A Not-So-One-Man Show

Why wouldn't anybody just end his misery? It had started off like such a wonderful day.  He had finally managed to convince the Guild Healer to allow him out. The scar on his chest and the rest of his wounds were on their way to complete recovery. Hell, they weren't painful enough that he couldn't get out of bed and go out on a walk while still have enough stamina left for a quick mission in Pecha Forest. He had so many plans, all of them carefully contemplated so that he'd experience the least difficulty. He wanted to be useful, especially after having been out of commission for so long. And fact is, after the incident, he considered it a miracle that he was still able to move, let alone be stable enough to make such a decision.

Fate hated him. He had barely started off what was supposed to be a relaxing stroll when all of a sudden he bumped into some crazy, poke-obsessed Croagunk. Within minutes of their encounter, he found himself being dragged away, forced to help the newcomer whom he held little to no respect for. The poison type was so... simpleminded. He had the attention span of a toddler and could barely restrain himself from trying to pickpocket some poor pedestrian. It took hell to get him to even reach the guild's property.

And then, right as he and his moronic companion were finally able to navigate to their destination, he found himself jinxed once more. It didn't seem harmful at first, but it was all just in his head. With his foolish mind, he had forgotten that he and this 'old friend' of his had actually separated on bad terms. Although his gut told him that it was a bad idea to try warming up to the sand mouse, he chose not to follow it. The cruel, ironic twist being that he ended up getting socked in the gut, thrown onto a pole, then forcefully dragged into the guild by said 'friend'.

He was pushed through the halls, unable to do anything to resist. If he tried to go against the sandshrew, he'd either end up getting beaten to a pulp or feel ashamed for the rest of his life. He had the feeling it would be a mix of both. With some reluctance, he led the two other pokemon down the halls of the cozy guild. He felt so alienated in what he called his home. He was supposed to feel comfortable and safe here! Oh why, oh why, must such peacefulness be disrupted by these two nincompoops? This was definitely some form of karma for his past mistakes. Very painful and embarrassing karma.

He did his best to ignore the curious stares of the other pokemon in the guild, keeping his focus onwards as he made his way down towards the Guildmaster's Quarters. A few tried to ask him what was happening, only to receive an awkward and passive wave. He didn't want anyone to get involved, especially with these two. He bit down his words, hoping to remain as silent as possible as though his lack of speech would somehow lessen the attention being drawn to him and his guests.

He stopped, noticing that they finally arrived at the hall leading to Quarters. He gulped, feeling a lump in his throat. He had a very, very, bad feeling about this. With a nervous smile, he looked at his companions. "Well, this is it. So, are you guys going to form your own teams? You might want to decide on a name early..." Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes.

Was it him, or was this dat GRReat! Not only had he stumbled into a town filled with Poke-filled Pokemon, but he's going to land himself a job in the process! He thanked his lucky stars that all of this good luck's shining down on him. He remembered something that leader of those Croagunks told him...

'"You'll never make it out there on yer own, kid.' To which the younger Nixon headbutted the leader, earning him a scolding, and the punishment of lying down on some sharp rocks for an hour. He was never able to lie down on solid ground after that. But that rather painful memory aside, he PROVED the leader wrong. He's out, and he made it, and now he's ready to make some Pok... "CHING-CHING!!" He cried out, sharp senses detecing a rather blessed Magnemite, floating along, obviously laden with Poke.

Supposedly, he got into a stance, ready to jump, but a shred of common sense hit him. He stopped, and suddenly froze in spot. "Magnemites are a dual type Pokemon of dual types, Elctric and Steel. Poison does not affect Steel." He croaked weakly, watching the Magnemite with a nervous look on his face. Nixon's whole body was trembling, and sweating. His darn Anticipate ability is more harm than good! It wasn't until the Magnemite had fully gone from sight that Nixon could move. Only very slightly. Stiffly, he raised his foot and turned around following the two Pokemon inside the guild. Inside, his nervousness eased fully.

Skipping over to Mordred, Nixon chattered loudly, asking curiously about every single detail. A barrage of "What's this, who's that?" came from the Croagunk, no doubt possibly irritating others around them. At the Quarters, he stopped, eyes gleaming with wonder and awe. "Woaah... " he gasped, eyes scanning the area.

