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POSTED ON Oct 5, 2024 6:43:39 GMT

Many would call a small settlement of abandoned houses a ghost town or the setting for a horror movie. Howard called it a failure of Hoenn's economy. Free housing? Free real estate? Free... everything? Yet nobody bothered to crash in these houses beyond a stray vagrant or a homeless person passing from Verdanturf to Mauville in order to avoid the war.

Jokes on them. Team Rocket was coming, no matter what happened. That vagrant would be joined by thousands of his kin, alongside those who were packing up and leaving their old homes behind to find a world that did not have a large red 'R' in it.

That too was an inevitability.

"Hm." Absinthe's superior, the guy who got paid several times more than she did despite her vastly more impressive degree and field of study, smoked a cigarette as he poked his head through the bushes. "Shit's haunted."

Howard looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Trust me. I know from experience. Nobody leaves a free house just sitting there for the taking. There's probably a dead drop in there or a drug lab or something. If it's not that..." He shrugged, pursing his lips. "...haunted."

Absinthe Blackwood

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POSTED ON Oct 5, 2024 22:08:47 GMT

[nospaces]

[attr="class","absinthe"]

[attr="class","body"]

a disbelieving snort falls from absinthe's damaged lips at the suggestion. "you can't be serious," she mutters, surveying the abandoned houses. she'd had her fair share of hauntings—both real and fake, if her shiinotic is any evidence to go by—but she'd never come across any spirits from beyond the grave hanging out in an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere.[break][break]

she considers making a sarcastic comment about him spending too much time with his damn golems, or about how ghosts must have something better to do, but absinthe thinks better of it. she's fairly certain that when howard says haunted, he doesn't mean haunted by ghosts—at least, she desperately hopes so. perhaps a previous trauma happened here. perhaps these homes are filled with gutted bodies and coagulated bloodstains. they must be violent crime scenes, or meth labs, at the least.[break][break]

she isn't one to stop and marvel at the sights, so to speak.[break][break]

there is a pause as she considers him again, eyeing the way he flicks ash from the cigarette before tapping it against his thigh, weighing the options.[break][break]

"what are we doing here?" she says finally. "you didn't pull me from my research for a break and enter into a 'haunted' house."[break][break]

a pause as she reconsiders who she is speaking to. her eyes narrow.[break][break]

"...seriously? is that what we're doing?"[break][break]

her hands stiffen as she imagines strangling him. that would really make this place haunted, wouldn't it?

howard slayte[break][break]

NOTES

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POSTED ON Oct 6, 2024 6:41:24 GMT

The sideways look confirmed her suspicions.

"I'm not going in alone, and I'm your boss. For how much I pay you, you can investigate a few houses." The admin rolled his eye in mock disbelief and stared back at the house. There was no Regirock or Regice with him today. The logical deduction is that the admin doesn't view this settlement as a threat. "I'm not sending you in alone, at least. I don't make people do things that I wouldn't do myself.

The truth was that the two golems were laboring in Petalburg.

"Alone, at least." He amended as he leapt over the bush, hair flashing as he did so. "Besides, you spend too much time in your lab. Fieldwork is important, too."

Bold words for someone who spent most of his time behind a desk. There was a time where all the admin did was fieldwork, back when he had been a humble archaeologist living paycheck to paycheck.

Before everything had turned to shit.

"Come along, Absinthe. Adventure awaits!" He wandered towards the nearest house, whistling as he did so.

Absinthe Blackwood

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POSTED ON Oct 6, 2024 7:29:49 GMT

[nospaces]

[attr="class","absinthe"]

[attr="class","body"]

absinthe watches as howard leaps over the bushes. she grits her teeth as she shoves the cut branches out of her way and trudges forward, the ghost of a migraine looming. her nostrils flare as she exhales. she supposes this is technically fieldwork. it's also technically a waste of time.[break][break]

