This world is inhabited by creatures that we call pokemon. People and pokemon live together by supporting each other, but now the scourge threatens the safety of the entire region. Kohaku has become a dangerous place, where children stay at home and only brave souls go adventuring.
Welcome to KOHAKU. Come for the nightmares. Stay for the tea and crumpets.
The season is SUMMER. It is easy for survivors to forage for food from the land, as there are entire abandoned farms ready for harvest. On the downside, you can smell the corpses.
swarms
GRAND OPENING !
Welcome to KOHAKU REGION's grand opening! If you're interested in joining, come check out our grand opening giveaway!
It'd been a good day so far. Alright, so there was definitely a police tracker on his foot still, and that meant it was still a pretty bad day overall, but it's not like they could ever notice when he plied his trade. It's not like Griff walked into a convenience store with a gun--no, that'd be bloody tasteless. Not to mention classless, and when you've got nothing to your name except your criminal record, then class is all that matters. ...That was Griff's point of view, anyway. From his time in prison, he'd come to realize that not everyone agreed.
But, well, some people were dumb.
He'd rented a small office for the month, even though he only needed it for a day. It wasn't much, but it wasn't for visitors. All that mattered was that it had a phone line, and Griff made much use of it this morning. Patiently, he'd made a hundred phone calls or more, his tone pleasant and helpful in every one. It got a little redundant, but while posing as an well-meaning, low-fee insurance company (protect your investments against the scourge!), Griff couldn't help but grin to himself whenever he landed another sucker's credit card number. Proserpina City was so convenient, with all its wealthiest people living on one street. Once he went exhausted the white pages for those addresses, Griff was already done for the day at 11AM.
Now, Griff took some time off for himself at a cafe on Queen's Boulevard. It was a snazzy sort of place, reputed as one of the finest establishments in town (affordable too!), and Griff enjoyed their coffee with a certain sense of satisfaction. Most of the money he'd stolen hadn't gone to him. He'd siphoned credit off to various places, primarily charities (Griff'd like to see swanky, rich folk complain about donating to charity), but smaller amounts were split up amongst various small businesses, hedge funds, and any one of his own bank accounts. It wasn't an outrageous profit, but it was something. And it'd been fun.
He'd settled himself at a window-side armchair, his cup and saucer resting on the round, hardwood table next to him. There were empty seats around the table still--he'd picked the place because it was quieter than the rest, and it was always nice to sit by the window, but with lunchtime approaching, no doubt plenty of people would be flocking in soon.
If he actually had the ability, he would have been adding a whistling tone to the midday buzz. A fair amount of people of all types (well, except the slums, but they had their own part of the city) walked around the quickly crowding streets, bumping into each other and giving the ones who looked resentful about it a short apology. He wondered for a moment why they were called the 'upper class' when the truly seemed to have none of it at all. Ah, well. Today was a good day, and these ponderings of his weren't going to interrupt it. Kiiren, for once, had obeyed his master's order when told to sleep in his pack. Tsukya, who had seemed a bit befuddled at her predicament, agreed with little protest. And so, he knew that his electric-type was taking an afternoon nap beside all the clothes that he should probably wash soon and breathing through a small airhole, while his Treecko had kindly asked to be placed in a different pocket so she wouldn't get zapped, and perhaps so that she could get away from Kiiren's 'dog breath'. Her owner had complied with this demand, and neatly placed her in a slightly smaller pocket which used to hold perishable food, but now held nothing but a few stale bread crumbs and a sealed bag of saltine crackers. He could clean it out, but Tsukya had already climbed in, and he was pretty sure it was just for the sake of eating the salty snack.
His rhythmic footwork led him to a nice-looking cafe in the nice sector of Proserpina, and his fingerless-gloved hands fumbled for some cash that he could buy a coffee with. He didn't usually spend money on stuff like this, but today, it didn't really matter, and he was willing to spend a couple bucks on a cup of the steaming hot liquid. So, he took a firm hold of the tiny amount of money that he had left and hoped that this cafe was fairly affordable. Opening the door, he saw less than a handful of people resting and relaxing, in chairs, at tables, or just leaning against a nearby wall. He walked up to the counter and ordered a sixteen-ounce drip; black; and paid the cashier with all that he currently had. It didn't seem like much, but luckily, this place had turned out to be very affordable, and he actually got a few cents' change. When his cup arrived on a saucer, he silently took it and went to sit in a chair by the window, across from a sort-of well dressed teen with a mop of pink hair. He was almost going to question it, but decided against it, seeing as his own hair clearly shown his fond taste in dark blue.
He gently swung his pack off of his shoulders and placed it on the left side of him, letting his back rest on the back of the chair. He gently placed the saucer down and just took the cup of black coffee and sipped quietly at it, testing the temperature. It was very hot, but he was willing to take another go at sipping it before he placed the steaming cup back on the small plate. As he usually did when placed in an unnatural setting for him, he stared absentmindedly at the world outside, patiently viewing the various citizens roaming and bustling about. He wondered where they were all going on a fine afternoon such as this.
