Grigori donned his signature attire, a classic Team Rocket Grunt uniform, and a mask. Atop his head sat a Fisher’s mantle, adorned with numerous fishing hooks and bobbers. It’d been a gift from Gabe, so long ago. It felt wrong to wear it as he committed a crime in the name of the organization.

Yet it felt even worse to not. A conundrum he’d yet to figure out.

But now wasn’t the time for such pesky inner turmoil. Zero emotion would work better as he stormed inside the building. A massive, terrifying mud-caked bear followed him inside and roared loud enough to drown out the idle hum of a heater. “Everyone, please get down on the ground and make no sudden moves!”

This was important for money and intimidation. The fewer people that felt safe in their natural habitats, the better. Grigori felt entirely unsafe as he rushed towards the front register and decked the cashier. They fell to the ground in a heap, unable to even protect themselves from the firm, harsh blow.

The bear kept a watchful eye on the front door, and the stragglers that rushed to the ground and kept their hands over their heads. Anyone who didn’t immediately comply was growled at in a dark, twisted way. Good. Less the grunt had to do, the better. The easier this was, the less conflicted he’d feel afterwords.

He slammed the drawer with a hammer and began to collect the meager bills in the first register. First, he’d collect from these easy sources. Then, he’d crack the safe with the help of Freddy. And then if the police showed no signs of showing up, he’d start to collect from the innocents.

Hopefully it didn't come to that.

---

Noel Parker

Some part of the grunt let go of his building tension as the stranger stepped up to combat his theft in progress. It meant he wouldn’t get very far into his attack, and thus was inadvertently freed from any more awful acts. So long as this person could hold his own, then this would get his supposed message across without too much bloodshed.

But the other part of him groaned in the back of his skull. How hopeful. How idealistic. How naive. Grigori had to give him the benefit of the doubt. That they both knew that neither would back down now that the stakes had been set. Retreat, sure. Turn himself in?

Not a chance.

Grigori rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. The balled-up bills entered his vest pocket, and he hopped over the counter in one clean motion. “Someone has to get hurt now, I'm afraid.”

“And it won’t be me.” He gave the quickest of glances to Freddy, and the bear roared violently in response. Despite the bright lights that illuminated the bear’s hardened mud face, the massive room grew darker and the ceiling adopted a twinge of red. And then, a crimson red orb appeared from thin air.

“rruruRUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” The Blood Boon aimed and shot straight for the Shaymin. Regardless of its action, the portion of floor it occupied would be turned into pure dust under the sheer might of the attack.

While this happened, Grigori rushed forward. Fists raised to cover his hidden face, he closed the distance fast. His arm came back, then shot forward with the force of a jackhammer. Best make it quick, so he could try to get something more than the loose, petty cash from the morning manager.

---

Noel Parker

Grigori felt his muscles tense underneath the weight of the uppercut. It stung like hell, but at least he only had to contend with the connection of one blow. He caught the wide hook, if only barely, and stopped it from getting too close to his face. That’d be bad. His identity might’ve been revealed.

Then he’d have to kill the stranger. That’d be quite tragic.

“Less talking,” he grunted. With Noel’s arm held the best he could, he leaned backward a touch, then launched himself forward. Together, they’d hopefully both collide into the store’s shelf with the ‘hero’ as a cushion.

But Doug could not hope to gain any momentum from the absorption of such an attack. His opponent so small, it was all to easy for little flower to dodge out of the way of it’s awful Blood Moon. Where there was a crater, there wasn’t a Shaymin

“Gruurauahahahaa!” Leaves pelted the massive bear with no recourse. They dug into muddy mats and flesh alike, and left a thousand paper cuts of red in their wake. He was too big, and fell to one knee. Would the mighty tree topple?

No, not yet. His one good eye glared up. past the thick fingers he used to protect his eye. His eye narrowed, and a snort escaped his nostrils. He pulled back, much like the trainer, and shot his massive barrel-ed arm forward.

The bear did not move, but a gust of energy flew forward. It trampled any leaves that were in its wake and sent them to the wayside. That Vacuum Punch cut through the chaff and slammed straight into the Shaymin.

---

Noel Parker

This was certainly not in the cards. Like a freight train, Grigori flew back from the sheer force of the Close Combat. His back slammed into the ground and he slid past the cans of vegetables. His body ached, but he pulled himself up to his feet with the help of a shelf.

