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'Ah, good old VR.' There really was nothing quite like augmented reality when it came to the accuracy of training exercises. Being able to have a hard-light hologram (or whatever method they used in the particular instance) have the potential to actually fight back and do damage did wonders for the stimulation of the fight or flight response. Though he had to admit, this one was particularly impressive, and not just in terms of scale - They had even, somehow, managed to manufacture synthetic smells for their little test. He'd have to get a little chamber like this set up for himself, if he could swing it.[break] [break]

The very first thing the Fixer did was reach out and tap one of the passing civilians by on the shoulder, letting out a satisfied grunt as he fingertips passed through the hologram's form. A quick, experimental nudge of his armoured toe against the nearest stall was met with resistance, to which he expressed another, more contemplative rumble of sound, before returning to yoshiro shioda . "Seems like the people are just tech-ghosts, but the furniture seems solid enough. Best to still treat them like they'll offer resistance, I'd throw in a few curveballs among the civilians if I were the one running the show." [break] [break]

The mention of the Jangmo-o and the devilish Zoru is greeted with a thoughtful, sideways cant of the mercenary's helmet as he considers that for a moment. The show piece Hoshiko would not have been his first pick for a combat situation, but Yoshiro did not have a full stable of pokemon trained for war like he did, and besides - Viciousness could go a long, long way. "Sounds good." [break] [break]

Tapping the underside of his right forearm to indicate the trio of miniaturised, sleek black and red pokeballs that nestled there in the automatic loader built into his gauntlet, he said, "Calamitous Sun, Malevolent Ruin, and Dissolution for support and comms. We can fly and teleport as needed, so moving around won't be much of an issue." The sheer devastation that the first two could cause went without saying. [break] [break]

Glancing up at the lighthouse in question, the Fixer shook his head, waving his left hand at it dismissively. "Lighthouse is a no-go for now, but if this is a one-for-one replication of the Ultra Beast attack back in '20, it'll be important later. Too risky for now, and I'll probably have Ruin bring it down unless the scenario diverges. People are already heading to the lighthouse and stage, so let's take the beach, see what we can find, then if it's a bust, we'll do aerial recon." [break][break]

Retrieving a small item from a compartment at his waist, he handed Yoshiro a translucent earbud, with a wire and a near-invisible patch that she would know functions as a microphone, when placed against the throat. This done, he began walking purposefully towards the beach, not bothering to move around the civilian holograms that were in his way, though keeping his stride such that it would be no great effort for Yoshiro to keep pace. "Comm up. I'll have Dissolution keep our boys in touch at all times, but we can just use these. You familiar with what went down 'here' in real-space?"

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[attr="class","silpc-LEAGUE"]

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Swarms, hordes, mass gatherings or whatever you happened to call them, were such an interesting phenomenon, the Fixer reflected as he observed the thronging colony of rabbit pokemon. You expected it from the likes of insect pokemon, and seeing a lone Zubat felt about as natural having your hand float off into the sky, but it always felt a little odd to see it from other species. Like Steelix. Or Honedges. Or, in this instance, Lopunnies.[break] [break]

He had been taking a relaxing stroll in his civilian guise, due to the fine weather and being a firm believer in days of rest being a vital part of maintaining one's health, when he, like the others in the area, had come upon the concerningly large gathering of Lopunny and Buneary. So much for a casual day of rest, but this was most definitely a problem, and while he might not have been wearing his work gear, he didn't need it to try and fix this particular issue. [break] [break]

He needed pokeballs, and he had plenty of those, one of which he rolled back and forth within the loose grip of his curled fingers, offering the nearest member of the swarm a lopsided smile. "C'mon now, darlin', I don't much want to do this the hard way. Let's be all nice and civil-like and we can both be on our way. Deal?" [break] [break]

ttKS0aiZ

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It had required no intervention on Rocket’s behalf to secure the Fixer’s position as head of security for the cruise, to the mild surprise of the logistician assigned to this particular mission. While he was not, presently, a particularly known quantity among the security circles in Hoenn, his reputation abroad was flawless; And it just so happened that he had worked for the owner of the S.S. Fortuna before, taking care of some messy business in order to keep the woman’s hands clean. She had been delighted to receive his request, and had cackled like a fairy tale crone when he had run his plan of action by her - She held no love or loyalty for her customers, and so had given him carte blanche on how to proceed. The ship, she had hinted with a cruel curl of glossy lips, was thoroughly insured. [break] [break]

