_{[The feed flicks on to the image of a pair of pokemon dozing outside under a tree. An Eevee and a shiny Venonat are curled up together as if they were brothers. They may as well be. A tiny stream of smoke wafts into the frame from Henry's cigarette.]}

This is kind of a weird question but...has anybody started to forget things about home? I know some weird stuff happened to me before I wound up here but...I can't remember what color my carpet was. Or what commercials used to come on all the time on TV. Or what the mirror in my bathroom used to look like...

_{[There is lots of clanging and bumping as the feed turns on to reveal a hotel bathroom. A Shellder happily peeks out of a MOUNTAIN of soap suds and Henry's arm with the sleeve rolled up can be seen with a sponge in-hand.]}

Heh, I'll bet that's better, huh, little guy? Smile!


_{[Clam waggles his tongue happily and ducks down into the soapy water before popping back up and balancing on the tub's edge. It's clear that the big HENRY that had been scribbled onto him with a sharpie ages ago is slowly being scrubbed away. The H and part of the R Y still remain.]}

When this place says permanent marker, it means it. Protip: don't draw on your pokemon, no matter how good an idea it seems.

<sub>[The feed flicks on to reveal an unshaven face. There are bags under the photographer's eyes and his hair is sticking up on one side. He hasn't had a good sleep in who knows when.]

[When he speaks, his voice is hushed and his words are clipped.]</sub>

I'm gonna make this quick. I need smokes. I'll cover payment for them, shipping and all. Don't care what brand or flavor. Just mail them in a plain box or envelope or whatever. I can give you the address to the hotel.

Okay.

[VIDEO]

_{[Henry strongly resembles a drowned rat. His Torkoal hoodie is soaked and hanging off him like a soggy orange snuggie.]}

Hey, Heather, we haven't drowned yet. We're going to build a raft. I found a hammer.

_{[Because what is private messaging? He shows the tool he managed to find and turns to look behind him on the roof. The coastal city is looking more and more like a coastal water park. A stinky one.]}


( [BUILDING A RAFT WITH ADOPTED!DAD] )


.

_{[Henry's face appears and he gets right to the point. If one pays attention, they'll notice a dribble of wax slowly dripping down between his eyes. His new baby litwick seems very fond of his head. Henry seems indifferent. In fact, he seems kind of out of it.]}

What kind of pokemon is a candle with a face...

...I mean. I remember magnet-o-mite or whatever from the game but...

<sub>[And then he dozes off. The energy has been sucked right out of him. The litwick giggles and Burger can be heard hissing from off camera.]

[Where the hell is Henry? He seems like he's outside somewhere if the leaves stuck to his shirt are any clue. It looks like it's getting dark.]</sub>

_{[The feed opens on a rather lumpy-looking snow dinosaur dressed in a scarf and...what might actually be Harry's shoes poking out from the edge of the sculpture. The person holding the camera backs up so that the abomination is center-frame. Puffs of smoke from Henry's cigarette can be seen. It is stationed at the edge of a street near the hotel.]}

I have decided to become a sculptor. This is my first piece. I call it, "Dinosaur."

_{[A miserable looking glameow wrapped up in its own tail waddles into the frame and mewls pitifully. 8C BURGER WOULD LIKE TO GO BACK INSIDE NOW.]}

This is my assistant, Burger.

_{["Gl'ymoowwwwwww!"]}

You were a big help, yeah. You're the best sculptor cat-thing!


((OOC: Anyone wandering around in Ecruteak is welcome to come by and admire/wreck his snowman.))

[[OOC: OH GOD THIS IS HIS FIRST VIDEO POST SINCE THE MIX'N MATCH. I AM SO SORRY, superrising I SUCK dsldfkdff]]


<sub>[Wherever Henry is, it's dark. The first thing the 'gear's camera sees is the dim light pouring out of the Ecruteak PokeMart's windows. Henry is sitting on the little walk right outside it and sorting through a bag of odds and ends like potions and pokemon snacks. Off to the side is Clam, the Shellder.]

