Navy never got to party much when he was this age. Gabe saved him from all of that. It’s hard work, supporting a kid. Navy used to joke when girls giggled at him that he didn’t even get to do the fun part first. Most usually walked off with an awkward laugh after that.[break][break]
Look, everyone’s awkward when they’re a teenager.[break][break]
Some people grow out of it. Navy mostly has. Mostly. He snags a beer from the table. What the League doesn’t know won’t hurt them. It’s illegal to purchase alcohol for a minor. Nothing wrong at all with snagging one from them. He’s just recovering evidence, really. Walking around, he starts to see the big dogs of the party.[break][break]
Posers and punks. None of these kids could probably pass any sort of initiation into Rocket. The most he can see for some of them is being hired on as footsoldiers in one of the big battles. Sounds like a rotten lot in life, getting pulled into a fiasco like that. It’s the promise of the almighty dollar. He was in their shoes once. Desperate for cash. He’s done things he’s not proud of so that Gabe wouldn’t go hungry.[break][break]
He's just happy he fell into this whole private detective thing.[break][break]
Walking by some white-haired kid, he hears a snippet of decent conversation. Something about wheeling out a nerd. About doing evil stuff when he was that age.[break][break]
Navy pauses and looks to the guy. He’s still got a casual, easygoing air. As he sees it, there’s no need to put on a show or act better than the guy. Navy’s not a cop. Doesn’t have a badge. Best to play it cool, be just another partygoer ‘til the moment’s right for him to strike.[break][break]
“Shit, man, me too. It’s hard making a living out here on these streets.” He invites himself onto the brick wall with the guy, drinking deep of the decaying dead bread in his can.[break][break]
“Bet a lot of these kids would do somethin’ real stupid if someone dangled enough pokedollars and a big dream out in front of ‘em.” He sounds sad about that. Kids have a habit of dying and not even knowing what they’re dying for.


[break][break]

+ milo sharpe

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

“Hey, good lookin’ out, man.” Navy finishes off the beer, sits the can down on a table, and takes a cider. Notably, he doesn’t stop to check the flavor. Any port in a storm, as the Slateport sailors say. Anything to keep the wind out of your hair and Giratina off your back.[break][break]
“Man, I feel old.” He admits with a laugh. “I made most of my big mistakes back when I was, let’s see. Fourteen? Fifteen? Then I got scared straight. Guess that makes me a poser.” Straight, of course, is subjective. Navy’s done things as an adult he isn’t proud of. He’s smuggled packages through ranger checkpoints. He’s investigated things for bad people.[break][break]
It’s a lesson he had to learn early, when he first started his practice. If a man comes in wanting a PI to investigate his wife, he’s probably no good. Paradoxically, if a woman comes in wanting the same thing, he simply accepts that the man must be a real piece of work. Chauvinism still exists, and it exists in Michael Navidson.[break][break]
Point being, he’s not straight. Not entirely. He wouldn’t be here if the people in the League thought he was too straight-laced. There’s squeaky clean gym leaders for all the above ground work. The Josh Devlins and Noah Fabers of the world. The Melody Miros and the Kyle Lopez were off saving the world, probably. Or dealing with corporate espionage. Who really knows how the rich live?[break][break]
He’s here. Sipping on cider in a bad party, watching a bunch of kids pat each other on the back.[break][break]
“Go for all though, huh?” He tries not to remember his own father’s words as he looks to the guy with gunmetal eyes. “And what’s all for you, man?”


[break][break]

+ milo sharpe

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

“I don’t go in for that vape stuff, man.” Navy chuckles. His expression turns serious at the rest of the words. Buried beneath the angst of youth, which he himself would never in a thousand years feel, there are profound points there. People like those in this room don’t just pop up. They’re made. They’re made in suburbs where they can find no satisfaction. They’re made in projects where there is nowhere to go except an early grave.[break][break]
There’s a fire inside all of them. A fire that burns. It grows out of control. It wants to burn this city. Burn it all down. Burn everything within. Including themselves. Until nothing is left of a world that would make them except ashes. Perhaps from the ashes, something better would grow. Navy doubted that. They all deserved better, but…[break][break]
Like an old Unovan movie said, deserve’s got nothing to do with it. You get the world you’re born into, not the one you deserve. The Silphs are just people who were lucky enough to win a dice roll. [break][break]
“Well, let me just say, youngster.” He smiles. Despite all the misery he feels compounded by his brother’s death, his chains, and the world, he smiles. “You’ve got a few years left in ya before your actions catch up to you. Say…” There’s a glint of mischief in his eyes. An idea dawning on him.[break][break]
“Got an idea. These kids, they’re not bad. Hell, look at how they wear these colors. Most of ‘em don’t even know what Rocket’s about. Wanna help me scare ‘em straight so they don’t end up getting themselves killed? Let’s call it doing some good for the youngsters. Plus, when they all take off, we can snag all the booze.”