The personnel manager for the cruise ship had been less thrilled at having the Fixer dismiss the bodyguards he had already secured, but that hadn’t particularly bothered him. Puffed up trophy attack dogs, one and all, hired more for the gratification of the guests than to provide any real sense of security. The Fixer had brought in a smaller cadre of professionals that he had worked with before, that he trusted to toe the line and obey his orders when he gave them, no questions asked - So long as the money was good, a true mercenary was as reliable as clockwork. A grimmer sort, by and large, but the guests oohed and aahed at their stoic, militaristic presentation nonetheless. [break] [break]

The ship was, in his eyes, a floating tomb. The Fortuna was a mausoleum wrought from vanity, gilt with the desperate need to be seen, to have one’s wealth and importance recognised in order to grant some semblance of value to a hollow soul. The ostentatious dead and their black cryptkeepers, his wardens of fell stone and dread purpose that kept watch over the cavorting cadavers, clad in shimmering finery and as dazzling as the cored out husks of dead stars. Walking corpses, one and all, weighed down by their ornamented sin, the despair of those they tread upon in their glorious ascent condensed into glittering gems, as cold and shiningly empty as the eyes of those that wore them. [break] [break]

He could sink them all. Punch a hole in the hull and watch the frigid depths close their stygian fingers about their vacant souls and hold fast, watch them struggle with a gaze and heart as devoid of compassion as their own. [break] [break]

But he wouldn’t. [break] [break]

He had a job to do. [break] [break]

He maintained a continuous, randomized patrol of the main hall, his boots thudding upon the cold glare of the polished marble like the drums keeping rhythm to a funeral march. The tactical system built into his helmet kept a continuous feed of information running on his visor’s HUD - Names, estimated wealth, threat assessments, attack vectors, and more - while Dissolution, his Abra, kept him apprised of whatever he deemed necessary intel, via telepathic imaging and feeling. If the Fixer had not long ago relegated the parsing of such a constant flood of knowledge to the mental equivalent of muscle memory, no doubt he would have been swiftly overwhelmed. As it was, however, he was bored. He had started plotting out stratagems for how he would kill everyone present in order to pass the time around a half hour after the guests had trickled in like gaudy birds of paradise. According to his database, he was up to a solid 247. ’Not bad.’.[break] [break]

You’d think that being armed to the teeth with very large guns and wearing helmets that were as welcoming as your average gallows would serve to make the prospect of approaching the security detail as inviting as a long walk off the side of a cliff, yet he had witnessed individual members of his team fending off the advances of fascinated glitterati more times than he cared to count already. Poor Svara in particular was suffering an endless stream of tittering admirers - There was something novel about a woman in heavy assault gear, apparently, though the Fixer had met a considerable number of formidable mercs that just so happened to be female. Baffling, but the rich weren’t exactly famed for their intellect or reason. [break] [break]

Most of them, anyway. His partner for this little voyage was something of an exception to the rule of vapidity. That, or she was just another case of a rich adrenaline junkie flirting with death as a way to get her kicks, but he didn’t think so. He’d read her files, of course, and had done his own homework besides. ’No, little Miss Fiorelli is a different animal altogether. Even the most charming flower can grow twisted if it’s kept in the dark long enough, after all.’ [break] [break]

He had watched her, of course, when he was made aware of her presence on this assignment. A little professional stalking paid dividends, in his experience, and you could really learn some fascinating things about a person when they didn’t think they were being watched. That, and he’d studied all the reports of her performance thus far, and he judged her to be acceptable. Either stupid or reckless enough to not operate under an assumed identity, which was a black mark no matter the reasoning, but he didn’t think she was a stupid woman, from his studies. ’No sir, but real fucking unlikely to have a long and illustrious criminal career if she keeps this up. Shame.’ [break] [break]

