhaps scolding itself softly for something, rather than calling for help.

Marcus blinks then narrows his eyes, the corners of his lips twitching and he flicks a look to the girls as he moves past them towards the little pokémon. “Would you like some help?” he asks gently. He smiles then, thinking the little creature beautiful and likely strong, but thinking it the Gymleader's pokémon he tilted his head, waiting, reaching a hand towards the brick.

As Marcus' voice disturbs the silence, the creature abruptly twists to stare at them, wide-eyed, letting its tail go in shocked reflex, backing away from the hand as much as possible in a single motion. Having misjudged the movement ever so slightly, it loses its balance, falling backwards with the softest, squealing note of protest. “Mew!” it insists, tone an angry one, edges full of fear. 'Go away'?

Marcus scowls. “Well fine,” he mutters. He moves away from the little pokémon then, not hurt, just pissed but not at it. He flings over his shoulder, “Come on… let's go… it doesn't want our help.”

Neike crouches down near the pokémon, watching its antics quietly as it resumes - hesitantly - its tugging. As it notices the persistency of the 'stare', it utters a soft mewl, stopping its tugging, glancing up at Neike as though worried. It prompts a warm smile - and the extending of a hand, which causes a whining sound to issue forth from the small creature. A moment later, the brick clatters aside, nudged by her fingers - and after the softest hiss in reflex, the shy pokémon flits from the entrapped space, hovering at a distance to stare back at Neike. Devi, meanwhile, remains silent, resisting the urge to assault a creature she was no doubt inferior to in combat.

Marcus shrugs in an almost angry way, dismissing the little pokémon from his mind before he flicks a look to the two girls. “Well?” he prompts. He narrows his eyes now, a hand resting on Claw's shape.

A chattering sound comes from the creature, its tail twirling in the air below it, corkscrewing slightly, its shape mostly relaxed. A moment later, it's swirled to turn and flits in a smooth, shallow curve along the corridor, vanishing out of sight around a left corner, taking its luminescent aura with it, leaving them to depend purely on Claw's FLASH again. Neike slowly rises from her crouch. “You realise that was a test, right?” she asks, softly, almost indifferently, staring into the direction the creature left in absent-mindedly.

Marcus blinks at her. He's not stupid but he's let his worry for his sister overshadow anything and almost everything else. “Well…” he says, finally, sniping at her. “Seems you passed.” He turns his back on her, growling under his breath.

Deciding to elaborate the why despite the tension in Marcus' reply, she grimaces down the corridor into the direction she's looking, before remarking: “It could've just teleported away, is my point.” She pauses, trying to assess the situation. “I'd say we follow it,” she states, struggling not to whisper - Marcus' aggression is making it hard for her to feel any other desire other than to shrink into a ball and teleport back to Kethi under her cosy duvet.

Marcus slouches, shoulders dropping before he turns back to Neike, nodding slightly before he speaks: “I'm sorry Neike, I'm not meaning to snap at you. We're all tired I think and worried about Nikki…” He sighs then. “I'd agree there.” He gestures to Claw who moves off in the direction the pokémon had gone in.

Stating the obvious - but it at least showed her that he was aware of his own irrational behaviour. It didn't lessen the tension in the air currently, but it fostered some understanding. Nodding quietly, both in acknowledgement of his words and to re-enforce their decision, Neike begins to slowly saunter down the corridor, a certain caution in her stride. There wasn't really any reason for the gymleader to try and trap them - they were already in the middle of nowhere, and if they decided to flee, he would have the teleporting ability of his psychic pokémon to catch up to them with ease before they even left the settlement - but why be reckless? Besides, the slow pace allowed things to calm down a little.

Marcus slows to stroll beside Neike, but he doesn't say anything, pushing his hands through his hair. “I apologise to both of you for being so irrational lately,” he finally whispers. It's hard for him to apologise though he's not too used to doing so. He looks around then calls back his other pokémon, relying on Claw alone.

Devi merely grits her teeth, forcing herself not to throw a snide comment at Marcus. Why can't he just shut up? He was being such an infuriating, inconsistent, bumbling idiot - in her opinion. Pointedly ignoring him, she follows after Neike, hard-pressed to keep her stride from being a hastened one.

Marcus doesn't say anything else, walking alongside the two, becoming a little lost in thought but not enough that he isn't alert. He drags a hand across his face, tiredly.

The Parasect's feet clatter on the stone ground, the sound rhythmic and fairly soft, but it fills the silence. After a while, they reach the turn the creature vanished into - and there it is, hovering at some distance, within an archway leading into yet another large hall. As it spots the three of them, it utters a loud cry, as though to alert someone, only to pop out of existence, its light vanishing yet again, this time entirely. Time to approach that space?

Marcus sighs heavily, walking a little slower now, tired both mentally and physically. He doesn't say a word though, eyes half closing as he starts to pull Claw's pokéball from his pocket, intending to return it.

The archway reveals a windowed arena, though by now only starlight is filtering in through the gothic style vertical windows, and a haunting of blue moonlight spilling across the slightly uneven, worn stone floor, markings barely visible. This place must be ancient - moreso, there must not be many trainers coming up here to battle, otherwise the gymleader would probably bother giving this place more of a modern look. In the center of the arena sits a figure with familiar blue hair, back turned to them, cloak falling around their shoulders and obscuring most of their body. They seem crouched - perhaps in idle meditation. It makes for an eerie feel, that sole sign of life in the vast hall.

Marcus opens his mouth to say something then closes it again, recalling Claw and staring down at his hands, becoming lost in thought, brow furrowing. His fingers flex but he doesn't look up nor say anything.

The figure remains immobile in the center of the arena but for the slightest shifts travelling as waves down the cloak. Neike stands with her fingers touching the side of the archway, staring into the arena with a glance of a frightened deer, not entirely sure what to expect. Devi stands, arms crossed, beside her, her expression grim, sceptical, but she, too, remains quiet, evidently suspecting a change.

Marcus blinks and steps into the Arena without that he makes a sound and flicks a look at the two girls then at the gymleader. He - inwardly - feels like he's intruding but he has to know where his sister is as well as challenge the man for the badge.

Slowly, the figure rises, shoulders slouched slightly, until the edge of the cloak lifts off the ground, coming to rest against his ankles - and he turns by twisting, feet unbudging, glaring across toward Marcus, then the other two. On the ground before him lies a Ninetales, on its side, back to them - and, as it seems, not breathing.

Marcus shifts uneasily then starts to walk towards the other man, eyes narrowed before he actually smiles and warmly. Eyeing the fox, he wrinkles his nose, chewing on his lip a little before he speaks. “May I ask what happened?” he flinches though at the glare and falls silent, fingers flexing.

Jagdish stares across to Marcus as he approaches, narrowing his eyes progressively as he does, as though discontent, but not verbally complaining. Ignoring the question for its intrusive nature, he instead remarks, with refreshing neutrality in his voice: “You've come at a bad time.” A tremble of emotion is in that voice, but there is that hint of malice, suggesting that one should probably not underestimate him currently. Sure enough, the creature lying on the ground is not moving, cream-coloured fur smooth, unruffled, as though it had simply lain down to rest and died in the tranquility of sleep. Nothing about it suggests violence.

