Compared to the combination of a crashing wave and a swirling maelstrom, your combination of a fast kick and a surprise tool to help you later almost seemed quaint. Pelipper and Kingdra were an effective combination, synergistic in every aspect, a powerful team that could not be taken lightly. Meanwhile, Lokix and Grimmsnarl were two formidable foes who just so happened to be fighting for the same cause at the same time, teamwork be damned. But the latter had worked wonders for Toxtricity and Slither Wing during your last battle, so who's to say it won't work again? Despite how things might seem, you landed the first blow here. You still have the momentum. As long as you can keep the pressure up, you'll quickly start to pull ahead.

"Lokix! Hit the legs!"

"Yessir!" The insect barked, crouching low to the ground, before Bouncing straight upwards. That was enough to spare him from the worst of the Whirlpool, to prevent him from being trapped in the roil, though even the quickest escape couldn't prevent him from being clipped by the very tip of the Surf. Still, while you're sure it hurt like hell, it wasn't enough to put him down, nor was it enough to stop his ascent, nor even enough to dampen his spirit. "From heaven on high..."

The same could not be said of Grimmsnarl, who born not only the full brunt of the Surf, but was also dragged into the Whirlpool that followed. It was a real thrashing, and though you can't tell how bad it was underneath all that wet hair, you're sure that it hurt. You don't even want to imagine what kind of damage is going on under all that fur.

And luckily, you don't have to. Sure enough, just as the last of the wave settles, a glimmer of starlight bursts out from under the roiling waters. The Wish has taken effect. The monster's wounds are eased, at least in part.

But his anger remains.

"Grimmsnarl--"

"Such a wretched little bird...!" The dark fairy rasps, tendrils of hair unfurling from around his arm and surging outwards to strike the Pelipper. While on the surface it seems like nothing but an ordinary Sucker Punch, that only acts as a courier, meant to deliver the true purpose of the attack - Getting a grip on the flying foe. Hair wraps around feathers and wings and talons and whatever else they can grip before retracting, seeking to force Pelipper into the Whirlpool alongside Grimmsnarl. A whirlpool that, for better and for worse, only seems to keep getting bigger as it's fed by the rain. "Come! Come and drown in this sea of your own making!"

"--Yeah, keep doing that!"

---

Navy

Alright, THAT'S it.

THUNK!

Like the jealous Groudon smashing his brother Kyogre in the head with a rock (Or something like that, it's been a while since you read the bible), you pick up a nearby stone and toss it directly at Howard's head. You even manage to nail him directly where his little bitch of a Baltoy hit you, a feat that was twenty percent luck and eighty percent pure, undiluted spite. Of course, that tiny gem barely even left a bruise, while that rock could likely do some actual damage, but he's already got two or three concussions from this, what's one more on top of that? It's not like he doesn't deserve it.

"Maybe it's time for you to shut your fucking mouth, huh? How about that?" You snarl, getting back up to your feet to better loom over your dickhead of an accomplice. "I bring you along, and what do you do? Fucking BITS, like a hack fraud comedian! You constantly complain about how fucking poor you are, you bitch and moan about how your debts are kicking you in the asshole, and when I give you the chance to make some real good scratch, you decide 'Yeah, alright, it's slapstick time'? Are you fucking stupid? And, AND, you want to insult ME? LOOK AT YOURSELF! You have NO bitches, you have NO money, and you have SEVERE brain damage. And then, THEN, you have the audacity, the GALL, to tell me to just reinstall Flappy Pidgey?!"

Consumed by sheer fury, you grab Howard by the scruff of his shirt and drag him forward, putting his face mere inches away from your own, so that he might stare through your eyes, into the window of your soul, to look upon the seething abyss within you.

"You can't redownload Flappy Pidgey, Howard. They took it off the app store."

---

howard slayte

RESURFACED TREASURE SIGN-UPS

OOC NAME: RaptorAttacks
CHARACTER: Shred [break]
FACTION: ROCKET[break]
PARTICIPATING IN DE FACTION RACE?: Y[break]
REPRESENTATIVE POKEMON: FATEBORN CHAMPION, [MEGA] Beedrill, Female | Sniper; Pin Missile, Fell Stinger, Poison Jab, Focus Energy, Toxic Spikes, String Shot[break]
NOTES/COMMENTS: Pog[break]

Once you arrive, you wait for Zev to lower his half of the body, before unceremoniously dropping your half into the dirt. Man, who knew lugging corpses around would be such hard work? You've got a nasty cramp in your shoulder, or maybe you pulled something, or maybe your muscles are just rebelling after years and years of mistreatment. You're not sure what, but either which way, you're more than glad to take a few minutes off and let the Pokemon do the heavy lifting.

