• Natural Harmonia •

HIS HEAD IS HEAVY AND THROBBING and that's all he can focus on when Ghetsis comes around to pound at the hotel door. Nevertheless, he's scrambling and tripping over his own feet in his hurry to answer it.

"Why aren't you dressed and ready to go yet?" His uncle's face wears a permanent scowl that seems to be just for him. The man had no problem smiling for anyone else though, but N could kind of understand why.

Although somewhat unbelievable, Ghetsis had once been the overprotective and loving brother of his mother. One could imagine his anger at the disappearance of Natural's father at the concept of commitment and family, and the heartbrokenness at his mother's suicide. She had never gotten over his father running away and N had simply an irritating reminder of all of it; one that was pushed onto Ghetsis with another bad memory attached.

"Good morning, Mr. Harmonia," a soft voice greets. The girl, a member of the organization, stood behind the pair having come down the hallway."The preparations are set for this evening's activity."

"What's this evening's activity?" N slips into the conversation.

"It's the rally at the fight club of course, did it slip your mind?" Ghetsis laughed heartily, slapping the teen's back in false banter. Turning towards the girl, he smiles. "He never seems to remember correctly, but it's no issue."

Natural grimaces, "Actually, I might have a problem with that..."

"What?" The man's head snaps towards him, eyes narrowed. He dismisses the girl without a single glance, "I'll see you in the evening for the gathering Rosa." She quickly ducks her head and turns the corner.

"Well, you see—"

"Why can't you ever seem to keep your mouth shut? You ruin your image every time you open your mouth," his uncle hisses.

"But that boy, the one from years ago, is there."

"Who?" It takes the older man more than a moment to remember the event but he's hardly fazed. "Ah, all the better then since I meant to tie up loose ends years ago. Unfortunately he disappeared off the map, I guess that's why."

N sputters incoherent words, utterly disgusted by his uncle's lack of concern about execution. This only prompts Ghetsis to begin his tangent about speaking properly and upholding his place in the organization. Slowly, Natural's head begins to lower as the words drone on.

• • •

After observing the mass of huddled organization members from a distance N slips away, turning at familiar corners and sights, backtracking when he doesn't recognize the area. He sighs in defeat when everything becomes unfamiliar and reluctantly pulls a small capsule from the keychains at his waist. It expanded to the size of his hand and glowed, releasing a partner he was quite accustomed to. The Zorua is quite disgusted at cleanliness of the sidewalk, letting high pitched yaps to be picked up.

Nestling her in his arms, N hopes that she's willing enough to aid him. "Zorua, can you help me find a fight club? It probably smells a lot like blood to you, at least."

Green eyes stare at him, calculating whether or not she felt like helping. With a small shrug of fur covered her shoulders, she began directing him with barks and sharp nips. He hadn't been very far, but he was pretty sure he wouldn't have been able to have found it alone.

"Thanks." He smiles, placing her on his shoulder as he pulls the heavy door open. A roaring crowd as far as the walls of the first room stretch jostle at each other, some yelling bets while others curses.

Most of the people barely glance at him, attention focused solely on a large ring in the middle of the individuals. In the dim lighting it takes N a minute to focus to the blurred figures, and another to realize that they're Pokémon. Then his thin figure is slipping between the swaying crowd and pushing his way to the front, Zorua clinging to him tightly.

Pulling at the gridded gate he began to yell, "Stop this! Stop now!"

A Throh looked at him tiredly before glancing at the woman overseeing him from the battler's corner. The Pokémon grunted as the opponent Liepard took the opening to land a blow on him, eliciting a string of curses from his owner.

"Who is that ruffian messing with the fight?" she hisses, a manicured nail pointing accusingly at him. The crowd muttered their disapproval as well, shoving and an occasional blow as they tried to push him out.

"He was looking for me. I apologize for the inconvenience, Miss Taylors." Black seems to appear out of nowhere, tugging him away from the crowd and into a smaller empty room. The dark haired male looked at him and sighed tiredly, running a hand through his hair. "So? What do you want?"

N ignores the question and his eyes narrow accusingly at the other man. "What was that?"

"What? The fighting ring?" Black scoffs, looking at him for a response.

"Yes, the fighting ring! That Throh obviously didn't want to be fighting and—" he splutters, hands waving. "Everything!"

"It's normal, get over it. This is the same place you came to yesterday and nothing has changed since then." His eyes suddenly narrow at him accusingly, "You didn't tell your uncle did you?"

"My uncle already knew about this place. They plan on coming within the hour."

« The word submission comes to mind. »  

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