To be a true hero, kid, is a dying art

[clunk. white noise distorts this transmission for several seconds-- the feed cuts in, cuts out... almost blips out entirely for a split second there before the pokégear practically roars back to life and the feed returns to its normal clarity. someone really ought to tell Sora to stop dropping his 'gear.]

[it appears to be any normal evening on the ground here in Goldenrod: warm-colored, freshly lit buildings to replace the setting sun somewhere in the distance, two Girafarigs galloping down the street and away from the feed... someone in the middle of an intense fight.]

[the 'gear is fixed on some spot down the road, so the combatants are mostly heard-- well, Sora, anyway; he's doing a lot of yelling-- and only seen in occasional red and yellow and black blurs. after a few minutes of heavy footsteps and the wooshes of someone swinging something heavy pass, Sora skids to a stop in the 'gear's view, trying to catch his breath, gripping a wooden Keyblade Ven carved for him months ago tightly in his hands. he is sweaty, his hair is disheveled and there's a streak of soot across his face-- he probably smells, too. for a kid caught up in what looks like a pretty violent brawl, he actually seems pretty calm. in fact, the 'gear is close enough to catch a sly grin on his face.]

When are you gonna stop going easy on me, huh Dapper? C'mon, I dare you to sting me!

[oh, it is on now, Trainer-- the Beedrill buzzes from offscreen, and Sora's expression briefly flickers to one of surprise. well, he did ask for it. the pokégear finally craps out right as Sora's moving to dodge a well-aimed Twinneedle.]

[there are a few unusual things about this here transmission: first, Sora's sending out a few text messages. they're... not exactly his first choice for communicating; he prefers being able to see someone's face when he's talking to them. that and he's painfully slow with hunting and pecking on a keyboard. he's got a good reason for going the text route today, though.]

Is everybody okay? I know all kinds of weird stuff's happened, and I want to make sure nobody's hurt.

[-- and unusual thing number two. though Sora is not much of a typist, he does at least try to make his texts grammatically correct. oh screw it, typing with one hand is annoying.]

let me know soon. also if you guys have any empty bottles hang on to them. or give them to me and i'll hold them for you. ive got an idea

if you find my stuff please be careful with dartanian_

[shortly after mashing the "send" button, Sora tosses his 'gear in front of him on the bed and sighs. tries to sigh. Bell waddles over to to where the 'gear hit the covers and turns it over and over with her tiny arm stubs, prii'ing happily to herself. feel free to make a video call, though you may be chatting with a Togepi at first.]

[if you happen to enter the pokécenter in Goldenrod, you might hear Sora arguing feebly with a nurse and basically being the worst patient ever.]

[instead of his usual video posts, Sora's turned on only audio this afternoon on account of his hands are full-- the 'gear must be attached to his belt or something, because his voice sounds kind of far off, and almost drowned out by the sound of him shifting around a huge box filled with bottles and trinkets and who knows what else in his arms. as far away and soft as his voice is, he sounds positively ecstatic.]

You guys should see everything I just got at the mart! It's all kinds of good stuff! These are gonna make make fantastic prizes for games and whatever else on Monday. If you're running a booth or something, lemme know and I'll--

[gosh, it's a good thing he wasn't saying anything important, because he's suddenly interrupted by a deafening roar that sounds like it's only a few feet away from the pokégear.]

What the--

[crunch. there's the sound of kid yelling and Pokémon blaring its vocal chords, followed by two large thuds and the tinkle of shattering glass.]

[whatever hit him must have knocked the 'gear off his belt, because the video feed suddenly flicks on to show its view from the grass. he's sprawled out on the ground, the box and its contents broken and scattered all around, and Sora has suddenly found himself nose-to-nose with an enraged Pokémon, plumes of flames billowing in his jaws. someone is not pleased to have lost his original trainer, and is even less pleased to have been unwillingly passed off to this new trainer.]

[happen to be in Violet? it's not too late to fetch the marshmallows! watching the video feed? grab some popcorn and enjoy the impending boss battle-- luckily, Sora has some experience with dragons. sort of.]

[behold, Johto network: a Weedle! half of a Weedle's face, anyway; it's nested comfortably against the pokégear and is clearly not interested in its goofy-looking new Trainer trying to get it back in its pokéball. Sora's hand is visible every so often as he tries to pry the Weedle off of his pokégear, but that bug ain't budgin'- it even takes a few shots at Sora's hand with its stinger every so often, yelling out a "Weedle!" in warning. every attempt to plain recall the Weedle results in what Sora would consider some pretty impressive dodging for a giant stinging worm, if said giant stinging worm wasn't trying to dodge him. the pokégear is Weedle's territory now, buddy, best find yourself a new one.]

Oh, come on!

[completely cowed by a bug, fantastic! at least Riku isn't around to see this.. if one happens to be around Route 30/31, they'll probably see Sora scooting toward his pokégear on all fours, pokéball held out for a surprise attack. he got the bug in the ball once, he's going to do it again, gosh darnit.]