Level 11 [video]

[rocketralph]

_{[The feed flickers on to a Goldenrod street view. It swivels around to a restaurant that is boarded up and the sign has fallen crooked. Pizza Parasdice. Ralph's Sandshrew has her nose pressed against a gap in the planks. Always on the lookout for something shiny to steal, that Bossy! Best Rocket.]}

How d'ya like that? Closed due to safety code violations. I knew it wasn't my fault when they canned me! Serves 'em right.

_{[Bitter? NAW.]}

That's all water under the bridge now anyway...but it's funny to think that I've been here a whole year. A year ago I was workin' here trying to figure everything out.

Comments

[Action, backdated]

[foolishwren]

<sub>[Heather hadn't flown anywhere by herself in quite some time. Not since the incident involving Pidgeot-theft and attempted murder. Which makes it sort of understandable.]

[But here she is in Goldenrod, heading down the street with her hands in her pockets, kicking loose slush ahead of her as she goes.]

[Of course Henry would end up in Goldenrod. SOMEHOW.]

[But at least he didn't like, die.]

[Though maybe if he HAD, he'd have poofed back to the Mahogany Pokemon Center and this whole thing could have been avoided.]</sub>

Pffuh.

<sub>[She kicks a can with particular viciousness-- but then catches sight of a large silhouette that she'd honestly completely forgotten about in the wake of Henry's Great Garbage Adventure.]

[:I]




[Well Henry's already been waiting several days, a few extra minutes won't hurt.]


[A slushsnowball comes whistling towards the back of Ralph's head.]</sub>

[rocketralph]

<sub>[ SPLAT!]

[Ralph had been admiring a row of icicles hanging from the roof of a shop when he was oh so rudely interrupted. He cringes and reaches back to clap a hand to his neck. Then, the monolith turns and glowers down at whoever dared to start a snowball fight with a man who had snow shovels for hands.]</sub>

You.

[foolishwren]

<sub>[SURPRISE BITCH]

[There she stands, across the street.]</sub>

'Sup.

[rocketralph]

_{[Ralph glances around before closing the gap between them in a few short strides.]}

What are you doing all the way out here? Aren't you supposed to be cities away?

_{[He's got a feeling he knows.]}

[foolishwren]

_{[She doesn't budge, although she does crane her head back up to keep looking him in the eye as he LOOMS CLOSER.]}

Oh, come on. Did you forget about our last conversation that fast?

_{[TECHNICALLY SHE IS ONLY HERE TO PICK HENRY UP but like c'mon. Destiny calls.]}

[rocketralph]

_{[Ralph huffs through his nose and shakes his head as he hangs his thumbs off his pockets.]}

You came all this way too...you must really want your butt whupped.

[foolishwren]

Actually, a friend of mine got stranded here and I'm here to pick him up, but lo and behold, I saw you.

It must be fate.

[rocketralph]

Alright. I'm a man of my word.

_{[Ralph stands back and lets his arms hang limp, inviting her to throw the first punch.]}

[foolishwren]

<sub>[The bad thing about having primarily fought inhuman monsters is that you get real used to the other party making the first move. Heather has always been better at dodging a lunge than at attacking something that was fully aware and waiting for her.]

[She gives him a look-- and then, brashly, bends down to start making another snowball.]</sub>

[rocketralph]

_{[A snowball?]}

Hey! This is supposed to be a fight-fight. Either throw a punch or forget about it! I got somewhere to be.

[foolishwren]

It is a fight-fight.

It's called being resourceful.

_{[She straightens up, snowball held aloft. Go ahead. Turn around and walk away, exposing the back of your neck. She dares you.]}

[rocketralph]

<sub>[REALLY, Kid? Alright. Do it. Just do it. He's going to stand his ground and puff out a long foggy breath through his nose.]

[No, Heather, he dares you.]</sub>

[foolishwren]

<sub>[The seconds tick past.]

[If this were a western, a tumbleweed would have rolled by and a culture would have sailed gently down and alighted on a nearby signpost.]


















[She hurls the snowball right at his vaguely squash-shaped face.]</sub>

[rocketralph]

<sub>[PAFF!]



[Ralph slowly reaches up and brushes the snow out of his eyebrows and lets out another foggy huff before taking a step forward. Then another. And another before he reaches out one of his freakish meat hands like a claw machine from Hell.]</sub>

I just noticed that I mispelled 'vulture' in the last post, I am literal garbage

[foolishwren]

<sub>[NOW they're talkin'.]

[FASTER THINGS THAN YOU (WITH BIG MEATCLUB HANDS OF THEIR OWN) HAVE TRIED TO GRAB HER, RALPH.]

[Dipping down to snatch another handful of snow, she dodges the giant smoked-ham hand coming in her direction and darts to the left.]</sub>

I'm gonna get this one down your shirt!

I CANT SPELL I DIDNT NOTICE

[rocketralph]

_{[Ralph's fingers close on air and he slowly wheels around to keep an eye on her.]}

Oh, no you don't!

_{[He swipes for her again, reaching for the back of her vest.]}

[foolishwren]

_{[She ducks again-- now THIS is more like what she's used to. Screw taking the first punch. Playing Dodgeball Champ is way easier than trying to headbutt a tree down. As she learned during all those sparring lessons with Ironhide...]}

Oh, yes I do!

_{[She whips around him-- and flings the snowball at the back of his neck as hard as she can.]}

Correction: oh, yes I DI-ID!

[rocketralph]

Gyaaahgh! <sub>[COLD COLD COLD! He swats at his neck and stumbles back a pace or two, keeping his back away from her. FINE. Fine, he'd play this game. But only for so long.]

[Ralph bends down and scoops up a mound of snow that could easily have made half a Heather. He raises it above his head and hurls it at her.]</sub>

[foolishwren]

<sub>[OH SHI--]

[She throws herself out of the way again, but still catches a hefty portion of the snow. It's not nice country snow, either-- Goldenrod has nasty city snow.]</sub>

--OOF!

[rocketralph]

_{[With his target hit, Ralph charges forward again and reaches for the back of her hood. It was the perfect handle.]}

C'MERE!

[foolishwren]

<sub>[The big problem of wearing stuff with hoods is just that-- perfect handles.]

[This time she's not fast enough to avoid it and his enormous fingers successfully close around the back of the vest.]

[As if on cue, she twists around to slam the handfuls of snow she snatched up into his face.]</sub>

[rocketralph]

<sub>[YOINK!]

[If they were in a cartoon, that is the sound that would have happened as Ralph picks the little god-killer up and holds her aloft like a kitten. He makes sure she gets a good long look at his face before turning and marching toward a dumpster.]</sub>

You asked for it, kid.

[foolishwren]

<sub>[... Well, with the snow in her hands flung, her arsenal is spent.]

[She reaches over her head to yank at the fingers hanging onto her hood.]</sub>

Whoa.

Whoa, HEY.

Put me down, this was supposed to be a feet-on-the-friggin'-ground fight! HEY!

[rocketralph]

<sub>[With his free hand, Ralph hauls open the dumpster lid and holds Heather over it so that she has enough time to take in what's about to happen.]

[He's fond of his little bird friend, but he's had quite enough of her for one day.]</sub>

[foolishwren]

<sub>[She looks down at the shadowy recesses of the dumpster below her feet.]

[Then she looks at Ralph.]</sub>

... You wouldn't.