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Muirín paid no heed to the voices that called up to warn him from the street below, even if Rua's was among them. He couldn't AFFORD to pay them any heed, for, as another had stated, the building was unstable, and even as he jumped up the building like a fish headed upstream, using twisted rebar jutting from the crumbled concrete as platforms to climb further, he felt the whole of it tremble, slightly. Muirín was light, and lithe; he probably wouldn't cause a collapse with his weight alone, but the whole building was still shifting, and if it came down, nothing would save him. He began to get a feel for the exact time-frame he was working with, and kept it in mind beside his still-formulating plan of what exactly to do once he got inside the building.

But first... he had to get there. He'd almost arrived; a final few metal rods and jutting concrete corners were all that remained between him and the windowsill he'd set his sights on. Three steps, and he could see the jagged glass that studded the edges of the sill. Two steps, and he could see the room beyond it, a flicker of electricity from a snapped wire illuminating the walls. One step, and Muirín took a final whooping breath in, bent his knees all the way... and with one whooping cry, he uncoiled like a spring and launched himself through the opening with a force that could have carried him up a waterfall. He tucked, rolled, and after a moment of tumbling, was inside. When he was sure he'd sustained no damage, he looked around the building itself.

Inside really didn't look much better than outside. Furnishings lay broken and battered all around; one chair was so twisted and bent that it was almost comical. The utter chaos of it all almost tickled Muirín, partially because he had absolutely nothing to gauge it against, no real sense of horror to speak of. The only real thing that scared the fearless, or perhaps reckless, boy was the lack of light. Whatever fluorescents above his head that weren't shattered and laying in a fine powder on the ground below were out, and visibility was low. Hopefully he could pull one person out, then when he'd returned safely to the ground, find a portable source of light.

”Hey, hey, anybody still awake?” Muirín called, refraining from using the word 'alive.' Too morbid.

A weak response floated from down a hall, and Muirín turned towards it and rushed off. Three doors down and on his right, a wooden door had been shattered, what wasn't left on the hinges laying in shards and pieces all around. Whatever hit this place had hit it hard. In the room beyond, Muirín squinted to see anything beyond the fallen beam, and after a moment of his eyes adjusting to the gloom, picked out the thick figure beneath it. A stoutly-built Donphan gijinka was pinned down by the beam, and staring at Muirín with a hopeful look on his face.

“H-hey, I think... I think my shoulder's broken, and I KNOW my ankle's twiste-”

Muirín didn't given him a chance to finish. Surging forward again, he slammed into the beam and pushed with all his might, angling as well as he could to lift the beam up and off of the man. After a moment, he felt the beam give way, and another few bursts of energy saw it on the floor next to them. Through all of this, that little sense of time in his mind had been ticking away, and he wanted to get this man out of here as soon as possible so he could re-assess. Taking the Donphan's good arm, he hoisted the man off of his a**, and they began a hobbling path back down the hall and towards the window.

When they arrived back at the exit, Muirín looked back down at the city below. More people had gathered, and Rua and a shirtless man had joined Monet's efforts to clear the entrance. Good. Mui would have help. Looking back to the sill itself, he began to break the shards of glass off with a chunk of concrete knocked free as the Donphan watched from several feet away. He was babbling the whole time, probably to keep his mind off the pain, but Muirín wasn't listening. He was distracted by the blood on one of the jagged glass shards; probably his own. He'd check it later. He was running on pure adrenaline for now.

When he had cleared enough away to begin carrying the Donphan gijinka out, he went back and lifted him back up again. Carefully, carefully, they stepped out onto a ledge in the concrete, the going looking much less perilous from the higher vantage point. Muirín could get about halfway with his load, but the Donphan was heavy, and he'd need help before he was done. He looked around for the closest two who looked to be helping, and came up with Rua and a cleffa who was attending to a dark man on the ground. They'd do.

”Rua! I need help! This guy weighs a ton!” Muirín yelled, as they made shaky progress down the ruin. ”And you too, uh, Pinky! He's got a broken shoulder!

The call of his name made the Mightyena pause in his work. The voice he recognized and- relief. Rory was alright. He might have been worried. Not that he'd tell Rory of course, he was keeping some secrets and feelings to himself. Especially when it came to events such as this where they would only muddle the immediate task at hand. Still, he smiled, moving a slab of concrete as the Cleffa came over. The nuzzle made his puff up again before relaxing. Rory, ever prepared, even had a medical kit. Pies and medicine, he really was a lucky one.

"I'm fine, I was down by the park with this happened. More than that, you're alright." He answered back with a nuzzle of his own before turning back to the rubble. Iason's words got a wordless bark in reply. Not of anger but of worry. Though he thought the man a bit queer, he didn't think shrugging off his wounds was a good idea.

The bodies had begun to appear and for a second, it looked like it might not be as bad as it seemed. Then- the first of the dead. Kujo let out a sharp high pitched whine as the scent of blood began to rise up. Looking back to his work, he kept digging, not caring about his clothes or his appearance. Rock after rock, he felt something bite into his skin and he winced. Glass was scattered through out the debris and with no protective gear they were hunting blind.

Claws dug into rock and he pushed it aside only to have a wave of blood spill out from another pile. The scent was almost unbearable. The limp body of what looked to be an Arbok- Kujo's stomach was in knots. As he moved the debris to get to the fallen, it only got worse as he uncovered a dead trainer under the pokemon. The sight of them dead together earned another whine, those this one was not as loud. Gingerly, he grabbed the both of them, pulling their bodies free to lay them out next to one another. Bodies could be identified later, survivors needed him.

How did the happen? The earthquake should have taken out more than this so why out of all the buildings, was only the pokemon center fallen? More so, why the pokemon center? It was a place of healing, nothing more. Stars above people rarely went to them looking for trouble. A terrorist group seemed unlikely. Just that morning- Just that morning it had been standing, he'd been smiling and chatting with a few of the pokemon. He'd joked with nurse Joy. Called his trainer. It had been safe.

This was not normal, and as he got back to digging, he wished it was just a nightmare. As he shoved his foot into one of the more stable rocks he bit his tongue and sniffed the rubble. Blood. Blood, tears, and death. It rose from the area thick but what he needed to smell was life, the scent of fresh tears, hear the cried of those trapped. Sniffing his way to a spot he stopped mid stride. There, he could swear he smelled hot salty tears. Ignoring the pain in his leg as a broken metal coil scratched him, he dug, pushing and pulling trying to get to the bodies.

A butterfree gijinka wing torn. He could have choked. They would probably never be able to fly again. While they were not bleeding so heavily, their leg was broken, and it took Kujo a while to call someone over to drag them out while he went for the second gijinka he smelled. Scyther, no tears, but blood, (thankfully not so much). But he was trapped, and Kujo couldn't lift the slab on his own.

Some one, and Infernape, nearby was calling about reporting for duty? Kujo looked over, hoping they might reply. "There is a Scyther over here and I need help moving this off of him!" He shook his head, "Don't know how many are missing, but if we don't move numbers won't matter."

Pleased to gain the assistance of Cian, their doubled efforts proved to be much more fruitful as well. He could hear plenty of body's being found by others, but that didn't slow him in his work. It was a wonderful thing to hear, of course, but again he couldn't really do much for those who were being rescued.

Glancing over at his partner, Monet gave an easy-going grin, "Not at all. I wasn't in here when this happened. Just heard it from down the street~" he explained, "But I appreciate the concern~" he mildly teased. Even in a dire situation, he thought it good to stay a little lax. Didn't want to get too serious, or you might bust a gasket! However.. he was not as physically fit in his arms as the Dragonair was, making him have to pause, and shake his arms out a little. He gave a heavy sigh, before drawing his tail around to take over for what his arms no longer could. If they could just make this opening wider.. surely one of them could get in. But they were tall gijinka... Frowning slightly at their progress, his eyes began to glance around in search of someone of smaller stature. Maybe they could peek in there and perhaps crawl through. But his eyes set on a Mightyena that suddenly appeared, his mermaid tail drawing back as it removed a chunk of debris. He looked the ranger over once, showing a clear lack of familiarity. He didn't recall him at all. "Can't say I remember you, honey, but it's a pleasure. I'm Monet~" his gaze turned towards Cian, smiling a little more, "And how about you?"

