With those words, the operation commences. A sharp whistle sends four origami blades flying forward, each taking a different angle of attack. Their master's eyes consider, not for the first time, how deadly these ultra beasts are. Each of them is a force to be reckoned with, taking up less space than a basketball.[break]
Gripping his blade, he puts aside those thoughts. Caught in a moment of action, they are useless. Fighting spirit gathers around each of the Kartana, a storm of sacred swords. The Melmetal voices its displeasure, trying to chase after them with all the speed of a roaring pond.[break]
Garchomp, on the other hand, are quite fast. Even a journeyman in the fine art of thinking ahead will realize most of the burden of pulling tonight's players into place lies with the Devourer.[break]
Falling into a large, open cavern, the dog knows he has found a perfect spot. His Kartana strike down at the traveling liquid, retreating out of range before it can counterattack.[break]
"Got him in place." The dog says. "I'll make sure he ain't goin' anywhere."

“Understood.” He speaks the word with calm he did not know he could feel. Garchomp descend upon an errant legend. Melmetal is mauled as if it is no more than a common Mareep. It cries out in a croak. Its predators do not care. They have dined upon frustration at the hand of two seasoned dragonslayers. They hunger for recompense more than flesh. Unconsciously, the black dog’s hand slips to the prepared ultra ball. Some part of him feels insidious for the trap. The capture is an offer it can’t refuse, a checkmate stated at knifepoint. All he has to do is get the timing right, or else it’s all for nothing. [break]
His mind goes to what he considers the most memorable of his chess matches against the ghost. He almost, almost won. His mistake was inhuman ferocity, fervor, impatience. He will not make that mistake here. A sharp whistle sounds, sending the Kartana flying. Offense turns to defense on a dime. Yesterday’s foe becomes today’s damsel. The Garchomp are forced back a single step, opening a path for him. The ball sails through the air, catching Melmetal in a brilliant flash of light. The ball shakes once, and again, and again. A click settles the matter. [break]
“Got it, ghost.” He radioes in his triumph. “Ready for extraction when you are.”

Primal confusion lights across Garchomp's golden eyes in the split second before they are gone. In some corner of his mind, the hunting hound says a quiet prayer for those who will be caught in his wrath. When he is on the deck of the escape ship, those thoughts vanish. Rapid displacement and relocation is not something his small body was designed for. While the nameless she-wolf readies the vessel, the ghost's hound reaches over the rails, hurling his lunch into the uncaring sea.[break]
Even still, when he comes back up, huffing breathlessly, a smile splits his lips. It was a good operation, a clean play.[break]
"Smooth, like takin' a gym badge from a bug trainer." Holding up the ultra ball, it reflects in the moonlight. Another asset to be used for the glory of Rocket and the further rise of the Hasegawa. A blade, he thinks, that can be used well.[break]
"Victorious warriors win first, and then go to war." He quotes a bit of light reading, a new habit picked up in pursuit of self-betterment. "We made a good plan and stuck to it. Nothin' sloppy, no collateral damage."[break]
His nose smelled strikingly little blood. There is a victory in that alone.[break]
"You got a smoke? I forgot my cigs in Sootopolis."

It means a lot, hearing those words coming from this man. There are many who would rub a dog's ears for the simple pleasure of the act. Some love him simply for existing, or hate him because he bears a mutt's smell. This ghost, the dog thinks, loves very little in the way humans usually love things. His eyes watch a void exhale smoke like the dying gasp of a star caught in its path.[break]
To hear something like that say he is ready is like being acknowledged, for just a moment, by an indifferent universe. If such a force as that would say a thing like that to him, then he will endeavor not to disappoint.[break]
The uncaring void also, the dog notes, has excellent taste in cigarette brands.[break]
"Thank ya." He plays it cool, not wanting the ghost to see his tail wag. "Wash makes it sound like big shit's coming." He gazes at the void. "Put me in Spectra and let me kill some League avatars.."