A Totodile-ly Unexpected Meeting

Usually the Pond was filled with an assortment of all kinds of Pokémon...usually young ones, but sometimes older Pokémon come by when they just want to enjoy themselves. At least, this was what Jet had come to discover based on the few days of study he had done while laying low in Grassveil Town since his arrival. This was the type of thing that Jet usually enjoyed doing...sitting by and relaxing, watching what the other Pokémon enjoy doing. He was once even approached by a young Pokémon and asked to play...to which he naturally agreed. It was very difficult to say "no" to the face of an innocent Shinx child.

Today, however, the Small Pond was unusually quiet and empty...and that was exactly what had landed him in this situation.

"I-I'm sorry, but it was all I could manage without going too far out...." Jet the Buizel murmured, having just handed over a few small berries that he had managed to scrounge up from the nearby area to another Buizel.

This second Buizel was about a head taller than himself, had a scar across his right cheek, and the defining icing on the cake for Jet was the fact that he was definitely a bit bulkier. "Did I ask for excuses?" the bigger Buizel asked, scowling down at Jet. Then, without even hesitating or waiting for an answer, he continued."No. What I asked of you was to go get me a decent meal and that in return, I'd forget that I found you all the way out here. But no...instead you bring me this slop!" With that, he plopped the miserable excuse for food into his mouth and ate them right there and then, swallowing it almost as quickly as it went in.

"Y-yeah, I know, b-but the trees around here don't grow berries or anything a-and I don't have the money to-" Jet stammered, starting to feel smaller and smaller as the conversation continued. Oh how he wished there were more Pokémon around right now. This bigger Buizel probably wouldn't be willing to confront him like this if there had been a crowd.

"I don't care what your excuses are!" the other Buizel replied with a growl. Then suddenly, without hesitation he raised his paw, curled it like a fist and threw it toward the side of the smaller Buizel's face.

Jet let out a small yelp as the punch connected solidly with his face. He had been unprepared to be struck like that and ended up on the ground on his stomach at the larger Buizel's feet, with a red mark on his cheek where he had been punched.

"Now then," the bulky Buizel growled, lifting a foot and planting it firmly onto Jet's back, pinning the poor, scrawnier Buizel to the ground. "I guess if you're not going to be forthcoming with the food or some other goods, then I'm just gonna have to take you with me. Maybe you'll do me some good elsewhere. I know for sure that I could always use a good punching bag to test out new moves with if absolutely nothing else." He then smirked, clearly enjoying tormenting Jet and pressed his foot down harder onto Jet's back. "Whaddaya think, huh? Pretty brilliant idea, right?"

"P-please, Neal, just...leave me alone...!" Jet begged, not even bothering to struggle at this point. He knew that that would be a pointless endeavor and would probably only lead to more pain on his part. "I-I'll give it another try, just...just give me more time to do it.... I-I'll be working at the Guild soon with a friend, s-so I'll be able to make some money to get you what you want...."

The larger Buizel, Neal, looked down at the runt cowering under his foot. He considered him for a moment, but his expression was very difficult to read. It just seemed like he was staring down at him, mulling the offer over.

Jet could only hope that this last bid would be enough to convince him. Otherwise, he'd be in some rather big trouble. Or maybe he would get lucky enough for another Pokémon to stumble across them and help him out. But he certainly wasn't going to press his luck on that one. All he could do for now was look upward at Neal with a fearful expression.

There was nothing quite like a wondrous day at the Small Pond. It was relaxing, and not just for Pokemon and other sentient beings: the trees swayed lackadaisically in the soft gale, sighing in relief as their leaves were rustled by the cool breeze; the gossiping reeds rustled and murmured gleefully as the wind carried obscure secrets along its twirling tendrils of chilled air; and the water's surface took on a sapphire-like hue and remained as still and captivating as the lifeless gem itself. Though the grassy, rolling banks of the pond were unusually deprived of life and void of social interactions, the calm that followed was greatly appreciated - some might even argue it was a refreshing, and most welcomed change. All in all, it was looking up to being another charming, worry-free day at this beautiful location... if it had been Tom's intent to come here in the first place. 


