Hm... it appears I had taken things too dramatically. I'll be honest with you - NO ONE can be this broken forever. Davis was gone, Desia was going to give the world her iron fist/destruction sequence, we were too weak on our own to take on her... and, well, lying down and being literally broken doesn't really help as I narrate my tale. As everyone gathered around, I wish I knew what was after life...
Anyway, I had a bit of difficulty separating the Pokes away from myself. Candace was nearly attracted (I dunno which one, and I don't want to know) as well, but just managed to pull away. Tired of getting just one Poke a time, he signaled for an assistant of hers (or one of the accountants around here), who wore glasses and stood erect. He just stared at me and explained to Candace that he was a Bisharp, so nothing could be done there.
After two more metal Pokemon commenting on how I was a 'tricky customer', and an incident leading to someone trying to whack my Pokes away with a stick, they finally got one of the customers (who wasn't metal-based) to get over and help pull out my Pokes. It was embarrassing, but I did feel like home with all these other steel types... maybe, if I were to somehow become normal and stay alive at the end of all of this, I would work here without as much as a fuss. It was a nice place, with everything I wanted here.
Alas, I can't guarantee my safety. Maybe if someone stopped pleading for me to stay awake, I would actually try to get up rather than fading out from the noise. Eh, we can always blame Arceus in the end.
"Yeah, sorry about that." I tried to say without looking too bad. "I didn't expect that. I'll just leave now." Thankfully, as I rotated towards the exit and moved towards the light, I didn't attract Pokes from other people as I wandered into the daylight. "Urgh. Damn sun." I muttered, heading towards my team mates who seemed to have created a... well, lusty shop keeper, before somehow assaulting him without getting his attention. This world was certainly strange.
KaBling
Member
Perpetual Watcher
- Last Seen: 5 mos ago
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
- Posts: 1808 (0.46 / day)
- VMs: 1
-
Username history
- KaBling 11 yrs ago
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
Time flies, right?
25/06/2024
25/06/2024
Most Recent Posts
...
You're dead to me.
You're dead to me.
Gonna post.
Shut up.
Shut up.
Fuckin' morse mate. (Damn '/' in there though - shows online use.) How the hell could you read my previous posts with morse?
I'm having the same confusion with of the others, especially Lugia. That's been clarified, somewhat.
Oh yeah. Savato, Bolton left the place long ago. You're speaking as if he's still around.
Oh yeah. Savato, Bolton left the place long ago. You're speaking as if he's still around.
Currently at restaurant, and saying goodbye to Chinese relatives. Shut up.
Bolton Hamilton. CEO of Bolton Industries, formerly Bolton Arms and formerly Colt's and Nuts.
I never liked owning my family's business. Capitalism... well, let's just say I grew up in an era where liberalism was the new norm. Nobody wanted communism or capitalism, they wanted to be the centre... unfortunately, the world is owned by money, not people. As one wise man put it: 'A rich man's war, a poor man's fight.' We used to work under the big man once, working our asses off until we could own a business specialising in building equipment. Never took off, and in fact almost became bankrupt during the Great Depression. So, my great-great-grandfather Colt Hamilton decided to sell arms instead to either criminals or paranoid people, still under the name 'Colt's and Nuts'. We nearly got investigated several times, although we could always pull a few strings... well, make that many ropes.
Eventually, my grandfather Wayne Hamilton supplied industrial equipment and necessities once more, rebuilding a broken city and effectively putting the city under my family's control. Although, my half-brother Johnson Hamilton (current owner of Mal Co.) didn't seem too keen on sharing power - we never killed each other or even tried, we just had arguments and parted ways, before going at it through loads of money. I became owner of Bolton Industries once my father decided to retire several years ago, learning both the good and bad sides of business... not only was I creating industrial equipment, but arms and quashed court cases against myself. I renamed my company Bolton Arms before sticking with Bolton Industries once more, realising that weapons weren't our only exports.
Now, Johnson and I both seek to somehow acquire Greenfield Sciences to gain a foothold over one another, although that's not easy considering they're booming in terms of money. They'll buy us instead within a decade if we're not careful.
I suppose wealth doesn't help with everything. For one, I continued with shady deals with the Chinese or some other thing considered a threat by other countries, and threaten at least one person every week. For two, everything became the stuff of nightmares/twisted childhood memories. My frickin' car got totaled by a giant bat falling flat on it, something that probably came out in the newer versions of those Digimon games... or whatever they were called. I may be in my mid-twenties, but I certainly can't remember everything.
So, I had to get out of my obviously-stylish car. Rims were dented, sleek paint jobs were ruined, windows looked like they were going to explode, everything squashed on one side... at least that thing was still somehow breathing. I did have a family to go to, but it wasn't like I could go anywhere with a totaled car. Looking ahead, a penthouse I own on a hotel.