Speaking of which, you take this opportunity to release Golurk from his Pokeball, the titanic construct stepping out from the flash of red and into the flickering glow of the purple. Granted, they're a little bigger than you'd like for a job as discreet as this, but you can't really be picky when it comes to lookouts. Besides, they're a ghost in a graveyard, so it's not like they're suspicious.

At least, you think they're a ghost. They don't really look like it to you, but hey, what do you know?

"Alright bud, keep watch." You reach up to slap the stone shoulder of your watchman twice, but given how tall they are, you just end up awkwardly patting his back twice instead. "If you spot anything, give us a signal, yeah?"

"AFFIRMATIVE." The synthetic rasp responds. Though, depending on who's listening, it might sound a little more like "GOLURK."

So, that's that. Golurk on watch, Chandelure illuminating the site, and Nidoking digging. Not a bad little setup. If only you could automate all the hard tasks in your life like this.

"Don't mind if I do." You nod, plucking any cigarette in particular from the pack and putting it in its rightful place between your fingers. "Got a light?"

---

Zev Harcourt

"Gyah!"

She catches you by the legs, and like a thrashing Magikarp caught in the ravenous jaws of a Carvanha, you tumble down the stairs and land with an unceremonius thud on the floor. Shit, this isn't good. You have an expectant deliverygirl bearing down upon you, and nothing to send off for delivery. How are you supposed to talk your way out of this one?

"Look, I can explain...!"

But lucky for you, you don't even need to, because June pretty handily explains it herself. Granted, it's an entirely wrong explanation, but it paints you in the right and Howard in the wrong, so who are you to dispute it? Not only that, but she's even offering to help you get the stupid rocks, free of charge! This really worked out wonderful for you. You evade punishment for your avoidable failures, AND get help with an already easy task. Everything's coming up Zeppelin!

"...Alright, sure." You shrug, pulling yourself back to your feet and dusting off your jacket. "Let's get this over and done with... And my name isn't Sheldon, by the way, it's--"

You don't have time to finish your correction, as a gigantic slimy beast makes its presence known, budging you out of the way as it idly trots down the stairs. Unfortunately for Goodra, you've already been budged once in the past two minutes, and you're not in the mood to get budged a second time. So, you clench one hand into a fist, and grab an empty Pokeball with the other.

"OI, FUCKFACE, GET BACK HERE!"

With rage in your heart and anger in your mind, you lunge at the creature, eager to get even for the perceived slight. To cut a long story short, it's a very sludgy affair, and you spend a lot of it getting the shit kicked out of you, but it also ends with the Goodra in a Pokeball, rocking back and forth, back and forth, back and forth...

---

june sleigh
Catching GOODRA.

Pelipper and Kingdra, hm? Yeah, that's a classic Hammerlocke rules combination. Up there with Tyranitar and Excadrill, or Torkoal and Charizard. You're not too terribly fond of the downpour of water coming down on your head, but then again, you weren't fond of getting sand in your everywhere either, so you suppose this is just a lateral move. Either way, as long as the battle's good, you'll grin and bear it for now.

"Alright, fellas..." You murmur to your chosen Pokeballs, glancing between them and the two foes that they'll be facing, before preparing to throw. "Show him what you've got."

The two Pokemon that emerge from the scarlet flash are similar in many ways, yet they could not be more different. Both of them are Dark types, and both of them are fierce warriors, but in terms of personality? Well, it's difficult, to say the least. It's like oil and water, but the oil is on fire, and the water is arctic.

"The spinning saw of tomorrow, the revolution overdrive! Slay your fear, for the whirling blade of the future, THE GOLDEN REVOLUTION, is HERE!"