A statement equal in absentmindedness as he was escaped him, another unusual concept. "Nice weather we're having..." He assumed that it was towards the pink-haired guy, as he was the closest one to him, but it could really be to anyone; he had probably left already and he could even just be talking to himself. He sure hoped not...company was nice. Sometimes. He sighed a sigh that didn't have the traits of any emotion, really, and resisted the urge to rest his chin in his hand or drum his fingers. That could show boredom or impatience, and he, if anything, was going to be polite in a public setting such as this one.
[atrb=border,0,btable][atrb=style,width: 380px; padding: 20 0 20 20;][atrb=style, background: url(http://i51.tinypic.com/25qr9qp.jpg); box-shadow: 0px 0px 5px #999999;,btable][atrb=cellpadding,0][atrb=cellspacing,0][style=background-color: #ffffff; padding: 25px; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; color: #222222; text-align: justify;]The weather? Really? Griff understood being polite and open, and that it was awkward talking to strangers, but the weather. To be fair, it was pretty damned nice out with perfect beams of sunshine lighting up the streets just so.
Nerio City was never like this; Nerio had always been dark, it seemed. It made up for it with tacky neon lights sometimes, or with filtered lighting indoors in the snazziest clubs and hotels. He'd gone to those often enough; if anyone wondered how a teenager got the sort of money to pay the entrance fee--well, they could probably guess. In the end though, Griff preferred the dark alleys and dingy bars of his childhood, where a sunny day was an urban myth.
"Sunny, yeah. Sometimes partly-cloudy, although I hear the folks on Printemps Street are praying for rain to wash the scum out of Grimer's Court," he acknowledged. "It'd be a bit of a shame if that happened, I'd say. The city would lose its charm, but at least it would smell better."
Alright, so that was a little standoffish of him; he ought to make up for that. Griff turned to the speaker and flashed a lazy grin. "Sorry, political diatribe at noon--too early in the day for that sort of thing, I know. Won't do it again, promise."
He glanced at the boy, turned out it was a boy, and figured he may as well introduce himself. "Rainer Scott, by the way. Good to meet you."
His eyes politely flitted back towards the one sitting across from him. This person that he thought that he had been murmuring to earlier was in fact the pink-haired boy, and he couldn't help feel a little thankful for the company. He was sure that the reason that people tended to avoid him was the fact that he hadn't showered in a while or maybe it was the scent of canine Pokemon, but perhaps it was just his quiet attitude. He admitted, it put some people off. But clearly not an Electrike...who was exactly like him...and a Treecko...who shared his quietness. Maybe it just put people who weren't like him in some way off.
He kept his mouth tightly shut as the stranger continued. He began chattering on about the weather and what the people were praying for. Personally, he doubted that a little rain would deter the scum of Grimer's Court; they tended to be quite resistant when it came to changing their ways. Rai hadn't seen a single person who looked like they had been to the slums just once. The second you were there, it was like an addiction that sucked you back in whenever the chance was presented. Since Rai hadn't ever actually been inside even a bar, he wouldn't entirely know the feeling. But he knew it would happen someday; he'd go out and find himself inside some nightclub drinking a beer. Or a cocktail; he'd heard that those were at least the prettiest ones. But, alas, he couldn't while he had no money, so for now, he wasn't going in, or even near a place like that. Subconscious Rai was still listening to the conversation, and 'hmphed' absentmindedly at the end of the stranger's words.
He decided on listening after that; no point in getting himself lost in thought again. It wasn't polite to this boy. I really have to stop calling him a boy... Came an intruding thought. He looks as old as I am. The lazy smile that came his way did not reflect on his face; he wasn't the type to follow the smile infection. But he almost let a grin show on his face when the stranger promised not to talk of political diatribe again, as if he had just done it. Rai didn't usually approve of those who censored their thoughts, and didn't mind it when they let them out, so he had nothing against him. But he remained silent all the same, as usual.
The stranger told him his name; Rainier Scott. Rai's dusky blue eyes seemed to look at him, but not really look in any place in particular. As he finished, Rai offered a hand towards Rainier, and gave him a short response. "Good to meet you, too," He stated coolly. "My name's Rai." He didn't feel like saying something considered 'cool'; he said 'my name' not 'the name' or even just 'it's'. He didn't usually do it anyway; it made it seem like he wasn't saying his own name. He also didn't give his last name, or even his full name, for the simple reason of him not really feeling like it.
