He is a cog. She is a gear. Mechanisms in a greater machine that demanded their everything. Their minds, their bodies, their souls, and eventually their lives would be fed to fuel Team Rocket's purpose.

What was that purpose? Who even knew anymore. The region burned for Team Rocket, and the region was repaired for Team Rocket. It was an unending cycle of suffering that they were forced to indulge in, whether it was the manufacturing of substances or the leveling of cities.

All for the 'Glory of Rocket'. Perhaps it was for the best that Absinthe's memory was a blur, lest the victim beneath the mask bear witness to this abhorrent world that was being forged, before it could be pulled back together by humanity's sheer force of will.

"It's one of my few flaws." He japed back as he took her hand. A lie, he had too many of them. They were standing in a museum of his flaws as they spoke. "Now hush. Let me think."

In the distance, Regirock shifted a leveled corner store. Yet as it scooped at concrete and wood and title, much fell from its fingerless hands.

Inspiration.

"If Regirock had fingers, then it could build something. It could interact with this world without feeling the incessant need to smash it. It could pluck flowers or caress the lives it was meant to protect." The admin ran his fingers over hers, letting them intertwine before letting go. "Our guardian could understand that life is fragile."

He closed her hand into a fist.

"But we wanted a weapon that could kill a god, so we created something that could only crush mountains and hold nothing but skulls." He blinked once. "It will never know the joy of holding another thing's hand."

---

Absinthe Blackwood

"Yes." He nodded once. "I believe it would want to understand the life it holds in its arms."

It was no surprise that she thought that way. How could it be, with the weight of the legacy that she had to shoulder? Especially when the one that had carried it with her had passed into another life, and left behind only a Shiinotic loyal to a directive that reached into the postmortem.

"Of course." Her silent war is hardly noticed. There was much to be done, and only so few people in this city to do it. Kanto's Rocket consisted of slackers, and Monroe himself was the emperor of delegation. He truly was a former Commissioner of the Pokémon League. "I'll have someone show you the way, as well."

With a whistle, a Kantoan grunt stands to salute the Rocket Admin. They are on the same side, but of different branches. Yet hierarchy remains respected, especially when the admin could raise mountains and raze cities with but a word.

"She'll take you to your quarters. If you need me, send a courier. I'll try to make time." He blinked wearily with the expression of a man on the verge of collapse. They both know that if she calls, it's unlikely that he'll be able to answer. "Enjoy Petalburg, Absinthe."

He does not tell her that he is likely to die, soon. The killing of an underboss is a grave crime, and although no official sentence is stated, the admin will likely die for his crimes. Howard Slayte was not needed to command giants.

He left the chemist to her devices, and to the grunt that would lead her to her new residence. He closed the gap between himself and Regirock, stopping several meters from the golem.

There, it struggled with moving a wall, its hands thudding helplessly against concrete. What was once a flower shop was now rubble. For a moment, the pattern flickered pink as Regirock remembered Eris Halla and Mesprit. It nudged a fingerless hand against a flower mural.

In a fit of rage, the wall was shattered by stone fists.

---

Absinthe Blackwood
BINGO: SURPRISE