[attr="class","silpl-top-1"]

[attr="class","silpl-top"]

[attr="class","silpl-icon"]

[attr="class","silpl-lyric"]to make offense a skill

[attr="class","silpl-lyric1"]by so much shall I falsify men's hopes

[attr="class","silpl-post"]

There was a lesson to be learned: rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.[break][break]

Long, spindle-like fingers would fold, forming a chapel's peak as his mind would unfold the world before him. He can hear the rushing water, the rumble of the earth, and the white that would cloud the skies—a reckoning of his own creation. The man never viewed himself as religious, but as his hands hold this posture, it is the pressure from the pads of his fingers that serve as an outlet for his anticipation.[break][break]

Hail touched down on the town of Fallarbor. At first, it would be indistinguishable from the ash that fell from the faraway volcano that loomed in the distance—red rock stained by grayish tones would be touched by the light dusting of snow...that would then solidify, suddenly pounding on rooftops like rocks against a windshield. An erratic symphony to his ears as people vacated the streets, trying to return to their homes to avoid the pelting.[break][break]

And then the ground would rumble from the use of Bulldoze, making even their homes unsafe as they were shaken to their very foundation—it would not be enough to cause structural damage. Houses built in this region of Hoenn were constructed to be resilient to earthquakes, due to the presence of volcanic activity that made seismic events far more frequent. It would, however, drive people back to the hail and the chaos that brewed outside.[break][break]

Hydro Pump would guide them. Waters that flushed down from the scrags that overlooked the town would fill into the streets, overcoming the stone edges that were raised to encircle the town—a trap. People would be overtaken by the flood, carried to where the water would follow. The ground sloped in the town of Fallarbor, and he knew where it would lead.[break][break]

It would lead to a section of town that had been left open—where no-one had been instructed to raise the stone barrier; a small opening that was only as wide as the street that sectioned through it. Rockets had been reassured that this hole in their defenses would not be a detriment. It would be his job to handle the people that fled from the town or those that were carried by these rushing waters.[break][break]

It would be his victory—not a Rocket victory—that roused Desmond Kelley from his mental musing. He had been trusted and distrusted in the same breath after the invasion of Slateport; an invasion that he had planned. How many had forgotten? How many more had forgotten that this was not the first Blackwell that he had betrayed?[break][break]

SILAS BLACKWELL had been right to be wary; but, he had been wrong to presume that sheer might could have kept a man like him in line.[break][break]

Rocket men had been ordered to stand guard by Desmond's side as the refugees fled through the opening—they were the first realize his betrayal. To their wide eyes, he'd reveal the truth as men wearing League uniforms would rise from the rocks; punishment was swift. It had to be swift. The town had been a hundred men strong—but a hundred men that were prepared for the onslaught.[break][break]

The hole in the defenses had been more than an escape route; it had been a choke-point.[break][break]

Of all the plans that Desmond had devised, this had been his favorite. It was not everyday that a man was offered the opportunity to defeat himself.[break][break]

The use of Gravity would nullify the aerial advantage. People and pokemon alike would be driven to the ground as League troops flanked the outer-rim of the town, using the very cliff-sides that Desmond had utilized for the Hydro Pumps. The few Rockets that had been sanctioned to these hills were easily overcome, as they did not expect an assault that would come from behind.[break][break]

Rocket had been told that the League would occupy the town—not the land that surrounded it, lying in wait. Maybe some Rockets had realized this truth when they rushed into the town, only to find screaming citizens that sought exodus. If Emma Wolfe was truly as capable as he had been told, maybe the girl would realize the deception.[break][break]

It would be too late for the other, but for the woman left to the fray? He expect—no—he needed her to escape for everything to go smoothly.[break][break]

Rocket members, who had been driven to the ground, would realize that the hail had shifted. The weather effect had faded, and rain was quick to replace it.[break][break]

And then came the thunder—with crying streets and a crying sky, these attacks would land true, igniting the town with its brilliance. Rocket members, who had once presumed to have numbers on their side, would find their advantage nullified as the stone edge that was intended to trap citizens would trap them instead. Such large numbers crammed into a small space would find it difficult to battle, much less organize themselves for a counter-attack.[break][break]

Those that ran would find the League awaiting them at the only exit—the choke-point was utilized to its greatest effect, nullifying the numbers as Rocket men were crammed into tight spaces that kept them from overwhelming their foes.[break][break]

And those with the ground-type pokemon? Desmond did not care. They could escape. They could use dig to try and route themselves from the battle—but waters would rush in, hampering their progress and making it all the more difficult. It had been awhile since Fallarbor had experienced such a downpour, and because of this, the flooding would have been unbearable.[break][break]

He wanted a diaspora. He wanted some to escape. He wanted some to run and to fight and to struggle—it would sell a narrative that he was trying to sell to the people of Hoenn.[break][break]

Rocket would lose, just as it would lose in Verdanturf; to the world, this would seem like the beginning of an end.[break][break]

His eyes would divert to the one unpredictable variable that had emerged from this mess: dominic sinclair . The underboss had grown to question Rocket's motives—he had been disenfranchised following the events of Slateport, where the push to militarize had grown stronger following Silas' victory... if one could call it that. [break][break]

Rocket was never meant to be a marauding war-band; but, that was how it conducted itself following the abduction of dahlia goode .[break][break]

He had figured it was time for a change of pace—a change that would better benefit him and his interests. It just so happened to coincide with the Dominic's growing frustrations and the movements of a certain... benefactor. He wondered if anyone had remembered that he had once worked for Silph Co. and that getting in contact with its once-heir had been just retracing old steps.[break][break]

The head scientist of Rocket adjusted his tie clip, knowing that his disguise made him more welcoming to the refugees that had started to gather in their vicinity—he was dressed as a detective of the league, after all. With his hair allowed to lazily hang, he could have looked like a different man as he smiled and instructed those that fled to him.[break][break]

dominic sinclair would be in a similar state of attire, though the poor man had the misfortune of seeming... untrustworthy. It was a curse that Desmond blamed on his age and on his disposition.[break][break]

“Presume not that I am the thing I was, for God doth know. So, shall the world perceive, that I have turn'd away my former self; so will I those that kept me company,” and Desmond let those flowery words hover in the air as his smile exposed too many teeth. The silence was the greatest sound to have graced his ears. The sound of hail, then to rain, and then the thunder had been a crescendo that left him renewed.[break][break]

Truly, this had been great.

[attr="class","silpl-pkmn"]

[attr="class","silpl-notes"]