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Oh, crap.
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This wasn't necessarily Beau's first run-in with poachers, if he had to think about it, but he'd expected this encounter to go as all of his previous ones had; a little bit of fight, a little bit of resistance, but ultimately with Beau (and Gunner, this time) providing a wrecking ball to scatter through whatever shoddy camp had been constructed in order to rescue the pokemon in the poacher's purview.
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He hadn't yet come across a group with this level of firepower - and where the heck had one of them gotten hold of a Metagrossite? The black market really had everything.
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He didn't have time to assess, though, because the Mega Evolved Psychic-type was already unleashing a devastating attack at the center of the camp that threatened to engulf all of their pokemon. "Watch out, take cover!" He called out, but he was too far away - his bears were too far away - it was going to get them -
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Torben stepped coolly in front of Orson, baring his fangs in a challenge. The Psychic attack split and dispersed around the Pangoro as though it were simply colorful lights, the larger pokemon using his body as a shield to protect the Kubfu thanks to his Dark typing. Beau heaved a sigh of relief, and Torben glanced over his shoulder to make sure his smaller companion was safe.
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Distracted, the Pangoro was not ready for the BODY PRESS that the Mega Metagross slammed into him with, its TOUGH CLAWS tearing into his vulnerable midsection.
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With a low, discordant thrum, the Metagross bore Torben bodily across the enclosure, the bear suspended on its claws, and when it ripped all four arms free in a spray of crimson blood, the Pangoro choked and slumped, motionless.
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Beau gaped at the sight, his features instantly going sheet-white. No. No, no, no. He tore off his pack and frantically rummaged through it - who did he have, what did he have, he had to fix this. A pokemon center wasn't going to do Torben any good if it wasn't right here, and last Beau checked they were miles from civilization.
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Presuming it's not too late already.
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Shutting up the unhelpful portion of his thoughts with a snarl, he landed on a Dive Ball and thought frantically. Alomomola? Maybe, if he could get close enough, but not with that huge thing in the middle of the fray.
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He chanced a look at the Mega Metagross, and saw it turn to surge toward Gunner's pokemon instead. Thank Arceus, it wasn't going to get Orson, because the little Kubfu was-
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Glowing.
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Glowing?
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Orson had moved to stand in front of Torben's fallen form as the larger pokemon had done for him only moments before, but the rage on the little pokemon's face caused Beau to flinch even from his position. The Kubfu's entire frame was glowing with a white light, tinged with flecks of red and black, and Beau blinked. "No, brah, get out of there! You can't fight that thing by yourself!"
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As the glow intensified, it seemed that the Kubfu wasn't in any position to heed Beau's commands.

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While Beau was in no position to appreciate the circumstances leading to the fight, he had to admit that, as opportunities to blow off steam went, there weren't much better than this. He approached the remaining Grunt with maiming intent, only to flinch backward as the claw-sharpened Absol lunged directly for him instead of his pokemon.
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A SACRED SWORD whipped through the air with a speed that made his ear pop, sending the Absol skidding into the surf mid-attack, and Callum offered a satisfied - if indignant - grunt. Beau, for his part, glared at his opponent, who fumbled at his belt for another pokeball. "Not cool, brah. Let me show you how this is s'posed to work."
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Before the other man could release another pokemon, Beau closed the distance, delivering a right hook that cut off the other's babbling protestations, knocking him out cold in one shot.
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More rafts were coming, though, and Beau chanced a glance down the beach to see how Eddie was faring. Much the same as Beau, thankfully - they weren't doing too badly yet - but no, one of the goons was going for Eddie's back while it was turned, no no no-
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"Callum! Get us over there NOW!"
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The Gallade placed a blunt hand at Beau's elbow, and with a blink of energy they TELEPORTED to the space behind Eddie. Beau lunged, thought absent, and wrapped a hand around the Rocket's throat, squeezing. The man sputtered and choked, abandoning his grip on Eddie to scrabble and claw at his own neck, trying to dislodge Beau's grip.
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Shoving the other man backward, Beau followed up with a ramming shoulder that sent the man sprawling, and as Callum moved forward to menace the fallen man, Beau turned to Eddie, features taut with concern.
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"You okay, brah? These assholes ain't fightin' fair. We're gonna need help, you seen Navy?"