Marcus backsteps. “I'm sorry for that.” His hands flex and he stares down at the fox then looks away, back to the two girls, not knowing what to say even as he rubs at the back of his neck.

“You had no way of knowing,” he remarks, gaze drifting almost idly across to Devi and Neike, a certain bitterness layered across his face, pulling his pale lips taut. A twitch suggests that perhaps he is simply being polite with those words, though his glare seems uncertain precisely which of the two girls to stab into, dagger-like.

Marcus nods then backs a step, gnawing at his lip some more. He doesn't know what else to say and whilst he knows that he has to challenge him, he doesn't currently want to do so. He opens his mouth to say something then looks away, closing it again.

Jagdish lets his gaze drift back over to Marcus, a certain scorn entering his features, laced with tiredness. He regards him in silence for long moments, before peering down past his hip toward the pokémon. “So, do you want to battle?” he asks, softly, almost absent-mindedly.

Marcus nods. “I do,” he says, quietly, fingers flexing. “Whenever you are ready.” He steps back, leaning his weight on his right foot, whilst taking a pokéball from his pocket.

Jagdish flexes his left hand's fingers into a curl, then a loose fist, before snapping his gaze back up from the pokémon. “Now,” he states, simply, narrowing his eyes, left hand sliding into a pocket, a pokéball resting in the curve of middle and ring finger, the pokémon on the ground becoming engulfed in a red glow, features fading into that light, before the outlines snap in on themselves as though folding, and the last of the red glow vanishes into the pokéball. His jaw set, a shift of tension causes a slight ripple under his skin. He raises his chin in abrupt motion, gesturing for Marcus to move to the far end of the arena - and even as he's doing that, the fleeting warmth that had been inherit to his demeanour due to whatever connection he'd had to the pokémon vanishes as though flowing from him, leaving him with an icy aura.

Marcus nods and on reaching the far side of the Arena smirks faintly, inwardly pondering which pokémon to use. Pushing his other hand through his hair, he eyes the pokéball he's holding and puts it back into his pocket, deep in thought, his brow furrowed. He flicks a look to Devi and Neike then, blinking slowly.

Jagdish calls out: “Vendetta!”, evidently hoping to summon a pokémon from somewhere other than the confines of a pokéball, even while backing a step, then another, motion graceful, without haste, gaze latched onto Marcus. At the archway, Devi flexes her fingers, hands raised slightly, her eyes narrowed, suspicion lining her shape.

Marcus narrows his eyes, thinking then nods to himself, withdrawing a great ball. “Come on out Trojan. Let's do this and pummel him into the ground.” The huge rock|dark type materilises from the pokeball and steps forwarsd as Marcus backs a step, almost smirking.

Even as Marcus summons his Tyranitar, the purple creature from before materialises in a violet burst of flame between the gymleader and Marcus. Face contorting to a snarl, its feet slide apart into a sturdier stance, arms raising, forepaws curling as if about to seize something. Its face contorts to a visible snarl, pupils shrinking to small pinpoints, guttural growl surfacing from within it - and even before Marcus can utter much of a first command, it's swirling forward, bringing its left forepaw around as a fist for a DYNAMIC PUNCH.

Marcus sees the creature and growls, almost spitting with anger before he snaps out: “Dodge it.” The Tyranitar responds as quick as it can, it's forepaws flexing. Marcus waits, almost anxiously then adds: “When you get a chance after dodging that thing, use COAGULATION.”

It's always astounding how fast something of the bulk of a Tyranitar can move when it is told to - but it still doesn't suffice nearly enough to counter the assault, particularly since Marcus' command in itself removed so much time from the pokémon's leeway that there is not much left to dodge. Unable to give way slightly to cushion the blow, the flakes of rock covering the reptilian pokémon splinter and crack, even as the beast as a whole is forced to falter and fall by sheer momentum of the strike. In a less serious moment, it might be comical - it's almost as though Godzilla decided to trip, fall, and break its neck before it even managed to scare the first onlookers.

Marcus snarls as the pokémon is brought down and not quite realising that the pokémon is a goner he snarls, voice a very low hiss. “Stop playing around.” His fingers flex and he stalks closer then and on realising that the pokémon is unconscious, he drops its pokéball and backs a step, thinking before summoning another pokémon. “Seth. Use MAGNITUDE on that fucker.”

As the Tyranitar's shape flops to the side, the Mewtwo leaps forward, forepaws touching the dry and somewhat leathery skin of the Tyranitar fleetingly, before it pushes itself off the pokémon's shoulder, into a graceful but swift leap backwards, landing on the ground beside Jagdish, tail lashing in agitation, its eyes narrowing to thin slits for the brief moment of it remaining grounded. Even as the gymleader crouches slightly, letting himself fall onto his right knee, steadying himself with his hands on the ground for the oncoming earthquake, the psychic pokémon hisses audibly. A moment later, as the first wave of the quake shakes the earth, it spreads its arms, a thin blue glow enveloping its outlines, it drifting up and off the ground, hovering for a moment of concentration.

The reckless pace is not broken for long - in sudden motion, it launches itself through the air toward the Dugtrio, only to swirl and bring its tail around like a weapon, it lashing through the air and heading toward the pokémon as though intending to knock it out of its burrowing hole in the ground and toward the 'audience' rows on the right side of the arena as seen from Marcus' side.

Marcus snarls nastily. “DIG!” His face contorts and he snarls, very lowly, fingers flexing a little more. He's not so much as thinking clearly now as being majorly pissed off. “Take that bastard down, Seth.”

The tail swipes through the air, missing the Dugtrio as it vanishes into the ground, leaving behind only the shadow of a hole. Uttering another hiss, forepaws sink into the earthy ground as though Vendetta were hoping to grab a hold of the fleeing pokémon, before they withdraw just as swiftly, palms pushing against the ground to raise the Mewtwo back off the ground into its hover, this time to a slightly larger distance, and, tail lashing the air irritatedly, its gaze seeks for signs of the Dugtrio, fur of its nose wrinkled, its shape darting to and fro across the arena, searching.

Marcus doesn't even know where the pokémon is going to surface, he's just hoping that it takes the large cat pokémon out. He's already down by one and he doesn't intend to lose any more.

And of course the Dugtrio surfaces - claws raised to strike at the opponent - but with the Mewtwo hovering a metre about the ground, it is effectively out of reach. As the Psychic pokémon spots the Dugtrio beneath and behind it, it swirls in abrupt motion, tail describing a graceful curve, right forepaw coiled to another fist, whisps of white streaking up through the air around it, the ICE PUNCH aimed for one of the Dugtrio's faces.

Marcus snaps, “Counter and block it with SLASH!” Rolling his shoulders, he snarls, wordlessly, cursing the pokémon under his breath, shaking his head slightly. Falling silent, he watches intently.