[The 'gear eventually points at it. Henry's name is still Sharpie'd onto its shell. The pokemon's shell is sealed up tight and it isn't moving.]

[When Henry speaks, his voice is lower than it usually is.]</sub>

Is there a way to tell if your pokemon's dead or not? Clam hasn't moved in...in a while.


_{[And neither has Henry seeing as he's out alone in the middle of the night.]}

_{[It's been a while since the shy photographer posted a video! Henry is angling the 'gear's camera at himself and actually trying to stay in the frame for once. Behind him is the hotel room he's been staying in with Harry and Heather. He's pretty beat up-- busted lip, scraped knuckles, a few cuts on his cheek and brow. Surprisingly, Henry looks pleased with himself because in one bloodied hand is a pokeball.]}

I did it. _{[He pants.]} That owl that showed up in all my photos! I caught him. It was the first real battle I've been in since the bugs attacked.

_{[He returns the poke'ball to his belt and looks behind himself for a moment before revealing a few sheets of notebook paper.]} I'm not very good at explaining things, so this is what happened...( CUT FOR COMIC )( Click for amazing comic by Henry )

_{((OOC: this can count as an action for the hotel room for his roomies.))}

[Well well well! It's this unshaven face again! This time he's not in a tree. Or under a table. Or in a ditch. He's inside a building like a NORMAL HUMAN BEING and making a face that could almost be a smile.]

I have a job.

[Henry angles the 'gear so that it can see both him and his push broom. He's been given what he looks at as a 'bathrobe' to wear while on duty. Behind him is a wooden hall with morning-lit windows and...monks.

This poor bastard. He has no idea.]

It smells kind of good in here. 

[These old guys sure do love their incense. And now that he's said that he...isn't totally sure what to do with himself. He isn't one to vlog but there's nobody else in here to talk to. Mordecai is somewhere else and these monks...they just stand around with their Bellsprouts like statues.]

This place is supposed to be quiet. I think I'll like it here.

[ACTION]

All Henry Townshend had wanted was a nice quiet day at work in the open air food court where he could  mumble  "Can I help you?" and "Have a nice day." like a robot and not get into any trouble. He had become more mobile once he learned how to put the useless Clam back into its poke'ball. Unfortunately, as he arrived at his stall wearing his Quick Snack Attack apron and stupid paper hat, he discovered that wasn't going to happen. This discovery was made when a dragonfly THE SIZE OF A CANOE rammed into him and sent him rolling.

Henry's 'gear went tumbling as he crawled under the draped table of the opposite booth. It boasted fried foods and smelled wonderful. His ears rang and his chest throbbed. The photographer wheezed. "What...the hell?"

He could hear it now. That awful buzzing. And people screaming. Mothbats. Big red Mothbats everywhere HOLY GOD FUCK. He covered his eyes. If he couldn't see them, they couldn't see him. His fort was suddenly overturned by three pissed off Spinarak fighting over a distressed fry cook. One of their many legs flipped his abandoned poke'gear over and activated it to reveal...


[ACCIDENTAL VIDEO]

[--Henry Townshend crouched on the ground like a rabbit peeking through his fingers and looking very very surprised. It was then that a transformation took place on the young man's face...

<8[

:I

BC

Horror Game Protagonist Mode ACTIVATE.

Henry pushed himself to his feet, twisted around, and yanked a fry basket from the bubbling vat behind him. Incinerated Magmar Curly Fries decorated the ground as he proceed to beat the everloving shit out of everything in sight that had more than four legs.

WOULD YOU LIKE FRIES WITH THAT, MR. PARAS? WOULD YOU!?]

"aaaaaaaaAAAHHHHHHGH!"



((OOC: Henry will respond to videos during luls in the carnage from under tables or perhaps even in the branches of trees, covered in dirt and squashed mushrooms since the pokemon themselves can't really be squashed--much to his dismay. He'll try. He'll try so hard ;-;. ))