Lokix is the first to stride forward, making a variety of flashy and rambunctious poses as the twin saws on his back rev in sync with his introduction. He's the newest addition to your ragtag group, caught only a few days earlier as an unassuming Nymble, and he's proven himself to be a promising prospect. A quick learner, a quick mind, and quick on his feet, too. Of course, his particular personality quirks make him rather difficult at the best of times, but you're hoping you'll be able to sand the edges off during hard-fought battles like this.

"Well, well, well... Look what the tide dragged in..."

Grimmsnarl, meanwhile, is eeriely still, but the tone of their voice exudes more disdain than a thousand gestures ever could. Honestly? This guy is a fucked fucker, and that's that. Still, your team is full of fucked fuckers, and as fucked fuckers go, he's scarily effective at dismantling opponents. If nothing else, that earns him a spot on this team. And, beyond all that, he's also your secret weapon. If worst comes to worst, you're going to have to put it all on him.

"Alright boys, START US OFF!"

With that, the battle begins in earnest. Lokix immediately surges forth at a breakneck pace, leaping high into the air and aiming a downward kick towards Kingdra, eager to make a good First Impression in the battle. Grimmsnarl, meanwhile, takes it slow, a strange energy emanating off its grotesque body as it makes a Wish.

Not too shabby for an opening move, eh?

---

Navy

ANNOUNCEMENT: You have been rescued.

With that unceremonious declaration, Golurk proceeds to dump both you and Howard back on the floor of Rusturf Tunnel. It's funny, because you really don't feel particularly rescued. Much the opposite, it feels like you've been smashed through several layers of thick cave wall. Every inch of your body hurts, and the only reason you're not screaming in pain right now is because you're completely numb from the shock. But you're not dead, so you suppose in comparison, a couple dozen bone fractures isn't so bad.

With a groan, you wriggle up to your feet like a creaky Wurmple, and lean against the nearest wall for support. It's fine. It's fine! You definitely won't be in agony when the adrenaline fades! And you're definitely not going to get mad at Howard for being a dick! You're not mad. YOU'RE DEFINITELY NOT MAD.

"How about you fuck off, bud?" You snap, pointing an accusatory finger towards the concussed man. "Huh? Have you thought about that? You could've just let me have my goddamn fun with Flappy Pidgey, but no, you HAD to start shit! You didn't even give me the time to get a good score go--"

You reach into your pocket to retrieve your phone, only to freeze. It's not there. Did you...? No. There's no possible way you could've dropped it back in that cave, the cave that's currently buried underneath several tons of rock. You try to deny it, but in your heart, you know.

You fall to your knees.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

---

howard slayte

Do you hate yourself? What kind of question is that? You're forty years old and you've got the top three buttons of your shirt undone, of course you hate yourself! That's so obvious, it shouldn't even need to be asked.

"Look, if you want to schedule a fight, I'd be more than happy to." You stifle a yawn as you stretch your arms, glancing between Kouji, the clock, and the door to the infirmary. As fun as this has been (it hasn't been very fun), you should probably think about shaking off the rust and returning to being a functioning member of this crime society. "But you'll have to book from three to five in the PM, and I won't do weekends. First one is on the house, but every booking past the first costs extra."

With that, you return the Pokeball to your belt as you take a step back. Maybe if you get back to the grind sooner rather than later, you can scam a full paycheck out of all this bedrest. So, time to skedaddle to the warehouses and pretend you've been lifting boxes for the past two weeks.

"Until then." You wave, before heading towards the door. "Don't... Well, fuck man, I don't know. Don't die, I guess? See ya."

---

Kouji Matsubara

Aaah, Mount Pyre. This place really is like nature's trash can. You can bury whatever you want here, and nobody is going to find it, lest they end up shovelling through the ash and bones of people's precious pets. You've got plenty of trash stashed around here, and lucky for them, he'd already scouted out a nice little patch of mud perfectly fit for this little five-foot-seven motherfucker. Well, provided there aren't any journo bodies in there already. You didn't think to check, but worst comes to worst, they can all share a bed in the dirt.

"Little further up." You idly mutter, shuffling along as you carry your half of the body. "It's under one of those trees with the big three-pointy leaves. I marked it with a big rock. Can't miss it."

Granted, you'd been hoping to plant a few berries there, start a garden, sell a few berries as a side hustle, but it's probably better to be realistic about your expectations. You're far too lazy to drag yourself all the way out here every few days to water your plants. Better to just dump a cadaver here, bish bash bosh, and be done with it.

