Sight of Serendipity - A Casual Realistic PKMN RP

Borkus Lazorus · Jan 2, 2017

Sight of Serendipity

A Realistic Pokemon Roleplay

A RP Between Borkus Lazorus, @TripTripleTimes and @Altschmerz

Character List

Borkus Lazorus - Robert Ashton "The Ratel"

TripTripleTime - Ollie Bai " Alt"

Altschmerz - Stetson Connore

Prelude

This is a roleplay that takes place in a heavily AU Realistic Pokemon Verse between myself, TripTripleTime and Altschmerz. Do not join or post as there are no more places. Without furthur or do, let us begin!

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May 7th, 1556 P.B, 2nd Celadon District, 08:45 AM, Confidant Investigations, The Linen Recliner

If one could describe the weather in Celadon today, it was hot. Almost sweltering hot. Hell, had Hoenn and Aiola decided to switch places with Kanto? It felt like a goddamned Fire-Type was heating up the place. Or, maybe, a Sinnohan priest had prayed to Moltres to keep it sunny and hot for his Sunday Golf Game at the outskirts of Celadon's 4 and a half star premium Kalosian hotel, L'Hôtel Connoisseur. Either way, Robert couldn't care less about the weather. At least, it wasn't a Pre-Brink greenhouse catastrophe. He flicked on the remote to switch to the next channel, repeating the task, bits and bobs of information bouncing through his skull to the mono-tone tune of a female reporter who sounded like she was on her period.

" Tonight, on Cerulean 9 News, The Sevii Islands Crisis is still going underway as Hoenn has voluntereed to take in 5000 refu-"

Next.

" A Lima-One Incursion in Vermillion has been successfully been managed to be fended off by a coordianted attack by the Ranger Corps and-"

Next.

" Silph Co announces a new business partnership with Devon Co last week. Basil Takahashi states that, quote unquote, 'It is a honor to-"

Next.

" Indigo League spokesman, Charles Goodshow, states that security has been increased in the Indigo Plateau, regarding a series of latest-"

Just...next.

" The all-new crunchy delicious low-fat Sumptous Snacks Torchic Supreme! Only at 9.99 Idols with a free Oran Berry Smoo-"

Robert rubbed his eyelids slowly with a groan before switching off the channel. Alright. That was enough channel binge for today. He then scratched his rust-coated hair slightly before his Tact Pad jolted him out of his stupor.

" ♫ -I wanna be the very best! Like no one ever wassss. To catch them is my real test. To train them is my caaausssseeee- ♪ "

He lifted the plastic block of cherry red material upwards, a old souvenir from his tenure in the Blackhats, putting in the 24 bit password and his bio-metrics before unlocking it.

Hopefully, no one heard that. Hopefully. He answered the call and put the speaker to the right side of his head. A gruff voice came through; someone who didn't have much sleep or didn't have much rest; bah, semantics! He looked at the number and signed. Great, another call from the police department from his old buddy, Sergeant Lehner. Celadon Police Officer. He sounded tired, even though, Robert thought that cops drank through a cistern of apricorn coffee in a working hour. He flicked the switch and turned on the audio before speaking at a brisk pace. There was no need for formalities. Robert preferred concise and to the point, which Lehner had learnt after a trial of many phone-calls. He spoke in the receiver with a layered tone of sarcasm that was thick enough to cause a Feebas to asphyxiate.

" So, what's the trouble today?"

A nasally sounding tone came through the phone, full of tension and stress like a balloon waiting to burst.

" There's a fresh crime scene today-"

Robert signed in annoyance, and then, looked his case files before cutting through half of what Lehner was going to say.

" Lehner, I've got like a bajillion other things to do to"

The officer then shouted slightly in exasperation, breathing heavily through the phone.

" Don't give me that shit! You........ are not skipping this one today, Ashton."

Robert then stopped slightly before replying back snarkily, trying to test the waters.

" Why me? There's 'bout a million other P.Is in Kanto who can help you-"

Another short reply. This time, bitter and hard.

" It's personal."

Robert then stewed in his silence, trying to digest the ominous message. Another sentence came through, full of desperation.

" You're the best detective in Kanto I know."

A pause. Wow. Lerhner never said that to him be-

" And I trust you."

And.....flattery. That was unexpected. Damn.....Lehner didn't usually act this way. Out of character. Way out of character. He rubbed his bristled chin for a moment before speaking briefly, still keeping to his code of being concise and short.

" Location and time?"

The reply was quick, ending with a relieved burst of breath.

" 45, Everstone Street, 11th Celadon District, 2:00 PM"

Robert ended the call without any last additions of 'goodbyes', 'thank you' or 'you're welcome.' He pondered over this new development, looking at his office clock for a second as the sunlight shone through the thin curtains. Huh, that gave him 5 hours. He then lifted himself out of his recliner and stretched briefly before popping a breath mint into his mouth in preparation for a morning sojourn in the streets of Cerulean.

A visit to the Chatot's Tune sounded good.

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Later, Robert found himself in the dingy atmosphere of a busy cafe, Pidgies flying overhead to deliver coffee to the next table, several waiters struggling to hold plates of pastries and coffees that a Machop would find difficult, acceptable jazz music and the omnipresent scent of coffee in the air. A tapestry was unfolding in front of him as he took a smooth drink of his espresso. To his left, A rich socialite with her groomed Espeon and a hideously cute Pikachu. Textbook-coordinator. Ways away, A corporate worker, typing away at his laptop, pre-porygonic software, eyes glued to the screen with a Furret curled up around his shoulders.. Most likely hired by Devon Co or Silph Co. Accountant, judging by the rapid touch typing, the muttering underneath his breath. To his back, A group of young pre-teens getting their first dose of the black liquor, a Meowth crawling around on the floor in between their feet. House pet out for a walk, it seemed. To his front, the odd trainer or so, a Darumaka on the seat with them, the little, midget fire-ape scratching its butt openly in public, much to the displeasure of a parent with her baby sitting next by. Erika's Gym was a long distance away from here, about a hour's walk or so. Combine that with the heavy traffic, you didn't see most trainers far away from the comforts of a Poke-mart, Hotel, Gym or Trainer Mart. And last but not least, a couple in each other's arms, a sickeningly sweet image.

Despite all this frenetic chaos, there was a beauty in seeing so many aspects of society together, arm in arms. The beauty was in the fine print, not on the cover. And that was what Robert amused himself as he killed time in the Chatot's Tune. Too bad the espresso didn't match the hobby. It tasted like watered down junk dipped in cardboard paper but caffeine was caffeine. God, if he still had Sisyphus to whip him over to Pewter in a jiffy for a quick drink........

Nevermind, enough mulling about the past. Robert returned for another slow sip of his coffee while he sat on the stool, looking outside the windows at the Celadon Skyline, the metallic screaching audible as tourists from Johto and the work rush of employees stepped out of the comparments while the university students of Saffron University and superstitious people looking to have their futures told to them by psychics and realise that psychic pokemon don't work that way, scrambled inside.

Robert looked around for anyone. Huh. It was now about time that you would start seeing rangers that were off duty resting here in this very cafe or at the least, buying a cup of coffee. No presence. Yet. Seeing as he had 3 more hours to spare, a wallet full of Idols to buy more brew and that he was morbidly tired from the lack of sleep that he received last night, Robert gladly took advantage of the cafe's cheap black coffee as he waved one Idol in the sky.

" One black, please. No milk or sugar."

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Indigo Regional Government Para-Kingdom Encyclopedia - (-019-) Pidgey

Basic Characteristics: Normal-Type, Flying-Type, bipedal, warm blooded avian, average height: 0.3 m, average mass: 1.8 kg, world record height: 2.78 m, world record mass: 7.1 kg

Description: One of the most prevalent avian type pokemon in the Indigo Regional Government Territories, Pidgies bear many similar traits and aspects to indigenous terran avian fauna, although this only extends to the phenotype. The genotype of the Pidgey is like comparing a apple to a orange. Pidgies interestingly have a shared geneology with multiple other avian pokemon around the globe such as Swellow, For starters, Pidgies are a mainly omnivourous species, a trait found commonly in almost every species in the Para-Kingdom, although they are a mainly insectevorous and herbavore species. There have been documented cases of larger specimens of Pidgies resorting to carnivorous behaviour, before their second evolutionary form, able to hunt Buneary, Ratata and most warm-blooded Normal Types. The age of a Pidgey can be determined by the size and radiance of their plumage. Pidgies also possess a keen sense of direction and are able to fly back from their home, even miles away. As a defense mechanism, Pidgies are able to blow strong gusts of wind with their redundant wing muscles, either as a warning or in sandy enviroments, to blind their enemies with particles of sand. Despite this, Pidgies are one of the main prey species by many species in the Para-Kingdom.

Nicknames: The Tiny Bird Pokemon, Pigeon, brown feathers, peckers, sand-tanglers, godforsaken Pidgies.

"............................Seriously, I mean, all you got to worry about are the Pidgeottos and the Pidgeots. Pidgies? Hell, all you gotta do is throw a rock at them. I mean, jeez, the only thing Pidgies are good for are Novice Trainer Battles, a shitty amateur grade coordinator competition, falconry, house-pets, mailing and getting used as a 2 Idol Side-Dish in Sumptous Snacks Menu.........."

Borkus Lazorus · Jan 3, 2017

Miscelleneous Help Index

What in the Sane Hell is Sight of Serendipity?

Sight of Serendipity is a literate RP that takes place in a hyper-realistic alternate version of the Pokemon Universe with some dark parellels. Basically, the story goes like this.

In 2023 A.D or what is known in the modern times of this society as P.B, standing for Post.Brink, several dimensional rifts appeared on Earth, unprecendented and unnoticed, releasing creaures with supernatural abilities into our ecosystem. Mankind tried to overcome these monsters with their intelligence and their technological capcity but these creatures trumped mankind with their ability to adapt their physiology and mental behaviour in a shorter frame of time along with their absurd adaptations.

First was America. Then, it was Russia. Great Britian. Many countires followed, either destroyed by these creatures or collasping in the ruin and destruction. Mankind learned to fear these creatures that were classified into a new classification known as the Para-Kingdom or colloquially known as the Mon.

You know what happens next. Humanity's nature for blood and violence and dominance over this world dragged us out of the Dark Ages. We killed, we fucked and we grew and grew and grew until we had a foothold in this world. This new world. We've grown stronger for it but at the cost of suffering and the untold collaspe of our former glory. Some unexpected but something new. A pleasant surprise.

A Sight of Serendipity.

Official Rules

1. No God-Modding, Mary Sueish Bullshit that gives a power-gaming Rper tumours from the sight of it.

2. At least, one paragraph. Remember. Quality over Quantity. If you have both in equal amount, then, that's all in all great.

3. Keep all OOC questions in the Private Messages Room.

4. All actions done by a character can affect the main story and can potentially cause you to die.

5. There are no limits on NPCs. Keep it reasonable, though. And there must be a focus on your main character.

Remember. Have Fun! That's the most important thing!

Character Profiles

Death Count

- One Unfortunate Schlub in Celadon.