Any train of thought was skewed as he heard that all too familiar loud voice sounding over the entire field. Snapping his gaze over to the Infernape he suddenly got an idea. "Hey! Loud mouth, over here pleaseee~" he sung out, of course the nickname was all in jest. The guy was a fighting type, and smaller than him. Surely he'd be able to get through what they'd torn away at with no problem! "Mind putting some of that Fighting type to good use over here, hun?" he asked sweetly, pointing a thumb to where the Mightyena and Dragonair continued to carve at.

(( Tags to Grin, Monet and Vulcan ))

It was a little more difficult to push aside the din of what was going on around him now that he had company to keep. Between hauling the blocks aside, Cian stole brief but curious glances to the two he'd found himself helping. He hadn't been around any of his type, let alone actually worked side by side with them, and while it wasn't exactly the most thrilling or empowering of feelings, it was...acceptably interesting. The Mightyena - or Grin, as he introduced himself - smelled of the sprawling forest beyond the concrete walls, with fertile soil still in his treads and the fresh air clinging to his movements. Cian guessed he was wild like himself, but with more affinity for human clothing for blending purposes. And the other - Monet - the vivacious Milotic, he was the complete opposite; his scent was exotic and still reminded him of the sea, but the city seemed to have engrained small facets of itself into him, with his sense of style and the scent of strange linens and something sweeter clinging to him.

It was only after the two had introduced themselves and looked to him expectantly that he realized he'd been staring at them both for too long. "I don't know how far this traveled," he explained to Monet in reference to his inquiry, "but it's good to know it's fairly...secluded." Cian never stopped working, even when he was staring strangely at his companions; his introduction was no less grunted between movement of blocks. "I'm called Cian. Were it more fortunate that we could meet under better circumstances--"

That's about the time he heard the Infernape, turning his tropical gaze towards the fire-type. He could see what the Milotic was asking of the other and, in order to help, he concentrated his efforts and clearing out a space that was wide enough to pass through for the Infernape but sturdy enough that it wouldn't just collapse around him if it was brushed. Granted, the whole structure was ready to come down but there wasn't much he could do. Pausing, he looked around and utter a faint, mildly frustrated noise. "The best I can offer is to turn this thing into an ice block." Despite the mental image he wore that gave him some amusement, his expression remained rather drawn. "But I'd advise it to be a last resort. I don't know how well human contraptions mix with the natural elements."

Dakka Domi

iStoleYurVamps

Face your demons

with mention to Ruri and Vit

Everything seemed to be a mass of chaotic activity and Rory felt like he was being pulled in a million directions at once. He wanted to help everyone but knew getting overwhelmed was not going to help at all. Tentatively, he smiled at Kujo, assuring the man that, yes, he was in fact fine. Pleased that at least Kujo was well and whole, Rory didn't try to detain him further, watching as the mightyena went right to work in helping to clear away rubble.

The dead bodies came as a shock to Rory. He knew there would be dead in a tragedy like this, but actually seeing them was another matter entirely. He had to look away, his hand over his mouth as he tried not to cry. The movement had him facing Hawthorne again and he wished the zorua hadn't risen. The shape change to the clefairy again made Rory wonder how much the trick had Hawthorne overexerting himself.