"A lookout, a lookout, a lookout..." You slow for a second, momentarily moving your hand to check on your current selection of Pokeballs and Pokemon. Toxtricity? No, too loud... Maybe Skeledirge? No, too bright... Galarian Slowbro, no, too stupid... Fraxture, no, too bitey... Quagsire, no, absolutely not, no chance in hell whatsoever, you'd sooner let a Wailord take watch... Hm, Golurk? Big, strong, still, emotionless, unassuming... Fuck it, he'll do. "Yeah, I got one. I'll pull him out when we get there."

Lucky for you, you're almost there. Just up the slope, over a rough patch of shrubbery, and sure enough...

---

Zev Harcourt

Ayo we cashing in ANNIVERSARY REWARDS!!! We're gonna roll CASTORIA boys!!!!!

x3 Gacha rolls.
x3 Premium Gacha rolls - Normal, Rock, Ice.
Gacha thread here - pkmn-hoenn.boards.net/thread/35215/shreds-gacha

CUSTOM POKEMON - Shiny Lokix, Male, Swarm | First Impression, Lunge, Throat Chop, Sucker Punch, Bounce, Axe Kick.

"BUDDY, you KNOW how that fight is going to go! If you try to throw hands with this bug, it'll push your shit in so hard that your broken bones will have broken bones. You KNOW that. I KNOW you know that!" You continued to aggressively gesture the Pokeball in his direction, as though every shift of your wrist is metaphysically hammering the point across. "If you jump into the deep end, you'll never learn to swim. You need to start small. Start by punching Caterpie and kicking Wurmple, and work your way up."

You let out a long, weary sigh. Where the hell did they find the kid? Are they really just letting any old high school dropout sign up to join Team Rocket? You hate it. You don't like being the smart one in this duo. This kid needs to go to school, learn his times tables, and come back when his IQ is a little higher, because you don't want to tolerate this responsibility.

"...Hang on, why am I even telling you this? This is my insect." The realisation dawns on you at the same time as the words leave your mouth, and quickly you pull the Pokeball back to your chest. "If you lay a finger on him, then I'll jump your ass, too. You can't win that two-on-one, no matter how many Weedle you whack, bud. Trust me, I've beaten smarter children than you."

Granted, that's not a high bar, but it gets the point across. After all, he's even talking to himself. Is he hearing voices in his head? Man, those concussions must have him horrendous, because if you start hearing voices, then it's completely and irreversibly over for you.

"...Who the fuck are you talking to? Whose 'line' is it? Is your brain haemorrhaging right now or something?"

---

Kouji Matsubara

"The idiot with the sticky fingers", huh? Well, that was an ungenerous reading on the situation. You like to think of it more as "The well-meaning clerk who was overusing his employee discount", because that makes you sound like less of an asshole. Besides, your fingers aren't that sticky. You wash your hands at least once or twice a day.

"No." You reply bluntly, your voice a little too casual, given that this is supposed to be a punishment for your wrongdoings. Then again, why lie at a time like this? "They did teach me how to make a mean pipebomb, though. So, really, I guess they taught me the opposite?"

Ah, yes, those halcyon days spent in the Isle of Armor Republican Army. A formative experience for your formative years, where you learned all sorts of essential skills. Good times, Good times... Well, except for all the unintentional bloodshed on both sides and the mass casualties of the innocents and the politics and the corruption and the betrayal and the death squads and... Okay, on reflection, they weren't really good times, and you've never needed to make a pipe bomb since then, so it didn't teach you any practical skills whatsoever. But, hey, you're here now, so maybe things didn't turn out that bad for you in the end.

"Look, that's a long story, and also neither here nor there. The point is, I was born ready... I, uh, just don't know what I'm supposed to be ready for, exactly."

...You get the sense that you're saying exactly all the wrong things here. At this point, you're just hoping she doesn't punch you here.

...Actually, fuck it. You've been punched by uglier women before. You can probably tolerate that, as long as it's not one of those side-of-the-head punches that kills you instantly.

...Y'know, thinking about it, you've had a good run. Maybe that wouldn't be the worst way to go? Something to think about.

---

Marza Volchitsa