Chronology of Events - Sight of Serendipity

Previous Events

2023 P.B, January 3rd - The Brink Event

0 N.B, October 16th - Lima 3's are no longer present on Earth.

500 N.B, May 5th - The Pokemon League is Established.

September 5th, 1521 N.B - Robert is born.

August 27, 1527 N.B - Stetson is born.

1530 N.B - Alt is born.

1539 N.B, June 14th - Robert applies to the Ranger Corps

July 25-27, 1549 N.B - Alt is attacked by a swarm of Bug Pokemon and is rescued by the Goldenrod Police.

May, 1550 N.B - Alt applies to the Ranger Corps

March 5th, 1551 N.B - Robert's C.O is killed by a group of rovering Metagross during a normal Torch and Burn Mission.

November 21st, 1551 N.B - Robert is formally discharged from the Ranger Corps and returns to civilian life.

Beginning of RP

May 7th, 1556 P.B,

Robert gets call about murder, goes to the Chatot's Tune to have a goddamned cup of coffee, Alt and Stetson coincidentally go in there as well, A.C.E stalking Stetson, Lawyer gets all antsy pantsy about Rangers, Robert gets all antsy pantsy about Lawyer, A.C.E shits bricks when Robert gets antsy pantsy. Robert makes Lawyer shit his own antsy pants and drinks his shitty coffee.

TripTripleTimes · Jan 3, 2017

The forest of tall skyscrapers of the megacity caste blissful shadows to the criss-crossing streets below. The eleven o'clock sun blares her heated rays as strong as ever and shimmering mirage is seen on the baking concrete. A small group of uniformed man and women is seen walking down a street chattering amongst themselves. A man, dressed similarly as the group, lags behind with his Typhlosion by his side. The man's eyes dart around, captivated by the many sights the city has to offer, and it is clear that the man is not from around here. The group ahead of him calls out "Alt" causing the man to snap his attention to them and walks faster to join them.

There are a few times Alt has been to Kanto. As much as he enjoys visiting his extended families in other regions, work is often the reasons for his travels. The Ranger branches in Kanto and Johto have a very close ties and are often seen as one much like their government. Opportunities for joint missions are regular occurrence but that also means regular office meetings much to Alt’s growing annoyance. He just recently became a Sergeant and never did he imagined that he would be stuck in a cramped room for hours.

The group escapes the sun but the heat follows them in. The tiny bell above the door chimes the group’s arrival and suddenly the man feels tighter in his skin. The Typhlosion beside him draws closer and stands on its, his, hind legs and inspects the bustling cafe. Alt pets the Typhlosion and calls the Mon into its Pokeball. He then follows the other Rangers to a table, easily ignoring the stares they are attracting. Alt orders the a Mon to-go meal and a cup of cool, ice water for himself. As the group waits for their food to arrive, the man excuses himself before heading toward the washroom. The man returns to his table a while later and joins the group's small talk with a comment or two.

norway · Jan 4, 2017

Their elbows connected with another bump, once again sending the pencil off course, a streak of grey overlapping a line of numbers and brackets. Briefly sharing a disapproving gaze with the distant clock, Stetson slid his chair rather swiftly around the table's corner, now the head, with a foot or two of distance between himself and the other ranger. Smoothing down a slightly creased edge, he ignored the blemish and leaned back, tongue riding over his front teeth, momentarily puckering his lips; he pressed the opposite, rubber pink ends on the streak, grazing it lightly along what was already worn from several instances of erasing before hand. A small tear botched a fragment of code, his memory latching onto an 832 semicolon but alas, the last segment was gone. Tongue pressed to the corner of his cheek, Stetson wriggled his pencil once before setting it down, and bringing his hands to his face, running his palms over a light coat of perspiration accumulation along his brow line.

"Hey Dexter, you gonna order something or keep living off those numbers?"

"These numbers are the reason we can still come, sit down and bullshit each other," He offered, though to no shock of his own it didn't bring anyone there to really acknowledge their situation. Peering from beneath a few strands of hair brushing across his eyelids, he met the server's gaze, "Whatever it is, make it medium-rare."

Mock applauds came before the moment passed and they found something else to focus on, their forks poised, jowls rotating, eyes locked. His own wandered from the table, brushing over most of the other customers observantly before his present awareness faded due to a lack of stimulation, and he found himself thinking about that which he constantly avoided with work. People less acquainted with him thought he was just really dedicated to the mission - inwardly, he had to laugh, years of going through the motions just to get out of that damned house and he still couldn't figure out what the rangers were really useful for. The military had them beat population wise and via funding - hell, sometimes the wall guards seemed to get more praise than these guys. The reputation of the place mattered so little to him though, same went for any other faction, gathering or stand out. Credit wasn't his desire, fulfilling some accumulation of wannabe patriots dreams weren't relevant to him (though, of course, he didn't want the world to fall apart either), heroics weren't really in his nature. Taking on other's responsibilities wasn't him being generous or helpful, he just knew he could rewrite half a software program in the time it takes someone to find an outlet - that, and it kept him from being in the present moment. His intentions of eternally avoiding the right now deemed ACE's offer to do something, as they quoted, 'with his skill, beyond himself, for the betterment of everyone' inconvenient. And so he put it on hold, though any idiot could tell you how impatient ACE was - he hadn't much time to make a decision, and had even less of a clue it'd already been made for him.

Borkus Lazorus · Jan 4, 2017

2nd Celadon District, Rooftop of Milotic Scales Beauty Boutique, 40 meters north of the Chatot's Tune

Agent Evensley thought that, maybe, he shouldn't have been a coward and signed up for the White-Tail Division, instead of the Blue-Tail Division. Because, jesus, he was wondering why he had to sit on a fucking rooftop all day while the sun was out shining at full force like a seizuring Maccargo. He sat on his denim slacks, with sunglasses on his head as he pointed his Silph Scope V 3.2 A.C.E Model at the target. Didn't look like much other than a gangly ass fuck. Like one of those Analyst who got hopped up on ADHD Meds. And fucked computers for a living. He then took out his radio as it burst in a static, putting it to his ear. The sweet, smooth, alluring voice of his female partner, Agent Fenway, was like a soft lullaby to his ears.

" Update on A-104, Agent Evensley?"

He then replied while chewing on one of his meal bars, still peering through the scope, the target's heart-rate, heat signature, hell, even the amount of sweat he was secreting reading as percentages, numbers and bar charts on the screen.

" A-104 is currently in a coffee cafe, the Chatot's Tune. A-104 appears to be calm and is with a party of rangers, over."

Silence. Before another reply came through.

" Understood, Agent Evensley. Proceed to observe A-104 and trail him. A.C.E Executive Ashton wants to keep a close eye on him and make sure he doesn't fall into the hands of any other tangos, over."

Agent Evensley then peered through his Silph Scope before muttering one more time to the radio. Well, better late than never...Might as well try now.

" Permission for Non-Protocol Chat, over?"

A pause. God, he was hoping....Then, her voice came through, annoyed and slightly sarcastic.

" Permission granted. What do you want, Hartrich?"

Agent Hartrich Evensley, of A.C.E's Bluetail Division lifted his forefinger up to his long wavy locks of brown hair underneath his fedora, twirling a strand before speaking slowly and meticulously.

" So, I was wondering if I could invite you to that-"

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Robert kept an eye on the recent group of Rangers that had arrived into the cafe, still slowly sipping his coffee as he observed the daily issue of the Celadon Press with one eye while keeping a solitary view of the table that was currently being inhabitated by his once fellow Greenbacks. He was the only one out of the entire bar who didn't give them any scrutinizing stares or any derisive snorts. Even after the efforts of the Grand Marshal, people were still flipping the birds to the Ranger Corps. Deranged-psychopathic, mon-killers, those pokemon safety groups called them. Huh. He would have preffered the term, high-functioning unorthodox, mon exterminators. He took a more close gander towards the group while sipping his black brew. Two standouts out of the entirety of the 15 Ranger group. A introverted, silent...., Operator Technician, judging by the rapid movement of his eyes, his notepad, the rapid touch-typing and the computer. A man with a Typloshion by his side. Typloshion's weren't that typically common in Kanto, so that immediately marked him out, most likely, as a Johto Ranger. Nothing else of interest, though.

Then, one of the inhabitants of the bar, a table near to the table of Rangers, looked at them while in conversation and laughed out loud a sentence that was audible to the rest of the bar. " Oh, come on, Matt! Necessary? Everyone knows that the Ranger Corps are just a bunch of piss-poor, psychopathic mon-killers looking for a excuse for their ratata-sized dicks." Well, technically, Ratatas were fucking dangerous for a Delta-1. He saw one big little bastard, even before Raticate Stage, chew through one of Brock's Geodudes like it was hard candy and they bred faster that Lopunnies. So, that was a slight stealth compliment. Even, though, the fucking civvy had just insulted the Corps that he had served previously, his entire ideology and his former brothers in one, ignorant fucking sentence. Unfortunately, one of the Rangers didn't have the luck of having his patience or composure as he strided over towards the civvy to give him a taste of his own medicine.

The civvy then pulled out a lawyer's ID and the Ranger stop cold, his eyes full of rage. The civvy then stood up, slowly sipping what must have been a bitter, fucking cappuccinno as he waved the ID mocklingly and daintily while murmuring out loud.

" Hold on, there, Ranger. If you lay a single finger on me, I'll have your entire platoon sued and I'll bury you in so much litigation that your grandchildren will feel it. C'mon, mon-killer? You gonna chicken out of this one?"

Some of the bar inhabitants whooped and cheered while Robert just...had enough of this fucking civvy's antics. Apart from the fact that he was ruining his lunchtime coffee break, this civvy was really starting to grate on his nerves. Robert slid his chair slowly out, straightened his denim jacket and proceeded to stroll slowly towards the lawyer, cracking his fists slightly and stretching his neck.

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Agent Evensley was flushing hard as he heard high-pitched, nasally laughter through the radio that simmered down to a giggle as June Fenway enquired him on where they would meet for the date.

" So, time and place?"

" How about 7:00 PM, on next week Tuesday, at that Johtonese Omaka-"

He then peered through his Silph Scope, speaking through the radio as he looked at the situation that was happening. Everything was just - Wait a second, what was that guy over there going towards- Wait. He then checked the pictures. H.V. I. Rust-coloured hair. Height matched. Robert Motherfucking Ashton. Blackhat Major. Oh shit. Oh shitty shit shit. Oh shit.

" Agent Fenway, switch back to Protocol Chat. H.V. I- 45 is approaching slowly towards A-104 and shows no signs of stopping, over."

June then switched back to her terse voice, that was all business, no pillow talk.

" Repeat. Are you certain, Agent Evensley. Are you certain, over."

He then muttered loudly into the radio as he watched Ashton getting closer and closer.

" Repeat, fucking repeat. I am certain. Permission to deploy usage of Elohim, over?"

Silence for a while. Evensley took out a Ultra-Ball from the inside of his pants as he flipped it in between his fingers. Then, Fenway spoke in his radio.

