DRAMABALLS: THE LOG

[stay_classy_cat]

Who: YOU AND YOU
What: Eggman and Seth's evil plans have been revealed, and this is the catch-all fight log.
Where: around campus/in FDC/AROUND
When: Monday, August 26th
Warnings: heartache and tragedy within
Reference links: plotting post, network post

Perhaps you watched it happen before your very eyes, perhaps word makes it to you via phone, or a friend pulls you over to watch the feed play back. One way or another, you realize a huge drama bomb has been dropped into your laps, Smash Academy:

Eggman's robots are mobilizing.

Seth is some huge, psychotic asshole drug lord hellbent on subverting everyone with clones.

And they're fighting it out on top of a building in FDC and it's being televised.

(What the hell.)

...Or perhaps you are unfortunate enough to not realize any of that until it's too late, and you have been captured and robotsized by Eggman. Perhaps it's less noticeable and you feel like you bumped your head against something and blacked out just for a second. Weird, but you feel totally fine and nothing seems wrong.

Not yet.

Comments

[travelingbelle]

The girl staggered across the broken landscape, her footsteps a series of heavy, unbalanced shuffles. It felt as though the earth was still shaking beneath her, but in reality it was just her own trembling. When she stopped, her scuffed up sneakers were just at the edge of the purple pool on the ground.

She didn't understand what had just happened at all. "Hey," she said, as if anyone would answer. He had exploded. He wasn't there. Her other Pokemon exchanged weary, confused looks, but Blue was too stupefied to notice.

Blue sank to her knees, her right hand dragging against the ground as her arm hung uselessly at her side. It didn't matter how much it hurt or how much it burned each time she took a breath. This was the spot her puppy had been. Her beautiful, wonderful puppy. Or who she thought was her puppy. It hadn't been her puppy. Whatever that thing was it...

It didn't matter at all. Whether or not it had really been him, it did not change the fact that the look he had given her was one she would remember for the rest of her days.

"Jock?"

He wasn't there. No one was there. He had stared at her, hurt and scared and dying.

"Jock?"

Blue huddled over herself, her hair mingling with the gross puddle of what was left. The only thing that was here was the sounds of her broken sobbing as she cried until she was hoarse. Cried until she was forced up and led away from there, but even then it was not done. Tears upon tears as she uselessly choked on his name and was flown away.

MEANWHILE, ACROSS TOWN

[flamedog]

A pokeball snapped open in a basement beneath a casino in downtown Final Destination City.

Out of it popped an arcanine, who promptly collapsed on the floor in a heap, frozen in shock. His brain was singing out jolts of agony across his entire body, especially in his forehead. He couldn't see straight. The lighting was bad, but somehow everything was a brilliant bright white.

He lay on the floor, panting, unable to get up, for several minutes. Little alarms were probably going off after his release, ringing dully in his ears, but thankfully there was nobody there to do anything about it. Evidently there was something else going on at the moment that was keeping them away.

Finally, he opened his eyes to look around him. He had no idea where he was. In fact, the last thing he remember was being... killed. He was snapped up the day before in a pokemon ball and then lost control of his body. There was a voice in his head screaming orders at him that he couldn't ignore and... and he'd... he'd done them. He couldn't help but do them.

He whined as he remembered attacking mom. Openly attacking mom and breaking her arm and who knows what else. And trying to kill Sienna and Acacia. He'd never try to kill them. Why did he try to kill them. He was always a good boy. Always such a beautiful, good boy, who only made his mom happy.

He had to find them. He had to get out and find them. Finding mom was the most important thing in the entire world. Where was he? He had no idea. How did he get out? He had no idea. He was going to have to try to find a way out. He pulled himself to his feet, and then fell over. The headache wouldn't go away, and while the bright white light had gone away, the world still danced when he opened his eyes.

Maybe. Maybe he could crawl to a door. He sniffed the air (at least that sense wasn't going crazy-go-nuts) for the scent of fresh, outside air. He dragged his way to a door that was letting air flow beneath it. He couldn't open it like this. He was going to have to turn back into a human.

STILL ACROSS TOWN

[flamejock]

He turned into a human, and groped, on his knees, at the door, eventually getting his hand on the knob and turning it, and swinging the door open. His sense of smell was better than the average human's in this body, but nothing compared to his Arcanine nose. He was going to have to flip flop between bodies to get out of here.

He shifted back, and followed his nose some more, eventually feeling stable enough to walk through the hallways, smelling his way out, and shifting back to being a human to open doors. Why did this place have so many doors? Who built this, some sort of maniac with a door fetish?

After one transformation, he had the bright idea to try using his cellphone, but there was no service. At least, he didn't think there was; he was still having difficulties seeing right.

Eventually, he came to a staircase going up -- there hadn't been any windows, so of course he'd been underground -- and he stumbled up the staircase, into the bright, far too bright, and far too noisy gaming center above. He hated each and every bright and flashing machine with his whole heart. He stumbled through the building and out the doors and, after finally finding sunlight and fresh air, sat down on the sidewalk and started crying, because now he was out, and he was happy to be out and horribly, horribly sad because he knew he had to go find the person and pokemon that he'd hurt.

His phone would work. Please let his phone work. He would call her and tell her he loved her and ask her if she was okay and everything would be fine and nothing would be wrong and he could stop crying.