ᴀᴄɪᴅ ᴀʀᴍᴏʀ // ᴛᴏᴜʏᴀ & ᴄᴏʟʀᴇss
@trxepotential
For a place called the Dreamyard, there was nothing sleepy about it. Its eerie silence was constantly interrupted by the sound of decade-old asbestos paneling swinging from the ceiling and banging against naked cement, a cruel mockery of the hustle and bustle that once flooded the now haunted halls of the once successful research facility. Long blades of patchy grass grew so tall that they almost reached what remained of the second floor, and the area’s Pokemon wasted no time in taking back the habitat that was once theirs.
Then after the wild Pokemon came roaming trainers, all eagerly jumping at the chance to hang out at an abandoned place for the sake of bragging rights. Following the trainers came the troublemakers, and following the troublemakers came the people of Striaton naming it a hazardous waste disposal site for the mere sake of discouraging the impressionable from venturing into danger. What they didn’t account for though, was just how impressionable Touya is.
It wasn’t the first time he’d visited the Dreamyward, but it had been long enough for him to forget the extremes that the city went through to stop people from going in. The main entrance was sealed with layers of wood paneling and discolored police tape, but thanks to his Excadrill’s Brick Break it was quickly done with.. As soon as he stepped in he winced at the sound of shattered glass, only to glance down at dozens of thrown-out potion bottles dotting the ground. The place was somehow even more of a disaster than the last time he came, and even the fauna reflected it.
Gone were the adorable stray Purloins and Munnas with their baby-doll eyes and friendly demeanor. From the corner of his eye he spotted the grossest looking Raticate he’d ever seen, and for a second he could have sworn that from a dimly-lit pile of rubble he saw a pair of disembodied red eyes beckoning him to come closer and be eaten. His Excadrill was already honing his claws for a battle but Touya could only shake his head. He sighed, just deep enough to express disappointment but not deep enough to take in too much of the putrid air into his lungs. It was obvious to him that someone had to do something.
In the end he concluded that if didn’t do it, no one would. Thus began the daunting task of trying to figure out how to do something.
With disgust in his mouth and regret already starting to build up in the back of his mind, he started to take whatever pieces of garbage he found intact enough to recycle and shove the broken or dirty ones into his empty backpack pockets to dispose of later. It’s a hard knock life for the modern explorer.