As he strolled across the grounds, a torn, rugged map situated in his hands, there was a look of defeat and utter frustration as he attempted to twist it this way and that. He walked and read at the same time, occasionally colliding with objects that were haphazardly strewn about. The Totodile's round snout was pressed firmly against the coarse parchment's surface, his slitted pupils darting about as he attempted to discern where the hell he was headed. As far as he could tell, he was doing nothing wrong: it was undeniably the map's fault that he was as far away from his destination as he possibly could be. It had to be in some sort of foreign language, something that he could not decipher because it had been the mapmaker's intent to make the reader as lost as possible. Yes, that had to be it!


With this improbable realization, Tom would determine that he was better off walking over hill and dale. If the mapmaker was so certain upon tricking him and making him walk off a cliff somewhere, he might as well walk around and chart the path himself. What did he have to lose, other than simply getting more lost? As he continued to trek his way along the banks of the Small Pond, his ears would pick up harsh words being exchanged with small, weaker ones. He would halt in his progression, allowing his feet to be planted firmly upon the ground as he twisted his skull to and fro in an attempt to identify where the disturbance was occurring. When the crocodile finally located the altercation and observed two Buizels conversing, the larger one struck the other one quite squarely in the jaw.


Now, he knew very little about the circumstances of why fists had become involved. As far as Tom could tell, however, the moment violence was included was the time to step in. The harsh encounter continued as he hurried his way towards the stricken Buizel, and soon it was one towering over the other. He slowed, and redirected his attention so that it might rest upon the hefty otter. Time to explain why violence was not the answer - except when dealing with feral Pokemon, in which case it was perfectly alright to start punching things. 


A clawed, scaley hand would make contact with the shoulder of the orange-furred creature, a rather cheery, toothy smile given as he would speak, "Pardon me, but it appears that you seem to enjoy punching things. Might I recommend the Dojo or a dungeon for that instead of this perfectly good fellow here?"

As Jet continued to look up fearfully at the bulkier Buizel, he saw something in his peripheral vision. A blue body of some sort had begun to approach not long after Neal's weight had started pressing down against his back. After a moment, he was able to make the shape out to be that of a Totodile...he had seen one before, back at his old home. He silently prayed that the Totodile was going to come by and help him out. But he didn't put much faith in the prayer. Why would some Pokémon he didn't even know bother to come over and help somebody like him out? Especially not given that this particular trouble-making Buizel seemed very prone to becoming violent.

The larger Buizel kept his foot pressed down onto Jet's back, not seeming to notice the little bit of a glimmer of hope that seemed to come across his victim's countenance. However, it wasn't long before he had no choice to notice. After all, it was very difficult to ignore a clawed hand being placed on his shoulder from behind him. He looked out of the corner of his eye to see a small blue crocodile-looking Pokémon with red spines running down its back. So there was just one of him, then? That was fine. He didn't care if he had a spectator or not; just as long as there weren't too many bystanders. He let out a small, "Hmph," as he shrugged his shoulder, trying to throw the Totodile's arm off of him.

"And who do you think you are, telling me what I should or shouldn't do?" he muttered, finally turning his head to get a better view of who he viewed as an intruder into his conversation. He then smirked a bit and pressed his foot down even harder onto the smaller Buizel's back, resulting in a small whimper being uttered from the somewhat frightened Pokémon. "This is private business, so you can just back off if you know what's good for you. A personal matter between me and him." He then gestured down at the Buizel under his foot and sneered down at him. "Besides, this little runt isn't worth anyone's time unless they can get something out of him."

Jet's face reddened slightly as the larger Buizel virtually called him worthless. He was otherwise silent, however. He certainly didn't seem all that eager to deny the claims.