Carefully, I had to shoot my way through the street. Some people recognised me as the CEO of Bolton Industries and let me through, often after I intimidated them. Others tried to hold me ransom, although my specially-made pistol with explosive rounds said otherwise. Poor guy's ear's must've popped, since mine were beginning to by the end of all of that. The cars were burning, the people were running... at least, not everything was anarchy. A few 'mons (I don't want to confuse the two again) fought back and- you know what, I don't know who was on the good side. I just ducked and huddled the giant bat through the flames and potholes of the road, sometimes bumping into the occasional planted tree.
Eventually, I was in a calmer side of the city. What was supposed to be a trip to the beach was instead murderous chaos in getting back to the hotel where I owned a penthouse on top. Well, I brought it out of sympathy for some old chap with a poor heart. I should've guided my poor friend up there, but stupidly I left him in the lobby to care for himself. He'd chew out his own ears if his head was that badly hurt. I think family came first in my head... I didn't know if my wife Chell and daughter Maria were still alive in all this chaos. I couldn't even call them on a private network on my phone, not aware most of the cell towers had collapsed. I tried to call a private helicopter, that didn't work. Private limo, neither. Not even a PUBLIC taxi could be called. IN THE FUCKING RAIN.
While I breathed hard outside the hotel and zipped up my jacket, I witnessed some... unusual commotion. 'Mons and humans were having a standoff and... well, I had to break it up. Hopefully nobody knew me, but if they did, it would probably give me considerable influence. Rumours about selling arms to Chinese people, rebuilding the city, etc.
"Oi!" I yelled out, slipping my wet phone into a deep pocket of my brown jacket. Yeah, I also wore a white shirt underneath, and some wide jeans. Some rather casual-business shoes too. My family had a heritage stretching back to Britain, although I didn't really look all that British... heck, my family had real roots in Ireland or something. Anyway, my voice got through despite hearing various cracking noises and monsterous roars in the distance. As well as the occasional ridiculous 'MARTIN?' or 'DAN?' As awkward as things could've gotten, at least I didn't have to point a gun at someone. That was just asking for trouble. "What are you... idiots doing, standing out in the frickin' rain like some shitty parade? Get in the hotel, there's an answer to all your problems." Of course I didn't mean that. I lied, but I couldn't just tell them to get inside and expect someone to fix a head injury. Not while I had to run off and somehow get to my family's penthouse. Almost immediately, I began jogging and hoping for some means of transport.
...and, it turned out I wasn't lying when it came to 'an answer to all your problems.'
I never liked owning my family's business. Capitalism... well, let's just say I grew up in an era where liberalism was the new norm. Nobody wanted communism or capitalism, they wanted to be the centre... unfortunately, the world is owned by money, not people. As one wise man put it: 'A rich man's war, a poor man's fight.' We used to work under the big man once, working our asses off until we could own a business specialising in building equipment. Never took off, and in fact almost became bankrupt during the Great Depression. So, my great-great-grandfather Colt Hamilton decided to sell arms instead to either criminals or paranoid people, still under the name 'Colt's and Nuts'. We nearly got investigated several times, although we could always pull a few strings... well, make that many ropes.
Eventually, my grandfather Wayne Hamilton supplied industrial equipment and necessities once more, rebuilding a broken city and effectively putting the city under my family's control. Although, my half-brother Johnson Hamilton (current owner of Mal Co.) didn't seem too keen on sharing power - we never killed each other or even tried, we just had arguments and parted ways, before going at it through loads of money. I became owner of Bolton Industries once my father decided to retire several years ago, learning both the good and bad sides of business... not only was I creating industrial equipment, but arms and quashed court cases against myself. I renamed my company Bolton Arms before sticking with Bolton Industries once more, realising that weapons weren't our only exports.
Now, Johnson and I both seek to somehow acquire Greenfield Sciences to gain a foothold over one another, although that's not easy considering they're booming in terms of money. They'll buy us instead within a decade if we're not careful.
I suppose wealth doesn't help with everything. For one, I continued with shady deals with the Chinese or some other thing considered a threat by other countries, and threaten at least one person every week. For two, everything became the stuff of nightmares/twisted childhood memories. My frickin' car got totaled by a giant bat falling flat on it, something that probably came out in the newer versions of those Digimon games... or whatever they were called. I may be in my mid-twenties, but I certainly can't remember everything.
So, I had to get out of my obviously-stylish car. Rims were dented, sleek paint jobs were ruined, windows looked like they were going to explode, everything squashed on one side... at least that thing was still somehow breathing. I did have a family to go to, but it wasn't like I could go anywhere with a totaled car. Looking ahead, a penthouse I own on a hotel.
Carefully, I had to shoot my way through the street. Some people recognised me as the CEO of Bolton Industries and let me through, often after I intimidated them. Others tried to hold me ransom, although my specially-made pistol with explosive rounds said otherwise. Poor guy's ear's must've popped, since mine were beginning to by the end of all of that. The cars were burning, the people were running... at least, not everything was anarchy. A few 'mons (I don't want to confuse the two again) fought back and- you know what, I don't know who was on the good side. I just ducked and huddled the giant bat through the flames and potholes of the road, sometimes bumping into the occasional planted tree.
