He’s still a grunt some nameless peon not amazed but interested in what lied just outside the steel walls of the sub. He’s been assigned to training another body to deigned to enact the will of rocket upon the Region despite his personal inclinations. He has goals a plan, but no connections and so he’s here at the bottom literally and figuratively. The instructor seems as strict as he is uninterested.

“Miles Sharp sir.” There’s no oomph in his voice but it doesn’t lack respect. An eye moves to the gentleman beside him, another unknown despite his handsome features.

For how serious that THEO BECKETT and Miles Sharp are, Temp is more like an excited kid. He smiles wide and bright at the pair.

"Norman Rararie! But please, call me 'Temp'."

Whatever unethical and terrible shit they're about to get up to, at least one of them seems excited about it. Go Rocket! He even wore some of his workout gear today, eager to get started.

[attr="class","beck"]"sharp. temp. it's my job to make sure the both of you leave here with the fundamentals on how to fight. or rather, how to survive."

a hand slides into his blazer, finding a pokeball that pops open with ease. a pangoro appears between them, flexing its shoulders as it spends some time stretching.

"sharp, you're first. assume pangoro is the enemy. now try and take it down."

[attr="class","noodles"]Miles Sharp Tempest Quinn

what the fuck.

And he prays he hasn't said aloud eyes falling on the bear built to lay an assortment of hands. However, the man's earlier statement isn't yet forgotten despite the extraneous order placed upon him. He steps just outside of the beast's reach eyes glued to its arms.

A fun fact he'd learned in some article or another from years prior forms in the back of his mind. Did you know Pangoro's had enough power to generally punch through a dump truck? Fascinating stuff, truly.

He circles behind aiming for the pokemon's legs knowing he's approximately 40x more fragile than the smallest dump truck.

When the old guy (THEO BECKETT) let out a pokemon, of all things, to fight the nerdy guy (Miles Sharp), Temp let out an absolutely delighted laugh and even clapped his hands a bit in anticipation of the show.

"I'm sure you won't die, Sharp!" Temp's voice was a positive beacon of encouragement, well practiced from his day job. Oh, this was going to be fun.

[attr="class","beck"]it's almost amusing to watch them struggle. pangoro's legs fail to give — they do buckle, slightly, but not nearly enough to make a difference. it turns, quick to react, and sends a less powerful BULLET PUNCH into sharp's abdomen.

"temp, you're up."

[attr="class","noodles"]Miles Sharp Tempest Quinn

What exactly does 'less powerful' mean in comparison to a dump truck.

If one were to facilitate the math Miles being 40x as fragile as a dump truck (DT) ie 1DT = 1*Miles*40 and 1 Pangoro Punch (PP) = 1 dump truck. the new equation becomes 1 PP = 1Miles * 40 simplified to 1PP=40Miles now back to the word, 'less', in this example we'll assume less becomes 1PP/2 assuming that 1 Less powerful PP is equivalent to half the power of a normal PP. 1PP/2* Miles knowing 1PP is equivalent to 40 Miles we can assume the equation works out to 40Miles/2= 20Miles thus one Less Powerful PP= 20 Miles.

What good is this for the actual Miles in question outside of theory? It does nothing at all, not because the math is flawed but because he is asleep.

He is knocked the fuck out on the cool submarine floor in what could be record time. His body is slumped and he would not be waking up, at least he wouldn't be in this post.

Try your luck next time.

Wow, that was a fucking LOT happening in that last post. If this were Temp, like, reading, and not him just living it, he would have been all 'Boring!!!' and just skipped over it! Thankfully, he is not reading it, so he gets to see the HD action of Miles Sharp getting his shit punched in and then collapsing after one solid hit. Fucking magical.

For his part, when THEO BECKETT tells him to pony up, Temp lifts his arms in a defensive fighting position and bounces from foot to foot. While not as skilled as, say, a pokemon, he was very physically fit thanks to his day job as a personal trainer and even did some boxing as a hobby. While not fucking jacked, Temp could certainly beat the shit out of someone like Miles pretty easy.

Wasting no time, he throws a right hook, aiming below the belt like the asshole he was- you don't win fights by being clean about them.

[attr="class","beck"]temp does a little better than sharp. the punch does stagger pangoro, knocks the wind out of it, but it's been through far worse. again, it turns to deliver a BULLET PUNCH, but it stops at the sound of a click. the punch turns into a BULLET SLAP instead, meant only to disorientate.

"check on sharp when you can."

[attr="class","noodles"]Miles Sharp Tempest Quinn

Sorry chief, no activity on this side of his hippocampus, maybe next turn we’ll see some neural activity outside of entirely subconscious request for milk, because truly that boy needed some.

What’s worse is that in his stupor the analyst can’t even enjoy his coworker catching the extremely wild obviously disrespectful open hand of the same beast that did Miles in. Miles being the respectful young man he is assuming he was awake would have enjoyed the moment with a quiet dignity. A nod to himself and a quick comment wholly internal about one’s bitch-ass actions resulting in bitch-ass consequences but that was neither here nor there.

Anyways MilesXP has been upgraded to Miles Vista and was about 60% done with his hard reboot, I’ll see ya’ll next post.

That open palm claps Temp and he makes the equivalent of a Roblox "ooph" noise. Something snaps. His head is forced to the side. Caught right in the face.

He does take it better than Miles Sharp, though, even if his jaw is bent at an awkward angle. A quick test and it's not broken, just dislocated, so he does what any sane man does and hits it from the other side, forcing it back into place.

Temp considers the Pangoro and THEO BECKETT for a moment before sighing and leaning over to grab Miles by the collar, heft him up to toss the rebooting scientist over his shoulder. Like a sack of potatoes. Or like an ogre about to take their new wife back to the cave for some consensual kisses. Take your pick, Miles.

"In my professional opinion... he's dead. Want me to throw him outside?"

[attr="class","beck"]"put him down, temp."

the sigh escapes him almost too naturally as he approaches the fallen body of sharp. he presses against a pokeball in his blazer, calls out a healthy-looking bayleef. by now, no orders need to come from its trainer for it to know what to do.

a HEAL PULSE begins to mend cracked bones in sharp's chest. it doesn't do much, but it does enough to stop the bleeding. theo jabs the tip of his shoes against sharp, shaking him awake.

"come on, sharp."

[attr="class","noodles"]Miles Sharp Tempest Quinn

The healing rays circling the man's ribcage invite an invigorating feeling back into him, invigorating enough to pull his consciousness from its sleeping depths almost too quickly. Eyes fly open the final memory before being put to sleep at the forefront of his mind like a chrome tab that'd been forcefully shut down. In turn, the researcher shoots up doing his recently healed ribs no favors before the pain forces him back down for a moment.

A breath later and he's able to piece together the situation, and quickly he's more annoyed than fearful. Annoyed because he hadn't woken up this morning prepared to take a fist bigger than his head to his chest, annoyed because the man who'd most likely taken a similar fist still seemed particularly spry as he looked over him. And annoyed because the man in charge of the situation was watching the fresh grunt as if he'd been the one who fucked up in all this.

He breathes slowly fighting through the bits of pain that came with both the inhale and the exhale before finally slowly forcing himself off the ground.

"How long was I out?" There's no apology.