Chipper and stern, Tom gazed on towards this rather bull-headed Buizel, his eyes never wavering from their mark right in between the otter's forward facing eyes. The corners of his thin lips had curled slightly upwards to form into a rather confident, cheeky grin, and there was an air of certainty and strength about him that seemed exceedingly willing to demonstrate superiority. Although his clawed hand would been shaken off and had thus severed a physical connection to his quarry, the Totodile would still maintain that sole link that consisted of simply staring at that larger brute. With his hands proudly curled into large, round fists and rooted proudly upon his hips, he would take on the appearance of a heroic statue.

As his newly acquired target dug his heel deeper into the poor victim's spine, the crocodile would do his best to appear aloof to this state - as much as he would have loved to have urgently asked after the Buizel's well-being. Smug and proud, Tom would have to maintain the illusion of being ignorant to the other's suffering for the time being... as much as he hated doing so.

"Ah!" he would say, as if he had been enlightened after finding a solution to a rather difficult equation, "Forgive me, but I'm afraid I can't." That air: it seemed to radiate out like the explosion of a supernova. He was preparing himself to find the right tempo for a battle, and as such couldn't help but allow himself to gloat and boast for just a moment. Tom had to size up his opponent, and this was the best way possible. How long would it take before the other cracked and tried to swing? "You see," he would begin again, allowing a single hand to direct itself towards the pinned Pokemon and loll out so that its fingers seemingly expand out across an invisible surface, "he's actually a member of my team. This means that anything you do to him, I'll have to return tenfold."

He would smile once more, "I would suggest you walk away now, you slimy, overgrown weasel, before I teach you your place."

Jet's eyes widened a bit when he heard this stranger Totodile refer to him as a teammate. He couldn't help but be confused for a moment. Why would this Totodile be claiming something so wild? But he quickly tried to hide his surprise and he just continued to look up at the two that were standing above him. Whoever this was, he seemed so confident and so strong, standing up to this larger Buizel. He was perhaps a little bit full of himself, but that could simply all be an act to try to get Neal to release him...although if that were the case he knew that it would never work. Hopefully, the Totodile was good at talking his way out of such situations...or he'd be picking quite a rough fight.

The bulkier Buizel turned back to the Totodile at his words, willingly meeting the crocodile's gaze. A questioning, inquisitive brow was raised as he sized him up. "You're trying to tell me that somebody as cocky as you accepted a spineless runt like this to be part of your team?" he questioned. The corner of his mouth curled and rose into a knowing, cocky smirk of his own. "Either you're pretty desperate for members, or you're just as weak and pathetic as he is." Despite his cool and cocky demeanor, his paw was now clenched into a fist again and for a moment, his teeth were clenched angrily. It was clear that he was not happy about being insulted. He simply tried to avoid showing it as much as possible.

After another moment of silence, the larger Buizel glanced down at Jet before returning his unwavering gaze to the Totodile. "Or maybe you're just lying to me." he spat. "If he's on your team, then I assume you at least know his name, don't you? Let's hear it."

Meanwhile, Jet continued to simply stare up quietly, trying to avoid becoming the focus of attention. Perhaps if he got too busy talking with the Totodile, he might let up and allow him room to pull free. Or at least, that's what he hoped for. He certainly didn't want this Totodile to get hurt in a fight just to help him out of a bind like this, so securing his own way free would definitely be the preferred option if he could find the opportunity.

The Totodile would continue to allow his body to display the tell-tale signs of superiority as he faced off with the rival Buizel. His round snout had positioned itself directly in the other's face, and his eyes had the intensity of an ambush predator watching and waiting for the right moment to strike. The confidence he exuded seemed so genuine and authentic that Tom himself was believing in his own artificial prowess and ability. It was at this time that he convinced himself that he was the most fantastic and awe-inspiring adventurer that had ever existed: his mind cast an illusion over him that he had climbed the tallest of peaks and gone spelunking in long forgotten, sunken temples. Though he had little idea in how to place his hands or use them to further convey his supremacy, he believed the aura he ebbed was satisfactory enough.