" Permission not granted. Executive Ashton explictly states no usage of lethal force or incapacitation of H.V.I - 45. If H.V.I-45 makes contact and communication with A-104, Whitetail Agents along with Executive Ashton will be coming to the target's location. Continue observance, over and out."

Agent Evensley then turned off his radio before peering through the Silph Scope as Robert, motherfucking, Ashton continued to walk over towards the table, slowly and ponderously. He then took out a cigar, whiffing it slightly before peering through the scope again.

What was Robert, motherfucking, Ashton poking his nose in A.C.E Business?

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Indigo Regional Government Para-Kingdom Encyclopedia: (-019-)- Ratata.

Basic Characteristics: Normal-Type, Aiolan Species have been confirmed to possess Dark-Type subtraits, quadrapel mammal, avg height 1'10, avg weight: 8.4 pounds, record height: 4 feet, record weight: 50 pounds.

Description: Small, warm-blooded rat-type pokemon. Shares geneology with patrat family trees. Mostly covered in purplish-viridian fur with a cream-coloured belly. Age can be determined through growth of brown fur which indicates how close it is to evolution. The nickname " Mud-Tipped" is given to Ratatas near their evolution stage. The most pre-dominant and recognisable trait of this species of rat-pokemon is their large enamel incisors and ridiculously strong jaw-muscles, older species capable of exerting pressures of upwards to 10,000 pounds before becoming Raticates, easily capable of chewing through concrete and metal alloys. Species possesses nocturnal vision and hearing as well. Species is also to be noted for their ridiculous consititution and ability to survive most harsh conditions including small doses of radiation, lethal doses of Yellow-Orange class chemicals and toxins along with several other enviromental hazards. Species is also one of the only League-identified species to possess the classification of ' True Omnivore', able to eat almost any substance imaginable without suffering ill effects.

Nicknames: The Mice Pokemon, The Scavenger-Rat Pokemon, Purple Pussacks, blight-rats, wormtails.

"...............You ever heard the saying ' breed like a ratata?', well, that's true in a sense. We have the trainer soceity to thank for reducing the natural Ratata population in the wild. Sure, they may suck as a starter but it makes us better for us Rangers out on the field. Little suckers can breed hard and fast. And when you combine that with their ability to offer a free ride for pestilence and plagues, a uncontrolled outbreak of Ratatas could over-run a basic settlement fast. Thank god the population's under control these days.....One of those buggers may be enough but a thousand? Arceus help us all...."

TripTripleTimes · Jan 4, 2017

The atmosphere at the Ranger's table before the heckler interrupted them was pretty cheery. The conversation topics jumped from the weather, cooking eggs, and then to wilder tales. Despite only meeting most of the people just a few hours ago, Alt enjoyed their company and the group seemed to like him so far. Well, most of them at least. Alt apologised to the Technician, Stetson, once again and shoved the other Ranger beside him for gesturing his arms widely around causing Alt to dodge to avoid getting hit. The Ranger with the wild arms just grinned cheekily at Alt and continued his tale but Stetson, on the other hand, seem fed up with the shoves and actually scooched over to the head of the table. Not offended, Alt took a peek at the codes the man is working hard on and left Stetson alone. However, it seems that the other Rangers has other things in mind and teases the man hunched over his codes. Glad to see there's some snark in that Ranger. Alt watched the exchange, amused.

All that mood, of course, rotted away when the lawyer insulted the Rangers loudly. Things only escalated when one of the Ranger got up taking the heckler's bait. Alt looked at the direction of the bar peeved but got up after a sigh. He knew that calming this Ranger down will take more than just words.

"He's not worth it, Jasso," Alt called out the Ranger's surname out of habit and places a hand on the Ranger's shoulder. He stands right beside Jasso "Better to keep your hand clean from an uneducated twatt." Alt looks up and down the man waving his license around. "Any decent lawyer would know how savage Rattats can be, especially how fast they breed." The dark haired man looks at the civilian with a foxy grin and pats Jasso's shoulder twice. "Come on man. Give the guy some time to think something that would actually impress us. Hopefully, nothing too basic."

norway · Jan 6, 2017

Most of the rangers were on their feet, if not sitting on the edge of their seats. The provocations had gripped the men far too soon, though considering the amount of thankless work the better of the corps did on a daily basis, just to come out for a drink and get shunned in public, Stetson couldn't say the irritation was invalid. It was easier for him to say the tension was unnecessary from his seat of indifference, he hadn't ever accumulated a proper attachment to any division and therefore didn't feel the sting of the remarks like the others; perhaps that had to do with the fact he'd never really risked his life out on the field, his few outings for tech repairs or demolition adjustments hadn't ever been in a major danger zone. He supposed he could feel something, though, considering it's their lives he's been securing for the last couple years. Rubbing a finger against his jowl, the man let his chair teeter on it's back legs, just far enough without risking slipping. "You guys should listen to Alt - "

"Oh yeah? What the hell do you know, Dexter? You're not out busting your ass to keep drop outs like this alive just so he can trash us," Snapped one of his companions, to which Stetson held up his hands in an easy, mock surrender, watching as the guy abruptly pushed out of his chair, his own tone starting to match that of the loud mouthed civilian. Most eyes were on the exchanges, of which were starting to encourage the servers to head through the back doors, maybe to get management, or maybe to just hide. Customers were slipping out the back door, or more comically, setting aside their own engagements to watch. An approaching figure beckoned Stetson's attention merely with the determination in his stride, walking in just as the title lawyer resonated within the cafe walls. Older man - wait, he looked like the guy that'd been sitting across from them - the fuck was he getting in this for?

Hold on there, ranger...

Legal threats - with the position the faction was in now - were perhaps the equivalent of, if not worse, than bullets. Stetson's jaw visibly tensed, the last thing these guys needed was the blame for a bar fight where people got hurt.

Borkus Lazorus · Jan 6, 2017

The lawyer was still grinning a cocky smile at all of the Rangers now, trying to bait them further as he hissed out another provocative insult, unaware of the looming 6 foot man coming behind him slowly. From a onlooker's viewpoint, Robert's expression,at the moment, could simply be described in several eloquent phrases. Tired eyes that said ' I'm fucking tired of this shit.' A permanent grimace that said ' I don't have time for this tomfoolery." And a general body language that was like a pissed off Beartic that had its cubs stolen by poachers. He stopped behind the lawyer, before coughing and tapping on the lawyer's shoulder in the middle of his speech.

" What? Why are you guys shaking like Courage, the Cowardly Snubbull? Jesus, I thought you guys were called Rangers for a-"

The lawyer then felt a slight tap on his back as he turned back to meet a tall, imposing man with brick-red hair, a slightly pissed off face who was adorned in the most darkest Miltank Tanned Leather jacket that the lawyer had ever seen in his life. Robert then raised his hand for a moment, looking as if he was going to cave the man's head in before lengthening out his hand towards the lawyer. He then gave the fakest smile one could ever give in their entire lives.

" Sorry, sir but I couldn't help but recognise you from all that commotion over there. Are you Brent Lambert? I'm a huge fan of your work down by the 2nd Celadon District."

Brent was suddenly shocked by the turn of events before grinning and shaking Robert's hand in return, slightly wincing at the pressure, like a hydraulic press clamping down on his arm. It was on purpose.

" Well, thank you, young man. It's so good to see that my hard work in this city has been recognised. These vagrants on the other hand...."

Brent then pointed a thumb at his back before guffawing and rolling his eyes.

" - can't even stand a good-in-heart joke. Those bush-monkeys must have boiled their brains from all those hours spent outside in the Viridian Sun. Am I right?"

Robert's left fist slightly shook at the colloquial phrase for Rangers as he exhaled hot air and then, nodded, issuing a reply. He'd noticed that the guy didn't even bother to ask him for his name. What a absolute jackass.

" Quite. Now, can we talk more about you for a moment? I've done some reading in the newspapers last month about your successful prosecution against Victor Heimlich, a Unovan refugee. It was a impressive argument, I must say indeed...."

Brent soaked up all the attention with glee as he turned red slightly and stretched his collar.

" Well, it wasn't that hard. Well, it was eas-"

Robert then cut off the man without any notification, interrupting him and cutting his tone down to a low whisper.

" I wasn't finished. What I was going to say was that it was a impressive argument, I must say indeed, if it weren't for the fact that you managed to accuse a innocent man, despite all evidence for him being innocent, of being guilty for 20 counts of murder despite the fact that it was committed by Team Rocket. Now, the question is how did you manage that impressive court decision, if I recall, 10 to 1?"

Brent then had a slightly mortified expression on his face, before trying to reply back. Robert then interrupted him once more.

" You bribed the jury to do your bidding, which I admit, wouldn't really get them on your side if you didn't have Team Rocket threaten their families. Now, is that a little detail we want to get out in public?"

Brent sputtered a little bit more before gathering his nerve and managing to say something intelligible while his teeth chattered with fear.

" I have no idea what you're talking about. Do you know it's illegal for accusations to be based on no grounds? I'll have you buried in the fucking ground along with the rest of them over there. Who are you?"

Robert paused for a while before laughing out loud, wheezing. He then began to rummage inside his coat pockets while speaking.

" Who am I? Who the fuck are you to talk to me in that tone? Despite the fact I have enough tangible evidence to give over to the police, I'll humor you. Here's my Ranger Card."

Though, technically, it was Robert's old Ranger Card but he'd hoped the man would take the bait. Ranger? Brent hadn't taken the man for a Ranger, although, it seemed more likely given the man's size and body image. He swiped the card, looking upwards at Robert before peering at the card.

" Ranger? So, that explains it. It's more the more easier to prosecute you now. Let's see here. Robert H Ashton. Infantry Division.-"

Brent then paused, beads of sweat now starting to drop down his forehead. He tossed the card back towards Robert and muttering out loud every word as if it was a expletive, backpedling away from Robert.

" BLACKHAT DIVISION?! Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, please don't kill-"

Brent then went quiet as Robert laid one lazy arm around his shoulder, leaning onwards towards him for a second before going towards Brent's table and taking Brent's choice of coffee, sipping it to have a taste. Ick. Mocha Latte. Robert's nose slightly cringed at the sickly sweet smell as he put the beverage back on the table. Every inhabitant of the bar was quiet now, looking at the scene, some with fascination, some with horror and some with excitement.

" Seriously, I thought you would have better taste. Look. Let's start over, shall we, Brent? I was just enjoying my black coffee and chocolate chip muffin on that table by the side over there when I heard your fucking pansy-ass fruit-cake whining. Jesus, was your Mom a goddamned Whismur? Of course, I could let all the mindless insults slide but then, you decided to whip out that I.D of yours and start waving your dick around like it was one of those orgy festivals in Goldenrod City. That was a mistake. Of course, there were several others. "

Robert then pointed towards the group of Rangers and started speaking out loud inside the cafe.

" First of all, they're Greenbacks, not Bush-Monkeys, never call them Bush-Monkeys, kay? Second, these fine gentlemen sacrifice their lives to keep you, me and all of you fucking civvies in this room right now safe from a Beedrill attack and you call them chickens. If they were chickens, then, you would be a fucking microbe, hell, I would be hesitant you even call you living! Third of all, you decided to do this shit while I was in here. Big. Mistake. Now, could you please tell me why?"