The Dugtrio's claws SLASH up through the air and toward the approaching fist, lancing up across the back of the Mewtwo's right forepaw and lower arm. Partially deflected, the icy strike lands beside its mark, a furious cold seeping into the ground pokémon from the spot, invasive, almost all-consuming - even as Vendetta darts backwards in the air, completing a reflex of withdrawal, its right arm raised and twisted to be subject to scrutiny, left forepaw curled to grip the lower arm at middle height. A furious red gash adorns the entire length of the lower arm, ripped up from near the two knuckles, across the back of its paw, all the way in shallow curve to the elbow. At its thickest point, the deep wound is a centimetre of violent red… beginning to seep crimson, matting the short purple fur around it.

After a brief moment of assessing this change of situation, Vendetta's features warp to a grimace, and it snarls loudly, eyes adopting a blue glow that is quick to fade out all human expression from those eyes. Its grip from its torn arm relenting, it raises its left paw through the air, aiming to raise the Dugtrio from its burrow and fling it at its trainer in PSYCHIC sling-shot.

Marcus exhales. “Block it with SAND ATTACK!” he almost roars, a vicious snarl slipping from him along with a wicked and cruel smirk playing across his face. He sneers slightly, fingers flexing.

There's no time. A moment later, Marcus finds thirty kilograms worth of Dugtrio impacting with his chest, knocking him effortlessly off his feet and onto his butt… before something grabs a hold of his left ankle, yanking at him as though trying to pull him out from under the fainted pokémon.

Marcus coughs, a hand to his chest as he pushes off the Dugtrio. He snarls a breathy note, attempting to sit up, snarling lowly. His fingers flex and he rakes for another pokéball, eyes narrowed.

The fabric of his trousers slides audibly across the ground as he tries to sit up despite being dragged - a moment later, stay droplets of blood hit his left cheek as Vendetta snaps its right paw toward him, fingers curling into the collar of his shirt, lips pulled back from its teeth as it snarls into his face, left paw letting go of him in the same instant, swinging back as though to strike him with a punch - before darkness swirls around that paw, gathering in something of a sphere - a SHADOW BALL.

Marcus snarls and writhes away from the pokémon calling out his third pokémon, eyes narrowed. “Go to it Daemon. SLEEP POWDER!” The pokémon appears and tries to obey as quick as it can.

Vendetta's face shifts to surprise below that fury, before it allows himself the briefest moment of smirking, extinguishing the SHADOW BALL with its left hand's fingers closing in around it as though to crush the construct, and then, leaving Marcus only a ghastly moment of realisation, it blinks out of existence, re-appearing nearer to the gymleader's rising shape.

Marcus curses viciously, even as the powder dusts over him. “That isn't what I wanted to happen,” he slurs, eyes dropping closed as he crumples in a heap. “Got to beat…” Then he is out, snoring his head off, shape limp.

Trainerless, Daemon doesn't know how to approach this monstrosity. “Ee, ee, ee!” it frets in swirls above its trainer, bewildered, completely undecided whether to keep its attention on the crumpled shape of its master or the opponent in this battle. Vendetta, however, barely takes the opportunity to rest, though it does slow its battling in favour of something more relaxed. Forepaws spreading their digits as though across an imaginary plane, a spark of electricity travels in brief arc up across the undamaged arm, then from his right horn to the fleshy tube-like protrusion, down to its base between its shoulderblades, a vicious smirk growing.

The tension snaps as Vendetta brings its arms down beside its shape, lighting the room up with a rain of lightning, crackling and snapping, lashing toward the Butterfree as the move THUNDER.

Daemon swirls in circles above Marcus' shape before it blinks, very slowly and tries to dodge the attack, fear in every line of it's body. Summoning up an attack itself, right off it's own back it attacks with STUN SPORE.

It is probably ironically the fearful attempts to dodge the rain of electric arcs that cause one of the filaments of plasma to strike the pokémon, causing its internal muscles to disobey for a brief instant, breaking its rhymthic flapping, and throwing its fragile body to the ground as gravity gets a hold of it. The STUN SPOREs drift lazily through the air, ghostishly, like a veil toward Vendetta. Snorting softly, the purple pokémon squeezes its eyes shut - and once more blinks out of existence, reappearing near Marcus' sleeping shape. Giving its head a subtle shake, lazily turning to glance toward the fallen - but conscious - bug pokémon, it slides its right hindpaw through the air, before letting it rest on Marcus' slumped shape as though to denote possession, half standing on him, though without putting any weight into that limb.

Daemon slouches as the larger pokémon touches Marcus, lying on its belly and it doesn't try to get up, pain lancing through it before it is still, its eyes rolling closed. No sound comes from it and it shivers, knowing it's beaten.

A snort surfaces from Vendetta, derisive, before it throws its glance across at the gymleader. Blood drips slowly from its arm wound and onto Marcus, staining his shirt punctually, leaving a rather random pattern of fierce crimson on it. A moment of silence passes between the two - perhaps a mental conversation - before Vendetta reaches down to pluck three further pokéballs from Marcus' pocket, sneering at them as they come to rest in the valley of its left forepaw's palm, scrutinising them.

Vendetta rolls the devices around in that forepaw as though pondering what to do with them. Finally, it pushes itself away from Marcus' shape, trailing droplets of blood in a thin path away from his shape, walking in a casual saunter in the gymleader's direction, gaze latched on his as though it were not paying attention to anything else. As it passes Daemon, however, it pauses, shooting a glance down toward it as though contemplating crushing it with one foot, before smiling faux-sweetly and resuming its stride toward the man, coming to a stop before him long moments later, extending that forepaw to offer the pokéballs to him, head inclined, tail describing lazy curves in the air behind it.

The Butterfree cracks open one eye, then scowls before it slumps, close to fainting itself. Marcus' shape twitches but he remains asleep.

Devi has fallen to a crouch beside Marcus, breath an irregular pant, clasping her hands on his sleeping shape, pushing and tugging at it. “Wake up,” she says, a note of terror in her voice, throwing a glance over at Vendetta and the gymleader, confusion swirling in her eyes. Can they do that? Is a fight lost if the trainer cannot protect his pokémon? A tremble runs through her body and she grits her teeth, giving him a firmer shake. “Wake up, damnit, wake up!” It's half a whine, but a tone that's trying desperately to feign irritation at his shape. No, she's not annoyed at him - she's scared for his life.

Marcus starts to stir as he is shaken, a snarly grumble resounding from him before he drags a hand across his eyes as he wakens, pushing himself into a sit. A hand rakes into his pocket then he snarls, seeing the three pokéballs. “Get him Henge,” he spits.

Jagdish chuckles darkly, even as the rock snake appears - it curling in rumble, not sure how precise it is supposed get at its opponent, and who its opponent is meant to be; in short, unable to understand what Marcus suspects it to interpret into 'get him' - sliding his fingers around the offered pokéballs, both hands curving to hold them. “Mister Arsaga, don't you think the battle has been decided?” he asks, voice clear, echoing slightly in the arena, tone casual, perhaps infused with slight amusement.