With that, he grinned. "Are you kidding me? I'm not ready yet! In fact... YOU are my team leader now. LET'S GO GO GO!" He shouted with enthusiasm, saluting the Scraggy, before taking him into a rib-crushing hug, with the fingers digging especially into the pokemon's shoulders.

Douglas brooded as he shunted the scraggy through the many halls of the guild. The whole place was claustrophobic. Normally small spaces comforted the adventurer, but the mess of noise and cluttering surrounds of the predetermined caverns The spartan corridors bustled with pokemon of all creed and kind, creating organic blockages in the arteries of the guild. Not that Douglas cared, that's why his "associate" was in front. The fighter cleaved a path through his friends like a hot knife through butter, leaving a wake for him and the irritatingly chatty thief to follow.

In fact, the inane noise gushing from the croagunk's mouth threatened to smother the sandshrew's sanity. The sound of dozens of conversations and questions rang deep in the explorer's ears. The armoured triangles swivelled and twitched atop his skull, each attempting to mute the distressing echoes.

Teeth grinding, the sandshrew pushed more roughly than he intended upon his leader.

"Sorry." The hatted pokemon choked out before remembering he was in this forsaken place because of the scraggy. "Get a move on 'friend'. The faster ya'll are through this place the faster ya'll can split because that means Ah git what Ah want faster."

Admittedly, if the two pokemon had been paying attention, they would have noticed more than just Douglas' voice cracking. The treasure hunter seemed to have shrunk an inch in height, the sounds and onlooking stares beating him down with increased ferocity with each passing minute. A single bead of sweat ran down the nape of the neck of the sandshrew. This hovel was giving him flash backs to places he would rather forget.

Reaching the door to the guild master, the sandshrew sighed and mentally thanked the gods for the lower noise level towards this area of the guild hallways.

“Alright... Alright, let’s get in here and make a team. Do we have ta come back here every time? Hell...” The sandshrew ignored the protests of the fighting type. “Much as it pains me, we all gotta go through hell now. If you just kept yer damned word...”

The ground type rapped upon the great door before him thrice, the sound seeming to echo into a large room behind it. Together, the unlikely group of pokemon awaited the guild master, Douglas taking up the rear so as to prevent the departure of Mordred.

Slowly, with an unoiled creak, the door opened.

Pushing the scraggy a final time, Douglas whispered words he might later regret. “Go on, yer the leader...”

The guildmaster was reading a book of hers when suddenly a knock was to be heard on the door to her quarters. Bookmarking the page she was on, she set the book aside, slowly waddling over to the door.
Upon opening it, she found Mordred, the Scraggy, two unfamiliar faces behind him.
"Oh, hello, Mordred! A pleasure to see you again. And hello to you as well, sweeties. What can I do for you?"

"W-WHAT! No! As if I could handle you two! I DON'T-" Mordred loudly protested, only to be cut off by the Croagunk's sudden hug. He let out a shrill squeak, feeling fingers forcefully grip his injured shoulders. Although the bruises located there were minor, they were still on their road to recovery, much like his other wounds. The pressure put on the scabs caused them to scrape off, adding two or three new tiny openings that made him wince. His back ached, feeling the other's arms damn well squeezing the air out of him. "HRK! Let... go!" He uttered, managing to wiggle himself out of the poison type's grasp. If this guy wasn't going to kill him, he was sure the healer who'd be checking him would.

Once freed, he took a few seconds to catch his breath. "Why don't the two of you just form your own teams?! It's not like it'll be difficult..." He glanced at the croagunk, shuddering slightly. "... Probably." He faced the sandshrew, narrowing his eyes in disdain towards the ground type. "And I doubt any of you guys would listen to me anyways, so what's the point?" He didn't trust either of these two. They spelled trouble, and chances are, they would only use him as a puppet of sorts. It was already obvious that the sandmouse didn't like him and the poison type could barely use his own brain. If they formed an alliance, it would be unstable and act as just another burden.

Just as the reptile was about to add to his argument, the door opened. He hadn't been able to stop Douglas from knocking on the door. He quickly turned around, nearly tripping on his own feet from his hastiness. He wobbled for a moment, narrowly preventing himself from falling backwards and making this encounter more embarrassing than it had to be. There, standing in front of them, was the Guildmaster.