Robert then waited while he could smell the acrid scent of piss coming out of the man's shorts as he whimpered out loud.

" Y-you're a Blackhat. Y-you're the Elite of the Ranger Corps. Y-you ride Gyaradose-"

" Stop right there. I think it would be a offense to continue this furthur. Hell, I think this must be considered illegal prositution since you're giving my ego a big, bad blowjob right now, aren't you?"

Brent nodded before Robert leaned in harshly and gave him a cold glare that was frigid enough to freeze a Maccargo while speaking low and like the Grim Reaper with a wide, menacing grin on his bristled face.

" Right, I'm a Blackhat. And you're damn right that I own a Gyarados. Because I could order that Gyarados to tear up your fucking apartment. I could order that Gyarados to chomp on your fat ass like a six course dinner at a Johtonese Omakase course. And that's not even half of what I could do to you. Bury you? I can do better than litigation and prosecution. I can bury your bloody ass ten feet underneath Mount Sliver, if I'm inclined. But, it won't come to that. Will it?"

Brent nodded shakedly before Robert then relaxed and stood up straight, stretching his arm non-chalantly in front of Brent's wide-eyed and shivering form. Robert then poked his fore-head, knocking Brent out of his stupor, before speaking in a bored tone.

" Now, do you wanna kindly chicken out of this one?"

Brent heeded the former Blackhat's commands as he grabbed his briefcase and ran out of the bar, momentarily turning his head to look at the waving Ranger as he tried to put a mile radius between him and the psychotic, professional, mon-wrangler.

All was silent for a while as everyone looked at Robert before it returned back to the usual mode of chatter and gossip and mediocre jazz music. Robert then chuckled for a while as he saw Brent's form slowly dissapear on the horizon before looking back the party of Rangers. He then snarked at them.

" For the record, I'm a retired Blackhat Ranger, gentlemen. That said, it is great to bully a disobedient civvy once in a while. So..."

Robert scratched his red-rusty hair for a second as he slowly sipped Brent's cup of coffee which was still in his hand. Damn. Still tasted like shit.

" you mind telling me what your platoon is doing in the Chatot's Tune?"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Indigo Regional Government Para-Kingdom Encyclopedia: (-130-) Gyarados

Basic Characteristics: Water-Type, Flying-Type, dragon sub-traits, dark type subtraits confirmed in Professor Augustine Sycamore's research papers on Mega Evolution, long segmented armored, finned chitinous body with blue colouration and yellow underbelly, barbels for detection of electromagnetic waves, yellow underbelly contains flight bladders, that in conjunction with fins, allow species with aerial propulsion, avg height: 15 m, avg weight: 518 lbs, record height: 50 m, record weight: 3798 lbs.

Description: Due to the nature of the Para-Kingdom eco-system, only a small population of wild Magikarps are able to have the right genes and right traits to be able to be considered to be viable for their psuedo-dragon evolution. And of that small population, only few will be able to activate those latent psuedo-dragon genes to be able to be evolve into one of the definitive Apex Predators in the Para-Kingdom. One of the most dangerous and notoriously aggresive pokemon in the world, Gyaradosia are part of a small group of pokemon classified under the " Disaster" Identification Index and are able to level cities within a manner of days. They are armed with the largest array of biological weapons in the Para-Kingdom, only rivalled by several other species. Only 250 Gyaradosia are registered in the Indigo Government Database, 215 of those Gyaradoses belonging to the Ranger Corps and 35 of those currently in the private sector or civilian sector.

Nicknames: Eldritch Titans, Reapers of the Sea, Dragon-Serpents, Blue Shrimps with a Nasty Attitude

".................No matter how many times you've coddled a Magikarp before it's evolution into the world's nastiest, fucking monster with a untolerant rage overshadowing that of a Prime-Ape on cocaine, that Gyarados is going to eat your ass. Nearly nine times out of ten, I've seen trainers on the field get their ass eaten by a newly evolved Magikarp. It'll remain a secret to how we Blackhats train our Gyaradoses to recognise us as superior but the thing is that you gotta break that serpent down and build it up again. And what we Blackhats get out of this relationship is something resembling Pre-Brink crocodile wrestling but you'll never be glad to have a more loyal pokemon than Gyarados by your side. After all, it's just waiting to eat your ass when the time is right...."

TripTripleTimes · Jan 6, 2017

Just when Alt think he has calmed the Ranger beside him enough to direct back to their table, another ripple of anger bursts out from behind him, at the Ranger’s table. A frown twitched down for a moment and silent, steady stream of air leaves his lips. The phantom pull of his skin that subsided during the easy going conversation returns. Alt turns to look at the Rangers, narrowing his eyes at them. They should have expected something like this to happen in a populous area, and do they really have to bad mouth one of their own. Alt has expected the Kanto Rangers to act mature and civil and Hell, they don't need the extra drama. The incineration specialist looks back to the taunting lawyer.

All thoughts freeze, however, when Alt looks back and sees the tall man towering over the lawyer. The ginger headed gentleman looms ominously and Alt feels a heavy, dark presence coming out of the stranger. For some reason, the Ranger feels like he has seen that man from somewhere, but the thought is quickly run over by his instinct to not interfering the ginger man.

Suspension raises alongside the stranger’s raised hand but the scene doesn't play out like Alt has thought it would. The story in front of him builds up to annoying to curious when the man brings up the infamous court case that even Alt had heard about back in Johto. It is then Alt understand who the stranger is sided with. Alt would be grinning ear to ear at the end of it all but he stands in awe, finally recognising who the man standing before them is. Alt snaps to a saluting stand when the man’s, Robert fucking Ashton, glares at the Rangers.

It is like being a private once again, remembering the rush of admiration and exhilaration after witnessing a ferocious battle and hearing the roar of flames as they lite the aftermath of the battle. The Black Handle team was sent forward to the field as the Hades Incineration team followed meters away from the main battle in an obtuse vic formation. The howls of the Pokemon, the scattering of lesser Pokemon, and the wall of black, orange, and red; it was all a beautifully, orchestrated chaos. To top it all off, with just the crackling of the burning trees, the Black Berets emerged out, basked in a red and orange glow, victorious from their battle. One of the faces was the one Alt is seeing right now.

Robert Ashton seems to ease out after a brief moment and Alt’s shoulders relax a bit. Despite the man saying he is retired, Alt politely salutes.

“Yes, Sir.” Alt drops the salute and looks back at the Hasso beside him and to the table full of Rangers. They too have the same tense stance as him earlier, though some are on their chair. His eyes crease upward and suddenly he can see the ping of realization the Rangers have for letting the Johtoan talk first. “Some of the nice folks here wanted to give me a tour around the city for lunch, but I didn’t think that everyone would be here, though…” He trails off, lightheartedly. Like seriously, he originally was with 4 other Rangers, how did the hell they end up with 15? Alt might have heard someone protesting.

“But thank you for your help sir,” He bows his head and smiles cheerily when he looks back up. “I didn’t think that would have gone well with all the hot heads around here.”

“Oh shut it, Alt! You’re worser than all of us.” The Ranger beside him, Jasso, push Alt off balance. The mood seems to lighten somewhat, but some of the Rangers back at the table still look a bit to tense.

“How about we buy you a cup of coffee, better than what’s in your hand, sir.” He suggests to Robert. “That’s at least what we can do for your troubles, Ashton sir.”

norway · Jan 16, 2017

"Why'd you want to take this job, son? Workin' with the Corps isn't exactly workin' a concession stand."

"I thought it'd... straighten out my life."

"Bullshit. You're as straight as an arrow. I bet you ain't ever seen something that wasn't domesticated. Why're you really here?"

Stetson wanted to take offense - but the old man was right, eerily so. He leaned back, arms folded, gaze on the sergeants occupation. He was polishing an old gun, something Stets wouldn't have known the name of, but had seen in vintage movies. It was worn, as was it's holder, but delicately handled for such rough, muscled hands.

"You gunna answer or?"

"I just don't want to go back where I came from."

"That's a shit reason for joinin', kid," He told him gruffly, unapologetic. "People who come here out of desperation either end up dead or spent. Well, you'll probably end up dead either way, but at least die because you believed in the cause. Do you even know what the Rangers cause is?"

"No sir."

"We're here to keep people safe. We get a lot'a shit but we're the ones out at three am clearing fields from monsters that'd rip these entitled civilians to shreds. Do you have any desire to keep people safe?"

"Not really, sir." He answered honestly, rubbing the back of his head. "But I'd do what I was assigned if it meant I don't have to go back."

"What's your mother think about all this?"

"I left a note."

Running his hand across his bristly, dark brown beard, the man shook his head, "I don't like that. Men don't leave "notes"."

"I did, sir. She wouldn't have let me leave otherwise."

"Should'a listened to her."

"I made the right call," Stetson responded a bit sharper, catching the man's eye.

"You better hope so. Fer'now I'm stickin' you in the back, you'll keep the maintenance while we figure out where a weed who can't name a gun fits on the field."

Stetson didn't give a shit where he was. If it could be described as not where he'd been, he'd mop their floors for the next five years.

-

Stetson watched Alt and this Sir Ashton individual mix words, wondering what made him so special that all of the Rangers seemed to straighten up. It seemed like they picked up on Alt's reaction to the man, perhaps not aware who he was but certain it had to be someone important to have Alt offering coffee on their tab.

"Wow, the blackhats! He's gotta be some kind of legend!"

"My dad had a gyarados!"

"He did fucking not don't lie!"

"I swear! Bet it wasn't anywhere near as big as this guys though!"

"That's what she said!"

Stetson ran his hands over his face, morons. After a moment of consideration though, he pushed off his seat and leaned forward, extending a hand to the important man, unaware of what mannerisms were necessary so he just addressed him with the submissive respect a general might demand. "Pleasure, sir," He shot a friendly look at Alt, as well, obviously grateful that they'd both calmed the situation down better than he cared to. "Thanks for that, both of you. Last thing this faction needs is the guilt of a pummeled civilian."

Borkus Lazorus · Jan 16, 2017

Blackhat Compound, Celadon 5th District

November 21st, 1551 N.B,

0321 PM

The shuffling of papers. Stamping. The smell of Unovan Petill Cigars. A Warrant Officer and his G.I Oddish. Pidgeotto Couriers. Greenbacks in the mess-hall tussling around with each other in a food-fight. Chaotic to the layman and the average trainer, but this was the daily life of a Ranger. Robert walked outside of the Ranger Compound towards the Blackhat Compound that was conveniently nearby. Celadon had forced them together due to all that development space being taken up by the building of Poke-Marts, beauty shops and all the vices of modern society. Hell, it took time to get used to but once you got past the little Greenbacks annoying the shit of the Blackhats, the constant hubbub of civilians and the wall of skyscrapers that surrounded the compound.....It was pretty much like any another compound. Walled in, fortified, built to last, prepared.

Home sweet home....