"i don't get paid enough for this," she grumbles as she comes up beside howard. she pointedly ignores his attempt at injecting fun into the excursion. her forehead is wrinkled and the corners of her lips are taut. she likes to avoid things that remind her of her current state of in-between-ness; with one foot in the past, full of memories of being an ambitious, desperate grad student, and one foot in the grim darkness of her potential future.[break][break]

this silent, dilapidated house is no exception.[break][break]

adventure awaits. she'd much rather paper cuts await. all of the funding she gets from team rocket just for it to be squandered on wages to trek out to a place where someone OD'd with a needle in their arm or fell in love with a sharp knife and a warm bath. she can hardly believe it.[break][break]

a sudden remembrance of policy—an amendment— from the hr department of her pharmacology jab that had funneled to her lab slips into her mind, about breaks and the lower productivity from not taking them, and the tight purse strings loosen. she hopes that's not what this is, but if it is, it doesn't matter. she will resent every moment.[break][break]

she always pictured howard more the type to go straight for the liquor cabinet when he needed a break, however. she huffs.[break][break]

"how do you want to do this?" she says. her eyes are downturned, sharpening. she's hoping he gives her an idea so that they can get this over with, go home, and she can wash her hands clean of the whole thing. the sooner she gets back to her lab, the better. the outside world doesn't seem to care for her, anyway.[break][break]

absinthe opens the door of the house howard chooses, desperate to enter and get it all over with, and finds herself standing in the center of the entryway, finding only stillness and a thick layer of dirt and dust all over every surface. in the corner of the house, there is a creak. absinthe's eyes immediately snap up towards where the sound had emanated from, and finds that a wooden rocking horse embellished with many decades of muck and grime is rocking ever so slowly. forward, then back, then forward.[break][break]

absinthe narrows her eyes. "okay. you were right. it's haunted."

howard slayte[break][break]

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POSTED ON Oct 7, 2024 6:40:09 GMT

Team Rocket's HR consisted of being told to shut up and do your job. Somewhere along the way, an admin would sign a piece of paper regarding a casualty report and that would be that. Team Rocket was meant to usurp Hoenn and overturn the world. Humans were definitely a resource, and often an expendable one.

Not to Howard, though. Even if every member of Team Rocket was a gear, they had nowhere else to go but Team Rocket. If the organization left those desperate to live behind, what message would that send to those who remained?

Yet what did the archaeologist know? Archaeologists didn't have HR departments. They just dug up rocks and got paid nothing to do it, unless they got a comfortable job in some museum. If only Howard had gotten that job, he wouldn't have joined Rocket. Yet Absinthe had a cushy job and she was here, giving death glares to furniture.

The Absinthe Blackwood special.

"Neither do I, if it's any consolation." The admin rubbed a layer of dust between stone fingers. "If you want a raise, climb the ladder. Just know that with each rung you climb, you lose a bit more of yourself."

He let out a bark of laughter as the rocking horse began to creak. Timber carved into the likeliness of a Ponyta rocked to and fro.

"Or you can be like me and lose all of yourself. Literally." He slowly scooted behind Absinthe as they regarded the child's toy. Yet no ghost appeared. Nothing showed up. As soon as Absinthe glared at it, the spectral force vanished. "Hm."

He poked out from behind her shoulder.

"I'm anointing you as my new ghostbusting bodyguard."

Absinthe Blackwood

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POSTED ON Oct 8, 2024 1:39:39 GMT

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[nospaces]

[attr="class","absinthe"]

[attr="class","body"]

absinthe clenches her hands into fists at the explanation. 'climbing the ladder,' howard says. as if she wants his job. as if she wants to be puppeteered by terrorists and sent on this glorified death mission all for queen and country and organization. her insides recoil at the idea.[break][break]

"don't worry," she spits bitterly. "i have very little of myself left to lose."[break][break]

she pauses. so had howard—and then he lost it, in the form of an entirely new body.[break][break]

then, a poor excuse of an attempt at a promotion—ghostbusting bodyguard. howard hides himself behind her while she stares the rocking horse down. emboldened by the ill-fitting title, she squares her shoulders, standing tall in front of her cowardly boss. there was something about her gaze that really seemed to put the fear of god into anyone—living, dead, or inanimate.[break][break]

the old saying must be true: the ghost had more in common with absinthe than she had with the living, and they recognize her as such. this trait, her knowledge of these classic coexistence rules, are why he's put her in charge, or so she tells herself.[break][break]

she raises her arms slowly in a dramatic sweep and locks them next to her face, index fingers pointed outward. her eyes are wide and frenzied. "ooo," she moans ghoulishly, doing her best (which is a poor, inauthentic best) to sound like a poltergeist rising from its grave. "ooo-oooo-"[break][break]

as the last haunting "o" leaves her lips, she glares back at the admin.[break][break]