He had passed by her numerous times on his endless roaming of the marble savannah, a faceless predator moving through the herds of golden prey, which swirled and eddied in giggling or smirking whorls in his wake. She fit in as neatly as a knife between the ribs, just another shiny piece in the grand mosaic of the rich and the beautiful - Which meant she was doing her job well, gliding among the crowds and playing the role of socialite as naturally as a viper slithering through grass. So far, so good. If she kept it up, he might not have to kill her. The thought pleased him enough that Dissolution sent him an inquiring pulse of thought from his vantage point, ensconced within the dazzling chandelier high above, which he mentally waved off. He’d see how she handled their meeting tonight. [break] [break]

-THAT NIGHT-

[break] [break]

He could have simply knocked at her door without raising anything other than a few gossip’s eyebrows - Hardly uncommon for the muscle to be invited back to a suite for a dalliance, after all, but he didn’t want to associate them publicly if he could help it. [break] [break]

So he moved a panel aside in her ceiling, and dropped soundlessly to the floor behind her, a terrible specter rising up to loom over the woman like a nightmare coalesced into solid reality. The impression was strengthened by the demonic nature of his heavily modulated voice, though the friendly manner in which he lifted his hand, and the amiable tone with which he spoke offset it considerably. ”Evening, Belladonna. Enjoying your cruise so far?”
[break] [break]

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He suppressed the habitual urge to re-check his gear while idle; He knew everything was in good order, because it always was, and it would give the wrong impression if he kept fidgeting and acting as if he wasn't confident in his own preparations. Still, the nagging little urge to check just in case wouldn't quite go away, like an itch in a place he couldn't scratch in decent company. Damnably annoying.[break] [break]

"That all? You've been slacking, if that's the case - Getting soft in your old age, Shioda Oyabun?" If the sheer absurdity of stating that taking on a dozen opponents was a poor enough show to warrant disappointment wasn't indication enough, the levity in the Fixer's heavily modulated voice made the jest clear as he spoke to yoshiro shioda . A low, reverberating sound emanated from his helmet, the thoughtful growl of some cybernetic beast as he leaned his head to one side. "People can be so fussy sometimes. Maybe if you had gone for an origami dragon instead - Who doesn't love a dragon? If I had to be origami'd into something, I'd be pretty alright with a dragon, personally." [break] [break]

Though there is little at all to discern an expression from the sleek, shining armour that encases the Fixer's face, the subtle shift of his posture and the tilt of his head are sufficient to indicate a contemplative sort of interest as he regards the bruiser before him. "I can free up some of my schedule for an old client, sure. You know how to reach me. Assuming we survive this little shindig, anyway." [break] [break]

The beep interrupted him before he can continue, and so he turned to listen to the announcement with a keen air. He studied the girl that would apparently be assessing them, or at least in charge of giving them the in-flight safety instruction rundown. The Fixer had a healthy respect for girls, on account of having been stabbed by one once. Left a mean scar, too. [break] [break]

As the Porygon-2 neared him, a gauntleted hand reached out to accept the Focus Band without a beat of hesitation. Anyone not taking each and every advantage they could in a dangerous situation was a fool, and asking for the consequences. The Fixer rather liked being hale and whole, and if they were kind enough to supply something useful, why, it'd be downright rude to refuse it. Ignoring the glitching snatches of scenes that flicker in and out of existence around him, he returned his attention to yoshiro shioda ,tipping his chin back and asking, tone casual, "Want to give this a whirl, duo style?" He knew that she was more than capable in a fight, and, better yet, she was reliable, which meant he could turn his back on her with only the normal degree of back-itching premonitions of a knife being aimed square between his shoulders. [break] [break]

Shifting his focus to chryssa glasgow ,he held up a hand in an apologetic gesture. "Sorry, Miss, but I'd prefer to work with just Shioda Oyabun here, if that's all the same to you - Familiar face, and all. I don't much like diving in the deep end with strangers, hope you don't mind. Maybe another time, though."

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FIXER HERE TO FIX THINGS HI HELLO GOODBYE [break] [break]