He walked in through the gate without any need for a check of his identity. The security guards knew by heart each face of each Blackhat and besides, every Blackhat had that permanent scowl on their face that would leave a child whimpering in fear. He went through the silent compound and then, towards his CO's office. He opened it slowly and punctually, tapping the door twice to let his CO know he was coming in. Opening the door, the wizened, bearded face of Colonel Sanchez met his young, bright one.

Ugh, looks like one of those military pukes.....

Robert sat on the chair and then, they both looked at each other in silence. For what seemed like minutes. Until one of them broke the ice. " You wanted to see me, sir?"

Colonel Sanchez pursed his lips for a while before replying to the comment. " Yes, Major Ashton. You may be wondering why I instructed you to stay at the base rather than assigning you to that mission in Saffron with the rest of the Blackhats to drive out that Parasect infestation." A pause. A signal to let his CO continue.

Wait, what the hell's that?

Colonel Sanchez signed before taking out a dossier. Robert recognised the form. It was a discharge form. But for what? He began speaking out carefully and slowly. " Sir, I'm not sure why you have a medical discharge form out. I'm in perfect physical shape. Has my code of conduct been-"

Please, not a discharge. Please, not a-

Colonel Sanchez waved his hand non-chalanlantly as if those were all minor complaints. " Major, I would be vehement at you if you had gotten any of those. Hell, I would have gotten up to High Command themselves and ask them why they would be kicking one of our best Blackhats out of command. But, no, that ain't the real problem. The reason for this discharge is your mental condition....., regarding the loss of your other CO, Major-Lieutenant Barett."

Don't even mention that fucking name, old man. You don't deserve to say it.

And I agree with them. " A freeze. He couldn't really hear anything at the moment. Naturally, the colonel took this as a signal to continue again. " I'm sorry, Ashton, but you're....off the Rangers. High Command states that you're a emotional liability And I agree with them. You've done a lot for the Corps over these past years. Don't think of it as us giving you the boot-"

Son of a motherfucking-

Robert slammed the front desk of the mahogany wooden table, denting it slightly before cooling down and replying without the slightest hint of emotion.

" Don't bullshit me. You're bushwacking me. I'm not emotionally compromised. I've been personally been tested by psychologists and they say-"

Colonel Sanchez raised his hand and then, shook his head sadly before uttering each and every word slowly, as if he was trying not to piss Ashton off even more.

" I've heard reports from your fellow Blackhats, Rober-"

You don't deserve to say my fucking name too, you old shit.

"-t. They said something about you sobbing hard at night ,keeping them up, hugging it out with your Stoutland, whimpering about your old CO. Now, I'm not gonna penalize you for being a mon-humper. But High-Command doesn't look kindly upon a CO of a Blackhat Team that's emotionally compromised. Do I need any more reasoning, Major?"

Robert stayed silent, staring over Colonel Sanchez's shoulder outside the window, while Sanchez continued with his litany of unneeded pleasantries.

" Now, we're sorry about this, Ashton. Civilians aren't allowed to keep a large assortment of Delta-5s. Fortunately, you can keep your Hunter-Killer, your Seeker Class and your designated Aviation Unit. Unfortunately, your Gyarados, Magnezone and Tyranitar are being reassigned with another Blackhat Ranger. I'll give you plenty of time to say good-bye to them and make sure the transition of command is smooth."

God dammit, Damocles, Sisyphus, Coloumb. I'm gonna miss you....

" And that's all for now. Just sign h-"

Even faster than the Colonel could comprehend, Robert snatched the pen and signed hastily before looking at the Colonel, dead-eyed and tired. He then stood up and made his way out of the office before the Colonel tried to make amends between them. Wrong choice.

" Major Ashton, it's been a honor to work with you. Good luck out there in the world."

Robert then gritted his teeth and then, saluted to the Colonel before walking out of the office.

Why did you need to do that? He's not Barett.

He kept walking through the crowd of Greenbacks, through the crowd of Blackhats, through the gate, through everything that was his life-

Nothing's gonna bring him back.

Why couldn't the world be more fair? He kept walking, just walking, he didn't care anymo-

Such bullshit. What gave High-Command to remove our asses?

It wasn't like Barett's death was-

Torn apart, rent limb by limb. You watched.

Those psychics...

If only we'd-

Robert shook out of his stupor and noticed he was at the harbor. He then tiredly sat on a chair. It was a good day to rain today. A drip of water landed on his pants.

Oh god....Barett.....

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Robert shook the hand of the Ranger who'd greeted him before he sniffed the air slightly. Ugh, contaminants. Smelt like a Muk. He then looked at the guy's skin for a moment to confirm his suspiscion. Slightly tanned. Signs of calloused burns. Yep. Most likely a Hades Division. Former or current, didn't really manner. His respect for the guy went up several knotches after his inferrence. Robert gave a slight crooked smile out of amusement at the Ranger's antics before speaking.

" Well, I could use something black and hot. Don't like all this sugary shit that these civvies drink nowadays. Useless on the Frontier, really. How about you'd get me a black ro-"

Then, he was drowned out by all of the clamour of the other Rangers around him, looking at him with awe and amazement. To say the least, Robert was a bit peeved by all the attention as countless amounts of Ranger, Walkouts and Greenbacks alike, surrounded him like he was some sort of League Celebrity. He didn't like the attention. He wasn't one for the spotlight. John could take that role for him. Besides, he was one of the only official retired Blackhats in existence. That wasn't deserving of hype or attention. He then raised one arm in the air before shouting out loud.

" Woah, abstain. ABSTAIN, Rangers! I'm a retired Blackhat. Everyone of you is better than me in every way if you're still in the corps, kicking the ass of the mon on in the frontier. I'm just a civvy so treat me like one, got it?"

Robert then noticed one of the Ranger getting up and walking towards him. Wiry, shrewd, he was the guy tapping on the porygonic device. Techie. Not deserving of much respect but hey, every little bit counts. The little guys mattered, no matter what the Vets said about them being pussies and cowards. To Robert, every little bit counted towards keeping something safe. And techies were no different. Robert shook the hand of Stetson before slapping him on the shoulder lightly.

" No worries, man. It's the least I could do for my brothers. Like I'd let anyone of you get shitted down from something as mundane as a lawyer."

Robert then sat on the large table that accompanied the Rangers, rubbing his hands together, before relaxing on the stool and taking out a cigar. He then ruffled inside his pockets for a lighter.

" So, you mind telling me your names? I assume you all don't go by Private, Lieutenant, Warrant Officer or Corporal...."

Aw shit, he'd forgot to bring his lighter. Damn it, Gerald was suppose to remind him. He signed, a sharp breath of annoyance audible to everyone, before he looked around at the table.

" Hey. Any of you got a lighter to light this cigar?"

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Indigo Regional Government Para-Kingdom Encyclopedia: (-043-): Oddish

Basic Characteristic: Grass Type, Poison Type, Fairy-Type subtraits, Chloroplism Category, bisexual, Bipedal with large head of poisonous leaves for photosynthesis, blue colouration, mainly subsists off minerals and water found in the enviroment, Avg height: 0.5 m, World Record Height: 1.5 m, avg mass: 5.4 kg, world record mass: 20.6 kg.

Description: One of the most abundant Grass-Types in the Viridian Forest, Oddish's operate in a hive-like fashion similar to terran indigenous ant species. Vileplumes act as the queen, Glooms acting as the guards and Oddish's acting as the work force of the colony. An average Oddish colony ranges from about 100 specimens to over 500 specimens. Oddish behaviour also includes mostly hibernating during daytime, their large leafy heads being often confused for other plants. Other than this, Oddish's are mostly used as a common survival tool for Trainers and Rangers alike in most hostile enviroments due to being simple to engender behaviours into and their wide range of plant-based capabilities based on the absorption of different organic materials. There have been over 143 recorded uses along with many unconfirmed ones for a Oddish including tinder, food, purifying water, fending off wild Beedrill, acting as a potent stun-bomb among many other uses.

Nickname: The Weed Pokemon, The Plant Pokemon, fern-heads, chloroplants, radish-mon

".......You never know how many times a G.I Oddish saved our asses out there in the field. I mean, they might look small, unintimidating, cute, endearing and useless at first but there's more than meets the eye. If I were to list all of them, it would take a professional Alakazam mind-reader to psycho-analyse the entire list from my mind. Hell, I don't understand why High Command doesn't give every Ranger a Oddish. You can grow them in your own house..."

TripTripleTimes · Jan 17, 2017

Alt shakes the former Blackhat's hand but as soon as the two men exchange greetings, it seems that the figurative floodgate opens and the rest of the Rangers starts chatting like a swarm of Beedrills. The dark haired man tries to calm the crowd down but his voice is swallowed by the masses. Any louder, Alt risks of having a coughing fit. There is a spike on his shoulder and he sees Jasso beside him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Can't take the crowd, Alt?" Jasso just grins widily and his previous temper has vanishes from his cocoa tanned feature. "Guess you're too much of a Johtoan than I thought you weren't!"

"That's racist," Alt shots back and peels away from the man, but there is a grin on his face. "We just like our personal space and respect it. Look at that guy, all cramped and surrounded by Growlithes. Plus, you guys are too loud." He looks back at Jasso and then to the customers still loitering around the cafe. The darker skinned man doesn't bother to turn and look at the scene around the Rangers, much to Alt's relief as he looks around. The other customers do not seem to mind the noise and even the servers have returned to their job as if they are used to this scene. The few people he makes eye contact with looked at him curiously before ducking their heads or turning away. He also sees a group of youngsters at a table with excitement and glee in their eyes.

It seems that the retiree finally has enough and try to calm them down.

"See what I mean?" Alt says looking at the other man smugly. The man just rolls his eyes and heads back to the table, clapping his large hands at the back of two other Rangers and dragging them to the table. Alt follows suit but walks in tune with Stetson when he catches up to him.

"Does this mean you forgive me for bumping you earlier, Connere?" Alt huffs and grins at the brunet, joining the two older men heading toward the table. He settles onto his seat and moves Stetson's chair from the head of the table back beside him, allowing Ashton to sit with them at the head. He calls for a server.

There is a round of introduction and when it comes to his turn, he says, "I'm Alt, Hades division from Johto."

From his pants pocket, Alt pulls out a metal cased butane lighter. It is a slick, simple design with its metal navy blue and thin matted outline of flames. He passes it to Ashton, not realizing charcoal dusts the dark cased lighter.

norway · Jan 19, 2017

"Forgive you for - " Stetson bore a momentary blank look, "Hell, I wasn't holding that against you." With a crooked grin, he seated himself beside Alt, though it did feel odd, swept up among fellows that he truly couldn't relate to. He was the tech kid, Dexter, sometimes 'confused' with the plumber, physically fit if only from carrying around giant heaps of metal as if they were a third limb, occasionally caught having decent conversations with Pip. Er, his bronzor. Noisy metal bastard who had a thing for his vintage computer monitor.