"And you do need a hospital," Rory insisted worriedly, not caring if he was being annoying and stubborn to Hawthorne. How could he be so casual about this? The fox was practically bleeding out and Rory wanted nothing more than to make him sit down on the blankets Shinrei and Rua had set up. "You're not alone in this Hawthorne. You don't have to push yourself." The cleffa glanced at Iason, his nose wrinkled. The banette looked hurt as well, though kept going. Bunch of stubborn pokemon, the lot of them...but then they were all very brave too. He didn't know who this albino mightyena was, but he looked to be in lot with Iason and here to help as well.

Rory wanted to try and coerce Hawthorn to sit again before he was sidetracked by the shedinja who he'd seen frantically pushing rubble away with many others. "Yeah, sure. Please take it," Rory replied, pressing the box into Rua shaking hands and giving them a light squeeze of support before letting go again. "I have some water and a bit of food as well. Please use that too." It seemed that Rory would be unable to harass Hawthorne again for the time being. With his attention divert, his gaze turned away from the Zorua to looked up at the voice of the goldeen calling down to him and the shedinja, Rua, for help

"I can help lessen the weight for you," Rory called up to the goldeen, "but you and Rua will have to get the rest." The standing of the rubble looked precarious and Rory wasn't sure if climbing up it would be beneficial at all. So, he used is psychic abilities to help ease the weight of the donfan and support the golden. A glow of purple light surrounded the donfan and the pokemon appeared to be almost floating as Rory fought with gravity. There was no way he would be able to even move the donfan, all his concentration of just making the huge man a bit lighter.

"How's that?" Rory manged to get out through his gritted teeth, his hands splayed and posture rigid. Damn it, he wished he was a clefable with stronger psychic powers.

Shinrei looked up at the call from Rua and he let out a soft sigh of relief to see the space that had been set up. He led his charge over, letting her lean heavily upon his shoulder, and called a thank you to the other Gijinka. Judging by the amount of people either in shock or being pulled from the rumble, they would need more supplies soon. Reaching the hastily set up area for the wounded, he placed the young woman carefully on one of the blankets. Taking off the red and white wrap that always hung across his shoulders; he bound her arm with it, hoping it would staunch the blood flow for a time. He hoped human emergency services would arrive soon.

The Chimecho busied himself with helping new arrivals onto their blankets, offering water and begging for supplies from any of the surrounding crowd that seemed to stunned to do anything but watch. He kept up a sound like the chime of a bell; the sound comforting, meant to drown out the pain if only for a moment. Normal Pokemon were also milling about, crying for lost trainers and he called to them, calming them and settling them down near the blankets.

More blankets and some first aid supplies arrived, Shinrei settled himself beside the body of a badly hurt Swablu. He continued to chime as he carefully dabbed at the wounds with a wet tip of a blanket and prepared bandages for a quick fix, listening carefully to the instructions of a nearby trainer that new some information on first aid. He glanced up only once to keep on eye on Peregrin and how the others were doing. More Gijinka and humans were being pulled from the rumble, and soon they would be over here. They really needed more blankets soon.

[Basically he's tended to various wounded as best he can in the little makeshift area that's been set up.]

A breath of relief as assistance came in the form of one Infernape. The Rock and metal was moved between the two of them and- The scyther was freed. It didn't help that his arm was brokern and from the looks of his wings, they would be in need of some serious medical attention. But- the pokemon center was gone, human hospitals were never suited for these sorts of injuries. Humans and pokemon were just fundamentally different. Parts for them might be similar if the pokemon had a human form but the fact remained, they were not the same, not in the slightest. The pokemon's wings would need an expert, and no doubt with the center down, he'd have to go one city over, if not more. Kujo could only feel pity.

The Infernape left and he nodded at him in thanks. There were many bodies, but there was just a lack of healers, a lack of time. Kujo could feel a sense of panic inside of him as more bodies were uncovered, some alive- others less so. How or why this had happened was unclear, but a part of him was furious. Sadness and fear and brought forth burning resenting anger. This should not have happened. Pokemon and people should have been safe and- It bit at his guilt for having not been there. Granted it would have done no good but it was a rambling thought. One that came with tragedy.

