Giona could feel eyes trained on him, as he camped beside the cooler. He couldn't relate to 'clout' being a concern. He made his bones in the mafia. If he needed to blow up, he'd just become a state asset and release a tell-all book years later. Nonetheless, he had to make an effort to keep up appearances.

The waves rolled in. The hound drew near, inflicting a glancing wound on Honedge, and paralyzing it. The floating sword's movements became staggered, though it didn't look all that injured. Honedge turned to face Boltund and tried using Night Slash, a series of cuts held back by its status.

Notes: Honedge used Night Slash. for ambiance

Giona had to steel his nerves, having been challenged directly. He was still restless from not having a smoke recently, and had to bite it down. He settled for slowly downing his entire cup of coffee. Chugging it at a leisurely pace, not stopping until the cup was empty.

Flygon was struck and rolled like a long, flat car being flipped over. It sprung back up, hovering in place on jade wings like a hummingbird. Giona was challenged to take his whistling command further than the level of siccing an attack dog on someone. He produced a low note, throat still scalded by hot coffee. A low-A, somewhere between genuinely whistling and simply expelling air. Flygon keyed in on the exhaling part, responding to Pangoro with Dragon Breath. A forceful blast of orange-tinted air, tinged with a Dragon's jouissance.

Notes:

The outskirts of town. The uncomfortable span of time after evening and before morning. Caught between the coast and rows of warehouses and shipyards. Giona felt a tingling sensation between his ears, walking down this way. Between his ears, where a wild Haunter nearly buried a shipyard hook as a part of a prank.

They were both far enough from town that any commotion could be safely dismissed as the rumbling of Rattata and dock-workers. Giona dressed in a white button-up, black slacks, and black sneakers. He crawled over a railing, climbing down the ledge to a stretch of beach that didn't have much in the way of tourist attractions. Where graffiti tags and wanted posters formed a collage, in the instances where they weren't painted over to maintain appearances. A red beam from his pocket left an eerie blue-gray plate looming over his shoulder.

He knelt down by the edge of the water and grasped a round stone in his bandaged left hand. In one smooth motion, he assessed its weight and whipped it at the water. It skipped six times before sinking. The blue plate whispered to Giona; he turned his head, causing his earrings to jiggle like the bell on a restless cat. A visitor was here.

Notes:

Giona could feel eyes trained on him, as he camped beside the cooler. He sipped at the blue electrolyte drink, tipping his head back. A bead of sweat rolled down from his forehead to the side of his undercut. It’d been a reliable heat-vent up until now, but even the 1/16 inch hairs were starting to get matted down against his head in the sweltering heat.

The waves rolled in. Honedge flashed its blade, using Iron Defense. An eerie scraping sound came as the floating sword used its own sheath as a honing rod. Giona hadn’t any games on his phone. He did however have a daily tarot app. It was just woo-woo enough to grab him, and not obviously human-controlled enough for him to see through it. The sun glanced off his earrings, and he held up a finger. Giona dug the earrings out with a bandaged finger, tucking them in the same pocket as all the balls he had on hand.

Notes: Honedge used Iron Defense. for ambiance

There were rumors, and low-res images floating around of something haunting the submarine. Sightings were reported in the dorms, baths, and offices. Whatever this 'ghost' is, it evaded capture. Slipped down the hall, past either of them. An eerie laugh trailed past either of them. It felt as if it emanated from between their ears, though the sound could be faintly heard through the hall.

Giona rolled over, trying to stand despite being lightheaded. He made it to his feet, then fell back. This time, his shoulders slammed into the wall, followed by the back of his head. He looked aside at Chu-e and nodded. “Yeah. I’m good. Look... this is gonna sound stupid. I was attacked by a ghost in my sleep. I think it ran past us down the hall.”

Standing up, he pushed off the walls with his elbows and ran to the end of the hall. There was a fork in the road, with a stretch of hall ending in a dead end to his left, and a stretch of hall ending in a stairwell going down to his right. Giona sucked air past his teeth with discomfort, and ran down the dead-end hall first. A door swung open, the knob clipping his back. A purple shadow lingered on the other side, before bolting down the hall, trying to make a break for the stairwell.

TL;DR: It's time to get the ghost!!!

