Grigori’s attention was fully diverted upon the sliding of the hidden wall. He waited silently for the hit squad to find him and finally put an end to his life. Even if he’d taken the role of bunker inspector, it was still a Rocket job. League didn’t seem the type to take him prisoner in these trying times.

Easier to kill him.

But death never came. Instead, the quiet thump of boots descended downward. The grunt peered around the corner, breath caught in his lungs. Escape would be a piece of cake: turn around, and simply pretend he was never there.

But duty would not let him. He had promised to inspect this place. He’d promised to help Rocket all those moons ago. Thus, he crept forward. His only giveaway was the soft jangle of fishing lures.

And if he hadn’t followed him almost directly, he’d be as hopelessly lost as the sheriff would claim.

“I’m inclined to agree,” Grigori said suddenly. If Navy turned around, he’d see a disguised fisherman with numerous construction and safety tools peppered around his person. He held his own Poke ball, but not even a single weapon. One might think him stupid.

“Perhaps you should leave, then. Before you get lost.”

Others would think him highly dangerous. Which was the stranger?

---

@navy

10 MP for post

The humorless laugh was met with an even colder stare. What, did the sheriff reference a meme of some kind? Its point went entirely over the ‘fishermans’ head. Humor was far from what he desired.

If his enemy squinted, he might imagine an icy sheen that covered Grigori’s eyes. His poke ball did not lower, not even an inch. All signs pointed to imminent violence– but he did not let loose the creature within. Not yet.

His bones ached in the damp, and hesitated with the thought of violence. His conversation with howard slayte echoed in his mind like distant, intelligible noise did the hall. But even if he hated his organization, there was still a job to do.

“I’m finding lots of structural integrity flaws within the construction of this bunker,” he said flatly. “Things needed to be fixed or tampered with, depending on the desire of my bosses. No dangerous chemicals and the radiation clocks in at passive levels, though. It is merely the fault of flimsy half-measures that compromise everything.”

Half-measures were the devil’s playground. It led to many unnecessary deaths, all to save half a day. Maybe it worked for the people during Meteno, but it would not suit anyone now.

“While I may not be an expert of architecture and building safety, I advise you once more to leave.”

“Now.”

---

Navy

10 MP for post
50 MP for meaningful ping of another character
50 MP for reference to a previous thread

120 MP total

Lucky. Grigori. Sokolov.

He knew this was a familiar voice. Once the phantom identified himself, the pieces started to fall into place. He was at Dewford. He had journeyed with Howard to some faraway land. Done things that had no impact on the world. Yet they’d both changed. Grown. Become closer.

Which made the current situation impossibly more tense and difficult to navigate. Do his job and draw the ire of his boss, or don’t and put himself on a few thousand shit-lists?

“Depends on if they view it worthwhile,” he pushed through gritted teeth. “But odds point it to being more valuable as a trap. Plant explosives at the entrances and along each support column. Run a trip wire. Let the League kill themselves on it.”

The likes of Cillian Quinn or Zev Harcourt might call it treason to reveal such a plan. He considered it a negotiation. Spill, and he’d get out of here alive. Too much and Rocket would consider him a liability. The floor they tip-toed on had become a tight rope right beneath his nose.

“I elect we play telephone: your turn. What are you doing here? Sending an Elite four into dangerous territory is risky. Who knows what might happen to them?”

“Or did your friend Mr. Fox put you up for the task?”

His eyes narrowed sharply, and the air grew thick enough to cut with a knife.

---

@navy

10 MP for post

First names were dangerous. They single-handedly decided how much the other person knew about you, from a Rocket perspective. Out in public, even when outside of a disguise and pretending to be normal, a first name always gave him pause. If only a slight one. But it was always there.

Even when it wasn’t his, a charged scenario like this made him physically flinch. howard slayte was an exception, as he so often wanted to be.

“Same as always– picked up a rather vile habit,” he added darkly. “He’s looking for a sense of justification, or comfort, at the bottom of a bottle.”

The only thing that resided there was a reflection.

“You did not answer: what are you doing here specifically?” His grip on his poke ball tightened, and his patience was wearing thin. His heart begged him to not, but his instincts said he’d wasted too much time. Reinforcements, cave in, a whole host of reasons that he should be dead right now.

“I am not a patient man.”

