Colonists, Task 1- Main

Deviation Actions

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Literature Text

 I can't believe I'm actually doing this, Quincy thought as he sat hunched behind the ramshackle mock fruit stand. The entire operation is incredibly risky, not to mention quite degrading on my part.  Plus, Benedict seemed thrilled about the idea, meaning it couldn't be any stupider an idea.  Well, there's no getting out of it now.  I just hope this will be done with quickly.

  Since he had nothing else to do while he waited, the Furfrou decided to review his plan.  Enticed by the offer of free ammunition for his Natural Gift attack, the runaway Sceptile would be tricked into venturing near the fake fruit cart.  When he arrived, Quincy would reveal himself, disguised as a rabid, feral Furfrou.  He would scare the fugitive, and a chase would ensue.  Eventually, they'd arrive in a more run-down part of Andalusst, with fewer inhabitants; that way, nobody would get hurt.  It was there that Benedict was currently waiting to duel and defeat the Grass-Type, though with all the variables, he may never actually fight him.

  Such a stupid plan.  I can hardly believe it came out of my own head.  I don't think reptiles can even get rabies.  I hope the Sceptile doesn't know that.  That is, if he shows up at all. Quincy stared at his pelt, smudged with dirt, grit, and Cheri Berry juice (What?  You didn't think he'd use actual blood, do you?).  It looked like he had gotten into a fight, which he supposed was intimidating.  The mass of soap bubbles in his mouth certainly seemed like the frothy spit of a rabid creature... didn't it?  The Furfrou sighed. I hope this will be enough.

  The scent of a Grass-Type hit Quincy's nose, and he heard a chuk-chuk-chuking noise, one that he knew belonged to a very specific Pokémon.   He's actually here!  The Furfrou dropped into a crouch; then, when the Sceptile's scent grew strong enough, he jumped onto the cart's counter, barking as loud as he could.  The ninja stepped back a few paces, mumbling something in his native tongue.  Then he drew several Berries from a chink in his armor and barraged the stand with Natural Gift attacks.  Quincy jumped off of the cart, narrowly being missed, and then proceeded to rear up on his hind legs and throw several purposefully missed swipes at the Sceptile's neck, yowling all the while.  With a confused and nervous cry, the Grass-Type turned tail and fled down a nearby alleyway, the Furfrou chasing after him.

  Good, I’ve got him running, and in the right direction, no less, the Normal-Type thought.  Now to make sure it stays that way.  Quincy knew that if the Sceptile began to think rationally, he would realize that he could simply scale a building wall and escape on the rooftops, or maybe that he wasn’t at risk from his pursuer’s supposed disease.  The Furfrou had to keep him too scared to figure that out.

  In an attempt to frighten his target, he quickened his pace, his soap-filled jaws snapping just inches from the Sceptile’s severed tail.  The Grass-Type yelped yet again, glancing nervously behind him.  An idea sparked in Quincy’s mind.  With a paw, he scooped up dust from off of the street and flung it into the ninja’s face.  The fugitive stumbled, then raced away at top speed, clawed hands desperately trying to scrub the dirt from his eyes.  The Normal-Type found himself smirking.  He can't jump if he can't see where he’s jumping to!

  As the chase wore on, however, the Furfrou’s confidence wavered.  Being fonder of books than sports, he didn’t have much stamina, and this wild race across the city was quickly taking its toll.  The multiple detours he had to take to keep the Sceptile on the right track only worsened his fatigue.  As he neared his destination, his legs begged for a rest, and his eyelids struggled not to close.  It felt as though his entire body was suffering from a cramp.

  Finally, Quincy chased the ninja into a vacant courtyard that had a broken fountain brimming with water at its center.  Eyeing the liquid gratefully, the Grass-Type sprinted to the fountain and jumped onto its rim- only to be assaulted by Benedict as the Buizel leapt from his hiding place underwater.  The two Pokémon fell to the cobblestone street, viciously slashing and swiping at one another.  Their angered battle cries were the last thing Quincy heard as he collapsed to the ground and let sleep enfold him.


  Quincy was awoken by a fearful, earsplitting screech.  He sat bolt upright and gasped in terror at the scene before him.  The square was littered with smashed Berries, broken Substitutes, and spatters of blood.  Near the fountain, Benedict crouched over the Sceptile, the later of which bore gashes in his arms, legs, and sides.  The Buizel was grinning in an almost demonic way, and he had one gloved, bloodied paw raised in the air, claw unsheathed in preparation to rip out his victim’s throat.

  “Benedict, stop!!” Quincy leapt to his feet, pelt bristling.  “We’re supposed to turn him into the police, not kill him in cold blood!  What are you thinking!?”

  The Water-Type blinked, as though he was unaware of what he had done.  Then he shook himself and got to his paws, grabbing the Sceptile by the arm.  “Hmph.  You ruined my fun.”

  “Fun?  Fun?!  What part about murdering somebody could you possibly consider fun?!” Quincy demanded, both baffled and disgusted.

  Benedict thought for a moment.  “It’s fun if there’s a reason for it.  Then, if they tell ya that you’re wrong and not them, you can laugh at how stupid they are.  And… I like how it feels to have life-blood on my claws and teeth.  It gives me a sense ‘a power, if you know what I mean.”

  Quincy couldn't believe his ears. “Y-you're insane!  No one in their right mind would think like that!”

  “Well then maybe I'm the sane one, and it’s everyone else who’s crazy in the head.  Now let’s go get our reward.  Should be more fun than this dumb talk you’re makin’ me have.”  With that, the Buizel walked down the street, dragging a groaning Sceptile behind him.

  Quincy stared at the Water-Type’s back, wondering how anyone could live by such horrendous beliefs.  His past was rough, but not bad enough to cause such twisted thoughts.  Was it genetic?  Or maybe a tumor, or some other illness?  Whatever it was, it had turned him into an insane, violent beast that belonged in an asylum.  And perhaps this little incident will convince my parents to put him there, the Furfrou thought with sudden glee.  After all, they do care about my safety.  They surely wouldn't risk it by letting my stay grouped with that lunatic.  Indeed!  My days as an Explorer shall soon be over!

  Grinning at his realization, Quincy padded down the alleyway.
So may italics...  Well, whatever.  At least this is finally UPLOADED.  Stupid internet made me type it out all over again...
Anyway, that's one task down,uh, let's see... nine to go!  Hooray....I think I've fainted.
And since Quincy chased the Sceptile to a less inhabited area, this team gets a Merit!  And totally doesn't get a Strike for nearly killing their target.  Because LOGIC.  For the reward, they got Customization Vouchers (Quincy somehow convinced Benedict to not evolve), so prepare to see fancy clothing soon!:D (Big Grin) 
Also, for those who don't understand why the Sceptile made a beeline for the fountain: In the later stages of rabies, the victim's jaw becomes locked in place (or at least unable to fully close, I can't quite remember), prohibiting the ability to swallow.  This causes the mouth to fill up with saliva, and the body then believes that, due to all the liquid in the victim's mouth, it's at risk of drowning.  As a result, when presented with water (or any other liquid, I think), the victim will jerk away, as its body believes that the water will cause a higher risk of drowning.  In other words, if you are attacked by a rabid animal (or person), get some water and throw it at them.
If you have any other questions, notice errors, or have feedback, please tell me!  I need advice!  (Since I never get any...)
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