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Beau's mounting anxiety at the sight of the invading Rockets was derailed at the mention of his own name. Hearing it called, he whipped his head around to search for who would be flagging him down, because surely no one else was as bullheaded as he was to stand on the beach against an armada of Rockets just for the principle of the thing, and then - oh.
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He brightened at the sight of the other man down the beach, lifting a hand with a grin that he hoped was reflected in the rest of his expression, because it was almost an automatic reaction at this point. "Eddie!" For it was Eddie! And...a robot!
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Huh, go figure.
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Beau moved a few steps in the direction of his friend, but looking at the advancing rafts made him think twice about joining up with the other man entirely; they needed coverage, or these assholes would slip directly around them and get up to whatever nefarious business they had with the island town with precious little resistance.
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Granted, maybe he and Eddie were precious little resistance, but there was a spaceship somewhere out there that might have said differently.
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"The buck stops here, brah!" he called out to Eddie, flashing a thumbs-up as the first few rafts neared the shoreline. "We got this?"
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Then a pair of Rockets were on the beach, with another set nearing Eddie's position. The dark-clad figures charged Beau, flashes of red light releasing their Houndoom and Absol. Beau roared as he charged forward, meeting the first trainer with a straight arm that clotheslined the smaller man, sending him falling back-first against the damp sand.
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Callum ducked forward as well, slicing through the air with an AQUA CUTTER that hissed into the enemy Houndoom before neatly twisting away from the Absol, who sharpened its claws with a SWORDS DANCE.
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Beau flashed an unpleasant smile at the other Rocket. If he didn't look past the end of the beach at the bulk of the forces that had yet to land, he'd figure they weren't doing all that badly.

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The signal came, and the would-be heroes went.
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Torben and Orson struck an odd pair as they barreled down the slope, an enormous bear and a diminutive one that might, if one squinted, have seemed parent and child. Certainly, they fought as though they'd worked together for years; the poacher who'd stepped away turned with a yelp at the sudden fracas surrounding the Cufant, launching a pokeball distractedly as he fumbled with his zipper.
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The Kubfu didn't break stride, meeting the emerging Geodude with an IRON HEAD that knocked the Rock-type to the ground with a resounding crack, while the Pangoro thumped past uncaring to land a DARKEST LARIAT on the trainer himself that left him slammed against the ground, out cold.
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The pair of poachers at the truck were already responding as well, calling out Corvisquire and Mightyena as they sent their pokemon toward the position of Gunner's team and the newly-liberated Cufant. "Get 'em!" Beau hissed, and his bears responded in kind, turning to charge toward the commotion.
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They wouldn't make it before the advancing poachers' pokemon, but they were more than capable of cleaning up.

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Ah crap, one of those.
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He didn't expect revelation from the other man, and wasn't overly surprised to see that the reaction in question was to instead point his weapon at Beau. The rest? He couldn't help but bark out a laugh. "Math nerds," he quipped humorlessly, "Can't ever accept when they're wrong."
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He couldn't say that he'd ever gone up against somebody swinging a hammer before, but he reasoned that the closer he was to his assailant, the less likely the heavy mallet of the implement would be able to actually hit him. Course, that raised other potential problems, but when was he ever one for forethought? He'd deal with 'em when he got to 'em.
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The hammer guy moved, and so did he, feet pounding as he charged forward to meet his opponent - the hammer was a concern, but the other man was angling it low, and while most feats of dexterity were beyond a man of Beau's size, he had it in him to jump at the last possible moment and throw his weight toward Grigori. The hammer would hurt any way it hit him, but if he pulled off a flying tackle? Gave him a few more seconds, anyway.
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Torben, meanwhile, was in his own stalemate; he couldn't get to the trainer menacing Beau because of the Grimmsnarl striking him with a series of blows that sent him skidding back in the sand, his back thudding painfully against the earth. With a low growl, the Pangoro lurched upward, coming ponderously to his feet and spitting out the ever-present stalk from between his teeth before retaliating with a BULLET PUNCH - less quick than it might have been from his injury, but fast enough.

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Were Beau not already well in the grip of adrenaline, he might have been taken aback at the appearance of the figure who approached him. The armor and hammer were surprises; the Grimmsnarl was not.
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He straightened, a frown pulling down the corners of his mouth in an unfamiliar expression. His eyes raked over the figure, both no different and impossibly different from the countless other troops storming Dewford. "Can't do that, brah," he returned, offering a shrug that should have been apologetic.
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Torben tensed at his side as the Grimmsnarl Bulked Up, but Beau lifted a hand to forestall his ursine companion. "Would you?" he inquired, addressing the other man. "If this was your town, your house, your friends - would you?"
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He took in the man's stoic, determined stance, and barked a rueful chuckle. "Did you already have to?"
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He stood firm, his demeanor placid but his eyes furious, his pulse pounding with indignation. He could feel it in his head, in his throat, in his hands, itching to curl into fists and see how exactly they'd fare against metal.
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Torben uttered a low growl, muscles bulging outward as he mirrored his counterpart's move, and Beau, ever succinct, offered: "No."

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Beau had been a resident of Dewford most of his life, and he'd seen a number of things that - at the time - he'd assumed to be once-in-a-lifetime events for the sleepy little island town. A huge pod of migrating Wailmer off the coast, for instance, or the year a comet had streaked through the sky, something a child like Beau didn't think he'd ever witness again.
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Now, he could add a pirate ship shooting electrical cannons indiscriminately at his home to the list.
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Chunks had been taken out of the beach, out of buildings, and in some cases even fused the sand into sparkling patches of glass that glittered brilliantly in the morning sun. Most of the town's residents had already made for the bunkers when the emergency warning went out, and good for them, because the small island was crawling with black-clothed figures.
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He should be joining the civilians - that was his directive, at least. Still, though...if he were in the bunker and it was breached anyway, wouldn't they just be shooting fish in a barrel? He had been a gym leader, for Arceus' sake. He knew Eduardo Hisakawa was dealing with whoever was on that ship, and was positive Navy and Hyakkaryōran Tsubaki were somewhere in the melee.
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Three against dozens wasn't a fair fight, and while four wouldn't even the odds, he had to think it would tip the scales in their favor just a bit more.
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"Screw it."
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He slammed the heavy metal door on the bunker with a thunderous CLANG, whirling and releasing Torben with a flash of crimson light. As they rounded the front of the row of buildings protecting the entrance to the shelter, the Pangoro pounded forward with a roar, dispatching a Seviper with a BULLET PUNCH.
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"Get the FUCK off my island!" Beau roared at the flabbergasted Grunt, who fumbled for another pokeball at his belt. Before he could release a second threat, Beau was on him, laying him out on the sand with a haymaker that sent him sprawling.
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"Who's next?!"

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There was tall grass, and there was tall grass. Beau had gotten the call to meet his partner at the Weather Institute, because despite the utter chaos of the Prismatic Penitentiary, there were still reported sightings of toxic-chained pokemon appearing around the region. Even though that little thing - what was it, Pecharunt? - that seemed to have originated all of the poisonous implements was nowhere near Hoenn at this point, the effects of its influence were harder to shake, apparently.
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Orson practiced kata stances next to him; in the intervening months, the little Kubfu had gone from being awkward and tentative to blossoming under Torben (and Beau's) tutelage, eyes set with a hard confidence as he moved from form to form. It hadn't been an easy few months, at least, but Beau could still be proud of how far the little guy had come.
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The tall grass overgrowing the path to the south rustled, and Beau perked up - surely this was his partner arriving on the scene for some toxic-chain-hunting. A low 'groaar' greeted him, and a Tropius burst forth from the undergrowth, leafy wings spread as it barreled toward Beau. Oh, nope, that wasn't anyone happy to see him.
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Orson leapt into action before Beau could react, his paw glowing with the energy of a FIRE PUNCH that almost knocked the Tropius over on its tail. Smoldering, the grass-type whipped around and vanished into the grass almost as quickly as it came. "Whoa, nice moves, brah!" Beau enthused, bending to give the Kubfu a high-five. High-paw?
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He was focusing too much on the intricacies of the mysteries of the universe, and idly rocked back on his heels instead, waiting for his partner.

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Surveillance, staying quiet, and keeping hidden had never, ever been on the top of Beau's skillset. Even though honest work - a structured job with the Rangers - had expanded his horizons to think beyond charging into a situation first and thinking later, there was only so much he could do; even when trying to navigate through a habitat without disturbing the native fauna, he still had pokemon running from (or at) him simply due to his lack of grace in most situations.
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This one was at least different, and Beau couldn't say whether his sudden almost-competence with subterfuge was due to months of experience or the presence of one Gunner Graves, who seemed to handle every hurdle with calm control. Miraculously, Beau had made it to the rise without alerting their quarry below the ridge. It would have been scenic, if the constant fall of particles from the air consisted of snow, but instead gray ash blanketed the area, and it seemed to underline the grim situation below them.
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Gunner's eye movement was enough to catch Beau's attention, and he nodded in response, not trusting himself to whisper back. The message was clear, anyway, and just beside him, his Kubfu and Pangoro dug a little harder into the ground, both with a slight curl of their muzzles at the rough-up to come.

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