[fourteenth bullet] action for Goldenrod
((ooc: First off, this post is backdated to the morning of Christmas Day, because Liquid is a Christmas miracle. It also takes place after this, which will eventually be finished, I promise because what are timelines seriously . Just fyi, Liquid fought Big Boss and ended up falling off of the top of Sprout Tower, busting himself up a bit in the process. Fun tiems.))
Christmas morning dawned bright and clear; the weather was fair and mild, without a cloud in the sky. The snow lay in a thick, heavy blanket of white over the ground, only adding to the Winter Wonderland atmosphere. No one could have asked for a more picturesque Christmas morning-- it looked like something out of a holiday card.
Except, of course, for the Gyarados making its way toward the Goldenrod city limits, carrying on his back two rather weary and worse-for-the-wear passengers. Otacon was under the weather from having pursued Liquid through a blizzard while he went after his father, and Liquid was almost entirely black and blue from the actual fighting that occurred and his hundred-foot plunge from the top of Sprout Tower. While he was a man who could-- and had-- endured many things, that high of a fall would cause even him a few problems. One such problem being his broken arm, which was currently splinted, bound up, and was resting in a makeshift sling he'd made of bandages.
Any other man would have gone to the Pokemon Center to get himself checked out after taking such a beating, but Liquid was, of course, no ordinary man. He'd patched himself up as well as he could with a limited medical kit, set his broken arm, and after a little rest, had all but forced the protesting engineer back onto Jormungandr to head back for Goldenrod. He had promised Heather that he would return, and no one was going to call Liquid a liar-- when he made promises like this, he damn well kept them.
Come hell or high water, blizzards, hundred-foot drops and broken bones, Liquid was going to get back to Goldenrod in time for Christmas. He'd never had much of a reason to celebrate Christmas before-- it had been something that happened to other people, not him-- but he felt that it was only appropriate that he would make his return on that date. Besides, he had a gift for Heather that he'd thought to pick up, and it would be a shame to give it to her late. And there was some part of him, some deep down little part that he tried to pretend didn't exist, that didn't want to disappoint one of the few people who meant more to him than family.
Because, quite frankly, his family sucked.
Pokemon as large as Jormungandr, however, weren't allowed out of their pokeballs inside city limits, so Liquid had to get off of him and recall him before they entered. Walking was going to be neither pleasant nor easy, but until he managed to get to the hotel and fall into bed, he was going to have to do it. And he'd be damned if he showed that he was in pain in front of anyone, even Otacon. He limped a little from all the bruises-- mostly obtained from his fall-- and his arm hurt like hell, and, quite frankly, there probably wasn't a square inch of him that didn't ache, but he walked with shoulders square, sore back straight, and head high.
He hadn't won the fight, but he hadn't lost, either. He had knocked his father out once; his father had knocked him out once, and only then because a shelf of snow on the tower had unbalanced him and thrown him off. It wasn't Big Boss' blows that had beaten him so much as the terrain. This fight, he thought, had turned out a draw-- and there would be others, once he and his father were healed, that would be more decisive than this one.
And thus Liquid and Otacon returned to Goldenrod like prodigal sons.
Christmas morning dawned bright and clear; the weather was fair and mild, without a cloud in the sky. The snow lay in a thick, heavy blanket of white over the ground, only adding to the Winter Wonderland atmosphere. No one could have asked for a more picturesque Christmas morning-- it looked like something out of a holiday card.
Except, of course, for the Gyarados making its way toward the Goldenrod city limits, carrying on his back two rather weary and worse-for-the-wear passengers. Otacon was under the weather from having pursued Liquid through a blizzard while he went after his father, and Liquid was almost entirely black and blue from the actual fighting that occurred and his hundred-foot plunge from the top of Sprout Tower. While he was a man who could-- and had-- endured many things, that high of a fall would cause even him a few problems. One such problem being his broken arm, which was currently splinted, bound up, and was resting in a makeshift sling he'd made of bandages.
Any other man would have gone to the Pokemon Center to get himself checked out after taking such a beating, but Liquid was, of course, no ordinary man. He'd patched himself up as well as he could with a limited medical kit, set his broken arm, and after a little rest, had all but forced the protesting engineer back onto Jormungandr to head back for Goldenrod. He had promised Heather that he would return, and no one was going to call Liquid a liar-- when he made promises like this, he damn well kept them.
Come hell or high water, blizzards, hundred-foot drops and broken bones, Liquid was going to get back to Goldenrod in time for Christmas. He'd never had much of a reason to celebrate Christmas before-- it had been something that happened to other people, not him-- but he felt that it was only appropriate that he would make his return on that date. Besides, he had a gift for Heather that he'd thought to pick up, and it would be a shame to give it to her late. And there was some part of him, some deep down little part that he tried to pretend didn't exist, that didn't want to disappoint one of the few people who meant more to him than family.
Because, quite frankly, his family sucked.
Pokemon as large as Jormungandr, however, weren't allowed out of their pokeballs inside city limits, so Liquid had to get off of him and recall him before they entered. Walking was going to be neither pleasant nor easy, but until he managed to get to the hotel and fall into bed, he was going to have to do it. And he'd be damned if he showed that he was in pain in front of anyone, even Otacon. He limped a little from all the bruises-- mostly obtained from his fall-- and his arm hurt like hell, and, quite frankly, there probably wasn't a square inch of him that didn't ache, but he walked with shoulders square, sore back straight, and head high.
He hadn't won the fight, but he hadn't lost, either. He had knocked his father out once; his father had knocked him out once, and only then because a shelf of snow on the tower had unbalanced him and thrown him off. It wasn't Big Boss' blows that had beaten him so much as the terrain. This fight, he thought, had turned out a draw-- and there would be others, once he and his father were healed, that would be more decisive than this one.
And thus Liquid and Otacon returned to Goldenrod like prodigal sons.