It appeared this way, too, when the other began to question the logic behind allowing this weaker specimen to join his exploration team. Tom would allow his confident smirk to turn into a cheeky grin, his open palms turning upside down as he shrugged his shoulders, "Well, you've gotta start somewhere. Someone like yourself was probably the 'little guy' at one point - just like all of the greats. Sure he might be a floor rug right now, but one day he'll be the one that can down the greatest of foes and threats." The crocodile's pupils would momentarily flicker up and down as he took in his opponent's body language, sizing him up as he attempted to purposefully push more buttons. "Then again," he would begin, "you seem to have missed a stage in your development! I dare say that I would expect a strong, little fellow like yourself to be tackling greater challenges... unless you really aren't that strong at all!" A hearty, mocking laugh would follow.

Then, it all shattered for him. Though Tom's outer semblance continued the facade of security, his mind was desperately clawing for a way out of this one. The lights were flashing red within his brain as he searched for possible outs, but simply settled upon one. It relied upon perfect timing and absolutely flawless ambush. As his fist subtlety curled into a tight, bony ball, he would feign playfulness. His voice was mocking, and seemed to chide the other for such a ridiculous notion of not knowing a fellow teammate's name. D'uh. He certainly did! "Of course I know his name!" he would exclaim, allowing the muscles in his arms to grow tight, "His name is-"

Wham!

Tom would attempt to bring his fist about the Buizel's temporomandibular joint as a sucker punch was performed. His fist, hardened by ice into a rather nice Ice Punch, would smack the other squarely upon the temporal side of his brain, rattling it about in its bony, protective cage. If that didn't make contact, he wasn't sure what would. All he wanted to do was knock the otter flat on his feet.

The large Buizel's smirk soon faded as the Totodile continue to pester him about the future strength of this pathetic, smaller Buizel runt and, even worse, his own strength. His smirk formed into a scowl. This game wasn't very much fun to play anymore and soon, without a doubt, he was going to swing. But, he soon tried to swallow his anger for a moment as the Totodile was silent for a moment after being asked about Jet's name. He couldn't help but allow himself to smirk at that. Just as he had suspected...the Totodile was lying through his teeth, no doubt about it.

Neal's thoughts then turned back to the comments the Totodile had made about Jet and how he could one day become just as strong as any of the great explorers or any other such powerful Pokémon. Now that the insult was at the back of his mind and he could think a bit more clearly, he was sure that he had a witty retort now. Before he could say anything, however, the Totodile had begun speaking again, claiming to know his name. 'Ha. This oughtta be good.' he muttered in his mind. He would wait for the inevitable failure to come up with a name, chastise him for his stupidity and then hit him with the retort regarding Jet. That would be sure to-

Wham!

When the Totodile was halfway through his answer, a fist had come flying out of nowhere and smashed him in the side of his skull. Having been taken completely by surprise, and since his footing hadn't been the most stable due to one of his feet still being on top of Jet's back, he fell completely victim to Tom's sucker Ice Punch. He stumbled over Jet's fallen body and fell down hard onto his own back.

"Grah...!" came his surprised grunt as his back hit the ground. He was stunned from the blow to the head. He shook his head, trying to clear his blurred vision. For a moment, he even forgot where he was and what he was doing. But the sight of the Totodile standing above him, Ice Punch disappearing after the successful attack, it returned to him. He was now laying supine on the ground at the Totodile's feet, more helpless than he would have liked. But even worse...he never was able to get out his witty retort about all the training in the world not helping Jet.

Jet, meanwhile, widened his eyes in awe as the Totodile let loose a surprisingly effective Ice Punch that managed to throw Neal for a loop. In fact, he was so lost in his jaw-dropping awe that he hadn't even really noticed that the weight of the larger Buizel had been lifted from his back and that this was his chance to get up and scramble away. Instead, he seemed focused on the Totodile...and the presently-vulnerable Neal to his side. He just laid there and observed in silent awe....