Connere never was one for people worship, so he hadn't a need to be told to back off. Though this was one of the few cases where he figured it'd be nice, and perhaps beneficial, to be in the know - they spoke nostalgically, though Ashton seemed less interested in his own former titles and memories. But Stetson still wasn't sure which faction was which - why'd they have so many? And they were so divided, obviously with the rangers being, although the most altruistic in most cases, complete underdogs which became canon somewhere down the line. And where was Stetson in all this? Did he really care? No. He didn't want a title, didn't care for an association and certainly seemed to lack the same overwhelming passions that these guys had. He felt rather lacking in investment - his superiors said it was because he was always holed up in that cave (better known as the basement) and never 'risked his life with his fellow comrades to learn about.. fellow... comrade...ery...'

The hell?

Borkus Lazorus · Jan 20, 2017

(LOCATION UNKNOWN) - A.C.E Executive Office, Celadon Headquarters, Comms Room, 1045 AM

Being an A.C.E Executive, the highest member in the upper echelons of the most clandestine and covert organisation in the world, was not everything that almost every living Agent within A.C.E had hyped it up to be. It begged responsibility, whether you like or not, grasping at your throat without your permission and forcibly invading your soul. Of course, everyone wanted the position of being a executive, not just for the gross, exorbiant amount of Idols that you were paid to do your job by the Director of A.C.E nor the ability to order the execution of any Indigo League Citizen, whether guilty or not guilty. It was fear. His former tutor had taught him that before he had personally dealt with the man. His position commanded fear itself. He valued that. Fear elevated you to levels beyond the simple, ordinairy, overweight man. It made you a living god. But, fear had some disadvantages. Such making the Agent who had decided to ruin his morning breakfast with the Vice-Director of A.C.E itself stutter like a mentally impeded moron with a Parasect Cerebral Spore Infection.

" I'm sorry, could you repeat that again?"

He sat in the dark, hazy atmosphere of his personal office, only the limelight of the sun, a ray that illuminated half of his face while the other was shrouded in darkness. The chattering of the person on the other end of the phone annoys him to no end. While having all the power in the world was virtually invaluable, it did have some issues. Such as the fact everyone was pissed scared of pissing him the hell of. A gulp on the other side. Before, finally, thank god, an actual, god to honest, intelligible reply. The best organisation in the world. He thought over that for a second. Perhaps, that belonged to Interpol now. He would never let them have it, though.

" Uh, w-we spotted Robert Heinrich Ashton with H.V.I-45, sir. In a cafe. The Chatot's Tune. He's currently conversing with the target. S-should we order a Whitetail Team to trail him and bag him, sir?"

He hung off for a second, rubbing his chin while staring listlessly outside. Interesting. Nothing the man would do could affect his plans, though.He then replied on the phone, each word being precisely said without any lisp or drag. Efficiency was key here.

" No. That would be too messy. I'll meet with him in person. Keep a eye on him and inform me of his whereabouts and his actions."

The agent on the other line of the phone breathed out a sign of relief before closing off the call in a hurry. The A.C.E Executive placed the phone on his well-lacquered apricorn wood table before standing up and looking outside the window. How very interesting, indeed. Well, he did suppose it had a long time coming. After all.....

Who wouldn't want to say hello to their younger brother?

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Robert accepted the man's lighter, examining it for a while with his eyes before looking at Alt. Huh. That was his name? Alt? Had to be a nickname for sure. And damn, he was right on the nose again. The Ranger did look like a Hades personnel. He wasn't concerned about his nationality, though. Anyone who would be still angsty about the scab that the little conflict between Kanto and Johto was a damn fucking crybaby.

" Well, Alt, I could already tell you were a Hades Division Personnel. Hell, you still reek of Muk after all that time out in the Frontier."

Robert then flicked on the lighter which suddenly burst into a ball of fire, thanks to the coal dust that was layered upon it. Robert slightly yelped in pain before looking at his flaming coat-jacket before signing in boredom and lifting his cigar towards his inflamed attire. The fumes burst out from the Unovan Petill as Robert sucked in the sweet, smoke scent before patting down his flaming cuffs by dipping them in a glass of water that was nearby. Robert then blew out a smoke-ring before looking at Alt with a slight suspicious glance. Must have been a mistake. Perhaps, a arsonist at heart?

" Look, Alt, clean up from your missions next time. Don't want you to light the candles at my 75th birthday party next time."

Robert sucked in another hefty fume before looking at the techie next to him. He was in deep mulling, clearly uncomfortable being in the mess of Rangers. Robert had the sneaking suspiscion that the kid was a Walkout but brushed it off. Assumptions could get you killed in this world. He then looked at the techie before lifting his cigar towards him.

" Hey, kid. Lighten up a little. Mind telling me your name?"

Indigo Regional Government Para-Kingdom Encyclopedia - (047) - Parasect

Basic Characteristic: Bug-Type, Grass-Type, Poison-Type subtraits, second form evolution of Paras, Symbiotic-grass type arthropod with large fungal growths on the frontal thorax, white compound eyes, orange-yellow body and thorax, omnivorous diet, mainly subsists on dead animal and vegetable matter, avg Height: 1.1 m, World record height: 3.5 m, avg weight: 65 lbs, world record weight: 359 lbs.

Description: One of the most definitive parasitic-host relationships in the entirety of the Para-Kingdom, the Parasect is the second-form evolution of its smaller, more diminutive cousin, the Paras. In the second form evolution, the symbiote undergoes a complete take-over of the host-body, reinforcing the host's body with chitin and replacing all non-essential organs which include the brain. In comparison to its more concious first form evolution, the Parasect at this point has now become a simple walking locomotion machine for the fungal host to take advantage of. Contrary to popular belief, the spores emitted by a Parasect are unable to take over other organism as they are non-terran indigenous fungi and have been completely adapted to grow on their host organism. Exposure to Parasect spores can only lead to mild infections that can lead to death. However, there have been confirmed strains in the scientific community of isolated instances of Parasect spores taking over other organisms including humans and other pokemon. A vaccine is in works to combat this mutant strain of Parasect fungi.

Nicknames: The Mushroom Pokemon, Cordycrabs, Shroombugs.

"............While those spores ain't gonna be causing a zombie apocalypse anytime soon, goddamn are they scary. I remember this one time in Saffron, I got a emergency call 'bout a group of trainers who wandered into a cloud of spores. When we got there after one day, shrooms covered their entire body. Hell, one of the shrooms was growing out of their dick. The entire mushroom was dead, though. Spores don't survive long outside of their host organism so they just kill off the organism that they infected. God help us if these shroom-crabs get on humans. That would be a nightmare...."

TripTripleTimes · Jan 21, 2017

"The smell is chasing me to my death, sir," Alt replies after Robert's comment. He grins and pulls away after passing his lighter to the older man. Just then, Alt notices the coal powder smeared on his fingers but he realises his mistake a moment to late. His eyes darts at the burst of flame and blinks at the light but only to groan at the man's flaming jacket.

"Shit, I'm sorry sir. Let me-" The Ranger lifts a hand to suffocate the burning fire but his hand pauses in the air when Robert uses the fire to light up his cigar and then smothers the fire himself. Alt's stares blankly, pulling his hand back, but is quick to straighten his back and sit up at the tone of Robert's voice. The automatic "Yes sir" nearly bubble past his lips but he is quick to be surprised by the end bit of the clean up reminded.

"Oh no, sir, by then you'll need something bigger than just candles to celebrate your birthday," he replies, eyes lifting up along side the smile on his lip. The playful look on his face mellows down however as he looks at the dark surface of the older man's jacket. With the jacket being dark, he is not sure if the fire actually ate at the material or just at the layer of coal that dusted on its surface. "Though I should get you a jacket before then." He looks at Robert with a smile. At the back of his mind, his thoughts drifts to the material of the man's jacket. It looks like leather but the way it burned as long as it did, Alt can only guess it is made from a finer fabric. Something light and comfortable to wear in the summer's heat. Hopefully Robert is not the kind of man that is comfortable with the heat like the Incinerator. Then the guess work to figuring out that fabric would be a lot harder.

There is a converstation at the other end of the table that catches Alt's attention for a moment and when he look beside him at Robert to ask for his lighter back, he notices the man has asked for Stetson's name.

"Ah, right. It's your turn to introduce yourself." Alt nudges the man with his elbow.

Borkus Lazorus · Jan 25, 2017

Robert waited eagerly for the out-pour of backstory and awkward expression as Steson introduced himself to Robert. Most of what he already know was there, although, it was nice to know the extra details. Technician. Had a gift for knick knacks and gadgetry. Oddly enough, he was stationed back at the Ranger Compound as a mechanic of some sorts. Didn't see too many of those, although, Robert most likely correlated it with the lack of Pokemon Attacks in Kanto and the lack of need for Walkouts or non-veterans to get into emergency regiments to combat the mon attacks. Overall, a man who was a Ranger but wasn't one at all. What a shame....If Steson had the heart...........

Nah, what was he thinking about? Life in the cities had taught him one thing. Things aren't so black and white. They're muddled. People fight for reasons they don't truly understand or don't even know. For trivial reasons such as securing the G.I benefits, getting a mon or either being forced by their parents. Robert had decided those were the qualities of a Walkout. They were Rangers, their potential waiting to be tapped, unlocked by one thing. A clear purpose. Unfortunately, Robert could be considered one of those Walkouts now, even though he was a former Blackhat Vet. Years of combat and civilian life had muddled his perspective. He'd seen both sides to the fullest. Robert couldn't judge Steson. What right did he have. Robert took a sip of his hard black before patting Steson's shoulder and murmuring towards him.

" Well, nice to meet you, Steson. Rare to see a techie inside the Corps. The Corps could use more people like you. Not every Ranger has to go out on the front-lines to prove themselves."

Robert then took a large whiff of his cigar. God, that Unovan Petill Weed was amazing. Sweet, honeysuckle, glazed, damn, it was good. He then set it in a ashtray for a second before lifting up his coffee and sipping it. He then slammed his mug down and then, took a good gander at all of them, before settling his eyes on Alt. He then pursed his lips and looked wistfully in the space over his shoulders before looking towards his eyes.

" So, tell me. How long have you been a Ranger for, son? You a Vet? Can't imagine a Hades Division being a Walkout Scum."

TripTripleTimes · Jan 27, 2017

As Stetson gives his introduction to Robert, Alt has paid for his packed food, the coffee, and refilled his cup of water once. With one ear listening to the older man, Alt realises that the informations are already known facts for him from when the two men first met at the Ranger’s base here at the city and the gossips Alt has picked up from the other Rangers throughout the morning. The Johtoan doesn't have an opinion about the man crunching codes and has poked the man a few time to get an reaction from him. Realising that Stetson would never be near the battlefield, the best Alt can do is give the man a mutual respect for his unique kind of work. There are lot more people who care less about their work at the Ranger Corps but Alt can see that Stetson cares about his, well at least for the numbers and letters that he, personally, doesn't know about. Plus, seems like Robert approves of the tech's work.