Giona sat on a barstool, elbows against the counter. He slowly sipped at his drink, nodding as Bill went on about paperwork. The mix of coffee and sugared-alcohol left him congested, but drinking soda would be like filling up on bread. His nose twitched, and he felt discomfort between his ears, from having to not smoke on the submarine.

"That’s a problem that I’d love to have. Being so used to paperwork here that I don’t have to think about it. A friend recently got bumped up to Admin, so, knock on wood.”

He raised a brow when Bill mentioned local government. They all had covers, sure. Giona worked at a bistro, and they had atleast one gym leader on payroll. It seemed a little... high stakes. His eyes lit up, having found a sudden respect for Bill.

Giona downed a 1/5 of his drink, then resumed speaking.

Notes:

Giona looked like a schoolboy. Or more accurately, a schoolboy by way of a schoolboy’s idea of a cool 20-something. He had on a white button-up and black slacks, as well as black shoes that were allegedly all-terrain. Just nice enough for the gym, and just tough enough to hike in. He had a dangling earring under each ear, and greying black hair in an undercut.

He wasn’t very bright, but somewhere in the recesses of his mind he recalled his meeting with Ms. Amemiya. An unassuming person who was nonetheless a Rocket with seniority over him. Ms. Amemiya’s imperfections, whether they were her fault or not, made her more human and approachable. Bill’s endlessly clean-cut look put a pang of nervousness in him. The hairs on the side of his head were only a 1/16 inch long, and they still stood on end.

Giona downed a 1/5 of his drink, then resumed speaking.

Notes:

A hike to Jagged Pass. He was 5’7. A gym rat. Annoying. Nonetheless, he’s better off braving this terrain than jogging. Exposing himself to people who’d recognize his face, despite his hair changing drastically. He was an undercut having schoolboy lookin-ass. Short sleeve button-up with slacks.

Earrings dangling as he scaled a hill. A kohl-black pokeball let out an electric-blue hound. Skittish at first, but rising to its feet normally. It’d been a while since he let it out for a walk. It made that sound between a bark and a whisper that big dogs do. That ‘boof’.

Uncomfortable. He scaled a cliff and dug out a cigarette. Thinner than ever, trying to taper off. It looked like a match in a book of matches. He whipped out a lighter and lit it, holding it between fingers on a bandaged hand when it wasn’t in a lip. "Hello! Out getting some fresh air, are we?" He said, spotting someone a few feet down. A month ago, a Haunter nearly took his head off. Now, he seemed to be daring such creatures to try again. "I need to take you for a walk." He said, looking back to Manectric. His weird vocalizations would lead any reasonable park ranger to arrest him, even if he wasn’t already wanted for arson.

The indomitable Jagged Pass. The foothills of the volcano that powered the Lavaridge electric grid. The wanted ad was for a search party for a missing child. A child lost at the foot of a cauldron of liquid rock.

Giona was pulled in every direction. Like that medieval execution where a horse runs off with each limb. Pushed towards greatness and greater Rocket contributions by Theo. Pulled away by his own guilt at contributing to the forest fire. To rousing spirits and disturbing graves in Mount Pyre. He met himself with one thought overriding the others. Giona had to use his power for something bigger than self-preservation.

He tripped over his own feet, landing on a pokeball. A purple shadow peeled out, as he writhed like someone falling on their keys. He whistled, and it bit his hand to pull him to his feet. Giona glanced aside at Villetta, and flinched. She must be here for that too.

Notes:

Taking full advantage of the open bar. The bar at the end of the foyer. He had what was clearly a half-full break-room cup of coffee in one hand and a chocolate liqueur in the other. He poured the liqueur into the coffee until it was topped off, before sliding the bottle across the counter to someone who raised their hand. He dipped a finger in to stir his drink, holding the drink in his bandaged left hand.

The 'submarine' was more like an army barracks with a turbine and a steering wheel. A cavernous and well-ventilated place teeming with worker bees. A place low enough below the surface of the water for the sun's glare to not make every room hot and humid.

The foyer was the hub that connected it all. Connected offices to gyms. Dorms to medbay. And... what's this? Someone who looked so unlike everyone else. Clean cut, clothes so ironed that they looked stiff. He didn't appear to be lost, but he appeared out of place. Giona sprung to his feet, sipping his drink and making a beeline to him.

Notes: