Howard Slayte is a bitch-ass motherfucker.

Seriously, YOU outrank HIM, so why are you the one running about scrounging samples from historical landmarks? Why can't he do it himself, the lazy prick? What a piece of shit. Unfortunately for him, he's going to regret asking you to do this, because you're going to do such a bad job that he'll never ask you to do it again.

Case in point, you're already two hours late. Why would you even need a deadline for picking up centuries-old pebbles, anyway? They're not going anywhere. They're not going to expire. Their value on the free market is not going to decrease. No, you'll take your sweet time with this, because there is no possible reason not to. You have all the time in the world to climb this pillar and find what Howard needs, and by god, you will make the most of it.

So, stretching your arms, you finally step inside the tower and begin to climb, completely ignorant of the delivery girl arriving to the scene mere yards away from you.

---

june sleigh

It's pure, unrelenting chaos. With the aftershocks of the Hyper Beam ringing through your ears, you can barely even tell what's going on. You clamber up to your feet, desperately trying to get a grip on your surroundings, but there's simply way too much going on. The last stand of Grigori Sokolov and the expeditious retreat of Howard Slayte are both drowned out by the all-consuming buzz of electricity. But with every second that passes, your senses return to you, and with every second that passes, the more you realise just how bad the situation is.

The long version is that you have no meaningful way to challenge this foe. It dwarfs your biggest Pokemon ten times over, both in size and in power. Even if you dared to fight it, it's too fast to hit, and too fast to dodge. If you tried to battle it up-close, the sheer voltage it radiates would fry you before you could land a punch. If you tried to battle it from afar, it has enough firepower to wipe you off the face of the earth. Even if all of you came at it at once, with all the Pokemon you have in your possession, there's still no guarantee you'd even stand a fighting chance against such an unstoppable force.

The short version is that there's no way all of you are making it out of this alive. This unstoppable force is punishment for your indolence, sent by Arceus himself. God does exist. He is not ignorant. But he is uncaring.

But... It's fine.

Sure, somebody will die. But it doesn't have to be you. Grigori is making the sacrifice play. Howard is scouting the path back to the portal. If you start running right now, you'll probably have enough time to get out of here. You can tell the Rocket higher-ups you did your best, and they'll pat you on the back and commend your bravery. Grigori's name will be printed in the Slateport Herald's obituaries, and you and Howard can continue your lives as though this dreadful mistake had never happened.

And it shouldn't bother you, right? You shouldn't care. You're Shred Zeppelin. You're a fool of a man. You haven't showered in two weeks. You haven't paid your taxes since you were eighteen. You still think about attempting the gym challenge even though you're forty years old. You live in an abandoned apartment you've been squatting in for the past three months. You managed to lose to the Ballonlea city gym with a team of Toxtricity, Honedge, and Salandit. You're addicted to several different illegal substances, and constantly going through withdrawal for half of them. Despite witnessing the existence of Zacian firsthand, you don't believe in the existence of legendary Pokemon. You have nothing going for you - No friends, no romance, no prospects - and you're perfectly fine with that. You're just a tumbleweed, a wastrel, nobody special. You could just leave.

You should just leave.

But.

The teeth marks on your face still ache. A reminders of an unassuming job gone wrong. Of an enforcer who truly embodies enforcement. Grigori doesn't like you, but he's always willing to put you before him. You, who might as well be human garbage, before himself.

The gentle hum of a pointless song still echoes in your ears. A reminder of a dozen stolen breaks, a dozen getaways from the turmoil and chaos of life, spent complaining amongst yourselves. Howard is half your age with five times your debt. Compared to him, what do you have to complain about?

The fire in your heart still burns. A reminder that you were born to fight. To fight and struggle and fail and hurt and weep and mourn and fall and seethe and cope and pick yourself up and dust yourself off and do it all over again and again and again. That feeling, that surging adrenaline, is what it means to be alive.

You were not born as the apex predator. You were not born rich or strong or loved. You were not owed these things by the world. But by tooth and nail, you will take them, because you are Shred Zeppelin, and you were born to fight.

"GREAT TUSK!"

Your voice just barely manages to pierce the cacophony of the battlefiend. He's out there, somewhere, amid the falling lightning and the roiling sands. He's out there, looking up at your foe, a Durant looking upon a Heatmor.

And for a fleeting moment, your hearts and minds are one.

"SHOW THAT FUCKER WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU MESS WITH ME!"

"▂▄▄▃▄▄▅▅!!!"


With all of its might, Great Tusk rushes forth. He rushes past you, past the fleeing Howard, and past the stalwart Grigori. He rushes straight towards the Regieleki, and a teravolt of crackling electricity breaks upon his body like a wave crashing against the shore, the unstoppable force met by the immovable object. With a defiant roar, the paradox hooks the underside of the lightning, and with all of its might, it tosses it straight upwards, back to the sky where it belongs.

It does not remain there long. As strong as it is, Great Tusk is still just a normal Pokemon like any other, and Regieleki has ample weight to match its size. It crests the dark clouds for but a moment, graces the world beyond the stormy skies for but a second, before it begins to fall once more.

They say the bigger they are, the harder they fall. And this son of a bitch is going to have one hell of a fall.

---

howard slayte Grigori Sokolov

According to recent research commissioned by Macro Cosmos Energy, the entirety of the Galar region uses two-hundred and eighty nine billion kilowatts of energy per year. A standard coal power plant produces roughly three point five billion kilowatts in a year. With that in mind, assuming there is no extended downtime in operation, and that they are consistently running at maximum capacity, it would take eighty three distinct power plants to fulfill the energy needs of Galar. Hundreds of people, thousands of yards, and millions of Pokedollars, all to sustain the ever-growing nation.

And the creature that emerges from the flash of lightning, glorious and golden and brimming with unknown power, is capable of providing all of that power, billions of wattage, simply by existing.

...

"What the FUCK?!"

Arceus, that fucker is HUGE. Even from such a faraway distance, you can tell just how massive it is. Like... Okay, you can't tell HOW big, but you can tell it's BIG big. It's a good thing you're over here, and he's over there--

"REGI-REGI-REGI [UN] [UN] [UN] regiussy RE-GI-E-LE-KI"

In a split-second, miles became feet, and the titanic thunderbolt was suddenly bearing down upon you, crackling with an overwhelming amount of energy, and charging a Hyper Beam of pure destructive power.

---

PROMPT 13 - Encounter a giant Regieleki [COMPLETE]
howard slayte Grigori Sokolov

Huh. Michael seems different. More brown than navy. That... Well, honestly, you couldn't give less of a shit about that. Sure, it's a little early for him to be going through a midlife crisis, but you're not going to pry. The less you know about Navidson's personal life, the better, and you assume he thinks much the same of you. Knowing too much kills the mystique, and the thin veil of mystique is basically all that separates this rivalry from being the Pokemon battling equivelant of two Mankey smacking each other with sticks and rocks.

Still, nice to be a Very Important Person for once. Though, you suppose when you're being compared to teenagers with their Grovyles and Combusken, you and your Slither Wing and Great Tusk stand out. Alas, for better or for worse, they won't be making an appearance today. After all, you're technically here as a "civillian", so it probably isn't smart to throw around prehistoric anomalies where any Tom, Dick, or Harry might see them. Shred Zeppelin might have been big into collecting dinosaurs, but Dan Halen doesn't know anything about that, nosiree. He's just trying to get a few gym badges between his shifts at work, because it gives his paraplegic daughter, denied her own opportunity to go on a Pokemon journey, a little glimpse into happiness.

...You've decided you don't like Dan Halen. You REALLY need to work on your undercover persona's. Jack Sabbath is a stupid poser loser, Dan Halen is easily disproven and needlessly depressing, and the less said about Byron Maiden, the better.

