From: Adrian Tymes
Subject: Re: [PW!] Full Circle
Date: Saturday, October 02, 1999 4:29 PM
> "Behold my psionic dampening field," Vorge boomed. "A weapon that
> I am sure you are familiar with, Mewtwo, seeing as how it rendered you
> helpless once before." Mewtwo went for a psi-blast while Vorge was
> bragging, but the psi-blast fizzled. No longer restrained, Protopticon
> stood up and went about merrily decapitating the perplexed members of
> Doppler's mob with his wrist-blades. Protopticon and Vorge had been
> overwhelmed psychically...but hardly physically. Of course, the
> dampening field was only going to last for about five minutes. But
> Vorge saw that as more than enough time to bend Mewtwo and Doppler to
> his will.
While the dampening field was directed specifically at Mewtwo, it had a
far more devastating effect on Doppler's forces. The grey robed ones
relied on telepathy to coordinate their attacks...and a field strong
enough to counter Mewtwo's powers utterly extinguished the psychic
communication network. Thus thrown into confusion, grey robe after
grey robe fell to the rampaging Protopticon...and more than a few to
their own paniced efforts to counter him. 
Until an airstrike threw the super-saur off balance.
> In flight over the clearing the chopper got into formation with an aerodactyl,
> gyrados, fearow and pidgeot all with passengers, each one bearing the pokeball
> in a circle slash symbol of the pokemon resistance. The chopper settled down
> near replicuses cavalry.
> "Who’re you?" Replicus yelled at cinder through the din of battle and
> helicopter blades.
> "We’re the relief force, you might say!" Cinder replied.
"Whoever you are, if you're on our side, we're relieved to see you,"
Replicus replied as he erected Barrier after Barrier to shield his
troops, before Vorge grabbed him.
Mewtwo struggled to his feet. How long had it been since he had not
used his psychic power for even such mundane tasks as standing? Too
long; he had become addicted to it. It had not mattered: the power was
an inseperable part of himself, and to become 'addicted' to it was like
for a human to become 'addicted' to having blood in his or her veins:
perfectly normal, and in fact the absence would have been cause for
alarm. As it was now.
Vorge turned one eye on the now-weakened pokemon, then placed both
forepaws on Replicus and ripped him in two. He looked at the two
resulting dittos, but alas, the psychic disruption that enfeebled Mewtwo
worked both ways, leaving Vorge with no means of distinguishing the pair
from one another. "I am only interested, right now, in the one called
Doppler. Identify yourself, and I shall concentrate on just you and
Mewtwo; I shall not attack anyone else who does not attack me...for
Doppler looked to where his forces were falling, at a slightly slower
pace thanks to the reinforcements, and sighed. "I am Doppler."
"No, *I'M* Doppler!" Silly Putty looked at Doppler, wondering what he
"Nice try. But I know Doppler cares more for his own than you care for
his." Vorge hurtled Silly Putty away...ironically, hitting Mara
directly between her breasts, a place the ditto might not have minded
being in under other circumstances. "Protopticon, finish these fools."
"What?" SP yelled. "But you promised..."
"I promised that *I* would not attack them, for now. I said nothing
about anyone else."
Doppler sighed. Protopticon, his followers might deal with, but Vorge
was another story. The choice had been to sacrifice himself or to
sacrifice everyone including himself. It was a disturbingly easy choice
to make. He closed his eyes, trying to think of a way to take out Vorge
even if it meant sacrificing himself...but at least his dead minions
were walking again.
He blinked. And looked. And reminded himself that dealing with Vorge
took priority over figuring out just what the poke was going on.
In a quiet corner of the battlefield, a Chansey rolled by double-quick,
tossing eggs precisely into the severed necks of grey clad figures. The
eggs, products of its Softboiled attack, fused into whatever type of
flesh they happened to impact - human, plant, insect, or whatever -
restoring functionality. Fortunately, the bodies had not been dead long
enough for their brains to stop trying to tell their hearts to beat.
Eventually, with most of the bodies restored, the Chansey came to a stop
with a tear in its eye. Its last pass had been totally ineffective;
those who were still dead would now remain that way, their bodies too
far gone even for trauma treatment.
Seth kneeled, spraying his partner with a Hyper Potion to restore the
vitality she had just put out. "Aerie, we shouldn't *be* here."
"Seth...I might disagree with them, I might even want to do away with
their leader..." Aerie-Chansey turned to face Seth, fire in her eyes.
"...but these are my *FRIENDS*, Goddish damn it! I grew up with these
people...or will. I can't just sit around and do nothing while they're
slaughtered!" She delivered one energetic slap to Seth's cheek. "And
THAT'S for trying to keep me out of this with your reading. You KNEW
what would happen once I saw this!"
Seth sighed, and gently hugged his mate. "Look, Aerie, people are DYING
here. I don't want to lose you!"
Aerie squirmed out of it. "Then let me do what I must...or, even if
you've got my body, *I'M* going to die. Even if you put that *program*
back, it wouldn't be me."
Seth winced at the mention; he thought he had gotten over that incident,
but her words still hurt. As she sped off to help some fresh victims,
Seth pondered what to do. One idea came to him, but looking around the
battlefield, he noticed a distinct lack of poke balls. Not that it came
as any suprise: Doppler's forces wouldn't use them unless they had to,
and was that an anti-poke-ball logo on that helicopter over there?
Then his eyes spied a trainer amongst the whole lot.
Gads blinked, trying to decipher the verbal barrage, wondering who had
just rushed past him. He had felt a tug as the stranger passed, so he
patted himself down...and came up one poke ball short. Fortunately, it
had been an empty one.
Seth stood behind a tree, trying desperately not to be seen, as he
examined the poke ball. After opening it to confirm it was empty, he
started working on its circuits, trying to recall a musical chant that
was common amongst the juvenille troublemakers of his future. This was
a desperate move, but then, this was a desperate situation, and time was
of the essence.
"Tagger's not connected to the battery,
Battery's not connected to the stabilizer,
Stabilizer's not connected 'cause it's smashed up...
And that's how you make a MissingNo."
But that was merely the first verse. He fumbled for the next, not
bothering in his panic to count how many there were.
> This is as far as I'm going with this particular thread...I have a
> separate story to do which takes place right about now. I hope to have
> it done by tomorrow. Then I guess I'll start a new thread.
But we can keep the fight going, ne?
 From Murphy's Laws of Combat: Friendly fire isn't.