[atrb=border,0,btable][atrb=style,width: 380px; padding: 20 0 20 20;][atrb=style, background: url(http://i51.tinypic.com/25qr9qp.jpg); box-shadow: 0px 0px 5px #999999;,btable][atrb=cellpadding,0][atrb=cellspacing,0][style=background-color: #ffffff; padding: 25px; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; color: #222222; text-align: justify;]Rainier Scott was a personality with quite a few different names--Griff had to keep them fresh. He was a young businessman, arrogant and liberal in the way of young businessmen, the sort of person that thought he was worldly because he'd traveled half a dozen regions on a luxury cruise and worked at the soup kitchen on the weekends. He'd peg Rainier as the sort of guy that'd become a fierce conservative when he grew older and richer. Not that he wasn't rich now, but he was up-and-coming, which wasn't the same as richer.
When he learned Rai's name, Griff gave him a second look and wondered if he was worth getting to know. Probably not. Then again, most people weren't. Still... he didn't really belong here, not in the way that Griff did in dark jeans and a sharp blazer. It was a classy place, not quite fancy but certainly respectable, yet Rai smelled noticeably unwashed.
Curious. Griff didn't have anything better to do than talk to him anyway, so he may as well try to divine who this Rai was.
"So what brings you here? Sorry, but you don't really look like a regular, but you do look like a trainer. Just traveling through?" he asked, his words politely interested in a way that was, in effect, disinterested. It wasn't just a courtesy question though--although Griff (and especially a man like Rainier) asked plenty of those. "The cafe au lait here is pretty bloody fantastic, by the way. Fair trade, too."
notes `` er... he might have to talk a bit more to get griff's legit interest credit `` columba of on the edge![/style]
Well, if anything, Rainier had his full attention now. First off, the hand that he had offered the pink-haired stranger had been easily ignored, and he dropped it back into its place on the armrest of the chair. It probably wasn't a purposefully impolite gesture, just something that he had ignored. He mentally shrugged it off. Some people just weren't as polite as he liked to be, and that was fine and dandy with him. But, it did pique his interest just a bit.
Giving Rainier a second glance made him wonder. He looked fairly sharp in his fancy clothes, and wearing a simple tee-and-jeans outfit made him feel a bit out of place. This cafe looked overall to be one of the fancier ones, and being dressed in slightly acrid attire was not to be expected. But, well, the coffee had been cheap, and he couldn't afford anything but cheap crap. Rainier's query proved his theory about him looking out of place, and he wondered what to say in response.
What he did end up saying surprised him. "I'm kinda just traveling everywhere," He plainly replied. "Don't have a lot of money, and no one really wants to hire an ex-thug like me, so I can't get any more. And no one really wants to be hangin' around someone like me, either, so I'm alone most of the time. So...yeah. I'm not a regular here." He had added a bit of snark and cynicism when he described his joblessness and lone behavior. He described himself as 'someone like me', which of course meant that somewhere, somehow, there was some guy milling around who was doing exactly what he was doing. He highly doubted this.
As Rainier's comment about the coffee came up, Rai simply nodded his head and gave another stone-cold reply. "Fair trade, eh? It's pretty damn good." Too bad I spent the rest of my cash on it. He mentally added scornfully. He took another sip of the coffee; he meant it when he said how good it was; and patiently waited for Rainier's reply as he stared over the cup's rim.
[atrb=border,0,btable][atrb=style,width: 380px; padding: 20 0 20 20;][atrb=style, background: url(http://i51.tinypic.com/25qr9qp.jpg); box-shadow: 0px 0px 5px #999999;,btable][atrb=cellpadding,0][atrb=cellspacing,0][style=background-color: #ffffff; padding: 25px; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; color: #222222; text-align: justify;]This was the point where men like Rainier would have their expression turn carefully blank, polite nodding would commence, and then such men would return to talking about the weather, if they deigned talk to Rai at all. Alternatively, and Griff wasn't sure how much of a bleeding heart his current persona had, they might take a deep interest, like how old, rich ladies take deep interest in the plight of endangered wailords.
Luckily, Griff wasn't Rainier Scott, and lucky too that he didn't care for maintaining a certain personality, because he wasn't really in the mood to play a self-proclaimed good samaritan, and now he didn't really want to dish out the silent treatment. Instead, Griff grinned again, and this time maybe if you squinted, it looked like he had teeth like a shark.
"You'd think there'd be a whole lot of people that want to hire a thug now, with the scourge around. Bodyguard services are at a premium; travelers and the like want to have someone around to watch their back if they're going past Nerio City. Although that's not really a good job if you don't trust your legs. As long as your employer can run faster than you, they'll live to die another day--you, not so much. But then, with the scourge, they probably only get another hour, give or take a bit. It's weight how people that make a whole lot of money per hour put too much emphasis on how much one hour is worth in the dire, dire end."
As long as he spoke at a normal volume, there wasn't anyone close enough in this spacious cafe to over hear him. His voice a slow drawl, Griff continued, "Some advice from me then, take it or leave it: get yourself a shower, steal yourself a suit. Everyone looks legit when done up in black; find yourself a salesman with wares worth protecting. Take them as far as Ceres, knife 'em, and make off with the cash--leave his merch where it is. The scourge are a great scapegoat for all man's crimes."
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