Metallica Fanboy vs. Meowth

The fire in the embassy, out of control as it is, still has a ways to go before it crosses the wall and the Theatrum Neutralis and encroaches on Allebahst's beautiful Rose Garden. As such, Meowth, Metallica Fanboy and their referee decide that it is probably the best place to pick up where they left off: far enough away from the blazing half of the embassy to remain relatively safe, and not inside another smallish office that is more prone to burning or collapsing or otherwise trapping them within. Plenty of open space to finish up a rowdy, destructive pokémon battle.

The three trainers haul themselves up out of the empty pool near the garden's center, panting slightly after their power walk through the tunnel connecting it to the lake on Babahl's side of the wall. The ref settles down near a stage that has been set up at the far end, taking a moment to admire the garden's namesake roses before scraping the bottom of his shoe against the ground next to them; its sole is covered in the blood he stepped in while hopping over the remains of the trash-thrower from before. The two combatants, however, get straight back to work, ignoring the blood and soot and splinters covering them and reaching for their poké balls as though nothing had happened. Metallica Fanboy summons Colias and tells him to hang on just a little longer while Meowth replaces Quercus with a new pokémon. He gives Shi-Long Lang a hasty "good luck, Shifu" before instructing the poochyena to move opposite the butterfree and begin.

Shifu frowns at his singed and battered opponent, not quite sure how the funny golden bug could've gotten himself so messed up if he's only just being sent out. He must not be a fresh battler, then—he must have done some fighting back there in that burning building, and been subsequently mauled by the fire and by whoever Shifu's predecessor happened to be. His tail twitches with just a hint of pride. Even if the pokémon Meowth had used before him was unable to take the butterfree down, it obviously did a number on him and was generally awesome and dependable all the way down to the wire. His teammates are all cool. They're like family. None of them would ever be horrible lying bastards or anything like that. Perish the thought.

Pride gives way to alertness as Colias gives a weary sigh and forces his tattered wings into motion, fluttering toward the poochyena with a manic glint in his compound eyes. Shifu squares his shoulders and glares right back at his opponent, confident that he is ready for whatever the thing might try to aaagh why is it eating my throat aaaaagh

Colias gnaws at Shifu's throat for all he is worth, desperate to salvage this horrible, horrible situation while he still has some strength left. His mandibles tear out tufts of fur and dig painfully into the skin beneath, and several bites puncture the tender lansat berry tied around the poochyena's neck. Colias backs away warily, swallowing the berry juice that trickled into his mouth without really thinking about it. The tangy, zesty liquid sets the butterfree's already frayed nerves on edge, filling him with a rush of nervous energy and making his flight just that little bit more erratic; his steadily rising sense of panic is not helped when Shifu, done whimpering and muttering about his bitten neck and stolen berry, charges forward with his own mouth wide open. The dark-type leaps at his foe and sinks his fangs into Colias's leg, dragging the fluttering insect down and gnawing vigorously to aggravate the injury. Caustic dark energy is forced into the cracked exoskeleton with each vengeful crunch, and the wound is throbbing mercilessly by the time Shifu relinquishes his hold.

There is little consolation in the knowledge that Colias's hearty nibbling seemed to hurt Shifu even more than Shifu's hurt him. Colias is still feeling absolutely awful, and the sudden surge of adrenaline honestly isn't helping him as much as he would've assumed. He dips down again, trying not to bump his bitten leg against the ground in the process, and makes another bid for Shifu's neck. Shifu is quick to drop his chin and protect the angry red scratches from further harm, but unfortunately for him this leaves his face exposed to Colias's questing mouthparts; he comes away from the second encounter with a badly scraped snout and a stinging, bloodied nose. Colias, for his part, is unable to move his own bitten body part out of the way in time, and when Shifu lunges and lands another crunch the combination of dark energy, crushing jaws and the already mangled leg sends a wave of pain shooting through his body so severe that he almost vomits.

