Phoenix — Roleplayer Guild

Route 117

"What were you doing up here, anyway?"
	"Camping with my son."
	"Must be nice to have the time."
	"Heh, fuck you," Forrest said and swung a fist at the sergeant's arm.
	Broadson looked back at the boy, the attempted jab with some humor not quite reaching the man. "That's no way to speak around children." The chastisement seemed genuine. Forrest just remained silent.
	"Did he see any of it?"
	"No."
	"Daddy," a long whine sounded behind them. "I'm hungry."
	"You're a big boy, now. You don't need to whine."
	The boy huffed and pushed fists toward the ground. "I'm not whining," he said through fumed pouts.
	Forrest stopped and shed off the rucksack from his back. He pushed a few things aside and pulled out an Oran berry. "This will have to do until we get back home," he said with a touch of sympathy.
	"Thank you," Jerrek said with brows pushed into his eyes, trying to look serious in an attempt to seem mature. He took the berry in his hands and nibbled at it with temperance.

	"It takes a day to get from here to Petalburg," Broadson explained as if Forrest didn't know how far away his own home was.
	"It takes a day and a half," Forrest corrected in passing. "But -" he started and pointed to the sky. Flygon swirled around above them. Barely a dot in the sky, but he could be reached easily enough.
	Jerrek ate his berry - contented and slowly trailing behind the adults. Broadson offered a cigarette to Forrest and they both puffed as they hiked back to the "scene of the crime." Jerrek was naive enough to not be disturbed by returning to a place where lifeless bodies lied. He was more concerned with "just trying" a cigarette because he thought it was cool and mature.

	"He should really go home. He doesn't belong here."
	Forrest just gazed at Broadson sideways. The sergeant always had strong opinions of what was appropriate for others. There was nothing inherently wrong with protecting innocence. Forrest just had a very different philosophy about raising children to become competent adult.
	"I'm not a kid!" Jerrek called at the sergeant. "Sir," he added sheepishly, recognizing his outburst as disrespectful to law enforcement. "I'm strong enough to handle myself, sir." Again, his brows edged into his eyes.
	"No offense, kid, but you're not old enough for this sort of thing," Broadson explained rather coldly.
	"I'm not a kid!" he almost screamed back. "Please! - Sir! I won't do nothin' or touch nothin'!"
	"- Please," Forrest said low and quiet as he placed an arm on Broadson's bare shoulder. "I'll make sure he doesn't compromise anything."
	"That's not the -" Broadson began to argue. But he stopped himself and let out a short sigh. "Fine, but you do what I or your father tells you. And you stay back." The gray ice of his irises shot toward the boy's soft blues, making him wince as if struck. Jerrek just nodded and put his fingertips to his temple in a mock salute, not knowing what else to do as he was temporarily mute.
	
	"Milotic and Medicham made sure they weren't dead. Banette has control over that now, though." His tone was flat, clinical.
	Sergeant Broadson stepped through the shaded grass and inspected the body closest to them. "How many are there?"
	"Two men. Rhyhorn, Fearow, Arbok, Tauros, Scyther."
	"What made you take such action?"
	"A dead girl in the mud. They were fucking sketchy-as-shit, too," he said, pointing to the man stretched but also curled before them.
	The sergeant checked for a pulse - faint, slow - and then rose to inspect the other bodies scattered around. They were no less than 10 feet away from each other and all equally contorted against the ground. The other man was further in the forest, barely in sight from the man they hovered over now.
	"Was your intent to kill them?"
	"Um..." it sounded pondering rather than guilty. "I guess so."
	Both knew it was simply for the record. Neither could imagine Forrest actually getting incarcerated (considering the evidence against the attackers).
	"Has anything else like this happened recently?" Forrest asked. It was now his turn to question.
	"Well, we've had an influx of missing-persons claims."
	Both also knew it was unlikely this incident could explain those missing. But it crossed their minds in a moment of silence. They steeled themselves for what the truth could reveal to them.
	"Jerrek, honey," Forrest said, crouching down to level with the boy who was a distance away which encouraged him to approach. Half his attention was on Masquerain who fluttered just overhead, wanting to play with the boy despite his need to be "mature." 
	"You're going to go home. Tell your mother that I'll be home for dinner."
	"But sir," he said, arms stiff by his side in an attempt to show an appropriate level of restraints and composure. "I won't interfere."
	"I know you won't, hon," Forrest said and placed a hand over the whole of the boy's upper arm. His tone was soft despite it's resonance. "I can't promise your safety."
	"But all of them are here," Jerrek argued back with a hand raised toward the air in a gesture to all of his father's Pokemon while quickly losing his composure. 
	"There's too many of them," he started, indicating the Voided across the ground, "and we don't know of what they're capable or if there's anyone watching us and intending to harm us to protect their friends."
	Jerrek was silent and considered his father's calm and clear diagnosis of the current situation. His stomach interrupted with a violent curling - a plea that made even Forrest raise his heavy eyebrows. Jerrek looked down, equally surprised by the sound. He released a long sigh and slouched his shoulders. "Fine," he said.
	"Don't slouch," Forrest snapped the correction seemingly out-of-place and with robustness. The boy immediately snapped back into a proper posture.
	"Good-bye, Sergeant Broadson," Jerrek said with a voice pushed low and performed a proper salute, rigid and strained with his chest out and heels together. 
	The sergeant performed an equally respectful salute to the boy, but remembered that the eyes were to look straight ahead and past all distractions. Being so much taller than Jerrek, it looked like Broadson saluted to Masquerain, who continued to flutter obliviously in the close distance. 
	Jerrek made the mental note to remember that next time.
	Flygon had alit behind the boy, having already been notified of the request of his services. Forrest rose to twice his son's height and reached a hand to Flygon's chin to give a friendly pat as a voiceless "thanks." Jerrek made the effort to mount the creature and the two rocketed up and then south. Forrest watched and waved despite not being able to see their outlines clearly. Regardless, it made him feel better about leaving his son.
	
