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They broke the fucking power plant. [break][break]

Desmond Kelley did not have the time to enjoy the spoils that victory brought. One moment, he was sipping champagne as Slateport burned before his eyes. The next? He was flown to the Power Plant, instructed that he was the only one that could restore the structure back to working order because he was one of the few that was qualified to repair it; while the thought of Rocket depending on him was welcomed, the degradation of being a repairman was not. He kept his displeasure reigned. As much as he wanted to vent his frustrations at someone's inability to hit an off switch, he knew that the situation was being handled.[break][break]

He was the fair-haired Rocket member. If he was pampered, then the least he could do was suffer through these small inconveniences; for the organization, he would do anything. It had liberated him. It was the only place that let him be true to the man that he was.[break][break]

Long gone were the suits. Long gone were the vests. Desmond Kelley arrived at one of the few houses that remained standing in a pair of jeans and a white, buttoned up shirt. As one of the few places left standing, it became a hub for the grunts that were passing through. The suggestion of this being a base was only presumed by the innocent, who knew not of what Rocket could do. Grease stained his elbows and his shirt. His polished shoes were scuffed. His hair was askew. He hadn't worked this hard since he had been in his undergrad–and Desmond did not miss it.[break][break]

Straight through the living room. Straight past the table that was drenched with maps that detailed the city. Straight past the child. Straight to the kitchen, to the fridge, where he fetched the tall bottle of water. In the distance, he can hear the rumbling of a petrol powered generator–he'd be damned if he drank something that was lukewarm. He was not an animal.[break][break]

Wait. A child? His eyes could have glazed over as he glanced back into the living room, seeking sight of the only person he could respect at this time; Silas.[break][break]
tags Ophelia Yearwood & SILAS BLACKWELL

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If Desmond were made aware of the comparisons Nyx made in her own mind, he would laugh.[break][break]

The man was not a butler. He was far from it. “Hm?” Unable to find Silas in the room, he let his eyes drift back to the child–no, the teenager–as she approached him. The immediate optimism made his hand clench the glass, as he wondered what someone like this was doing in this building. Another child recruited to the ranks? Really?[break][break]

He chugged down the rest of the water, wondering if these desperate souls would have been best left to the streets than ushered into the Rocket's name. Which would be kinder? The Head Scientist cannot say.[break][break]

There was a click as the glass was returned to the counter. “Where's your underboss?” And why were they letting the grunts lounge in this building when there was work to be done?[break][break]
tags Ophelia Yearwood & SILAS BLACKWELL

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Not another one.[break][break]

Desmond Kelley pinched the bridge of his nose, releasing an audible sigh as this girl regaled him with her thinly veiled hostility. Only answered to Silas Blackwell, huh? Oh, the naivety. Oh, the deception. “So, you're just here to amuse? I doubt that.” Because a Rocket that was ordered to sit around and wait was no better than a pawn on a shelf. [break][break]

Being told to stay put should have been seen as an insult. “I do hope you've conjured some sort of purpose that you wish to strive for–we all serve him. Keeping his company is not sufficient,” nor was it something that Desmond recommended for anyone, much less a child.[break][break]

He stared at the absol with a familiar gaze; a familiar cruelty. The creature would sense the disturbance, as if Desmond were a man that had wrought disaster–because the invasion of Slateport had been a slaughter of his own design. Silas served the outline. He served the realization.[break][break]

Just a shame the Power Plant had to be fucking destroyed.[break][break]

“If you do not know me, then may I advise that you tread lightly,” he brought down the glass, crossing his arms over his chest. The girl had not dwelt in the company of the Rocket Boss for very long, if this was the case. [break][break]

“Others will not humor your ignorance. I imagine you have already been told this,” because all under bosses served as his lapdogs. They all functioned as pets to be praised... or abused. The constant struggle to earn the attention of the Rocket Boss was beneath Desmond. He did not have to pit himself against others to earn an audience.[break][break]
tags Ophelia Yearwood & SILAS BLACKWELL