Contact! The Totodile's bony, ice coated fist had successfully made contact with the other's mandible and had floored him. There was something so wonderful about being able to knock a bully senseless that he was tempted to go in for another strike. Perhaps this was the intoxicating effects of power: once someone had a mere drop of its full potential, they simply had to go for more. He would deny his body such desires and instead opt for dialogue - something that this downed Buizel had decided against. As he held his fist aloft, his knuckles pounding from making contact with such a bony, hardened structure, his voice would sound proud and secure, "Yeah, that was his name: 'Your Butt On the Cold, Hard Ground'. How could I be so forgetful?" 

Holy shit, Tom's internal monologue would contradict in shrill exclamation, I can't believe that worked!

It was in that moment that he sensed it: nature's various methods of leadership. While some might rely upon force alone and use it to rule tyrannically over others, there were others who were gifted with the fickle beast known as restraint. These individuals knew when to play warmonger and when to play diplomat; they understood that not everything required subjugation and oppression. Such instances were dotted seemingly sporadically across history, yet when they occurred, there were mutual feelings of contentment on both sides. Tom was determined to cause this bully to reconsider his actions, but did not want to become the 'bully' himself. It was a thin line between rescuer and oppressor when it came to violent acts. 

With his fist held aloft, it would slowly begin to crystalize once more. While he was determined not to smash this guy in the skull again, he would have no idea of this inclination. Allowing a rather swift exhale to force its way out of his nostrils, the savior would pull it back for another blow, feigning intent to pursue his further decimation. "Although," he would begin, allowing his toothy grin to warp into a cynical, sick smile, "I might have been wrong. Maybe it was 'Smash This Guy's Face In'? Perhaps it was 'I Will Give You A Ten Second Head-start'? Yeah, that sounds like it! You seem like you know, so maybe you could help jar my memory!"

As the larger Buizel lay flat no his back at the Totodile's feet he gazed upward, not even faltering from the crocodile's gaze. However, he had to admit...for a move that was of a type that was not very effective against him, the attack had surprisingly hurt. He had to admit...it was tempting to just leave this runt and get out of here. After all, there was no way this pathetic excuse for a Buizel was worth the effort of fighting off an apparently decently tough explorer. But he didn't plan to go anywhere. Had it just been shooing him away, he would have done so. But no...the Totodile had instead pursued the path of taunting and provoking him. And that air of apparent superiority...it was just too much to allow him to just surrender and run away. He could never give this guy that level of satisfaction.

Neal rolled himself over so that he was on his stomach, placed his paws up to the ground beside his chest, and pushed himself off of the ground, slowly getting back to his feet. For a moment, he was silent. He simply stared at the treeline nearby, half-wanting to just escape and let the runt go. But no...there was more to it this time around. He clenched his paws into fists, clenched his teeth in a snarl and his tail was raised.

Jet's eyes widened when he saw Neal's body posture. He knew what this Buizel was capable of...and it was a lot more than what he was. Sure, Neal may not exactly be the strongest Buizel ever born, but he was no pushover. And he recognized the signature move when he saw it. "H-hey, watch out for his-!" he started, but by the time the words had left his mouth, Neal was already spinning around.

The large Buizel spun around, swinging his tail with as much force as he could...and attempted to slap it across the Totodile's face. Then, connect or not, he would swing it around four additional times, each strike aiming at a different part of the Totodile's body, assuming it was never stopped. He aimed for his sides, his legs and his head again...just basically anywhere he could reach with these five attack attempts using the Tail Slap he had managed to learn from his own parents. He said nothing as he attacked, and planned to save his gloating for when it was finally the Totodile's turn to taste the grass.

Gloating was never Tom's specialty. He was a kind-hearted soul who always attempted to right things through a good-natured spirit and a positive attitude. He wasn't always trusting of Pokemon he had just met, but the Totodile was always willing to give them the benefit of the doubt so long as they had proven themselves worthy of receiving it. Perhaps it was his inability to tell when enough was enough that had landed him in this position, perhaps it was simply because of his benevolent attitude that made him believe the fight would be abandoned at that: harsh words and a little slapping action. It was his inexperience that left him unprepared, for his presumed formula for an altercation to be resolved successfully was as simplistic and naive as his ideals.