Looking back at Rory, Kujo shivered. Why it unsettled him to see the cleffa surrounded by the injured and the dead, (and possibly dying), he couldn't really explain, but it made him uneasy. Rory was a flirt, and he embarrassed Kujo by being a flirt, but at the same time he was kind a sweet. A friend. Death, danger, it did not suit him Kujo thought. And part of him hoped that they both might leave at the end of the day without worry for these events. For the death and destruction.

Another wave of blood and he went back to his digging, finding yet another dead body, this one purely pokemon and- the swablu from that morning. He'd been angry and that small wish that the bird would just die sent a spike of regret into him. He hadn't ment it not really. Gingerly, he picked up the body carrying it down to join the others that were being laid out. Returning to the spot- a pokemon egg. And judging from the proximity- the swablu had died to shield the egg. It had survived but for some reason the death made it seem biter. Carrying it down he handed it off to a waiting human, who rushed to the station looking for a blanket.

Why? The question rang in his head over and over. Digging out another, this one was a sandslash, his arm a pincushion to glass, managed and bloody. He cried out as Kujo pushed the debris off him. His leg was purple and black, probably smashed. Out of his eyes he saw Rory helping with his powers, and for a second the mightyena felt envious. Lifting the sandshrew gijinka like one might a child, Kujo carried him down, tears rolling down the other gijinka's eyes from pain. He wished he could heal but that wasn't what he could do, that wasn't a skill he had. He was a fighter, never a healer.

"Rory." He coughed, dust in the air getting to him. "I saw you moving the him-" he motioning to the on gijinka, "don't strain yourself alright?" He gave the cleffa a small hug this time with a bit of a sad smile. "I don't want to be taking you to the hospital due to exhaustion." He'd do it if he had to.

Looking at the bodies piling up it was becoming obvious, they needed supplies. They needed experts. They needed- everything. Pulling off his over coat, he bit into, ripping it to create strips of cloth. He was making fast work of the coat but it wouldn't be much. It was almost nothing compared to what they needed, but it might help a bit. Unless if he wanted to do the same to his shirt, he had nothing else to offer up on that front.

Looking at a chimecho he offered the strips of cloth. "Not much but it might help." The voices of an albino mightyena and Iason caught his ears and he looked at the duo. The needed- his nose, his digging, it might come into use. "I can't heal, but I can scent and dig people out."

@Vamps, Face with mention to Dakka and Ruri

"Yeah, it's Rory," He said to Rua, wondering how funny it was that they shared the same name. Rory frowned at Muirin's rebuke unhappily though. It wasn't his fault that it looked like the goldeen was about to pass out from all his running about. Rory wished that he was stronger, then he would have been able to levitate the donfan, Rua, and Mui to the ground easily. Biting his lip at his own ineptitude, Rory stopped and did as he was asked, hurriedly making a space for the donfan when the male was brought down. It probably would have been better if he just used his hands.

When he heard Kujo, he turned with a small smile. "It's not like it was much help," he replied derisively, returning the mightyena's hug and lingering for a moment longer, purely out of need for support. "I just wish I was stronger. If I was a clefairy, then it would have been better. And don't worry Kujo, I'm perfectly fine. You're the one who looks unwell." He shook his head, sighing heavily. He was trying hard not to look at the bodies being dragged out of the rubble. It was heartbreaking and Rory felt completely helpless in the face of everything. He wasn't strong like Kujo or soothing like Shinrei. What the hell could he do?

At Iason and Phatasm's announcement, Rory perked up slightly. He need to prove himself was nearly overwhelming, but he squashed it. He knew he'd be better able to help above ground. He figured he'd just get in the way. At least topside he'd be able to help the injured. He looked to Hawthorne and remembered the blood the male had coughed up. He definitely wasn't showing any weakness now under the guise of a clefairy.

Mouth twisting into a frown, he passed Kujo and Shinrei, kneeling beside the nearest injured to help ease his pain.