Michael Navidson
He/Him
32
October 13th
Slateport
Heterosexual
E4; Gym Leader
Sheriff
In the warrior's code, there's no surrender. Though his body says stop, his spirit cries, "NEVER!"
Second Strike [M]
POSTED ON May 14, 2023 0:17:57 GMT
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Somewhere in Navy’s head lies a certain notion concerning the individual who just left his office. As he walks out, all swagger and trendy words, Navy sees him off with a wave. They’re enemies, but he’s smiling at the man. A good fight’s hard to come by, at least when there’s not about fifty other people involved.[break][break]
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He leaves the man on that upbeat note. Means, it, too. Playing it cool, Navy acts like he’s getting back to work. There’s last minute phone calls to check, reports to make. Local PD loves getting in a private businessman’s affairs when they’ve got some overlap.[break][break]
The seed of that notion shakes. It lives or dies in milliseconds. Nominally, the person who just left his office is a criminal. Even if he was just a body hired to fill Rocket’s roster for the Dewford affair, he’s still on their side. There’s no such thing as being in the middle anymore. Neutrality and peace are options Hoenn left in the past. Everyone has to take a side or one will be appointed for them.[break][break]
He could call the cops. Set up a bust. Take the guy in. Ask him questions, find out what he already knows: that he knows absolutely nothing important. This is no underboss, no beast, not even an important grunt. Just a guy who talks tough and wants a fight.[break][break]
Just like him, but on the other side, he supposes.[break][break]
There’s nothing to be gained by calling the cops. He ain’t no rat. Gabe won’t waltz out of his grave if he betrays his principles. One guy will go away to prison, and neither of them will have very much fun tonight.[break][break]
The notion dies. He takes his hand off the landline. Tsubaki soon arrives. They have a nice night. He treats her to dinner at one of the nicer restaurants in Slateport. Navy doesn’t think it’ll be his last meal, but there’s always a possibility. You never know what’s going to happen.[break][break]
Night soon falls on this city. Sunlight gives way to neon. Ruffians and ne’er do wells come out of their holes in the ground like scorpions in a desert getting ready to hunt. Sleep is for the weak and the dead, or so this city says.[break][break]
A phone call gets him into the stadium no questions asked. Navy knows most of the night guards. Graveyard shift security guards couldn’t be assed to bother. They don’t report his opponent, they don’t report him. So long as there’s not too much racket or trouble, they’re fine until morning. It’s easy enough to sell the pigs on a line about tests for an upcoming championship match or something.[break][break]
Dressed in his best navy jacket, looking the part of a champ in the making, he walks out onto the field with two Pokeballs in his hands. He’s on the other guy’s turf, now. He’s had all the time in the world to set up, get ready to put on a good show. He’s just peeking into the older man’s world. Walking across the soft, fresh-mowed grass, he wonders what he’ll see.
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