>>16251005http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n9pSALzbwI4"TOOOORRRRR! TORRRR, TORRRCHIC!"
Just as you prepare to leave in search of Boo Boo Keys, the cries of an antagonistic Torchic attract your attention. They're coming from the Probing Lab down the hallway.
You put a finger to Miss' delicate lips, subtly telling her to shush her hind. The last thing you want on your ass is a rabid Torchic from the nether regions of hell.
Her indifferent look and forceful removing of your finger imply that she knows what to do and what not to do.
"Tor....tor....chic chic....TOR!"
The small Hoenn chick marches around the dark, gloomy, frosty lab, a hot laser pistol in his beak. It seems he's drenched the floor in a thin layer of water using a teensy bucket, taped a ransom letter to the wall, and has probed his hostage twenty times over.
His hostage?
A fax machine that's still plugged in.The machine cowers in the corner like an inanimate object, the only space in the entire room without water covering it.
"CHIC, CHIC, TORCHIC!"
The fax machine begins to process some sheets through itself. All of them are identical, and have only one word on them repeated over and over.
HELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELP>What does Calem do next?! 