Marcus snarls without that he says anything, flicking a grateful look to Devi as he staggers. He points at the cat pokémon. “Him, Henge. Destroy him.” For the first time in a long time, Henge shakes its head and ignores its trainer, curling up slightly and letting its eyes roll closed. “So it would seem.” Marcus finally spits.

Devi stares across at the gymleader incredulously, scrambling to remember the terms he had laid out for the battle - loss by knock-out, hadn't it been? The three pokémon Vendetta had taken weren't knocked out - they were in their pokéballs, otherwise removed from battle.

Jagdish regards Marcus and his pokémon with a light smirk, the expression slowly melting into something less aggressive, becoming a lightly concerned glance toward the other trainer. His words, though, retain that darkness: “Are you going to raise a fuss over your part of the deal?” A brow arches quizzically, even as Vendetta steps forward, closer toward him, yet at the same time to the side. Jagdish's right hand comes to rest loosely against the pokémon's right shoulder in casual but blatant display of friendship.

It is then that Devi's silence shatters. “It is not over,” she says, tone flustered, tremble both of fear and fury in her voice, her eyes widened and yet narrowed at the edges. “Daemon is still conscious - and Marcus has three pokémon to go!”

Marcus lowers his head, rubbing at the back of his neck before he glares at Henge, who continues to ignore him and his hands flex, him inwardly wishing for the whip that Devi had. He eyes Daemon then and nods once, the Butterfree rising to hover beside him, pained before it squeaks at him. Marcus glares at it then snarls, lowly, clearly not caring for how much pain the Butterfree is feeling, just wanting to beat the Gymleader.

Jagdish sighs almost theatrically, shaking his head. “Vendetta suffered an accidental SLASHing - but aside from that, is still quite comfortably standing, and could have crushed 'Daemon's consciousness out of it if he'd wished to, in passing. The trainer had a little nap…” - that last phrase is spoken in a mocking half sing-song - “…and now it seems that I have three of his pokémon. If you want, I will summon them one by one and Vendetta will wipe them all out, but is that really necessary?”

Marcus snarls. “Two.” He indicates Henge then looks away. “No, it's not necessary…” he looks away. “I want to be there when my sister beats your sorry arse. Which she will do. If I can't she will.” His fingers flex and he flicks a look to Devi. “Or my beautiful companion here will.”

A sphere of crimson rolls across the short purple fur, down across the index finger of that assaulted forepaw, suspended at the tip for a moment. Vendetta slides his gaze over his right shoulder, head moving subtly to match, and finds Marcus in a sideways glare.

The drop falls - the left paw rises, fingers curling back, palm facing toward Marcus, fingertips closing against each other, a thin hint of blue coming to outline his shape - and shatters against the stone floor - and as that heartbeat passes, the unscathed forepaw snaps forward, the fabrics of Marcus' clothes tugging at him, flinging him across the arena, onto his back and the ground, a slithering across the stone floor imposed on him by some unseen force.

He comes to rest before the turning Vendetta, who brings that left paw down, grabbing the boy by the collar of his shirt, heaving him up by the folds of the same, bringing his face close to the captive's in a light, aloof sneer. Jagdish chuckles as though oblivious to the danger the Arsaga boy is in, remarking conversationally, almost with a touch of apology in his tone: “Your sister has already battled - and lost.”

Marcus shudders as he comes to a stop. “By how much…?” he hisses, very lowly. He struggles then against the large cat pokémon, his lips curling back in an almost silent snarl. He doesn't apologise, he feels no need to. After all; it was a pokémon battle and in his eyes they - pokémon - are just animals, and not that smart either. A lock of his hair skims his forehead slightly and he pushes it out of his face with an aggravated hiss.

Vendetta's sneer shifts into a smirk down at Marcus, grip unrelenting, a different force pushing at Marcus' shoulders, muting any effective squirming down to a writhe worth only a gesture. The pokémon raises its right paw in a motion sans haste, stretching the individual digits of the forepaw as it does, only to curl the reddened finger and drag the back of the same - where the rivulet of blood had left a thin trail - across Marcus' forehead in horizontal motion, leaving a faint smear of crimson.

“Oh, she did better than you - but, in her defence?” Jagdish remarks, crossing his arms as he exhales, stance casual. “She didn't battle Vendetta.” - The pokémon leers down at Marcus with a vicious sparkle in its eyes, like a subtle threat and boast.

From across the arena, Neike's voice can be heard shouting across: “Devi!” Footsteps, at a furious pace, slightly off-rhythm. As Jagdish snaps his gaze around, eyes narrowed, brows furrowed a touch, he spots Devi approaching as though to tackle Vendetta, face contorted in a snarl that might rival any wild pokémon - and apparently, Neike is trying to run to catch up, to no avail. Trying to stop her?

“Vendetta,” Jagdish remarks, hissing the word, soft though it may be. The Mewtwo snaps its gaze up and to the side, casting it at Devi as the girl leaps to tackle.

Something impacts with her chest, stopping the motion as though she had collided with a wall, before she is flung just as abruptly back toward Neike, plowing into her like a bowling ball striking a pin - just with the wind knocked out of the proverbial pin.

Marcus becomes still, forced into it before he glares at the pokémon holding him as he is coated with the blood, shivering slightly, recoiling. He doesn't say anything but he doesn't need to do so, his face and eyes are filled with disgust. His hands flex and he growls, wordlessly, softly until he hears Neike and falls silent, stunned. “Devi!” he almost croaks, worried for the girl and as she crashes into Neike, he winces, worrying for the both of them.

Having cried out reflexively on impact, Devi struggles to rise, trying to roll off Neike and to the side, onto the palm of her left hand, intending to push herself to a rise. Instead, Neike's voice lances through the silence: “No!” and those wiry arms slide around Devi's shape, trying to keep her from getting up and trying it again. A snarl surfaces from the restrained girl and she stems her elbows back against Neike, trying to gain leverage to push her away. “You're not helping!” Neike cries out, struggling to hold on to the far fitter girl, eyes squeezed shut, feeling the joints of her arms ache from the sheer strain. Jagdish merely arches a brow, regarding the scene with a touch of perplexity. Giving his head a slight shake, he grimaces.

Marcus growls then. “Leave them alone! Your quarrel is with me.” He attempts to writhe, his eyes narrowing. “Or are you so much a bloody pussy you can't fight me yourself? You have to have your pokémon hurt people for you?” He snorts then, rolling his eyes. “You disgust me,” he mutters, avoiding looking at the Gymleader or the cat pokémon.

Jagdish slides his gaze to the side at Marcus. “Do you think I'm manipulating her?” he asks, incredulousness in his tone, glance adopting that derisive quality they've seen before. “Have some faith. You just lost your battle, I would be a little less cocky: your life belongs to me now, I might choose to end it.” The threat is not backed with the appropriate tone - it sounds purely explanatory. Vendetta, however, yanks a bit at the collar as though to underline the point, eyes narrowing as he glares down at Marcus.

