Grigori marched alongside the other grunts, his Kantonian armor heavy against his frame. Lesser men would’ve been crushed by its protective metal, trapped in a steely red prison. Yet he marched on, as if he was unburdened by its weight. His pure metal hammer clinked against it with each step, and his half-broken mask painted a terrible picture.

Tonight was going to be bloody, brutal, and necessary. howard slayte must achieve his goal if Hoenn was to stand a chance– if Eternatus was truly the threat he made it out to be.

He better be right. He had to be. Otherwise, this was for naught and numerous families would be broken apart for table scraps. A power squabble that meant nothing for one side and everything for the other.

But grunts did not question their orders. They completed them. And right now, his goal was to sow chaos. A good place to start was the newcomer, Pangoro in tow. The Seviper flew across the sand, and the grunt underneath the man’s blow followed.

“Stand down, stranger,” he called to the man. From his side erupted a Grimmsnarl, who clapped his fists together with a wicked grin. His limbs bulged, and he grew several inches outward. Bulked Up for the fight to come.

Grigori raised his hammer, “Or I will make you.”

---

Beau Fontaine

“Wrong answer.”

Of course, Grigori agreed with his foe. In almost every sense of the idea, they were aligned. To fight for something one cared about was paramount. To not stand down in the face of trouble was crucial. Especially if it meant to help the lives of those innocent or otherwise uninvolved with the affairs at hand.

The only way they differed was the color of their faction. The most important way to differ.

That’s why he answered how he did. It’s why he regripped the hammer, to better swing with. It’s why the Grimmsnarl, with a grin so wide and teeth so sharp it rivaled the monsters in children's nightmares, was the first to engage.

It immediately went for the Pangoro, ready to Play Rough with the fellow that matched its energy, its strength. Meanwhile, Grigori walked calmly forward. He had no reason to rush to conflict. No desire.

But, perhaps in the increased time to fight, he could find the willpower to strike a fellow human with the intent to maim. Kill, if necessary. “Your fate was determined the moment you set foot out of safety. If you’d stayed hidden, your odds of survival were one hundred percent.”

His heart sank as the hammer raised. Pointed straight to Beau. “Now, they rest next to zero.”

Only then did he charge, ready to cripple a leg in one fell swoop. He was back in Kanto, back in the armor. A monster, nothing more. Only monsters spoke as he, and acted likewise.

---

Beau Fontaine

Even as Imp sent the Pangoro back into the sand, it wasn’t slow to retaliate. And sure enough, its mighty muscles put a hefty dent into the Grimmsnarl. He went reeling backwards, his hands aflutter in the air to maintain a semblance of balance. Thankfully, it did not fall into the sand. That’d spell defeat.

But a scowl formed on his lips, and he raised his arms high. Torment struck the Pangoro before it could hope to do anything else, as Imp was a Prankster at heart. It was safe from another steely strike– for the moment.

But unfortunately for Grigori, he had no such reprieve against his foe. After all, a straight flying-tackle was an uncommon strategy. Most chose to either cower behind their Pokémon or use a firearm. For that, he held respect for his foe. Especially since he was in full armor.

It meant the worst that happened was the wind was forced from his lungs as his back slammed into the ground below. The hammer escaped his hands, head buried into the sand. On one hand, that left him weaponless.

On the other, it gave him two full hands to grasp his foe. He tried to grapple him off to the side and reverse their positions. Anything to get a leg up. Because if he could– then things would go poorly fast for Beau.

“Give. Up,” he gasped. Muscles bulged and wills fought against each other with all their strength. “Your bravery will be forgotten, and your skeleton naught but a reminder of this scuffle.”

Grigori never lied. He could not. The black line etched into his skin served as a daily reminder of his promise. What would Beau ask of him, as he gave his final breaths?

He did not want to know. But yet again, he hadn’t desired the other tattoos likewise.

---

Beau Fontaine

Grimmsnarl wiped the sand from his eyes with a snarl, yet it quickly turned to a grumble as the small pink creature appeared in the wake of the Pangoro. Its giant hammer looked menacing, and it had the smile of a serial killer. All signs pointed to a swift defeat, and the writing was in the sand.

So, it didn’t try. It turned tail and ran straight for Grigori. The motion distracted the grunt, but he assessed the situation carefully. Quickly. One leg rose up and his knee slammed into Beau. The reversal of roles was discarded, and he recalled Imp before it could get crushed beneath the hammer.

Or himself. Another ball was clicked, and the flash bang morphed into a second Pokémon. Now, a blade arched high into the sky. Attached to the forehead of an honorable yet viscous Kingambit. Pumpkin had come out to play, and she played to win.

“Kneel before your master, whelp! Or face my furious– er, fury!”

Of course, she also knew Tinkaton wouldn’t. Thus, she wasted no time and waved the blade around in several circles. It glowed beneath the moonlight, and the light transferred throughout her whole body. Whatever was to happen next, her Swords Dance ensured that her foe would surely be worse off than her.

Unfortunately, all it did was ensure he was still locked into the same game as before. They were too equal, strength of the same caliber. One young and full of desperate energy, yet the other with thirty years of experience and hardened muscle. Ground never shifted far from the center.

In the end, it’d likely come down to whomever’s Pokémon claimed the upper hand. Or could join in on their impromptu wrestling match. Either way, it’d be a quick and decisive victory.

---

Beau Fontaine

Beau’s hits hurt himself more than Grigori, but it meant that he couldn’t have capitalized on the distraction created by Imp. The two men continued their deadlock, unable to break one another. One would have to bend before the other, though. That is how these things worked. Either you gave your all or died trying.

And Grigori had someone to take care of. june sleigh ’s face flashed in his mind, and his strength renewed.

The same could not be said for Pumpkin. “Now is not the time for such–”

“WHAT THE @$!*--”

Together, they rolled around in the sand and muck of the combat zone. Hammer met blade, and fists met fists. Her steely body kept the physical pain at bay, but it was the mental fairy pain against her cool, dark frame that averaged it out. By the end of their short tussle, Pumpkin breathed deep and pulled herself off of the Tinkaton.

“Argh, forget it! You are not worthy of an honorable duel!”

“Think fast, chuckle-fuck!” Pumpkin rushed forward, ready to strike the stupid little gremlin in her stupid awful face with a monstrous Sucker Punch. Except…

“Wh-what is this?!”

Grigori glanced over to the commotion and rolled his eyes. This was getting nowhere, and battle demanded they get anywhere at all. “You will not best me. I refuse!”

“Grrrrrraaaa!” His legs rose again. A knee planted into Beau’s chest to push him away, and a foot planted itself into his chest. With all his strength, the grunt pushed the muscular man off with incredible force. Aching shoulders pushed him to the side, and he quickly rose afterward.

Straight for the hammer.

---

Beau Fontaine