Gloat.

Punch.

???

Profit.

Tom had simply asked for it by the time the other had begun to perform his roundhouse tail slap. Though there had been fair warning - admittedly, a cut off warning, but a warning nonetheless - the crocodile would feel the sting of a round, ruder like appendage defiling his cheek. His jaw would be twisted upwards, and his mood would shift to pure, unadulterated rage. The rest of his body would chip in its protest as his blue skin was further violated, and the throb of sweet violence nibbled at his nerve endings. Such ferocity was placed by the attacks that surely he would fall. He would have to, for the force behind it was such that it could bruise and damage internal tissues.

The crocodilian lizard's legs and feet apparently had not received the message, for they remained as ingrained and stiff as the roots of deciduous trees. As the successful hits smacked against his scaled hide, his brain attempted to register all of the complaints that his flesh was giving it. It went into override, slowed down, and allowed him to register his surroundings: all at once, Tom felt his adrenal glands kick into overdrive and surge precious adrenaline throughout his veins. When the last hit smashed against his blue scales, the Totodile would return fire. With elongated, glowing claws, a harsh growling screech would bubble forth from his larynx as he attempted to plant a Scratch attack squarely in the other's face. Eyes, nose, ears: all were targets for the protruding processes that now attempts to rake jagged lacerations across an animal's most precious location. Tom leaned into the attack, thrusting his entirety forward so that he might come down upon him like a tidal wave upon a lone rock. Even if the attack were to miss, there would be a whole lot of crocodile weight up in the other one's personal space. It was easily observed that his restraint had been beaten up and destroyed after five slaps.

Neal clearly enjoyed feeling his attacks find their marks...and each one managed to score a direct hit. His fists still clenched, he twisted his lips back into the confident smirk that fit him so well. However, he had to admit...he was impressed by the Totodile's abilities. He was able to withstand the blows and stay standing when normal Pokémon would have simply fallen to the ground. He had battled quite a few Pokémon back from where he had come from, and he wasn't considered too bad at fighting either. And he was definitely physically strong. If it hadn't been for the gloating from a few moments back, he actually would have considered complimenting his opponent for his endurance.

But that was not to be the case. In fact, he was getting ready to continue his assault more than anything else. In fact, it was more time to gloat back than anything.

"Heh...so how was that? Not so confident now, are you?" Neal muttered, lifting his arms to fold them across his chest, his smirk quickly evolving into a cocky grin. However, there was actually surprisingly little time to gloat as the Totodile returned fire much faster than he had expected. The growling sound that emanated from the Totodile's throat threw him for a loop for just a moment. He had certainly not expected a sound like that from this little croc. But that moment of vulnerability was all that the other Water Pokémon seemed to need as he raised his claws and slashed at him.

There wasn't any time to react to the incoming attack, so Neal had no choice but to simply raise his arms, allowing his instinct to take over for that moment. He was desperately trying to use them to protect his face, and he felt the claws rake his arms and he winced in pain...but it wasn't nearly as bad as if he had taken the attack directly to his face. Unfortunately for him, however, he was unable to deal with the Totodile's weight that had been thrust into the attack and he was again thrown for the moment, shield broken. And to top it all off, his raised arms left his midsection invitingly undefended....

Jet, meanwhile, continued to just stare at the battle that had unfolded before him. He finally came to realize, however, that Neal was distracted now and he was able to rise to his feet. So that is exactly what he did...he slowly climbed back to his feet at last. With that out of the way, he turned his attention to the fight at hand...and he watched the Totodile throw Neal for a loop. His eyes practically sparkled as he watched in awe of the Totodile's apparently awesome battle skills. This was the type of Explorer he hoped to be. Or at least, a transition point...he could certainly do without the cockiness he seemed to be exuding.