And they called Rocket terrible people. He hadn’t planned on breaking the unspoken rule between trainers. Pokemon battled Pokemon, and people each other. But this vigilante seemed to have different ideas. Grigori grimaced.

As they prepared their charge, the grunt lifted and recalled his Ursaluna. Of course, this would mean people were free to start leaving the store as soon as they felt confident enough. If this man was going to be flippant, then why shouldn’t he?

“Please stop speaking like a Saturday-Morning cartoon character,” he said as a flash of white exploded in the corridor. While they charged, a Hitmonchan joined Grigori by his side. “But you get one. More. Chance.”

Together, they raised their fists. Champ pulled back a gloved fist and launched straight into the skull of the Shaymin. Flames engulfed his Firey Punch as it flew forward, but Grigori’s remained perfectly normal. Together, both men threw their fists–

Their impacts could’ve rocked the store, if they were Pokémon. He felt flesh bend against his knuckles, but his own skull recoiled from the impact of a fist. The lights flickered inside his eyes, and he once more fell to the ground. 

If the stranger insisted on Pokemon-Human combat, then they would not win. But he’d be merciful and NOT command his own Pokémon to put a hole inside Noel’s chest.

---

Noel Parker

Grigori pulled himself back up from the store ground. That’d surely leave a mark on his skin, but there wasn’t any time to dally. He rubbed his face alongside his foe, then put one arm onto the cool metal rack. With the shelf as support, he shambled along the path until the final declaration of intent.

“Easy? You broke one of the biggest unspoken rules in Pokemon battling,” he said. That wasn’t Grigori could look over or conveniently ignore. Even if the Shaymin did it without the word of its trainer, it should not have been so keen on doing it without prompt. “But I can’t disagree.”

One hand gripped the nearest can, baked beans, while he gave Champ another look. They locked eyes and nodded at the same time. They could feel the slow funnel of energy. One would have to be immune to stimuli to be ignorant of it. If that attack went off, then who knew what kind of damage it’d do to them? To the store?

To anyone still inside?

Besides, with the ability for civilians to leave uninterrupted, law enforcement was surely on the way. It was not a question of if, but when. Thus, he stood on his own and raised the can. Together, he and Hitmonchan ran forward for one final attack.

Champ arrived first. He dodged to the left, but quickly dodged back to the other side. But then, with one final quickstep, he tried to shoot past Noel on his right. With a raised fist, he tried to shoot forward to deliver a quick, effective Bullet Punch onto the rodent.

And where did Grigori come into play? Well, no matter what Noel did, from trying to stop Hitmonchan, or keep his eyes on Grigori, there’d be a flying can of baked beans with his name on it. It soared through the air at quite the speed, aimed at center mass. The man behind the throw kept on going forward, straight for the trainer.

Once more, he threw the punch to end all punches. His entire weight followed his arm, his fist aimed directly as Noel’s upper chest. Would they have been fast enough? Or would they be turned to dust by the Shaymin’s attack?

---

Noel Parker

By the time the attack is done, Grigori rested underneath the fallen debris of a light fixture. Thankfully, the Solar Beam had evaporated any of the electrical wiring that surged through it. That meant as he desperately pushed the fixture off his back, he wasn’t electrocuted for his troubles. “Champ…?”

Unconscious, leaned up against the remnants of a shelf. Right. He’d taken the brunt of the blow to protect him. Grigori dug his hands past the sharp metal and broken glass to his belt, and then recalled the fainted Pokémon. He rubbed the red, dusty exterior thoughtfully, then threw his arms forward.

Little by little, he dragged himself forward, until he was entirely free from the light. And then, he pushed himself back off the ground. Third time today. This wasn’t close to the record, but it certainly made the top ten.

He could hear sirens in the distance, which left him little time to stare down his opponent. They both looked like dust, blood-caked messes who’d been put through the wringer. Odds were they both lacked the energy to continue their fight. One little slip, and the mistake-maker would perish.

But he took all the time allotted to stare Noel in the eyes. It was important. “You’ve done my job far better than I could’ve ever hoped to. Remember this, the next time you decide to unleash such an attack in a place like this.”

And then, he broke eye contact. He hobbled past Noel, towards the back of the store. This had been a rather successful job, all things considered. He still had the register funds in his pocket, and the populace would surely feel less safe after this. Especially since the damage had been caused by one of their own.

---

Noel Parker