He felt a pang of guilt hit him at the sight. The last time he had seen the friendly Meganium was when he had first created Team Valor, which had been solely dedicated to allowing him to work in solitude. His initial team was supposedly with the first pokemon he had befriended in Grassveil, a female Vulpix of the name Aislinn. The two of them had both been awkward and nervous when they met, but their desire to join the guild had allowed them to overcome their anxiousness and come to an agreement. Unfortunately, he had been unable to uphold his promise, leaving the fox in the dust right as they were speaking with the Guildmaster. It had been such a time ago that he was surprised he could still remember it.

"Sorry for interrupting you Guildmaster Faye," He said. "I... uh..." He looked over, staring briefly at his guests before turning his attention back to the meganium. He seemed reluctant to continue. Was he really going to allow them into the guild, let alone his team? "... Have some new recruits for the guild." He decided to simply play it safe for now. Either way, this gave the croagunk and the sandshrew the opportunity to back down... Or so he hoped.

"The Sandshrew is Douglas, and the Croagunk is... Um..." Oh boy. After all of this, he had forgotten to ask the poison type for his name. He lightly hit himself in the face, mostly out of impulse than anything. By Arceus, how could he have not remembered to ask for a name before all of this? Chances were, it was probably caused by the many distractions their little trip to the guild had encountered. Add to the fact the he didn't exactly enjoy the other's insistent blathering, it was to be expected that asking for personal information would have slipped his mind. It was amazing how the idiotic croagunk could have run his mouth for so long and yet never bothered to have introduced himself.

Just keep hugging. Keep hugging, and keep it up. Once Nixon got hold of his 'target' for Poke-milking, he wouldn't want to let go, literally. But still, the Scraggy still managed to break free from his grip, and Nixon let go. He grinned like an idiot as usual. "Yes you CAN, leader!" he croaked, obnoxiously loudly, so that everyone in the guild could hear. Hey, if the Scraggy'll reject him, at least he can make a scene to guilt-trip the guy into taking him back.

"Oh yes, it would be OH-SO-DIFFICULT! You wouldn't weave a widdle Cwoagunk wike me awone would you?" Nixon stuck out his lower lip, and pretended to pout, "After all, you're OBVIOUSLY the guy for the job. I mean look at this!" The Croagunk then proceeded to intentionally stab at a large bruise of the Scraggy's. "Battle scars, are COOL." Nixon crossed his arms, giving Mordred an 'I bet that hurts' look.

However, just as he was about to make some sort of remark, the Guildmaster came in. Some Meganium, who seemed to know the Scraggy well. Deciding to let his new team leader to do the work, Nixon instead turned his attention to Douglas. "So uh... How'd you two meet again?" he asked, still occasionally glancing at Mordred. In case the Sandshrew would answer, Nixon would just cut him off with an extremely rude, "Nixon the Croagunk, at your service!" complete with a salute in which he purposely tried for his elbow to make contact with the Scraggy.

After his introduction, he'd smile at the yellow Pokemon like nothing happened.

Douglas met the scraggy's glare with his own rock steady gaze. He smiled lightly at the scowl, shrugging his shoulders. It wasn't his fault that the reptile found himself in this position, nor that this position was upsetting. In fact, the sandshrew was only slightly less upset over the entire chain of events.

Had Mordred kept his promise him and the ground type would likely have parted friends and allies. He held anyone in a regard of esteem if they aided him or stuck to their word. These pokemon, however, seemed to be few and far between, Mordred being exemplary. Douglas smirked in an egotistical fashion.

"Perhaps he woulda gained some wits if he stuck 'round with me." The sandmouse mused to himself.

But, alas, that was not the tale. The sad reality was the Douglas was now quickly running out of means to subsist and so now he had to cowtow to this guildmaster. If it was all by contract, Douglas would have rather led his own team, perhaps simply standing over the independent scraggy when he could. But all this dealing with people and even the veritable hive of a guild within gave the treasure hunter the impulse to spit a bad taste from his mouth.

When the guildmaster answered the door, Douglas quickly adjusted his hat and stood up straighter, appearing as presentable as possible for his introduction. Though they had met before, Douglas hoped that Faye did not remember him. It had been only a fleeting moment, a single question. The guild had hundreds of members and thousands of contacts. It wasn't unlikely that she would have misplaced her memory of him.