"Nice place you got here, bud." You let out a sharp whistle as you look about, waiting for the last of your fellow contestants to filter out before you allow your shoulders to sag. "Granted, the silly murals wouldn't be my first choice of decor, but the square footage here? Not bad, not bad at all."

You stretch your arms, shooting one last glance back to the reception as you follow Navidson further ahead, deeper into the gym.

"Hammerlocke rules is fine with me. But if you think that this'll be an easy shot to get your win back, you've got another thing coming. I got a few new guys on the team, and they're... Well, you'll see."

---

Navy

Compared to the sheer agony of electrocution, having Howard and Grigori land on top of you is like a walk in the park. Then again, that could just be a consequence of the extensive nerve damage that you're no doubt suffering, but you're opting not to worry about that right now. With a groan, you scramble out from the bottom layer of this twunk-twink-hunk pyramid, pulling yourself to your feet as you peer about your surroundings. Underground, reinforced, and generally not where you want to be.

"Look, I don't know where we're going, but we're getting there. Just gotta keep solving the problems that we create, yeah? It's like, a metaphor for life, or some shit like that."

...Yeah, that's not a good enough excuse. You need to clear out that doorway as soon as possible, or else they'll never let you hear the end of this. Lucky for you, you've got the dinosaur equivelant of a bulldozer hanging off your belt. It doesn't stand a chance.

"Great Tusk, show us a Headlong Rush!"

"▂▂▃▃▄▄▅▅!"

Charging out from the flash of red light, the monstrous Donphan immediately set to work, clearing away the blockage. Rubble was tossed aside by a trunk, smashed underneath claws, and broken to pieces by tusks. Such is the sheer brutal efficiency of this creature, too powerful to survive onward to the world that left it behind. Eventually, even the heavy blast doors are pierced, layers of heavy metal peeled aside to reveal an opening just large enough to slip through. Yet another path forward, out of this musty bunker and back to the dangerous, treacherous outside world.

"See? Just like real life."

---

UNIQUE PROMPT - Use a Paradox Pokemon.
howard slayte Grigori Sokolov

A flathead screwdriver was not a Y-head screwdriver, but you supposed you'd have to make do. Suppressing the urge to sigh, you summon Skeledirge over to your side, the fire-type provided some much needed illumination as you set to work getting the vent open. Of course, that's much easier said than it is done...

"Chirp!"
"Shut up."
"Nah, she's right. You're doing it wrong."
"Chiiiiirp."
"I know what I'm doing. Just shut up and let me do it, alright?"
"You're screwing to the right, chico. Didn't you ever hear about left loosey, righty tighty?"
"Just let me do it! I'm the one with opposable thumbs, so I'm doing it!"
"CHIRP CHIRP!"
"Fuck off! I'm doing it! I'M DOING IT! JUST BACK OFF AND LET ME FUCKING DO IT!"

Or, as it might appear from an outsider's perspective:

"FUCK OFF FUCK OFF FUCK OFF FUCK OFF FUCK OFF--"
"SKELEDIRGE SKELEDIRGE SKELEDIRGE SKELEDIRGE SKELEDIRGE--"
"CHIRPCHIRPCHIRPCHIRPCHIRP--"

But eventually, after much tussling between man, bird, and aligator, screws came tumbling down to the ground, and the vent fell shortly thereafter. As soon as it was done, you quickly return the crocodile to his Pokeball (and make a mental note that he's not getting any treats today for bad behaviour), before scurrying up into the newly opened vent.

"Alright, shit's open." Your voices echoes from within to without, punctuated by two slaps to the cheap metal. "Pack in."

---

howard slayte Grigori Sokolov

This place is Fucked with a capital F.

Like, really? Spacetime Distortions happen so frequently and so commonly that there's a name for them? And people just walk into them to go catch Pokemon, like that's a normal thing to do? Like you said, completely fucked. Normal people do not venture blindly to the unspeakable chronozone so they can catch weird fish from ten-thousand years in the past.