Devi, meanwhile, exhales sharply, sagging abruptly against Neike's shape - and bursts into mostly quiet sobs, fingers curled around the restraining arms, prying at them without much conviction. “Let him go… just… let him go - what did he ever do to you?” she groans, throwing the words at Jagdish with individual force as though they had been intended to be spoken with far more malice.

Jagdish responds coolly and immediately with: “That isn't the question, young lady,” which prompts Devi to snort: “Then what is?” Jagdish frowns lightly, peering at the chaotic bundle of clothes and flesh that is Neike and Devi. The silence evidently lingers longer than Devi cares to put up with. “What is?” she grunts, head rolling against Neike's chest, tone laced with a defeated air. “Later,” Jagdish remarks, casting a bitter smile across at Devi, corrupted result of his attempt to give a friendly answer.

Marcus shudders and lets his shape sag, eyes rolling closed but he doesn't say a word though, nor does he struggle as he is tugged at, coughing almost soundlessly, him quashing his anger. A shiver runs through him but he remains silent, eyes opening slightly, looking anywhere but at the girls, the Gymleader or the cat pokémon.

“Devi, please?” Neike whispers past her ear, tone both soothing and pleading at the same time, fingers flexing against her respective other elbow, arms wrapped about Devi as they are. Silently, Devi rolls her head from side to side a few more times, a lethargic motion, right foot kicking uselessly and aimlessly across the ground. That same silence persisting, she nods softly, though a twitch seizes her shape as it completes, like a single ripple of motion through her shape. “…good,” Neike remarks, voice softer still, almost inaudible even to Devi, before her arms part slowly, dragging past Devi's sides, palms slapping softly against the cool stone floor. Devi rolls off, onto her side, eyes closing, breath steady.

Content with the situation halfway across the arena from his position, Jagdish glances back toward Marcus' sagged shape, then up at Vendetta's face. “Up,” he remarks, gesturing with a brief glance over to the side rows. Vendetta hisses softly as though in defiance - but a moment later, Marcus would find his body enveloped in a brief, fierce tingle, the world blinking out of existence around him for a heart-stopping moment, before realigning with a soft 'pop'. Teleported.

It takes him a moment to re-establish his sense of direction - he seems to be up on the side rows with Vendetta, the pokémon having taken his moment of confusion to slide its left arm around his reflexively tensed shape, grabbing him in a - fortunately loose - stranglehold. ~Now, human.~ The voice enters Marcus' mind, masculine, lathered in a dangerous flavour of darkness… it takes him a moment to realise it is Vendetta speaking. ~Stay still and watch, and know yourself fortunate that I am not allowed to play with you just yet. You may keep your limbs. For now.~

Marcus shudders then flinches as he is teleported and 'spoken' to but he doesn't make a sound, conserving his energy for now before he eyes the Arena floor. “Go on, Devi,” he calls. “Kick his miserable arse.” His fingers flex but he doesn't struggle, even as he adds: “I have faith that you can beat him.” He smiles then, warmly. He glares at the cat pokemon then but he doesn't say anything, scowling instead before turning his attention back to Devi.

Slowly, Devi shifts from her side onto all fours, the motion almost lazy, entirely devoid of motivation. Somewhere inside her, anger boils, fueled by the extreme frustration the current situation invokes. Lips pulled taut, she glares at a non-descript point in space, concentrating on pushing herself to her feet, sniffling slightly as she does, casting her right hand backwards through the air as if in dismissive gesture. She stares toward the archway for a long moment, shoulders heaving with each breath, before nodding once - a single motion - and swirling around to glare at Jagdish. “So, tell me, has anyone ever beaten your pokémon? Is that why you're so smug?” she asks icily with a new-found level voice, eyes narrowing.

Jagdish seems to consider it. Really, did Dakarai count? Without him, it was a flawless record - and his case was hardly… usual. His nose wrinkles, a twinge of sorrow touching him, but quickly dismissed by fierce professionalism. Still, his eyes close for the moment of its persistence, just a touch too long to be merely a blink. Features slightly softened, he responds with: “Only one.” Might as well.

Marcus blinks then mutters: “Wouldn't have been that… person then.” It's not directed at anyone though. He flicks a look to Devi and smiles warmly, shifting slightly away from Vendetta before he becomes still. “You couldn't let me go, could you? I'm not about to run anywhere.”

Marcus snobbish inquiry merely causes Vendetta to tighten the stranglehold, the pressure uncomfortable against the captive's windpipe. ~I will do with you what I please,~ Vendetta sneers into his mind, tone laced with threat. ~You would do best to remember that, before I decide to demonstrate the point.~

Devi rolls her left shoulder, slowly striding to back away, it a casual retreat, simply her way to clear the arena she intends to make use of in a moment's time. Neike, meanwhile, hurries back out of the arena grounds, nervous glance flitting to and fro, lingering in swirls on Devi every once in a while.

“Out of how many? No, wait, nevermind, let's not bother. It doesn't matter - either way, I intend on fixing that horribly broken statistic,” Devi remarks, though the slightest tremble in her voice betrays that there was a time when she was surer of herself. “I will battle you,” she calls across, tone a stubbornly defiant one - before she adds, hesitantly, softly, almost resigningly: “…by your terms.”

Marcus gags then lets his shape sag, coughing horribly. A shiver runs through him and his shoulders slump, head lowered. He remains silent though once he's finished coughing, dragging a hand over his eyes before eyeing Devi, thoughtfully; inwardly wishing her all the best of luck.

Jagdish seems slightly surprised at the lack of claims of certain victory. She seems far more… cultured than Marcus, despite her attempts to physically interfere on two accounts. “All right,” he remarks after a moment of taking this information in, seeming thoughtful for a moment, before shaking his head as though in answer to an inner question, then raising his gaze back to Devi. “Bring it. Mew!” he barks into the silence. A soft pink light pops into existence, twirling beside his left shoulder, stopping abruptly to uncurl, revealing the creature from before - the one that had rested across his shoulders when they first saw him - now quizzically glancing up at his face. In a soft voice that barely carries over to Devi, but would be slightly more audible to Marcus, he whispers: “I need you to battle today. …she doesn't have her whip, so she can't hurt you. …are you up for it?”

Marcus blinks then looks sideways at the bigger cat pokemon. He remains silent though, stunned into silence as he eyes the Gymleader and little cat before he flicks a look to Devi, brows furrowed. His shape twitches then and his fingers flex but he doesn't struggle or say anything.

Devi regards the playing field for a moment's hesitation, worrying at the corner of her lower lip, before wincing soundlessly, fishing a pokéball from her pocket. What she sees is puzzling her - is he negotiating to fight with his pokémon? A shiver of revulsion travels through her, vivid memories of that fateful day returning to her as if with a vengeance. Forcing the thoughts from her mind, she calls across: “Are you ready?”

Jagdish snaps his glance up as though surprised to be addressed, before, like someone who remembers an important date and moves to apologise, adopting an almost humble tone as he says: “Yes.” He glances at Mew, it half a stern one, half one of wishing it luck, before he steps back, leaving Mew to float where it is.