	"You ready?" Broadson asked. 
	Forrest looked over to Medicham who gave a mental nod. Banette's voice echoed from beyond, a snicker that reverberated against their skulls. Forrest gave a single nod for the three of them.
	The Dark Void used to cast their souls away appeared around the bodies of the criminals. The rings that formed smoked gold. The haze wafted toward the ring's center just above the "victim's" chests. The fog sank and made their torsos glow. 
	After a few moments, they began to groan and cry with pain and soreness. One of each of Forrest's Pokemon stood next to them, making sure they wouldn't try to run. Forrest stood with Sergeant Broadson and his Carracosta. 
	Forrest stepped to squat next to the criminal they stood over. "Don't make any sudden movements," he exhaled a heavy whisper against the man's cheek as if he cared about his well-being. 
	"What's your name?" Broadson asked much more coldly.
	"Fuck," was all he could groan.
	The two of them waited for the man to collect himself and serve a proper punishment. Broadson squatted down and mirrored Forrest on the other side of the criminal's head. He studied it to see if he was recognizable. There was nothing remarkable about his gaunt and pale body. A few tattoos were etched into his chest and arms, but nothing notable. Regardless, he was the prime suspect for the crime against Mrs. James. 
	Broadson shifted his left foot toward the man's hand and began to apply weight to the ball of his foot. "Fuuuuuuck!" the man groaned a howl. He kept whining and Broadson never let off.
	"Speak up, I can't hear you," Broadson said in a bored tone.
	"Ahhhh. Get off my fuckin' 'and!" he continued to yell through a sore and dry throat. 
	There's something here, but I can't quite get to it.
	Forrest rose quickly and trotted toward the other man where Medicham meditated. Broadson could get what he could from that man, but Medicham could penetrate the minds of others with much less physical consequence. What's in the way?
	The...Hospital? Or is it the Institute? she asked and showed the vision to Forrest to see if his opinion could shed more light on the fogged thoughts.
	It's definitely Fairfax, was all he could determine. Can you get a face?
	I'm losing it. He's resisting me. He's surprisingly strong.
	Forrest just remained silent and watched as the man, possibly around his own age but far worse off, moved his face as if casting a spell. He looked toward Medicham and thought just use Disable if he tries to flee.
	The man's eyes flickered and his face contorted. He turned his neck slowly, seeing a large and shirtless man with a Medicham hovering over him. He knew not to pick a fight and instead sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fuck me, he's going to kill us."
	"Sounds like your serious," Forrest said, evaluating his statements like some kind of psychologist. 
	"I am."
	"Who's 'he'?"
	The man just scoffed at the question, which made him cough. The dryness in his throat made it difficult for him to stop. 
	"Here," Forrest said and reached over to pour some water into his mouth. 
	The man took it without protest. He understood what kind of trouble he was in and had already submitted himself to failure, to death. He also knew he couldn't cooperate. 
	"If you just tell us who -" Forrest began.
	"You don't understand. When you find out, you'll know why."
	
	"Go bring-" Broadson paused, unable to summon the information he needed to communicated. "Keeper! What was that name?"
	"Ms. Haven Dao from Goldenrod. Daughter to-" 
	"...Ms. Dao to your home. She'll be safest there," Broadson finished with the command. The woman was cut from her recitation and accepted the interruption. She went back to recording the immediate surroundings with the other Keepers, understanding she was under the Sergeant's command for this mission. 
	"Bulwark Lark and I will take them," he started again, nodding his head toward the criminals not yet off the ground, "to Rustboro to get them healed up and then into custody. We have only enough Rangers to stake out the Day-care. We believe Ms. Haven could be the target of another attack, however. But the General won't provide an escort for a single foreigner who hasn't even been in the region very long."
	"Understood," Forrest said, lifting the rucksack and fastening it back on.
	"You'd best leave now if you want to get back for dinner," Broadson teased.
	Forrest just saluted and then hiked with some vigor out of the forest just off the path of Route 117. He took this chance to exercise some and started to run with the rucksack and alongside his Pokemon. By the time he reached the Day-care, his legs and lungs were burning. He knocked on the door but let himself in, regardless.
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