”Excuse me?”

He takes Temp’s hand though the comment is directed at both men. He has a mix of charts and snapple facts ready to fire at the two but he suppresses the barrage of words in favor of keeping a cool head. After all that Pangoro still stood meters away completely cognizant of the fact he’d given the researcher an all expense paid trip to see his ancestors and looked more than willing to do it again, possibly making said stay more permanent next go ‘round.

“I was under the impression this was hand to hand training sir.” He doesn’t respond to Temp if only because it was true judging by the paw mark across half his face.

Gavin Merlino was many things more than a man if Miles was to believe all he'd heard from the collective body surrounding him. To Rowan Wrynn and Serena Malcolm he was a mentor someone to be, or someone to beat. To Chu-e Choi an advisor and confidant simultaneously. There were hushed rumors that he was a student of THEO BECKETT , and to Hoenn he was a lukewarm protector. To Rocket as a whole, he was a beast not in title but in action. There wasn't a soul within those submerged steel walls that hadn't heard tales of the man who hosted the dark protector of Rocket.

Still for all these opinions, for all these stories Miles knows nothing of who this man was for the many titles bestowed upon him. Other than the fact he throws what could be the cruelest left hook he's ever seen. It's because he knew so little the researcher was compelled to ask. The intial message was short, "Care to do dinner?" He doesn't expect a response but to his surprise, there's a response and in minutes they'd planned dinner. Thus he's here in what was a favorite as far as 'hole-in-the-walls' went.

Dust coats empty tables, the wooden floors creak, and the stools are as uneven as they come, but Miles still finds it homier than any 5-star establishment he's been to. What impression this left of the researcher is yet to be seen.

"I heard the young Ms. Halla was moved from the ICU. Is she rehabilitating well?" His first question is as honest as it is an ice breaker. The fact Rrocket recruits agents so young is tragic, but what's more tragic is that so many young felt Rocket was their only option.

Then I suppose it's a good thing it wasn't up to you.

He's a hair away from saying it, Beckett in the way he moves reminds him of middle management, if not something more severe. Still, he's forced to serve lest he block the few blessings he'd received from the organization.

The Salazzle doesn't stand a chance a hydro pump spirals through the air slamming into the fire types chest at Miles' command blasting the pokemon into a wall. A pokeball taps the lizard's head as its consciousness fades before enveloping it in that familiar red glow. Miles only now offers his thanks in the form of a nod to the water type, for handling the order with a swiftness, a swiftness that would serve as Miles' response to his instructor's comment.

He retrieves the ball holding it in his palm for a moment somewhat remorseful for subjecting the pokemon to its fate, one that'd be controlled by Beckett from here on. He doesn't hand the pokeball to Theo, no he throws it with more force than he cares to admit, and with slight hope the orb connects with Beckett's forehead.

"Are we set to continue... Sir." What he'd be forced to take on next.

Miles is an onlooker, Promoted only days prior, but THEO BECKETT has proven to him more than a time now that his body isn't and must become a temple or at the very least something adjacent. It's the pop of a punch that draws his attention from his weights to the other side of the room. Both sides are easily recognizable, a personal troublemaker who'd seen him at his worst, the other ranges between enigma and beast depending on the day of the week. Today Merlino's chosen beast for better or worse, and for it's worth the researcher is interested.

Months ago Miles would have gracefully departed chalking this predicament up to a mix of misplaced machismo and dim-wittedness, and to be completely truthful he still thinks it is. Even so, he refuses to leave wondering exactly how much Rarie can take and how much Merlino can give.

As the once foggy situation clears so does the mood and the woman's exuberance by extension. She's more than happy to work with the situation though guilt still waylays the researcher. He'd resolved to be a place of rest for her, Someone she could see without feeling a need to work, and despite the circumstances of the job he'd received it was still just that, a job. And so he was at least resolved to make sure the kids would have minimal impact on her enjoyment of the day.

"Well then." His smile becomes lighter as the trapinch in hand loosens its jaw allowing Miles to pull out his finger bearing the pain with a smile as not to disrupt the mood. "I believe we have an appointment for a private spring waiting for us?" He'd shift his weight cradling the held trapinch with one arm freeing up the second to link arms or hold hands with his date. The third trapinch jealous the other two were being held would climb up Miles' back before finding a place to perch on the man's shoulder. For a man disinterested in children he certainly had the look of a dad in the moment.

He decides against breaching any tough topics figuring it better to get into the heart of anything possibly tense while actually in the spring and so he keeps the conversation light for the moment, "Outside of Lavaridge as it's obviously the superior place to relax. Are there any cities or areas you've taken to?" He fields for future date ideas as they walk curious to hear an assortment of Stormy's takes on Hoenn at large. "And If I hadn't said it yet, you look stunning as per usual." Less an after statement and more he hadn't known he exactly how to bring it up prior with the trapinch situation having served as his primary focus. Thankfully he's less stealing glances and more appreciating the woman's beauty openly. Something he plans to make habit of as long as he can.