Inhale. Exhale. There it is again, the firm, directed fury, that which enables her to do anything and everything. Gritting her teeth briefly, she flicks the pokéball out front, calling: “Viracocha, SHADOW BALL, now!”

Marcus watches, gnawing at his lip, feeling as he is, helpless. His shape twitches and his fingers flex but he remains silent and sitting, his jaw tightening. “Come on Devi. Knock it out,” he mutters to himself. “Show that person what you're made of. Give him what for.” A smirk glides across his face then, fixing there.

Even as the Persian flickers into view, its maw opens, forelegs sliding to spread into a sturdy defensive stance, as though to brace from the attack it suspects is about to be launched - and darkness swirls, gathering into a sphere, the feline's tail lashing angrily.

Mew inclines its head, blinking across at the Persian, seeming perplexed. A moment later, the air around it shimmers, adopting thin hints of rainbow colouring, reminiscent of a bubble - a psychic shield PROTECTing the pokémon from the impact of the SHADOW BALL.

Devi snarls, eyes narrowing, her fingers curling to loose fists, her mirroring the style of standing her Persian's adopted, before casting out her right hand to gesture even as the SHADOW BALL leaps from the Persian's mouth toward the ball of fluff.

As the darkness shatters like a droplet on impact against the impenetrable shield, Devi hisses: “BITE!”

Marcus watches, smiling warmly now, he's reassured by the girl's actions that she can win. His fingers flex a little and he leans back slightly, coughing a bit but he doesn't look up at Vendetta, smirking although he is. His gaze is fastened on Devi and her pokémon, his eyes sparkling.

The faint shimmer of colour around the Mew dissipates as it is struck, fading as though struggling to be maintained, blinking in and out of view, before finally not returning from a moment of absence. A soft “Ooh,” issues from the pokémon - a sound of disappointment.

By now, Viracocha has leapt forward, running toward the Mew on soft, near-silent paws, her lips pulled back from her teeth. A moment later she pushes herself into a jump as though to tackle the floating Mew - and teeth graze the fur of the pokémon's left leg as it reflexively twists aside. An instant later, the Mew utters a shriek as the tip of its tail is snagged in Viracocha's BITE, flopping down, suspended by its tail from the feline's maw. The cat shakes its head with the fury of a predator, teeth shredding and tearing into the skin viciously.

Pawing at the air in agitation and pain, the Mew dangles from those teeth - before twisting, its shape coming to glow silver slightly, paws lighting brighter than the rest of it, before it shoves them up toward the Persian and together, launching a HYPER BEAM from those small paws.

The beam plows into Viracocha, causing her to let go instantly, rearing up to howl, the momentum of the beam pushing her across the ground.

Marcus nods slightly to himself then winces, almost ducking, face tightening. He bites at his lip till it's damp with blood and he shivers as he tastes it before he exhales. “Come on Devi,” he murmurs. “Beat him into the ground.”

Devi, despite the blow leaving her Persian at a distance to its opponent by a few metres, utters a soft, hissed, “Yes!”, her eyes glittering with fury, before throwing over: “SHADOW BALL - with a vengeance!” - Mew, collapsed on the ground, panting from the exertion as well as in part from the pain in its long tail, utters a soft sound of protest, shifting itself to a semblance of a sit to glare across at Viracocha.

It's no contest. A howl surfaces from the small creature as the gesture is returned in kind, the black energy of another SHADOW BALL engulfing its shape and shoving it rudely across the ground. Devi shoots a venomous glare across the arena toward the pokémon as the dark glow dissipates. It lies on the ground, motionless - before a twitch of the tail and torso suggests it still has a hint of fight left in it. “Viracocha, SCRATCH!”

With a Persian's variant of a vicious meow, the pokémon bounds over to the collapsed shape, left forepaw swinging out and forward toward it as it stirs - and claws strike at the pink-furred flesh, digging into it, sinking past the skin and tearing ugly wounds across it, causing the pokémon to cry out in pain - before becoming still, collapsed under the assault.

Jagdish curses, glancing across to Vendetta with half a glare - a moment later, Marcus finds the grip on his neck gone, a flicker of purple appearing beside Jagdish on the playing field, just by the Mew - and then the two pokémon vanish together, gone for another heartbeat - before that arm settles around Marcus' neck once more. Mew, beaten, lies on the steps beside him, just barely out of his reach. ~You will tend to it,~ Vendetta hisses into his mind. ~And don't you dare try to hurt it.~ A potion rolls onto the stair-like rows beside Marcus, tinkering against the stone.

Marcus pumps the air once then stretches as Vendetta lets him go before almost snarling as he is grabbed again. He will help the little cat pokémon and he speaks. “Yes, I'll tend to it,” he shrugs one shoulder then before glaring at the larger pokémon. “You'll need to let me go if you want your little friend to be all right.”

~She is not 'my little friend',~ Vendetta hisses into Marcus' mind, tightening that grip again, demonstratively, reminding him of what was said before about his situation. This covered, he slides his arm away from Marcus' neck, flexing his right paw's fingers. ~Apply it carefully, like a lotion. She's not getting a revive until those wounds,~ he gestures to the deep scratch marks. ~Have healed.~

It is then that Jagdish finally breaks out the pokéballs, narrowing his eyes. “Névé!” he 'introduces' the pokémon as it shimmer into view from one flicked wrist, the outlines of the bird appearing first, then filling with that same red glow, before the crystalline blue bird appears, cawing.

Devi snaps her eyes open as the creature spreads its massive wings, feathers tinkering against each other as though they were made of shards of ice - she's never seen this pokémon before, but two things are evident: One, it is a flying ice type… and two, it is charging up for an ICE BEAM.

“Viracocha, return - Holocaust!” she snaps, rapidly, in swift decision, the feline becoming engulfed in that red shine, before vanishing, replaced by the Arcanine. “FLAME WHEEL!” she barks the command, wincing as the pokémon is engulfed in the white-blue glow of the ICE BEAM, the sound of sizzling ice and whimper-howl of the canine filling the air.

Marcus gags then nods, glaring a little before he pick up the potion and carefully pours it over the little pokémon, carefully working it into the wounds. He chews on his lip then, flicking a look to the fight before his shoulders jiggle slightly.

The WHEEL-shaped FLAMEs whirl into existence around the Arcanine the moment it recovers from the blow, shot off into the direction of the Articuno, enveloping the legendary bird, its beating wings catching fire, it thrashing in agony, uttering a near-deafening shriek of animal rage.

“Again!” Devi calls across to her Arcanine, her shape tense, her sunk down slightly, legs spread, all her weight pushing into her heels, anticipating lining her shape - but the Articuno's shape has corkscrewed out of the cloud of flames, cawing as if angrily, its eyes narrowed as it climbs higher, FLYing out of the Arcanine's reach. The second WHEEL of FLAMES dissipates centimetres away from Jagdish, who's raised his arms to protect his face, hissing slightly, grimacing at the battlefield.