[break][break]

+ ooc notes

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

The mood in the party shifts at the younger man’s words. It’s like a switch has been flipped. Something has abruptly changed in the party. There is no warning. All the kids, the wannabe tough guys, the Rockets who will never soar the skies, look to him and they have nothing to say. They’re unsure how to react to someone saying they should kill him to prove their worth.[break][break]
They’re youngsters who want something to believe in, not bloody murderers. And it’s their poor luck for being this way. A few make for the door, if only because the mood’s been killed for them. Maybe that other party across the street won’t have a psycho sitting there near the kings of the night, the taggers.[break][break]
“Hold up, now.” Navy says while looking to the kid causing the ruckus. His words spread across the room, sweeping them all up. It’s the first time he’s spoken to someone besides his drinking buddy since he got to this little ratty shindig. His voice carries the baggage that comes from your mid-twenties. People look up, eager to see what he has to say.[break][break]
“Not even the psychos can cut it. You should see some of the monsters the League has. Y’know all those gods you see in the churches? Take it from me. I saw some of ‘em fight from across a battlefield. They have those gods in their pocket. They kill indiscriminately. Shit, man, the stuff I saw. A Garchomp tearing a man alive. An ultra beast crashing out of the sky and crushing a Gyarados. I wouldn’t wish that hell on my worst enemy. If the Rockets don’t kill you, the League sure will.”[break][break]
The room’s silent at that.


[break][break]

+ ooc notes

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

These kids don’t know how to take the words of the adults. They see Navy for what he is, finally. An old, weary veteran. A veteran of precisely one battle, but they don’t need to know that. He’s a man that’s seen the world for what it is, and just how dirty things can get when you let yourself get involved with messes that go too deep.[break][break]
“Fuck that, man.” One of the tagger punks pipes up. A kid with lots of metal in his face, a tattoo on his neck, and a terrible attitude. “I don’t care if Lopez himself rolls up on me. I won’t back d-” Navy silences the kid with a punch. Right in the nose. Sends him flying back against a wall.[break][break]
Everyone goes quiet. The kids are stunned.[break][break]
“What’s the matter? You said that if the Top Champ was here, you wouldn’t back down.” Navy cracks his knuckles. “I ain’t Lopez. Ain’t nowhere near his level yet. But it looks to me like you’re backing down.”[break][break]
He feels bad when the teenager crawls up and he’s damn near crying. Sniveling. All the bravado drained out of him.[break][break]
“What the f-f-fuck, man?”[break][break]
Navy nods back to his fellow too-old-for-this-shit partygoer.[break][break]
“That guy has the right of it. You wanna show the League you’re top shit? Get a good job. Live a good fuckin’ life. And never, ever stop fighting. Not when the cops come. Not when the tax man comes. League. Rocket. It’s all just one big gang. And you gotta fight ‘em. Go to school, be better than this rat heap.”

[break][break]

+ ooc notes

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

The wave breaks and rolls back. For one moment, these kids thought they had what it takes. They thought they could beat the odds. Beat a League that doesn’t care about them. Throw their lot in with something that truly cares.[break][break]
And they are forced to behold strength. Navy is nothing. He is no Kyle Lopez, not yet. No Melody Miro, nor Katherine Fairburne. He’s just a guy with a big dream and a bigger mouth. For these kids to stand up against the world and the monsters that dwell far above this meager man, they will have to grow strong. Many will fail. Almost all of them give up immediately. They scamper back to their real lives – back to mediocrity and a quiet path that will never lead them to conflict with the League.[break][break]
The kid Navy punched takes that pokeball. He looks at Navy with hate in his eyes. He scowls and stomps out into the night. If he makes another appearance in the Navidson Report, it will not be for some time. The two are left alone in the house. Alone with their thoughts, their deeds, and a whole galaxy of liquor. That’s the small consolation. The paycheck from the League is just blood money.[break][break]
This is the good stuff. Navy walks into the kitchen and starts pocketing everything he can. They’ll have a fun night with this stuff, he knows that much.[break][break]
“I dig what you said.” He says, not wanting to hear what he already knows – that he went too far. He thinks back to the most random day, four summers ago. When he lied to his brother to protect him, stopped him from making a mistake. It’s natural for children to make mistakes while they grow up. They have to, or they’ll stay a kid forever.[break][break]
He just wishes he’d had the courage to yell at his brother, all those years ago, before he did something stupid.[break][break]
At least he has booze.


[break][break]

+ milo sharpe

[attr="class","pokeclass"]