With such a sporadic and fluctutatingly high amount of fight-or-flight hormones coursing through his veins, the Totodile would move in sync with one of his predatory, prehistoric ancestors. Snarls and growls were emitted from his vocal chords as Tom's weight slumped down and pinned his adversary, his claws raking down the otter's arms with little discrimination between the different locations of flesh. To him, it was all an extension of his smug face, and, as such, was just as viable a target. With a glorious symphony of yelps and vicious hisses rolling into one overture for their less than magnificent battle, the duo would continue their tussle upon the moist, muddy soil. The crocodile would snap his jaws repeatedly as he directed it over the other's face in order to prevent his claws from catching upon his own person. It was quite awkward having a mandible-focused skull be rendered useless simply because no satisfactory moves existed for him to use with them, but he would have to make due with his fists of fury.

Having flattened his person upon the Buizel like a butter lolling out against a hot frying pan, Tom would find nothing else more pleasurable than flailing into his adversary. All of his limbs would attempt to kick, scratch, and beat against the pinned otter's furred-body with the vigor and tenacity of a toddler throwing a tantrum - it was a glorious Rage attack. His jaw would finally find its niche in assisting with this endeavor by attempting to smash his hardened chin into his face. If one were not involved, it would probably look quite humorous: here, a creature with an enlarged cranium, was relying upon its stubby arms and legs to seemingly macerate a larger Pokemon. The next thing that probably would have accompanied such an observation would have been the line of "walked into a bar". It was truly beneath Tom's standards as a fighter to rely on such primitive methods of attacking. He appeared to be having a seizure with such an awkward looking Rage attack.

Was he attempting to mock-swim on top of that Buizel?

In the end, that was what this whole thing was: a tantrum disguised as a ferocious, unyielding beating. He was kicking and hissing simply because his "fool-proof" plan had failed to yield the results he had desired. Where he would have cherished victory, he was now walloping down upon an opponent that had lifted his arms up for protection. Tom was generally a lover, not a fighter - he would hate to turn out like Cynthia. Cynthia: that was sole person he was doing this all for. One day, they would be reunited and they could go back to their idyllic, idle ways of crafting TMs and hoping they weren't too faulty.

Neal felt the surprisingly heavy weight of the Totodile's body press down firmly upon his own body. He growled with frustration and attempted to throw the crocodile Pokémon off of him...but he was simply unable to budge him. He had no explanation for it...he simply was unable to. Perhaps it was his supine position upon the ground combined with the Totodile's weight, or simply that his arms were too buy trying to shield his face from the unending barrage of claws. To further cause issue to his situation, his tail was underneath him and thus unusable from this position, so there was no way he was getting to use a Sonicboom or Tail Slap attack. But at the same time, since he was pinned firmly to the ground, there was no way for him to gain momentum for an attack like Quick Attack either.

Things were made all the worse when the Totodile began to simply...flail his limbs against his body. And due to his helpless position, he was unable to stop any of it. He started letting out loud grunts and shouts of pain as he felt claws slash and feet kick into his body. It wasn't long before his one method of protection, his arms, were knocked away from his face by the croc's claws as well. As a result of this, his face was now exposed to the clawing, causing him to cry out even more. He continued to simply lay there and take the beating...with arms connecting with the sides of his face and legs and feet slamming into his midsection and legs. And of course, the fact that this would very likely appear very amusing to outsiders of the battle only served to humiliate him and make things far worse. Especially considering that there was very little he could do about it.

But after taking the beating for a short while, Neal scowled, simply refusing to allow this to go on any longer. Despite the Totodile's weight, he tried to lift his feet up and press them up against the Raging Totodile's body. If he could just get his feet in place, he could thrust them outward, hopefully throwing the Totodile over his head and off of him. It was all that he could do to get out of this mess right now....

Jet couldn't help himself. He let out a small, just barely audible laugh at the sight he was so privileged to see. Very well, so then perhaps this wasn't quite the Explorer that he wanted to be at all. But even so, these types of characters were always welcome in his opinion. He simply continued to watch the battle from afar, completely forgetting that it was actually being fought for his sake in the spur of the moment. But had he realized that, it probably would only make the situation seem far more amusing to him.

Tom was immune to it all: the laughing, the frustration, the world itself. He was in his own little world that involved flailing about like a toddler who did not get his way. As his jaws flew open and his Rage attack began to subside, there would be but a single moment of serenity in which he would be quite pleased with himself. Here he was, attacking an opponent larger than himself with the effectiveness of a slap fight. His body was smashing itself onto the other, allowing gravity to force the Totodile onto the Buizel with great intensity. This grace that enveloped their encounter, for once, seemed to be allowing him the opportunity to feel like he could do anything he put his mind to. Reclaiming Cynthia was now a possibility, and the dream that they both had could finally be realized. They would walk side by side, talking fluently and jubilantly as they went. New destinations, new horizons: it was all possible.

Of course, then reality hit. When his enemy was on the defensive, it was easy to keep him locked down. Now on the offensive, this Buizel had secured its feet and was beginning to pry Tom off like a lid off a can. At first, the crocodile's limbs refused for this to occur: claws would hook into dirt and fur in a desperate attempt to keep flailing at him. Over time, however, this would be prove to be a fruitless effort, and he was evicted from his position. As the Rage continued to course through his veins, his aggressiveness extended past its set ceiling and caused him to take on a very mild red hue along the contours of his face. He would allow his feet to bounce off the ground, his arms to wave up and down like a madman, and charge into the thick of it once more with the savagery of a berserker. His speed turned into a blessing as he burst forward, jaws gaping wide as they would attempt to sink into the other's supple flesh. If the last Rage attack could be categorized as civil, then this one would be the equivalent of hysterical.

Once the distance had been closed and he was once more within range of the Buizel, Tom would lunge at him. The Rage attack's effects would naturally begin to become apparent as he became more and more angry and aggressive in his movements. His arms would flail rapidly at the orange-furred otter as he continued to surge forward, his claws exposed and ready to slice through already wounded, bleeding skin. His jaws, which had remained restrained, would now open and close sporadically in an attempt to get hold of the other in a toothy "embrace". The main difference was the fact that he would not attempt to crush the other; instead, his feet would help him remain firmly planted in the soil. Clawing, biting, hissing: this appeared to be a new low for the usually nice guy. It was always refreshing to see a man resort to a sissy fight every once in a while.

Suddenly, the situation had reversed itself. Well...sort of. Jet observed as Tom was eventually thrown off of Neal and onto the ground nearby. But something wasn't quite right here. He knew that the Totodile was merely using his Rage attack, which was going to get stronger and stronger with each bit of damage he took...but even so, the sight scared him a little and he remained where he was. Now he almost didn't even want to think about getting involved in this battle. With the amount of luck he usually had, this Totodile would even turn on him in this raging state if their common enemy was taken down while it was still ongoing.  And that was a risk he wasn't certain that he wanted to take. At least...not quite yet.

Neal growled and pushed himself back to his feet, trying to ignore the scratches left on him by the other Pokémon. He scowled as the other Pokémon jumped around like a maniac, arms flailing about as though he had no common sense. Whatever had happened to this once-calm and collected Totodile was not something that he welcomed. Finally, however, it was time to act. The Totodile had begun to rush forward and his time to think was over and done. He needed to keep this crocodile Pokémon from getting him into another position like that before it was too late.

This proved to be more difficult than he had expected, however. The attacks came much more ferociously as the Totodile lunged at him. This time, however, he was not going to allow the distance to be closed completely. "Not this time, you lizard runt," he growled. He then turned his back, spinning around at the moment the croc lunged toward him...and whipped his tails cleanly around, slashing them through the air with a great ferocity. The result of this aerial slash was a sonic wave that was launched through the air, headed straight for the oncoming Totodile. The Sonicboom attack was to strike the other Water Pokémon while he was still airborne and unable to react as well and throw him off track at the same time.

...Or at least, that's what he was hoping for anyway.