"ghostbusted."[break][break]

there's an unearthly amount of sass in her voice for an undead individual.[break][break]

she relaxes her arms back down and exhales sharply. the phrase 'back to life, back to reality' pops into her head. she slowly turns back towards the entryway of the abandoned house and slowly steps towards the door. then, it shuts right in front of her, as if on it's own. absinthe, heart lurching in her throat, immediately begins a futile struggle with the doorknob, only to find that it is jambed shut. her hands fall away, and she is left staring at the exit.[break][break]

"you're kidding me."

howard slayte[break][break]

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POSTED ON Oct 14, 2024 19:57:42 GMT

There was a long moment where Howard Slayte thought Absinthe Blackwood was haunted. As she raised her hands to moan at him, he instinctively took a few steps back. Then, the admin realized that he wasn't an idiot, and rolled his eye at the chemist.

"How witty of you. How clever you must feel." He put a hand on his hip, annoyed. He gave her a look, before giving the room a once-over. "I went to college, though. I'm a pretty smart guy. Can't fool me!"

As he spoke, a Lampent appeared behind him, its blue flame flickering. After noticing Absinthe, its eyes grew wide with fright and it disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Absinthe Blackwood was a scary woman.

"Nope." Howard saw the chemist struggle with the locked door, and immediately walked across the room towards the potentially haunted rocking horse. Grabbing the wooden construct from crudely carved contusions. A lightbulb sparked and died, though the admin emitted a slight glow through the cracks of Dynergy that marred his body. "Fuck this. We're done."

SMASH!!! Howard threw the rocking horse through a window.

Kicking off excess glass, the admin wormed through the window with a remarkable amount of dexterity. In the house's backyard, the admin stopped and narrowed his eye at the object sitting in the middle of an empty yard.

A washing machine?

"What the...?"

Absinthe Blackwood

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POSTED ON Oct 15, 2024 23:03:07 GMT

[nospaces]

[attr="class","absinthe"]

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"first, congrats on graduating," absinthe draws back with a sharp, biting sarcasm. "second, tell that to the team of—"[break][break]

she's cut off by the sound of the wooden horse being dashed against the floor. she watches in mild confusion as howard stops his one-man revolt.[break][break]

"what are you—"[break][break]

CRASH. the wooden horse is expelled from a shard-ridden window.[break][break]

absinthe can hardly believe it.[break][break]

she takes this opportunity to wiggle the doorknob a few more times, wondering why her volatile boss has lost his mind and if she's next. the doorknob still doesn't budge, and she lets out an impatient huff before skulking over to the broken window and looking over it. timbers of wood and glass are embedded into the charred flesh and rich green meat of the unkempt lawn, and it takes all of absinthe's willpower not to facepalm.[break][break]

howard scales the field like an earthworm scuttling from a hungry robin's beak, the dirt his refuge and savior, and into the backyard. barely any breath at all squeezes past her mangled lips when she sees him halt before the inexplicable washing machine squatting in the middle of the yard. slowly, she sticks her head further out the window and narrows her eyes. "what the fuck."[break][break]

she resigns to the stupidness of the situation with a quiet puff of a sigh and awkwardly climbs through the empty, splintery window frame, careful to avoid the broken glass as best she can.[break][break]

her frustration leaks out in the rasp of her voice. "i'm done with this."[break][break]

she nears the washing machine. for a moment, she is still, staring down at it and allowing her eyes to trace the smeared texture of scratches marring the side of the device. then, something seems to snap, and with little wind-up, she begins to kick the machine with as much force as she can muster.

howard slayte[break][break]

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POSTED ON Oct 16, 2024 6:12:35 GMT

Thud. Thud. Thud. Absinthe kicked at the washing machine with the frustration of a thousand suns. Each one dented the washing machine slightly more, and the admin simply watched, before snapping a few photos to send to his friends. He didn't tell Absinthe what he was doing, on the off chance that she'd look at him in surprise at the prospect of him having friends.

