The Streets 2--Let's Go!

One month since the Kanto uprising

Saffron City had not had this kind of celebration in many, many years. Not since the Rocket syndicate had been driven from their homes nearly forty years ago had the streets been so full, echoing with the excitement and revelry of an entire people, and more. People from all corners of the region and even the farther reaches of the world had gathered here, in the central city, to drink in the fruits of the renewed city's vigor. The city was packed, bursting at the seams with parties and concerts. From the Silph tower alone poured out a world of beautiful music, and nobody was left working. Even the still to be rebuilt wartorn sections of the city had been temporarily abandoned to join in the bright sunlight, casting over a million shining faces, occasionally overshadowed by the stray balloons streaming through the air as the visiting band paraded through town on their own grounded float, playing on speakers all over the city.

Devlin enjoyed his fair share of admiration, too. He had been loaned out for the event, not just a party, but a fundraiser as well. Even the staggering will and effort of the entire region could not bring the city back to its former glory all on its own, and Devlin was more than willing to be a posterboy if it meant a little extra attention. He stood tall from atop the pink and cyan Porygon float, fournished by Silph Co., doing little more than waving and smiling to the audience while the band's music reverberated through the walls of the massive skyscrapers. Occasionally he would pull back into a boxing stance and let off a few jabs, hard and fast, causing a wave of cheering. In the tough times of the war, Devlin had been a distraction and a hope for many. He had risen from nothing at all to stardom as a legendary fighter, after all. That was what the people wanted in these uncertain times, an impossible ascension from nothing to everything. What the people needed. What they paid bags and bags of money to see every Saturday night...

Devlin flashed another dazzling smile in the already blinding sun as several women sighed and fauned over him from the edge of the crowd. He noticed them and turned his eyes slyly to meet theirs in the crowd, widening his grin by just a tiny margin, his eyes narrowing in false interest. The gaggle swooned again, stepping back, and the young man couldn't help but to throw back his head and laugh. It was the same every time. He remembered, smiling finally with genuine amusement, what it had been like to try and snatch a girl when he was younger. His eyes searched out into the crowd, scanning out all the beautiful young women in the crowd. It was all too easy now. Every woman was easily wooed when you were the alpha, the best of the crowd. Bitches and whores, every single one of them, but god damn it felt good to get one of them to yourself on a lazy Sunday.

Maybe I should start clearing out my weekend schedule right now...he thought, spying a very curvy blonde from afar. She was one of the few not celebrating, he realized as he watched her shaking a signpost in the air, one of several in a small pocket at the back of the crowd, all wearing marked attire. He squinted in the sunlight, taking several moments to decipher the symbols from afar. They were, of course, Heroic, the vigilante team that had contributed much to the fight against Creep. Even since the citizens had overturned the Creep occupation they had been convinced that the worst was not over. Wish they could ruin someone else's party thought Devlin bitterly, averting his gaze. Maybe if he ran into the woman later he would try his luck, but he didn't fancy the odds of getting with a militant gal, famous boxer or no. Still, she held his attention a moment longer, curly blond locks bouncing tantalizingly in the sunlight, before he turned his attention back to the general crowd. He tossed up his arms, shaking his fists in a victory shout. Always good to to please the crowd, show a little bravado. Maybe he was being a little vain...but he could make up for it later that night when he beat down everyone in the ring.

Devlin could not have known how different a night it would be--or that his future was being decided in the dark corners of the Silph tower at that very instant.

Prospect Park--Let's Go!

A light breeze fell through the grass at Devlin's feet, rippling in sun-drenched waves. Windblown and drenched in a damp heat, he watched the sidewalk intently. With the humidity and cool wind, he felt an uncomfortable mix of chill and sweltering heat, agonizing every patch of skin on his tired body. Bitter thoughts crossed his mind as he grumbled audibly, tapping his fingers on the park bench irritably. Sometimes, being friends with a man like Facilier was not just annoying, but downright maddening. He had only called their meeting in the park because he knew the well-kept man would turn up his nose at being forced to sit in the dank apartment he inhabited. It was true, Devlin had a sizable fortune of his own, but he preferred not to squander it on petty formalities. He kept it all saved for important things. Like stomping out dirty, rotting, criminal scum, and buying bicycles for Mac.

Mac. He had left the Tyrogue behind. It would be too much of a giveaway to bring along his Fighting-type friend, as much as the Pokémon hated being left behind--but he could take care of himself. Sighing, he checked the Poké Balls around his belt, making sure he had brought everyone important. He had been forced to acquire a Gallade recently, despite the fighting style and attitude of the Pokémon being against his usual self--but it was essential to the plan.

Of course, so was the perfect cooperation of everyone on board. There could be no mistakes, from anyone.

He continued to wait for the good doctor in the sweltering waves of heat and chilly winds, damning whoever put the event in motion all the way to hell.

harpy borfday Snow

I hope it's cool.

Harpy Borfday Noin

You're a man now.

The Streets--Let's Go!

GOOD TIMES MAN

Along a shadowy alleyway in Cianwood City, a tall, wide man leaned back onto the chipped rows of bricks behind him, sweating furiously. He had been training, every day. Ran for five whole minutes without fainting. A new record. His muscles groaned in protest as he reached inside his fine satin jacket--why he had chosen to wear it for this situation, not even he knew-- and pulled out a small bottle of liquor, downing half the drink in one gulp. Every hour, on the hour. His head rested lazily against the wall, his wild hair hair pushing flat against the wall and stick together, drenched in sweat, his eyes stared out into the sun-soaked streets, glazed over. One more. And another, and another, and...he snapped back to reality. Ever since his loss at the title match, he had never been quite the same. His head lolled to one side. Devlin Kennedy, boxing champion, he thought, still breathing heavily. Drunkard and wastrel.

He had been better off on his own, in his opinion. Spending his time prowling the streets in the cities where had not been outright exiled, looking for any and all calls to arms. It was better than guzzling down as much alcohol as he could stomach, watching old videotapes of his matches. And why not? He had always fought for himself, but now he was a Trainer too. He caught his own Pokémon and taught them as much as he knew, while learning a bit from them. It was all he could do now. He couldn't last in a fight, alone, for more than a few minutes, before fainting on the floor. He had lived for fighting--still did, in a way.

After a few minutes of resting in the shade, Devlin sighed and pushed himself forward off the wall, taking a few deep breaths before calming himself. He took off around the corner, jogging rhythmically past the people in the streets, whom he ignored, often to the point of running right into or over them. At the same time, he kept his eye out for any sign of trouble. Valiant had been slow on work lately. Trouble with management, from the sound of it. His stomach tightened bitterly. He had joined Valiant as a vigilante group, not a bureaucracy. And yet, it seemed every other day they were facing some change in leaders, or some fucking organizational problem. Nothing to do at the moment except waste time on the streets and hope for some action or some tail.