In sudden turn of motion, the legendary bird twists and lets itself drop, wings almost completely folded against it, diving toward the Arcanine. There's no time to dodge - much less to issue a command of that sort. Eliciting a shriek from Devi, the bird plows into Holocaust, beak lodged firmly under the furred, fiery skin, having torn into the canine's side, causing a broken howl to surface from Holocaust… before it sags brokenly on the ground under the onslaught of the bird's vicious talons.

Marcus winces then flicks a look down to Mew's little shape then across to Vendetta. He shudders then, swallowing hard, wincing slightly.“Come on, Devi,” he mutters. “You can beat it.” He pushes a hand through his hair, aggravated.

Forcing the words to form past a gasping wince - though not in sympathy - Devi recalls her Arcanine with a tremble: “Holocaust, return - Gramini, THUNDERPUNCH!” Again, she casts her right hand out toward the battlefield, gesturing toward the target - despite it being obvious.

With a primal snarl the appearing Nidoking flexes its forepaws, curling both to firsts at height of its chest, its elbows pointing outward, eyes narrowed, before swinging its left arm out and to the side, only to bring it back around with what seems like the same motion, thin filaments of plasma crackling across its surface.

Even as the Articuno is struck, a POWDERy SNOW drifts from its shape toward Gramini, slow in its descent. Struck by the blow, the bird staggers back from where it had half-perched, shape in spasms, shriek of protest half a gurgling sound, not very controlled - and it collapses mid-arena, a few stray sparks travelling across its shape.

Gramini's sound of complaint is more of a grumble as the chill settles on its shape - but its shivering is fierce, its teeth gritting visibly. Devi had hoped THUNDERPUNCH would hit before the bird had a chance to move - no such luck, apparently. The Nidoking folds forward, left arm slid to clutch at its belly in attempt to warm itself, right forepaw impacting with the ground to break the half-fall, grimacing across at Jagdish, its own eyes filled with a strange brand of hatred.

Marcus winces, eyes darkening further and narrowing as he watches the battle closely. He head shakes then, to himself, brow furrowing before he looks back down at Mew, fingers flexing before he looks up at Vendetta, an eyebrow raised.

The Mew, under 'care' of Marcus, seems to have its wounds slowly close. It's a slow progression of healing compared to what he might expect from a potion, but on the other hand, it's being externally supplied - and progression is still most certainly visible. As he glances back at Vendetta, however, he can see that the wound on its arm is slowly closing, even as the unscathed paw discards another potion. Vendetta seems to be watching the fight.

Jagdish seems to hesitate for a moment, seeming taken aback by the comparatively swift felling of the legendary bird, before nodding acknowledgingly, brows knitted together in sympathy for the pokémon, his lips pressed to a thin line, teeth gnawing at their edges. A moment later, he breaks out of his mental hesitation, holding out the pokéball that had contained Névé.

“Sihir,” he summons, even as the red glow of the legendary bird winks out of view. As the outlines of a Kadabra shimmer into view, Devi winces - Gramini wouldn't hold out against even a single psychic blow in his current state, if she swapped out Viracocha, the worn out cat was likely to cave to the first assault, too - she had to pick a new pokémon.

But whether to use Alula or Khukuri? Khukuri knew Pursuit, but being doubly weak to fighting moves meant it was a great risk. Was she going to play the offensive or the defensive card?

Marcus smiles in relief as his shape relaxes and he smirks but fondly down at the little pokémon before flicking a look to the Arena. Wincing, biting at his already sore lip he watched Devi and her pokémon battle.

“Khukuri, swap in, now,” she cries out, squeezing her eyes shut, even as the opponent pokémon adopts an alien glow around its outlines, subtle, shifting in an out of perceptive reality. Again, the red glow, engulfing the still half-felled Nidoking, shape fading into crimson, then folding out of view - and her prize pokémon, the Tauretal, all of its tails lashing viciously, takes its place, pawing at the ground, snorting, rising to its hindlegs and thundering down in an unrestrained bout of energy.

“PURSUIT,” she hisses past gritted teeth, inwardly braced for the PSYCHIC attack she was sure would hit Khukuri any second now. But there is no cry of rage - just a snorting, the pawing at the ground. She opens her gaze, catching Khukuri's slid across her shape, its left forehoof lifted from the ground in frozen mid-turn, tails clattering against each other.

Sihir, meanwhile, has shifted its attentions to creating a DOUBLE TEAM illusion in anticipation of having to suffer a dark type attack.

And with that slight moment of hesitation done with, Khukuri's eyes narrow to thin slits. An instant later, a shriek of pain ricochets off the arena walls - Khukuri's left horn is sunk into her left shoulder, one of his hooves crushing down against her hip, the pokémon snorting and bleating menacingly, in low tone and rumble.

Jagdish's eyes widen, his shape straightening abruptly. “Vendetta!” he calls, the Mewtwo snapping to attention, gaze thrown across toward Devi's struggling shape.

Marcus winces and rises to his feet since he was crouched next to Mew. “Devi!” There's almost panic in his voice but definitely worry and he moves a little before he comes to a stop, shape shivering and fists clenching at his sides.

Even as Marcus speaks the first syllable of Devi's name, Vendetta's shape ripples out of existence beside him, reappearing beside the Tauretal, its forepaws snapping out, seizing the pokémon by the protruding spikes from its shoulders, stemming his own weight sideways into his hindpaws while trying to yank the pokémon off Devi.

Khukuri, thusly disturbed, plucks its horn with a sickening 'pop' from Devi's body, THRASHing in the grip, its blade tails whipping at Vendetta's freshly healed shape. It is then that Jagdish utters his first 'command' - it's evidently a suggestion: “DISABLE its THRASH and BLAST it with FIRE!”

Khukuri rears up, turning in the same instant, trying to gorge into Vendetta with its right horn, forepaws thundering against the ground as it comes crashing back down. Its shape ripples, as though the Tauretal were trying to move despite something hindering it at the action.

Shape covered in small cuts from the razorblade tailtips, Vendetta grimaces, clung to the Tauretal's shape - and an instant later, a BLAST of FIRE engulfs the pokémon's shape, causing it to bleat in agony. The sound abruptly turns to a gurgle - and the pokémon collapses, fur charred to blackness, legs angled unhealthily below it, a fierce crack sounding as it falls; and another shriek comes from Devi, one of the left shoulder spines of the pokémon slid like a knife through butter into the outside of her left thigh, piercing skin effortlessly.

Marcus flinches, shape shivering as his hands flex and he starts towards the Arena floor, a soft snarl in his throat and slowly getting louder. He forces his anger down though, staring across at Devi, worried for her life now.

The darkened shape of the fallen Tauretal shimmers blue at the outlines as Vendetta forces it to rise, gesturing with its hands aside, casting it with an almost fierce throw aside, it tumbling across the floor in ways that would be excrutiatingly painful were it still conscious - before it comes to abrupt rest against the inside of the archway opposite to Neike, sagged in a seemingly boneless heap.

Vendetta stands beside and above Devi, breathing heavily, its eyes narrowing as its gaze drifts down toward the girl. Devi's curled up reflexively, blood pooling under her as she lies on her right side, arms slung around her left knee, the pain from her wounds stabbing through her senses, muting any verbal complaint - she doesn't have the energy to sob, it seems like there's nothing else but pain, and pain would hardly listen to her whimpers. Silent, her lips are parted, her eyes closed, shape lined with agony.