Howard was ninety percent sure that would happen. As the chemist knocked the washing machine onto its side, the admin silently corrected it to ninety-five percent. Maybe a hundred, on a good day.

Though Howard supposed a good day was reliant on his perspective.

"You done vandalizing washing machines? Want me to swing by the bar and get your bat?" The admin's tone was so dry it could be mistaken for stone. He pulled out a phone. "I have Grigori's number in here somewhere..."

Yet before he could text Grigori, the washing machine stood up. Static blared from some speaker in the machine's body.

DeAR ARCEUS in UNOVA that is DISGUSTING CLOTHING woMAn take a shower and GO TO HELL!

The washing machine's door opened and a Hydro Pump missed Absinthe and shot towards Howard, blasting him onto the roof of the house.

"Ughhhhhh..."

Absinthe Blackwood

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POSTED ON Oct 17, 2024 1:46:03 GMT

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[nospaces]

[attr="class","absinthe"]

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the screen on howard's phone flashes as the shutter sound emanates from the device, and absinthe immediately becomes aware of his actions. she restrains herself from asking the admin if he wants to keep this picture forever.[break][break]

she finally stops her assault on the machine, aware that no amount of kicking will get her answers or dispel the screaming sense of confusion that she's feeling right now, and looks to howard with a glare that almost physically pushes him away from her. "did you piss off a washing machine salesman? is that what this is?"[break][break]

she hears a shift and a whir from behind her, and turns just in time to watch as the washing machine suddenly hoists itself up off the ground. for a moment, she watches, transfixed by the bizarre sight. then, the washing machine lets out its bloodcurdling static cry.[break][break]

fury ignites in absinthe's green eyes as the damn, smug machine screams and insults her. she lunges at it without a second thought. "HOW ABOUT YOU GO BACK TO HELL, YOU STUPID PIECE OF—" her hands grip the edges of the door, and then water jets out from the washing machine and misses her. as the water dissipates, she pauses and she peers into the dark abyss of the washing machine barrel. "—shit."[break][break]

she grits her teeth as she recalls that the admin is on her team. "you good, howard, or—" she spares him a glance as she hears him groan. she must note that he sounds very far away all of a sudden. "—what the fuck."[break][break]

he's on the fucking roof.[break][break]

she suddenly doesn't want to anger the washing machine anymore.[break][break]

instead, she plops down onto the lawn, criss-cross and neat, and levels with the thing. "okay, what do you want?" she asks finally, looking overwhelmingly tired as she tries to figure out if the washing machine has any eyes to look into. she pulls a flask from her coat. "you want bourbon? you can have the whole flask."[break][break]

she jingles the flask in front of the machine much like a parent might jingle keys in front of a baby. "c'mon. i know you want it. c'mooooon."

howard slayte[break][break]

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POSTED ON Oct 17, 2024 5:20:57 GMT

Absinthe Blackwood likes this

After a long moment, several sparks of electricity flung from the appliance before it spoke again.

my SISTER I would be honored to consume fine BEVERAGE with a pretty LADY Such as YOURself!!!

With an innocent click, the washing machine's door unclasped and dangled open, awaiting the bourbon. Bringing a ghost with alcohol was completely and utterly insane, but given that Absinthe's boss was now on the roof and groaning in pain, it was likely wise to give into the machine's demand.

On the roof, meanwhile, the admin's eye flickered open.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuck..." His eye wandered across the shingled roof, before landing on a lawn mower.

Wait.

A lawn mower on the roof?

Uh oh.

Absinthe Blackwood

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POSTED ON Oct 17, 2024 6:16:33 GMT

[nospaces]

[attr="class","absinthe"]

[attr="class","body"]

a large part of absinthe would like to argue with the machine, to prove that it is nothing but a soulless scrap-metal husk that cannot and will not best her, that she is not its sister, and that it has no right to define what is and isn't 'pretty'. but then she remembers how it flung her boss onto the roof with what seemed like no effort at all. she peers up at said boss on the roof, and watches as he laments his thrown-around state.[break][break]

she tosses the flask into the washing machine's drum with a side-eye as deep as the mariana trench. "enjoy."[break][break]

she hopes the ghost or spirits or demons inhabiting this foul contraption get nice and fucked up.[break][break]

content that she has satiated the appliance, the chemist rises to her feet and dusts off her coat, then directs her eyes to the roof behind her. there, howard is still supine, lamenting the state of his life. after a moment, absinthe realizes with a start that he is not alone.[break][break]

there is a lawnmower throwing sparks next to him. it looks... aggressive? absinthe's brows knit together.[break][break]