He's more than curious than wary, but Oscar likes that in a scientist it seems. An auto-scan runs in the visor as it does once a minute or so tracking sources of life as well as serving as a live feed for any other information he'd cared enough to search for, though at the moment said feed was bare Miles' focus remaining on the admin who was offering a job or at least a chance at one. This was the opportunity Miles was waiting for the one he needed. It shifts his perspective entirely on the mission as the job was ultimately a microcosm of the interview and so his working and dealing with it would change.

"Then allow me to clear any misconceptions." It's not as much sarcastic as it is firm though there's certainly a matter of factness only lightly buried in his tone. The auto scan pops again and two signatures that were far off had become noticeably closer. Indeed it seemed like whatever hosts the gentlemen had were finished leading them. When Oscar asks Miles' response is ready.

"One from the ceiling and one from the westernmost wall. They'll be dropping..." It takes a moment for the analyst to determine the pace. "At this rate in about 10 seconds." On that note he summons a pokeball revealing one of his famed ancient pokemon its massive shield-like form revealing what exactly the bastiodon was even in the darkness. He doesn't wish to overstep his boundary, but the need to be useful supersedes that. "I'll deal with the wall sir, the ceiling is yours." The last words before a Gengar dropped from the ceiling attempting to shadow punch the two trainers while a Dusclops appeared from the wall attempting a similar technique with lightning only for the bastiodon to run interference on the latter.

"Iron Head." The ghost in Miles' trap hadn't prepared to be countered and so the iron head slams into the dusclops its once incorporeal form slams against the wall it came from. "Don't let it flee." And she doesn't a second iron head nailing itself into the dusclops abdomen knocking it out. He doesn't bother asking if the other rocket is okay, most likely out of concern for offending him. Instead, he chooses to ask about the job. Recalling the shield pokemon all the while.

"Not too long ago I came across an exposé where you were quoted, as saying "Energy was receiving a facelift". Am I allowed to ask what exactly that pertained to?" Once again the auto-scan tracks a second set of targets this time higher up in the building, thankfully they've begun to near a stairwell. "More ghost reside on the second floor, If I may they seem warier than their predecessors."

The problem at hand falls like a ton of rocks literally collapsing against the mix of wood and cement shaking the entirety of the guild. The fall is so great many of the bugs scattering the room would flee momentarily the rhyperior's display having served to shake natures, intruders. Before Miles can catch who exactly summoned the creature it's enveloped in red and gone without a trace. Serena Malcolm handles the situation well on her side the woman's tactics continuing to keep the various researchers stunned and for the most part silent while the rockets handle their business. Dependability was hard to come by and he'd make sure to give his thanks later.

In the silence that followed the rhyperior another would appear. To have made it this far under the circumstances spoke much of the stranger's power. The Carracosta would take a step forward ready to deal with the newcomer only for Miles to extend his arm in a means that meant to stay her hand for the moment. The Analyst responds genuinely to his question brushing a hand past his ear and through his tied bun, a means of discretely activating the comms for all Rockets in the building.

There was no point in lying. If the rocket was to say 'they had' and didn't leave immediately the bluff would fall apart.

"Not quite, but in about four minutes we'll have accomplished our objective." He begins eyes focused on the then-unknown Matias.

"I'd like to propose a parley. You seem wise enough to understand that the structural integrity of this floor is compromised. If we were to fight you and I may survive, but you'd be sacrificing the hostages here and everyone below." He's spoken truths to the man thus far, and his comrades just below.

"That's without mentioning the issue of the bug pokemon that threaten everyone's safety." Another aspect of the situation and one Miles couldn't actively control. If the bugs were left unchecked and decided to strike this deeply in the tower regardless of whatever deal that managed to be brokered the guild would fall.

"So how about we strike a deal. The terms are plain. You and I defend against the bugs while we finish our business. In exchange, My associate will begin escorting the hostages to the stairwell."

"What say you, stranger? The parley depended entirely on the stranger's values. What drove Matias and how much would he be willing to give. In truth, he doesn't have a contingency. He could get the data regardless but protecting the lives of everyone not including those below, was too hard a sell especially with active opposition.

tl;dr
- Miles doesn't catch violet escaping
- Miles confronts MATIAS SILPH
- Miles activates the comms channel discretely announcing to all rockets and Matias that:
A: The third floor could collapse if fighting continues
B: There about 4 minutes away from securing the data
C: A plan to possibly coordinate with Matias to free the hostages and escape

Theo has never struck Miles as a man of the arts, no he was just a man who struck Miles, sometimes with a bear paw or perhaps with his own hand if the situation called for it.