The sandshrew shifted away from the croagunk who was located beside him. The poison type was, from his observations, incredibly juvenile. He quickly assumed that Mordred's companion was diluted and probably acutely lonely. Anyone who was sure of themselves never yammered as much as a pokemon like this. He was eyeing the Mordred's foil when he turned to face the armadillo, seeming to want to unload his verbal dyrrhia upon a new target.

"So uh... How'd you two meet again?" The croagunk said with what Douglas could only call a toady smile.

"Great Balls O' Fire..." Uttered the sandshrew, just a second before the croagunk introduced himself to what sounded like the entire guild and possibly the black spear mountains as well.

When the continent's collective ears stopped ringing, the poison type now known to Douglas as Nixon beamed again.

"Yer dumb as mud, ain't yah?" He said to only himself. The phrase applied to every member of the entire soon-to-be team at this point. Douglas felt it was most poignant that he's rather be in mud than here.

Seeing the three Pokémon...interact with each other caused a smirk to spread out across the guildmaster's face. Then all of a sudden her expression turned into a rather apologetic one as she began to speak once more:
"Oh, sorry there, Douglas! I hadn't noticed you at first! It is wonderful to see you again, dearie."
Turning to the entire group again, she continued:
"That's great, sweeties! But it seems, that your group still has a few things to discuss before I sign you up. Are you sure you wouldn't rather first talk about this with each other some more? You are going to be depending on one another out there after all."

It took every shred of willpower in his body not to deck these two morons in the face. He couldn't, of course, because his body was not in the state to deal with creating effective blows as well as the fact he was in the presence of authority. If he was to act violently, there would no doubt be grave consequences awaiting him afterwards. Still, he couldn't help but think longingly how satisfying it would be to see the Croagunk's face in the dirt and Douglas being hurled out the window. His hands, which had been hanging limply by his side, curled briefly into fists at the thought. A faint twinge of amusement flashed on his face, relishing the image of giving his 'accomplices' some much needed payback.

The reptile visibly winced, having his injuries worsened further by the poison pokemon's insistent jabs and grabs. His sole eye sharpened into a brief leer, no doubt finding these gestures deliberate. "Do you mind?" He said, voice low and conveying his wavering patience. He attempted to gently touch the affected areas, only to hiss when he felt the stings of pain shoot from them. He was definitely going to need to get those checked. The only detail that gave him relief was the fact he didn't seem to have caught any sort of poisonous illness from the croagunk's touch. A meager stroke of luck.

He raised a brow at the frog-like pokemon's question. Taking a moment to contemplate, he gulped and decided to bury the answer for the mean time. "Let's, uh, talk about that some other time..." He was definitely not in the mood to recall such memories. What with having to escort these two jokers, the lizard was already in enough embarrassment and shame as it is. He shot the sandmouse a warning glare, as though daring him to explain.

To his relief and utter agony, the topic was dropped in favor of an introduction. A boisterous, overly-enthusiastic and quite frankly rude one, at that. He twitched, raising a hand and gently patting the side of his head. His head was ringing. Thankfully, it didn't seem like he was going deaf any time soon. The elbow jab that followed had definitely not gone unnoticed. "OW! Hey!" The scraggy glared at the croagunk, rubbing his side and mumbling obscenities under his breath. Great, as though he didn't have enough injuries already. "Jerk," He muttered as his narrowed eye caught the croagunk's fake smile.

Finally, the guildmaster seemed to intervene. He listened attentively, but felt humiliated with each word. Their poor coordination was blatantly clear and he felt the weight of blame on his shoulders for bringing such a disappointing display to this level of authority. His gaze drifted to the floor for a moment, hesitating as he tried to search for what to say. "Thing is, Guildmaster Faye, I don't really - they aren't actually - these two are just - .... Ugh!" The scraggy gave an exasperated sigh, rubbing his temples with his fingers. It was possible he was developing a headache from all of this. What was he going to do with these two? He didn't want to become teammates with them, but he didn't seem to have much of a choice in the matter. He was in debt to Douglas and the idiot, Nixon, had recently tarnished his reputation with his obnoxious whining.

Mordred turned towards the two, mouth pressed into a thin line. He looked exhausted. "Are you two sure you want to join Team Valor? Last chance to back down." He crossed his arms, waiting for their response.