"huh." in any other circumstance, absinthe would be annoyed, or maybe confused, or shocked. at this point, though, after having shared precious libations with a literal appliance, she finds herself incapable of mustering up any emotion other than apathy.[break][break]

this might just be the way the world is. sometimes ghosts possess appliances. in fact, she's pretty sure that's a pokemon, and that she should have figured this out much sooner. regardless, sometimes, all she can do is adapt.[break][break]

absinthe crosses her arms over her chest and prepares to watch, as she doesn't intend to help.[break][break]

"there's a lawnmower up there with you," absinthe informs howard in deadpan. "i'd offer you a flask to feed that one too, but my second flask is for me."[break][break]

absinthe removes the second flask from her coat, uncaps it, removes her mask, and takes one, long swig.

howard slayte[break][break]

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POSTED ON Oct 25, 2024 7:11:44 GMT

"No shit, Abs." Howard groaned as he held his knee in pain. "I would've never noticed. Thank you. I really appreciate that."

Sometimes, he considered cutting the chemist's pay. Then he realized she'd force him to pay his tab at her bar. Given that the admin's wallet had exactly ten dollars in it, Howard wasn't particularly willing to invite Absinthe's wrath unto himself. Getting drunk in her bar was vastly preferable to getting drunk at home.

Her Shiinotic made for good company.

"I have, um..." The admin dug around at his belt and produced a canteen. "Glacial water from Regice. Tastes pretty good!"

It was ordinary tap water, but Howard wasn't going to explain to this lawnmower that Regice couldn't melt, because then he'd have to explain a two thousand year grudge war between Hoenn and Eternatus, and that wasn't something he was willing to elaborate on. As he crawled towards the lawnmower to offer the beverage, it sparked to life.

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT!

Howard blinked once, frowned, and jumped off the roof as the lawnmower followed him, screaming for bloody murder. The washing machine, meanwhile, made an vaguely microwave sounding ding! The washing machine's hose pointed towards Absinthe, before spraying her with an absurd amount of bourbon.

Flicker.

A small flame flickered to life within the machine's hose, evidently powered by whatever long-dead propane system the machine had used to heat water.

Absinthe Blackwood

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POSTED ON Oct 27, 2024 5:35:23 GMT

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absinthe raises an eyebrow. "never would have guessed."[break][break]

howard, on the ground now after launching himself off the roof with a graceless oof, is now grappling with the murderous lawnmower. absinthe's eye twitches as it occurs to her how hopeless it is, how small their efforts seem, and she stifles any other comments she might have made. as she moves towards the lawnmower, there's a glint of metal from the washing machine–no, the ghost inside the washing machine–that catches her eye. she stops in her tracks and stares. the washing machine seems to take advantage of the moment and points its hose at her, spraying her with her own bourbon.[break][break]

absinthe doesn't know if she should be annoyed or grateful. she's soaked now, utterly drenched in dark, staining liquid, but her flask is bone-dry. after the shock subsides and the alcohol is squelching in her shoes, she glances down and takes in the sight of her sopping coat with a sigh.[break][break]

when the flame comes alive at the end of the hose, her brain does a flip. so the alcohol has caught fire, ignited by the spark of this propane machine.[break][break]

her mind then proceeds to do ten more flips as she, in a moment of uncharacteristic impulsiveness, launches forward and takes hold of the hose and grasps the burning end in her hand, feeling the heat and listening to the roar of a flame that she can hardly control, but god, she's going to try.[break][break]

she points it at the lawnmower now chasing her boss.

howard slayte[break][break]

NOTES

- n/a

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MADE BY GUNSMILE

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Magnetic

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May 9th

Rustboro City

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5'9 (with hat) height

The future will tempt you, the present will indulge you, but the past will shackle you.

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