"Not a Vet just yet, sir. In service for 6 years." Alt replies and leans back on his chair away from the blown smoke. “I’m an incinerator specialist and a fire mon handler.” He keeps his eyes on the older man. Alt might get an eyebrow raised for not revealing his rank or sharing just the basics of himself, but he finds it distasteful to share too much. There is something about the older man's long pause and careful sweep of his eyes that scream crafty to Alt, and Robert has a tight control of his reaction and seems to have a methodical mind, judging from his earlier reaction to the fire and true to what he would think of a Black Hat to be. Alt is sure that the man is already piecing together more informations about him at the moment. Then again, the man can just ask him more questions; Alt’s not against the “ask, seek, and knock” philosophy.

At the corner of his eyes, he can see several of the Rangers now packing up and glancing up at the clock of the cafe. He is pretty sure they still have time to spend before lunch ends, but perhaps some of them are planning to do something before their break ends. The man is also itching to feed his 'Mons some food before they start their work and have a bite of his packed food in the bag slinging over his chair.

Borkus Lazorus · Jan 29, 2017

" Repeat, any orders from Executive Ashton?"

The radio still blitzed with chatter for a second before the radio chatter came through.

" Whitetail Evensley, Executive Ashton is ordering a psi-extraction of H.V.I-45 at these coordinates. You have permission to use Rasputin."

Evensley then took out his poke-ball, heeding his orders before he paused and got one last bit of doubt through the radio.

" Wait a sec. Won't Ashton see through a psi-extraction? He's right next to H.V-"

" A.C.E doesn't pay you to criticise the orders of a Executive, Agent Evensley. Now, do as you are told."

Ouch. June just put his dick in impound. Oh well, then. Here goes nothing.....

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Robert nodded in assent before peering at the clock as well. Huh. Time had passed faster or he would have sworn Dialga was out and about, prancing in the chronostream. He then took a gander at his watch. 2 more hours. Meh. The journey by metro to the crime scene would take about less than a quarter of that time and if he didn't manage to make it, he could always chalk up several excuses to Lerhner. He still had about 50 more to go through, including 'There was a Kadabra hopped up on too much rare candy' or 'A Meowth stole my wallet.'

He then picked up his cigar again and stuck it in his mouth, chewing on it, ponderingly. He hadn't maintained contact with the Ranger Corps for years. Most of his Blackhat Squad was rotated out to other teams or educating new Blackhat Ranger squads that were being set up in Johto, Hoenn and Sinnoh, courtesy of the new International Concordant. There were only still a few left who even knew him, including the Blackhat that he'd given Coloumb, Damocles and Sisyphus to take care of. God, he missed those three......

So, might as well catch up on recent events with Alt, he supposed. Robert then shook off bitter memories with another sucking of the fumes before crushing the cigar and leaving the remains of it in the cold metal pan of the ashtray.

" Well, you look like a Vet to me, son. Back in my academy days, there was fear that the Corps would have too many Walkouts to deal with. Like Steson here, I supposed. Not enough men on the field. Now, we have too many Vets. Vets who have seen shit. Real shit. We don't need 20 year olds or 18 year olds seeing shit. But, whatever's done is done. Besides, I'm retired. Why trust the words of an old Blackhat, heh?"

Robert then coughed out loud before simmering down onto his seat, laying on there for a while. He'd then took out a napkin to wipe his mouth and face of any detritus that was still remaining while continuing to converse.

" So, you're a transfer from Johto, eh? So, how's Kanto treating you? Hope you aren't still bitter over our little dis-"

Steson's voice then interrupted him. There was something off about it. There was inflection, emotion but there was little disrepencies. A hollow quality to it.

" Sorry, everyone. I have to go back to base now. Bit of a emergency. Outpost wants me to deal with a techie problem. See ya."

Stetson then stood up with his gear and began to walk out at a leisurely pace. His expression on his face was taut with tension and his fingers were slightly twitching as he walked out of the cafe. Almost like his movements weren't his own. As if someone was taking away his own self-dicta.....

Oh. Fucking hell, he should have seen it. What would have been a daily sojourn in the cafe just became a hell of a lot more interesting. He checked his equipment. Yup. Gerald was there, just in case. He would need him. He then tapped Alt's shoulder gently before pointing at Steson who was leaving the cafe. He needed to make sure that he wasn't overreacting.

" Hey, does Steson usually act like that?"

TripTripleTimes · Jan 31, 2017

Alt is in the middle of sipping his water when Robert gives his two cents about veteran Rangers. The dark haired man swallows the water in his mouth and calmly lowers the cup onto the diner a table. When the retired Ranger mentioned vet, or veteran in, Alt was thinking in the contect of retired Rangers who were released from service due to various of reasons, much like Robert, but listening to the man, Alt realises that the man didnt mean vet as in retired Ranger but as old and active Rangers. One of the culture barriers he'll have to over some soon.

Alt chuckles along side Robert but finds himself looking down at the packaged food in front of him. With his declining health at hand, Alt has more of a reason to keep working at the Ranger's Corp than when he was younger it seems. He doesn't linger on the thought for long nor does he comment back on the subject. This is not the time or place to talk about such subject. There is a reason why therapy and counseling are available to the people.

"Yes sir," Alt quickly replies before Robert asks him about his opinion about Kanto so far. With the change of topic, the man's face creases upward into a smile but that quickly change to surprise when Stetson abruptly gets up and excuses himself.

"Ah- what?" That is all Alt manages to say in his surprise. He is the co-leader of the Ranger's original 4 man team and the leader of the team nor the manager or captain back a base run him down of this sort. They did warned him what a spontaneous man Stetson can be and Stetson did said he it is an emergency, but looking at the leader's face, she is equally confused as he is. If there is an emergency for Stetson to attend to, wouldn't the base have notified the leader?

"Strange," Alt voices out the other man's concern. He looks at the paper that Stetson was busy writing on earlier and then grabs it. He then grabs his bag and packed food, ready to go out. He turns his attention to his two remaining teammates. "I'll go check out on Stetson and meet you guys at the checkpoint."

He leaves the cafe, waveing to the rest of the Rangers in the cafe. There is a hollering of "See ya later!" to "Don't worry your ass about Dexter!" as Alt left to chase after Stetson. In his haste, he realises too late that he should have said farewell to Robert.

Borkus Lazorus · Feb 2, 2017

" Repeat, Ranger Squad is after H.V.I-45. I repeat, H.V.I-45 is being chased. Over."

Evensley was currently looking at the scene with his Silph Scope. Rasputin was next to him, controlling H.V.I-45 with his psions. Damn. Hoping for no suspicion was a fool's wish. Even basic psychic types had problems understanding human interaction. He needed to really needed to try and improve his training regimen on psi-extraction next time. His radio buzzed for a second before the cold voice of Director, motherfucking, Ashton answered him.

" Agent Evensley, is my brother chasing H.V.I-45?"

Evensley looked at the cafe window. Ashton was still sitting on the cafe window, still drinking his coffee. He gulped before replying to the Director's question.

" No, sir. He's....currently in the cafe."

The director paused for a moment. Evensley pondered for a moment whether he was deciding to sign Evensley's death warrant or torture him in a hundred different ways by sending him to Mount Moon strapped naked with a black leather costume to sate the appetite of those Fairy Types in the hills. The director then breathed out a rare chuckle before speaking to Evensley.

" Check again, Evensley."

Evensley looked through the Scope, grumbling slightly to the Director about his decision.

" What's Robert Ashton to you, Director Ashton? A clari-"

He sputtered slightly as he saw the seat previously accompanying Robert motherfucking Ashton was empty. He couldn't help but shout out a few expletives.

" What the fuck? How in the goddamn he-"

The director buzzed back on his radio.

" Do not understand my younger sibling, Agent Evensley. Keep a eye on H.V.I-45 and bring him to the coordinates sent onto your Tact Pad. Director out."

The radio stayed silent. Evensley was wondering why he even considered taking the A.C.E job offer in the first place.

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The streets of Celadon were hustling and bustling as always, on the move, as Robert made his way through the crowds, still sipping from the coffee that he had bagged from the Chatot's Tune while keeping a eye on Steson and his Ranger Squad that was after him. This day became more and more interesting. A murder. Then, the little techie was psionically controlled by something.

Who would want their hands on a techie? There were several candidates that rang out in his mind but there was currently no evidence that pointed towards either. Only a few factions possessed the ability to psionically-hijack and only a few Psychic-Types had that skill. Regardless, Stetson was walking non-stop, stock still, cycling, it wasn't human movement. He wasn't fiddling with his watch or doing anything else humanesque. He was being controlled. But, by who?

Something interrupted his thought process as Steson began running across the street, several drivers shouting out loud and complaining at his jaywalking. Robert immedietely began crossing the street across the zebra-walk, keeping an eye on Steson before he bumped into a crowd of the familiar looking Rangers that he saw at the cafe. Shit. Not a good time for your cover to be blown.

TripTripleTimes · Feb 5, 2017

It is clear after chasing Stetson and ordering him to halt for less than a minute, what first thought was a minor thing is in fact something more troublesome. The man is under a Pokemon influence, a physic type mon most likely. Memories of Alt's pokemon study for the T.A.R.E and the Ranger lectures about the physic pokemon and their influence on the human psyie surface in his mind. Of course, the man has personal experience with those mind-eaters but his solution is to burn them along with the terrain, or if his mons are under the influence, kicking the enemy mon with his steel toe boots usually snaps his pokemon back in order. However, he is in the city, too many eyes watching and the enemy hiding among the crowd. Is this the work of the lawyer back at the cafe and taking revenge of the Ranger because he didn't get what he wanted, or is this a work of a different Ranger hater? Of course, this could be a work of a wild street mon but the evidence that this is a targeted attack is more compelling than a random mon's. Whatever this is, this is a huge offence not only to the Ranger Corp. but a violation of the human's right.

As he continues to chase Stetson down the street, Alt pulls out the Ranger transceiver from his pocket and turns it on. He leave a short message, "This Ranger Bai requesting a small back-up." Alt may not have a way to break Stetson away from his hypnotic stance but what he can do is keep an eye on his fellow Ranger. As he waits for for a respond, Alt releases his G.I Pideotto, Smokey, and tell her to keep an eye on the fellow Ranger from the sky and then his Typhlosion, Typhoon. The large badger runs beside the Ranger without a pause but looks at the man as if he's wants answer. Alt pats his loyal pokemon on the head. The pokemon is as tall as him but the mon is agile and fast and will be able to catch up to Stetson than Alt in this crowd. With orders given and watching Typhoon disapearing into the crowd, the transceiver crackles alive and confirm's the man's status. Alt gives more informations when ordered and is later told that back-up is on their way.

Borkus Lazorus · Feb 6, 2017

" Sir, we've piggybacked on a radio signal. Towards Celadon Ranger Base. Request for backup from Ranger Ollie Bai. Should we intercept and break comms, sir?"

" They're making things more difficult and difficult. No. Alter the communications with porygonic interference."

" Understood, sir. Theseus is now on standby, waiting for alteration. On your say-so."

" Alter it to a Black Handle Call."

".....Sir, that'll-"

" Are you doubting me, Comms Officer?"

" Understood. Changing request to Black Handle Call."