Eventually, I was in a calmer side of the city. What was supposed to be a trip to the beach was instead murderous chaos in getting back to the hotel where I owned a penthouse on top. Well, I brought it out of sympathy for some old chap with a poor heart. I should've guided my poor friend up there, but stupidly I left him in the lobby to care for himself. He'd chew out his own ears if his head was that badly hurt. I think family came first in my head... I didn't know if my wife Chell and daughter Maria were still alive in all this chaos. I couldn't even call them on a private network on my phone, not aware most of the cell towers had collapsed. I tried to call a private helicopter, that didn't work. Private limo, neither. Not even a PUBLIC taxi could be called. IN THE FUCKING RAIN.
While I breathed hard outside the hotel and zipped up my jacket, I witnessed some... unusual commotion. 'Mons and humans were having a standoff and... well, I had to break it up. Hopefully nobody knew me, but if they did, it would probably give me considerable influence. Rumours about selling arms to Chinese people, rebuilding the city, etc.
"Oi!" I yelled out, slipping my wet phone into a deep pocket of my brown jacket. Yeah, I also wore a white shirt underneath, and some wide jeans. Some rather casual-business shoes too. My family had a heritage stretching back to Britain, although I didn't really look all that British... heck, my family had real roots in Ireland or something. Anyway, my voice got through despite hearing various cracking noises and monsterous roars in the distance. As well as the occasional ridiculous 'MARTIN?' or 'DAN?' As awkward as things could've gotten, at least I didn't have to point a gun at someone. That was just asking for trouble. "What are you... idiots doing, standing out in the frickin' rain like some shitty parade? Get in the hotel, there's an answer to all your problems." Of course I didn't mean that. I lied, but I couldn't just tell them to get inside and expect someone to fix a head injury. Not while I had to run off and somehow get to my family's penthouse. Almost immediately, I began jogging and hoping for some means of transport.
...and, it turned out I wasn't lying when it came to 'an answer to all your problems.'
Lugia said
I was at college, today... can't really post from there, right?Also, if your answer is 'Yes you can, there's computers in there,' then you just have to remember that the professors, as well as whoever it is that's in charge of the computer lab, can look at all the screens in their classroom... so... it'd be best if I didn't post from there.
Bullshit.
Looked at a colour wheel better than the current one we used on the Internet, got warned by the teacher for 'going off task.'
Meanwhile: "Holy shit, no one's actually inside the hotel? What am I supposed to do now?" -KaBling
Y'know, I could get used to this.
Sleeping felt like I had just slept on the President's own bed. My God, the floor was somehow comfortable. Perhaps it was just me and forming over flat surfaces.
Speaking of which, as I woke up, I found that the floor wasn't vinyl. In fact, it was hardwood, but it was so dirty that it actually looked like vinyl. Anyway, apparently, I had evolved in my sleep, growing some weird tentacles with small appendages that would constantly swipe at the floor. I felt rather queasy, which quickly turned to hunger as deformed the things and let them seep back into me.
"Well, that was a nice night. That, and I... cleaned your floor, pretty much. Breakfast, anyone?" I joked a bit before realising how the world was still in the shit yesterday - outside, some things stopped burning, but some buildings had collapsed that night. Now, the suburb that presumably had many houses looked more like wrecked fields with campfires. Of course, there were still plenty of houses, it was just that there was more empty land than usual. Oh, and graves and unburied corpses. I suppose it would've been morally wrong to consume them, holding myself back while I turned to everyone else again. I had went from some predatory slime mould into a slime dragon again (please let this be the last time I use the word 'slime dragon').
"Well, what do we do for today?"
Sleeping felt like I had just slept on the President's own bed. My God, the floor was somehow comfortable. Perhaps it was just me and forming over flat surfaces.
Speaking of which, as I woke up, I found that the floor wasn't vinyl. In fact, it was hardwood, but it was so dirty that it actually looked like vinyl. Anyway, apparently, I had evolved in my sleep, growing some weird tentacles with small appendages that would constantly swipe at the floor. I felt rather queasy, which quickly turned to hunger as deformed the things and let them seep back into me.
"Well, that was a nice night. That, and I... cleaned your floor, pretty much. Breakfast, anyone?" I joked a bit before realising how the world was still in the shit yesterday - outside, some things stopped burning, but some buildings had collapsed that night. Now, the suburb that presumably had many houses looked more like wrecked fields with campfires. Of course, there were still plenty of houses, it was just that there was more empty land than usual. Oh, and graves and unburied corpses. I suppose it would've been morally wrong to consume them, holding myself back while I turned to everyone else again. I had went from some predatory slime mould into a slime dragon again (please let this be the last time I use the word 'slime dragon').
"Well, what do we do for today?"
"Look at me, I fell off a fence trying to get to the least accessible form class, and now I've got a bruised left wrist. Who cares, my right hand works - gotta make some IC."
© 2007-2024