The purple pokémon crouches down, seizing Devi by the hair with its right paw, left curling to grip her respective arm by the elbow. ~Why did your pokémon attack you?~ he demands, invading her mind, adding to the shock of her pain the shock of speech from a pokémon. Of course, she does not respond - the reality of it barely registers to her.

Jagdish is hurrying across the arena toward her by now, cloak curving and fluttering in the air behind him, his stride energetic, full of purpose. “Vendetta, why won't you RECOVER her?” he asks, calling across, tone half pleading and half stern.

Marcus moves closer but doesn't step down into the Arena for long moments before he does so, bounding towards Devi, raking in his pockets for anything that may help. Sadly though, he has nothing but other pokeballs in his pockets and they are no help at all.

Vendetta suddenly swirls to turn, glaring across at the approaching Marcus. ~Who has allowed you to come down here?~ he demands, tone vicious, eyes narrowed to slits, glowing with that now familiar blue glow of fury - even as Marcus would find himself yanked back by the neck, nearly forced into choking, it so abrupt.

“Vendetta!” Jagdish narrows his eyes. “Help her,” he insists, gesturing with both hands to Devi, by now having come to a stop about four or five metres away from her. The pokémon snarls gutturally at Jagdish, gaze snapped around to the gymleader, tail lashing at the air in agitation.

Jagdish takes a reflexive step back without that his demeanour adopts any fear. “That's an order,” he says, his voice dropping to coldness, tone soft, only barely carrying to where Vendetta is.

Snorting derisively, the pokémon fists its forepaws - then blinks out of view. Gone.

Jagdish curses, crossing the remaining distance with a few swift strides, letting himself fall to his knees beside Devi's shape, into a slowly spreading pool of crimson. His left arm slides in behind him, under the cloak, palm pointing outward, sliding to grip the far edge of it, then yanking at it, it detaching with the sound of velcro from his shoulders.

Marcus snarls then chokes, struggling before he sags. “She's my friend,” he croaks. “I'm not going not be with her when she's hurt.” There's a savageness to his voice and as the pokémon vanishes, he rubs at his neck then bounds over to Devi, shrugging out of his own jacket as he reaches her. “Is there anything you can do for her?” he asks, his voice shaking.

Jagdish shivers slightly as he slides the cloak past Devi's thighs, careful not to irritate the wound by tugging at her flesh, wincing in silent concentration, before, content with the amount of cloak on both sides of her thigh, he pulls it up abruptly, scrunching the ends and passing them by each other, then twisting them, all in one motion. Devi cries out as her thigh is bound, fingernails beginning to dig into her own skin as she clings to her knee.

Now she sobs, weeping from pain, right arm detaching from her knee to paw or claw aimlessly across the ground, her breath erratic. Jagdish, forcing himself to ignore it, shoots a glance to Marcus, gesturing with his gaze to her shoulder, trying to direct him wordlessly to patching her shoulder up in some way. “She's losing a lot of blood,” he says, simply - evidently refusing to make a statement whether he can help or not, though his grimace speaks volumes: probably not, but I'll [be damned if I let her die.]

Marcus crouches next to Devi and swiftly binds up her shoulder, flicking a look to her face. “Come on, Devi,” he murmurs. “You have to be all right. You'll get over this.” He flicks his tongue across his lips. “She can't… die…” he murmurs, almost to himself.

It is then that Vendetta ripples back into view, stood near Devi's head and partly infront of her, tailtip describing a slow, recurring circle in the air. His left paw is clutched into a fist - his right hand's digits are, sneer of contempt notwithstanding, curled loosely around a hyper potion.

Jagdish shoots a glare at Vendetta, his right hand rested on Devi's hip, leaning forward and extending his left hand in gesture of wishing to take the object. Vendetta narrows his eyes, inclining its head. Seemingly, there is something of a mental conversation, because Jagdish's eyes widen and he shakes his head.

Vendetta hisses, fingers curling around the small flask of medicine as though about to crush it, tendons pulled taut across the back of its paw. Another, more violent, spat hiss later, it grabs a hold of the gymleader's hand with its left paw, shoving the potion into his palm with the other, before dissipating like an extinguished flame.

Marcus exhales and doesn't look at the large pokémon as it reappears, not looking away from the Gymleader, before his gaze flicks back to Devi's face and he rubs at one eye, cursing under his breath. He looks up and around then, searching for Neike.

Devi moans from the pain, delirious, her eyes fluttering slightly, rolling up in their sockets, her right hand clung inconsequentially against the stone floor, fingertips curled, tension visible in her entire shape. It all happened so fast - maybe if she had seen it coming like she mostly seems to, maybe then she would be dealing with this better.

Neike is crouched at not too much of a distance, just out of arm's reach of Devi, her palms clasped against the cool floor, expression one of silent worry. There's nothing she can do that isn't already covered by Marcus and Jagdish.

Jagdish leans carefully across Devi's midsection, right hand resting against the back of her make-shift bandaged shoulder, gently, steadying himself. His left hand has opened the flask and is bringing it around to her face. “Devi, can you hear me?” he asks, his voice having a surprising soothing quality to it. It sounds so unexpectedly… natural.

Devi trembles softly, before nodding wordlessly, her eyes having rolled closed, her breath hastened - but it seems to have lost its erratic quality, which seems like an improvement.

“I've got a potion here, can you focus enough to drink?” Jagdish asks, touching her lips with the rim of the flask. The cool touch makes her twitch back from him briefly, before she nods again, twice, then leaning her head forward slightly, lips parting controlledly.

“Good,” he says, slowly tipping it, letting her drink at her own pace. Of course some of it rolls past her lips and down her cheek, but with her actively trying to drink, most of it trickles into her mouth and down her throat.

Marcus watches with baited breath before he shifts slightly, smiling faintly at Neike, but warmly before he looks back to Devi, worry clouding his eyes. He reaches for and lightly holds one of her hands, squeezing it gently between his own. He doesn't say anything though.

The flow of blood past the stained clothes seems to slow and subside. Jagdish's right hand massages its fingertips firmly against the back of Devi's neck, giving her a sensation to distract herself from the pain - after all, it barely fades. It will take a while for her nerves to catch on to the accelerated healing process.

Neike watches with almost morbid fascination - and just as much worry. She glances up at Jagdish, quizzically, as though unsure why he was helping her - as though more unsure, even, than Marcus is, as though she knew something about Jagdish's personal code of honour that was being violated by this act of help.

Jagdish merely responds to her stare with a brief glance, focussing mainly on Devi's shivering shape, his left hand now curled around her upper arm, clutching it with some force, kneading his right against her a bit more firmly as she sucks in a pained breath.

Marcus winces and moves to sit closer, squeezing her hand gently, staring into her face after flicking a grateful look to the Gymleader. Remaining silent, he beckons to Neike then winces again at Devi's pained breaths.