He follows suit retrieving his own capture pocketing the device, but deciding to keep the Empoleon out as the path was filled with hostile pokemon, and who better to engage than the water type. He also perhaps subconsciously wished to have his own protection around his enigmatic superior.

Any more compliments and I’ll begin to think you’re fond of me. he feels particularly brave if only because the organization sees value in him and value meant protection to some extent at least.

Eyes flit to new targets before moving toward Empoleon who was set to engage. He focuses on the smaller one once again the salandit crumpling upon impact with an Aqua Jet. He wishes to watch his instructor to become more aquatinted in the art of combat by watching someone superior fight. As for all his knowledge combat still feels foreign to an extent.

The healing rays circling the man's ribcage invite an invigorating feeling back into him, invigorating enough to pull his consciousness from its sleeping depths almost too quickly. Eyes fly open the final memory before being put to sleep at the forefront of his mind like a chrome tab that'd been forcefully shut down. In turn, the researcher shoots up doing his recently healed ribs no favors before the pain forces him back down for a moment.

A breath later and he's able to piece together the situation, and quickly he's more annoyed than fearful. Annoyed because he hadn't woken up this morning prepared to take a fist bigger than his head to his chest, annoyed because the man who'd most likely taken a similar fist still seemed particularly spry as he looked over him. And annoyed because the man in charge of the situation was watching the fresh grunt as if he'd been the one who fucked up in all this.

He breathes slowly fighting through the bits of pain that came with both the inhale and the exhale before finally slowly forcing himself off the ground.

"How long was I out?" There's no apology.

Sorry chief, no activity on this side of his hippocampus, maybe next turn we’ll see some neural activity outside of entirely subconscious request for milk, because truly that boy needed some.

What’s worse is that in his stupor the analyst can’t even enjoy his coworker catching the extremely wild obviously disrespectful open hand of the same beast that did Miles in. Miles being the respectful young man he is assuming he was awake would have enjoyed the moment with a quiet dignity. A nod to himself and a quick comment wholly internal about one’s bitch-ass actions resulting in bitch-ass consequences but that was neither here nor there.

Anyways MilesXP has been upgraded to Miles Vista and was about 60% done with his hard reboot, I’ll see ya’ll next post.

For all the words he has stored in his memory bank he for the life of him could not think when he spoke, honestly a fatal case of 'foot in the mouth' if he could recognize it. Even now he hasn't thought too deeply about the further implications of the question despite them being only a foot ahead of him, tunnel vision on his three little followers must have been to blame.

"The owner approached me, an old family friend. He's short on staff and asked me to watch these three little ones while we enjoyed the facilities. Often trapinch lay eggs on the outskirts of the sand baths and leave them here, and so the owners upon discovering them usually give them to trainers to take on their journies. The trainers for this batch of babies are coming in a few hours, and I may have foolishly promised to watch them in the interim."

He offers his hands in apology "I know it's not quite what you expected and I apologize, but I didn't have the heart to let him down."
In all honesty, it's not a situation wholly unfamiliar. The Sharps were known to be bleeding hearts and it seems the apple hadn't fallen this far from the tree.

"That said, of course." He'd reach down to cradle one of the ground types. "It's my responsibility I'll be keeping an eye on them I just want you to enjoy the spa day, after all it seems rare that you're able to get rest judging by our conversation a few nights ago." It was the real reason why he'd chosen this place as the spot of their second date. He wanted the woman to feel at ease and it went without saying that her work took a lot out of her. A spa day was the least he could offer, and perhaps the little ones with him would add more than they took away. A thought that occurred just as the trapinch cradling decided to begin nibbling on his fingers, to which his response is a strained smile. A hard final attempt to sell this admittedly odd date.

What exactly does 'less powerful' mean in comparison to a dump truck.

If one were to facilitate the math Miles being 40x as fragile as a dump truck (DT) ie 1DT = 1*Miles*40 and 1 Pangoro Punch (PP) = 1 dump truck. the new equation becomes 1 PP = 1Miles * 40 simplified to 1PP=40Miles now back to the word, 'less', in this example we'll assume less becomes 1PP/2 assuming that 1 Less powerful PP is equivalent to half the power of a normal PP. 1PP/2* Miles knowing 1PP is equivalent to 40 Miles we can assume the equation works out to 40Miles/2= 20Miles thus one Less Powerful PP= 20 Miles.

What good is this for the actual Miles in question outside of theory? It does nothing at all, not because the math is flawed but because he is asleep.

He is knocked the fuck out on the cool submarine floor in what could be record time. His body is slumped and he would not be waking up, at least he wouldn't be in this post.

Try your luck next time.