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Civilians freaked out as a 7 foot giant fire badger began running through them. Generally, the sight of a living, wall of inferno could generally break you out of any phone conversation or texting. Robert had to give Alt credit. At least, he had the initiative to go with a strategy that he had been making 5 minutes ago. Now, time to improve that strategy to where the damn psion was in the first place. Robert tucked himself behind a alley, looking up every rooftop or vantage point he could possibly spot, away from the teeming crowd and the police cars that were arriving on scene before taking out a poke-ball. His hands were shaking slightly as he spoke out a name that he hadn't uttered for weeks. It felt like sand on his tongue.

" Gerald. Report."

The mass of poke-power blurted out from his ball before it coalesced into a shape that seemed like a cross between a hippotamus and a sea-shell. A large pink mammalian creature layed across the ground, looking dazedly across from the alley towards to Robert before speaking in Robert's mind. Technically, psychics couldn't speak or communicate with humans. They projected meanings. Luckily, through tried and true Black-Hat regimen training, Robert had managed to teach Gerald some english for once. Though, it took about a year for the lazy bastard to say his first word. And some of the english was...Well, let's say....idiosyncratic...after he accidentally let Gerald had a go at Shakespeare.

" Greeterlings. What thou want?"

It came like a pleasant buzz in his mind. Robert thought hard to project his meaning towards Gerald. Gerald could only read his stream of conciousness but he could pick up the meaning of what Robert was saying if he thought more about it. Concentrate. Concentrate. Concentrate....

" Pecha Cobbler. Need. Johnny. NO. FUCK OFF. I need....location of psion. Standard scan. Point me."

Gerald nodded and then, his eyes began to glow slightly as he searched the mile radius for the psychic that was projecting his thoughts. It took less than 5 seconds. A new record. Gerald projected the image into Robert's mind and then....it all made sense. Fuck. On the rooftops. He returned back Gerald to his ball before running back towards the cafe with haste.

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" Sir, Rasputin reports that someone psionically detected him. How to proceed?"

"....It's my brother. All according to plan. You are to stay at your position, Agent Evensley. If you don't obey this command, you'll have a lot more to worry about than a Blackhat on your ass. How far is Steson away from pickup?"

" Only 10 seconds away, sir."

Executive Ashton closed the phone before dialing in a number. The conversation was short and precise, just as he liked it.

" Yes. I need Himmler and Rochelle. I need bombing on these coordinates. Make it look like a accident. Civilian Casualties are acceptable. Fuschia, of course, all the better for us. Have it ready in a minute. Less? Good."

He cut off the phone-call before twiddling his fingers. Everything was according to plan.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There. Almost there. Almost. After a minute of running, brushing past obnoxious people, he finally saw them on the rooftops. He tried to get a clear view. Wait a second. Was that a Whitetail A- He then felt something clunk behind him before he froze. Oh shit. No. No. It couldn't be. How could it be this far into Celadon. He slowly turned around as a Weezing was 20 meters away from him, puffing helium out of the manhole and onto the streets. Weezings were pouring out of every orfice in the street as Robert began to run for it. Fuschia, of course. How couldn't he have sawed it. It was so obvious. The Weezings began expanding, slowly shaking and hissing as they began to release their explosive payload onto the streets that would reduce the entire population to cinders. God, if only he had Damocles here right now.......

Breathe. Breathe, Ashton. Don't die, yet. Think. Think. Steson was lost. Where to go to next? He then realised it. His squad. He needed to keep the Ranger Squad alive if he was to figure out what in the goddamned fuck was going on. Civilians were struggling to get out of the busiest street in Celadon as cars beeped at each other furiously, people running over each other in the commotion. Robert then spotted Alt and his Rangers in the crowd. He scrambled over towards them before wrenching Alt by the arm. It was a miracle if the Hades Division Ranger knew what to do in this scenario.

" Ranger Alt, I think I know what happened to your friend. But, if we don't get out of this street now, we'll soon all be dead to find out."

TripTripleTimes · Feb 7, 2017

Alt's face pales at the sight of the dozen and more Wheezings pouring out into the street. The man stands frozen, cold sweat forming on his brow, as the civilians rush past him and his teammates in a frenzy to escape the expanding mon. This isn't supposed to happen under the Ranger's careful watch!

Alt lets out a loud, high pitch whistle, startling his team and the people running past him. From the sky, Smokey descends from the sky and perches on Alt's left arm. He has faith that Typhoon has Stetson's brainless back. At the sight of the bird resting on his arm, Alt's teammates realise what the man is thinking. He doesn't hear what they want to say, however, when somebody grabs his arm.

"Ashton?" Alt looks at the older man in surprised and starts to wonder why the man is worried about his fellow Ranger, even if the man was the first to point out Stetson's ridged behavior. "Sir, this isn't the time for Stetson now. Please evacuate." Under the calm facade, his heart pound against his chest. His instinct tells him to flight over fight, but his duty as a Ranger tells his to do something. He cannot think of a way to prevent the explosion or burn his way out of this, but they can do damage control.

"Rangers, unless someone has a jigglypuff with a megaphone or has a better idea, we're going to make a tornado to draw them bastards into the sky. We have heat, fire, and wind. " With this summer heat and the fire and flying pokemon at their deposal, perhaps they can do it. It would be a miracle if the toxic pokemon reaches the city skyline and explode, but hot air raises and that would pull them away from ground level and once they do exploded, hopefully the Wheezing sharpnel will be updrifted or far from the population. Of course, fire and compressed gass doesn't mix well, but if they pulse the fire towering to the sky once the poisonous ballons enter the suction, hopefully they would be able to prevent premature explosion.

Alt looks at his fellow Rangers if they are on board with this. Maybe they have a better idea, but this is the best he can come up under the pressure. Sure they can run away, but they are fucking Ranger! They were suposed to prevent this from happening in the first place!

Borkus Lazorus · Feb 8, 2017

" Is H.V.I-45 recovered, Agent Evensley?"

" Yea. He's currently under heavy sedative right now. We're shipping him off Celadon into a secure facility."

" Good, Agent. Teleport back to Prime Base with Rasputin and report back for a debriefing."

Evensley pursed his lips for a while before making one of the most dumbest decisions in his career.

" Sir, are you sure about the carpet bombing? It seems like a inefficient way of-"

His throat felt tight. Evensley closed his eyes before dropping on the ground. Rasputin. How the hell was Rasputin-

" Don't ever doubt my decisions, Agent. Whether my brother survives the explosion or not is unnecessary. My reasons for this are higher than you are paid, Agent. Now, do as you are told or return to base."

Evensley felt the iron clamp on his throat press off and he gasped for air, choking, breathing, dribble laying out on the concrete. Might as well get out of here. This entire street was gonna become charred in ten seconds.

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" Whoever is doing this is because of your friend. They're doing this to distract us. To keep us from getting to him for some reason..."

Robert slaps his head for a second before taking a moment to breathe in and out. Alright. Analyse the situation. Analyse the situation. Stetson was far gone now. Too far to care about or recover. Stetson was a priority later. Now, priority was making sure that his funeral epitaph didn't read ' Robert Ashton. Died from a Wheezing explosion.' That was too much like the military.

Alright. Think. Think. Countdown explosion time would be in the seconds. Civilians were scrambling around. How to deal with a Fuschian Terrorist attack? This wasn't Vermillion. This was Celadon. The military response usually came after the incident. And he would be one of the tens of thousands enscribed on a clipboard. He then peaked at Alt's suggestion, a route was being presented. A controlled explosion. Grim. It wouldn't reduce the casualties to nil but at least, they would receive the worst of effects. Tempest, Gerald and Abraham were on him. He thought for a little while longer, keeping track of the time in his mind. He signed internally while taking out several balls. This would be one of the most blow-harded conceited plans in his entire career. He slapped Alt's shoulder, whispering to him.

" I like your plan. Now, let's get it on its knees before we turn into dust."

Three balls. Tossed out. Explosions of poke-power came across the street.

" Tempest. Gerald. Abraham. Report!"

His three mon were sent sprawling on the pavement while Robert began relaying out orders fast. It felt like he was back on the frontier with 5 Delta-Fives in front of him, charging fast.

" Alright, squad, we got a Wheezing infestation. There gonna blow in Mew knows how long. Abraham, you got those redundant olfactory senses that Chimera gave you. Use them to track the methane's advance and coordinate our efforts to contain the methane explosion."

Abraham, his Stoutland, barked at attention, sitting on his hind legs. Gerald, meanwhile, was scratching lazily at his asshole while Tempest towered above the rest of the Rangers, a fine Pidgeot specimen.

" Gerald, you're gonna conjure up a Safeguard. Try to guard us from the methane and shape its advance. You might be one of the only psion here so make yourself useful."

Robert then clapped his hands towards the crowd of Rangers. He breathed in, preparing himself for a speech before shouting out loud.

" Alright, Rangers. This is what we're going to do. We're gonna follow Alt's Plan. Get out your flying mon and start blowing 360 degrees until we have enough room for my psion to make a safeguard for all of us to get into! I don't wanna die by a fucking Pollutant's hands today, do you? "

TripTripleTimes · Feb 10, 2017

Alt releases his three other Pokemons as he waits for someone to saying or do some. He looks up as his Rapidash, Hae, and then down as the shorter Chameleon, Crispfire, and the Growlithe, Barks, who Alt just got a few days ago. Feeling pin of regret of sending Typhoon with Stetson, the Ranger prepares himself for the on comming disaster and pets the four mon beside him. Civilians continues to stream out what seems to be a never ending river. Where are they all coming from? Kanto is definitely alot different than Johto.

What Alt did not expect to happen next is the moral boost to the Ranger team that is the shape of the formal Black hat, Robert Ashton, and his three mons. As the older gentleman breifs the team about the situation, Alt looks at the man in awe. Civilian Robert may be, the man was once a proud member of the Ranger's Blackhat. Retirement has not killed the man's spirit. The enormous Pidgeot towers the Rangers as more beam of poke power releases the mon and more Pokemon joins beside their Rangers. Alt scratches under Smokey's chin.

"You'll get as big as that fellow someday," He pet talks the bird pokemon on his hand, and ignores how her talons are digging into his skin "Follow what Ashton says but stay on the opposite side where that big follow is blowing. We don't want the wind to go in one direction, but 360, remember." Alt grins and with that, Smokey lauches off to the air. More flying mon are lift off to the sky but Alt snaps his attention to the crowd for the next step. They don't have much time and further instructions have to be given.

"Alright guys! All fire type, stand on top of the cars and form a circle as tight as you can! We are going to make a fire column straight up to the sky!" As he says this, his three mon do what they are told, starting the circle where the sky straight up is pretty clear from the purple balloons (though Alt stops Hae from jumping on top of a car, the hourse is taller than the cars). The man nods to his pokemon to start their long stream of fire and continues his instructions to when to stop and start burting the fire in session. He looked at Robert's direction at the end, trusting the man with his pison pokemon.

"I hope you have a pair of sunglasses, sir Ashton," He says, pulling out his tinted gas mask out from his bag. "It's going to be a hot one." Vision will be important to control the fire once the Wheezings nears. If this actually works, they may have a hurricane, Alt muses humorously, or humorlessly, to whoever's interpretation.

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