Colias struggles forward a third time, too achy and dizzy and nauseous to fly high enough to keep his injured limb from dragging painfully against the earth. He takes advantage of Shifu's momentary astonishment and makes one final lunge at his opponent, tearing into the now-unprotected neck and chest with the ferocity of one who has nothing left to lose. Shifu's flesh is already more or less perforated by the earlier bug bite, and this newest assault rips the wounds open properly. Shifu, sensing that Colias really means business this time, doesn't wait for the biting to stop and instead attacks the butterfree's wing while it's still within reach. His sharp teeth shred the delicate membrane and scatter tiny golden scales everywhere, and each panicked bite is accompanied by still more acidic energy. His desperate crunching and tearing finally pay off as Colias's biting slows to a halt and stops for good, the butterfree's injuries too much for him to cope with at long last. Shifu lets the torn wing fall and pants heavily, stopping occasionally to paw gingerly at his bloodied throat. He wouldn't have pegged the fancy golden butterfree as the savage type; he looked more like the handing-out-silly-coupons-for-dumb-stuff type. That must just be what happens to a guy after getting worked over by Shifu and his awesome, totally-not-bastard teammates.

The poochyena is too busy fussing over his injured neck to notice a fourth human crawling out of the empty lake, and the ref and Meowth are similarly distracted or distant; Metallica Fanboy catches a glimpse of the figure out of the corner of his eye, but he pays it no mind as he recalls Colias and reaches for a second poké ball. The shadowy figure fiddles with a hidden control on the other side of the lake, then slips away silently as the pipes below burble to life and water begins to flow.

The small cluster of people that pokes its collective heads into the Rose Garden is understandably puzzled when they are greeted, not by Ambassador Alba speaking with his aides and preparing a speech, but by a bleeding poochyena and, seconds later, a snorunt with a cloak riddled with holes of some sort. Shifu stares at his new opponent, weighing his desire to add a few more nice holes to that cloak thing against his desire to take it easy after his scrape with the histrionic butterfree. The snorunt, Tyrell Badd, is a great deal more impassive and collected than Shifu or the confused humans milling around in the corner. It's all up to him to get down to business and bring that shifty little fluffball in, and he intends to do it. Simple as that.

Badd isn't the kind of snorunt who likes wasting his time, and so without further ado he opens his mouth and forces a blast of icy air out of his lungs. The frost breath falls far short of a devastating blizzard in sheer volume and intensity of cold and snow, but it hits Shifu full-on in his scratched face all the same. The chill bites into the open cuts and sends the poochyena into a fit of yelping and head-shaking. Shifu turns and runs to the side to avoid further icy abuse, and he doesn't stop even when he's well out of Badd's reach—instead he treats the gathering of early speechgoers to a dizzying dash in a tight circle, his little legs pumping and propelling him as fas as he can possibly go. Badd snorts and mutters something to himself about how "kids... are so overexcitable these days" before casting an impulsive quick glance over his sloped shoulder; when his eyes dart back to the place Shifu had departed from, however, he is greeted by four identical, if slightly winded, poochyena. All four Shifus bare their fangs at him, their confidence bolstered now that they're surrounded by a proper pack.

Far be it for Badd not to give credit where it's due; he hadn't seen that one coming. It's ultimately of little consequence to him, though, and without waiting for the four Shifus to make a move he expels another blast of frigid air in the direction of the one on the far right. His eye twitches slightly when the frost breath simply causes the insubstantial clone to vanish, leaving the other three unscathed and snarling even louder. They lunge at him as a group with their jaws open and glowing with a harsh, orange light, causing several of the puzzled onlookers to jump; they wince again when all three Shifus dig their teeth into Badd's side with a hearty, icy snap, cracking the hole-riddled covering and leaving Badd's flank exposed. Waves of pain shoot through what's left of the cloak and the rest of Badd's body, and he has to grit his overlarge teeth to keep from crying out or showing too much weakness.

The third frost breath is no better than the second, only punching clean through the second Shifu on the left and leaving two more tired but cocky poochyena behind. Badd curses under his breath, blaming the pain still radiating through him for his poor marksmanship—he was sure he knew which of the remaining foes had been the one to really bite through his cloak, and by rights should have nailed him this time. But he didn't, and he's forced to sit back and try to gather himself while the last two dark-types throw back their heads and let an eerie howl to the ancestors echo around the enclosed garden. The twin Shifus finish their primal howling and level their gaze on Badd, who stares coolly back. Not bad, not bad... but he wouldn't be where he is today if he let himself get flustered by a few fancy tricks like that.