---

@navy

10 MP for post
50 MP for Antagonistic Dialogue

Meteno bunkers were all that resided in the area. But the reason they now faced each other down meant little in the grand scheme of things. Fate, luck, whim of the gods– all that mattered was their faint breaths and unsteady grip on the Poke balls.

“I already told you,” Grigori growled. “Inspecting the viability of a base of operations as opposed to a booby trap. They give me coordinates, I do the job. Not everyone gets to see the full picture.”

Especially not a grunt. Age meant little in wartime, outside of questions of advice from younger souls. How to maximize odds of survival, the safest places to go– or most dangerous. But he was not the one sought out for strategic developments.

“But good to know we’re all on the same page,” he said. How much longer could this go on, before one of them broke? “That makes it my turn again.”

“What does that make you then?”

“Because I never would’ve noticed the hidden wall,” he admitted. “Yet neither would your precious bedfellows. Where does that leave you, Mr. Navidson? On the fence? Indeterminate? Indifferent?”

Did he cling to the grey for all he was worth, in some desperate attempt to appeal to both sides? Or was he like Howard, but on the opposite side of the venn diagram? They had ventured off the beaten path of business.

Now it was getting personal.

---

Navy

10 MP for post
50 MP for Learning something of the Other Character

Grigori immediately sucked in. Hard, loud, and flinched at double the strength as Howard’s name drop.

He knew. Of course he knew. It’d been said in Dewford. But those were trying circumstances. A city lay in ruin, and they’d managed to all make it out alive. Despite it all, they lived. But here, it was as mundane as a war zone could be. Two enemies on the opposite side, neither willing but entirely ready to fight if necessary.

“Then Mr. Fox will be killed no matter the outcome,” he spit out. His knuckles whitened. “Either as an enemy of the state or a traitor. That is what I know, if Rocket wins.”

Navy now held his entire life in his hands. All it would take is one singular sentence to the right person, and his cover was blown. The facade would crumble, and he’d be forced into Petalburg city. The only place he’d be welcomed. A punishment he deserved– but not like this.

“Because he is a liar.”

“I am not a good man. Good men do not do the things I do. If you knew a fraction of it, then you’d kill me on the spot. Like I deserve.”

Navy was a troubled man. Grey. Impossible to pin as good or bad. Grigori Sokolov could not say the same, and bramblous thorns bit into his soul. “But I will not let you do so freely.”

With that meek warning given, the ball clicked suddenly, and white light filled the room. Out came the stuff of nightmares, a creature not interested or even a part of their world: thick black cables snacked outward, like it was climbing out of the ball voluntarily. Soon after, a spiky white head emerged. Light flickered.

Then locked onto Navy. One arm came back, and green energy enveloped the limb. A Power Whip to send Navy further into the tunnels.

But Grigori… he ran.

---

Navy



10 MP for post
50 MP For learning to respect Navy (somewhat forced because he knows his name, half because he's humble but also he should KILL GRIGORI SOKOLOV)

The Xurkitree stood no chance in the face of such reckless violence. Cables could only be on the receiving end of such a strong attack, and as its body slammed into the wall, its faint was immediate. Yet it still disappeared in a flash of light all the same.

Grigori’s ball peeked from beneath the ceiling, where he’d paused briefly. Navy’s begging did not fall on deaf ears.

But in a way, it was worse that he heard it. “I will not wait for the enemy to sentence me to death, Navidson. Do not attempt your honeyed words. Chase to kill, or save yourself.”

They were still at war, and he was still the enemy—one who knew his name and his identity. If he hadn’t spilled the secret on Howard, then the odds were good that he might be safe. For now. But how long until faction lines necessitated the information for victory? Until the League forced his hand?

Bobbers clattered against each other, a hollow song as he raced for the steps. From his backpack, a small bundle of plastic explosives. He hadn’t checked to see the exact number of entrances, but there wasn’t any time now. The white bundle found itself against a pillar next to the way he had come, and his earpiece lit up.

“Bunker deemed a hazard. League personnel inside. Detonation upon your command.”

He took the steps two at a time, detonation switch in hand. “Command, I repeat, Bunker deemed a hazard– League personnel inside, give the word!”

Arceus, damn it all– there wasn't a signal this far down. Maybe the sheriff would live after all…

---

Navy