From: Clayton ( Subject: Re: [PW!] Sub Plot Newsgroups: Date: 2003-11-23 00:06:21 PST > "A Unix clone." Sapphire gestures to the screen. Since Ben is > focussing on the computer, he does not see Raksha the Houndoom as she > darts around a corner, and into the next room, determined to carry out > her master's numerical command, which calls for reconnaissance. > > Meanwhile... > > ... > > A female Team Magma grunt is standing at the top of the staircase, > listening in on Mimic, Ben, and Sapphire. She pulls one Pokeball from > her belt, smirking, "Heh, Electrodes are the least of their > worries--come on, let's get 'em!" > > One of the male Magmas who's standing beside her immediately starts > down the flight of stairs, while the other one hangs back, with a look > of terror on his face. He begs the female, "Can't we just let the > Electrodes handle them?" The female Magma grabs her partner by the > hood of his uniform, and drags him down the stairs, even as he > protests, "But what if they fight back?" Meanwhile ... ... "CURSE THAT CHICKEN!" Bob cried, running down a different hallway, dodging Flamethrowers and the odd Fire Punch. The Chicken in question was a Combusken that, instead of fallng asleep when getting hit with a stealthy Sleep Powder, sneezed. The noise alerted the Magma Grunts and thus the convoluted chase scene began. Muttering something about improvised fried chicken and 11 herbs and spices, Bob turned a corner and ducked into a broom closet. Footsteps grew louder, then stopped. Tensing for a few seconds, all was silent until the footsteps faded away down the hallway. The breeder was about to open the door when another bunch of footsteps grew louder outside the door. They stopped at the door, one even leaned their hand on the door. They discussed something about inturders in the base and stopping them. Though Bob never got a description, he guessed that it was Mimic and Raffy, coming to save his butt. After more muttered discussion, the footsteps faded into the distance. Taking care to not get caught by "pyromaniacal freaks" as the breeder so caringly put it, he oped the door a crack. Seeing nothing, he tiptoed out the door. Picking a random direction, he headed in it, on the lookout for anyone that might want to hurt them, and blisfully unaware of the Houndoom that was watching him go from behind. TBC ------- Clayton