So anyway, you're in the unspeakable chronozone, and you caught this weird fish. It looks a bit like a Basculin, but he's got a moustache? That's pretty cool. Really, you complain about it, but of all the horrible places your time in Hoenn has brought you, this one isn't too bad. You'd rank it above the Active Blasphemy Simulation, but below the Rustboro Pokemart. Not sure where it compares to the Nightmare Dimension, though. It doesn't seem like there's any dinosaurs coming through the rifts in reality, but there also aren't any bastard aliens, either. Really makes you think, doesn't it? About... Y'know... Okay, it doesn't really make you think much at all, but still...

...Ooh, hey, funny little green shard! Yoink, yours now.

---

"Catching" a gacha H!Basculin.
H!Basculin evolves into Basculegion.
Axew evolves into Fraxure.
Basculegion learns Zen Heabutt (Exclusive to his PL:A learnset).
Mmmmm scromptious green shard.

Well.

You're honestly not sure why you let yourself be talked into this. How many times have you taken the gym challenge before? Six or seven times? Across four or five regions? And across that entire span, you got two or three gym badges total. No matter how you approach it, that ratio just doesn't make any kind of sense. It's a complete logical anomaly. This is a challenge for actual children, meant to be undertaken by literal ten year olds. You don't remember how you managed to fuck up that bad, and you're not sure you even want to know. The Shred Zeppelin championship dream has been dead for longer than most of the kids on the circuit have been alive. That is to say, you're pretty consigned to your cosy little spot in the gutter.

But, hey, you already got one win over Navidson, didn't you? Not a particularly decisive win, but a win nonetheless. At the very least, you might be able to scrounge a badge from him, and that'll make your ratios slightly less abysmal. You might even be able to tack it onto the bottom of your CV, as though it's worth a damn.

Or maybe you're just looking for a good excuse to burn an hour or two with some pointless Pokemon battling. Whatever the case, this is where you are now, and there's no point in lingering on it. So instead, you approach the front desk of the Dewford gym, and clear your throat.

"Hey, my name is Dan Halen. I'm here for my two o'clock match."

Nevermind the fact that it's currently 4:35PM right now. That's a different story for a different day.

---

Navy

"We didn't 'break it', it left." You retort, your face only lit by the flickering flame of your Skeledirge's burning soul fluttering up and down, back and forth. "Really, he's just eschewed his role as a cog in the machine of our capitalistic society. Really, instead of blaming us, we should applaud him for that breakthrough... Him? Her? Them? It."

Fuck it. You can't really bring yourself to care about the genital situation of a sentient mesh of alien wiring. Not when you're sober, anyway. For now, you've got to "cover Howard" while Grigori watches the door. That's an order that means literally nothing to you, so you might as well make the best of it and just try to keep things moving.

"Personally, I'm leaning more towards aliens." You idly comment, fumbling around the walls as you look for any kind of lever or handle. "That's just me, though. I'm not the one with the fancy college learning."

You continue to blindly feel about the walls. You remember back in Galar, there was a big scandal where a fancy new big budget power station got completely locked down because of a blackout. Turns out, all the doors had been electronically controlled, so when the fuses blew, they all just clamped shut. It was complete carnage. Somebody died, the news made a big deal of it, politics got involved, and so on, and so on. It ended with a big overhaul of safety legislation - The big takeaway being, every building needed emergency exits. Course, they didn't specify what those had to be, so most companies just retrofitted their facitilies with big unwieldly hatches that went into preexisting ducts and sewers and the like.

You remember them well, because you lived in Spikemunth. Hellions like you snuck through them all the time to fuck around in places where your parents didn't want you going. One time, a kid found a Morpeko in there, and his parents let him keep it. Course, another time, somebody tripped and fell into a vat of something thick and greasy and heavy and VERY carcinogenic, and, well... The less said about that, the better. They tightened up security after that. Still, the point remains that there's probably a hatch in here somewhere that'll act as a serviceable way forward.

And after enough blind fumbling, you feel the lip of something. Not exactly a hatch, maybe more like a vent, but it's opposite from the door, and that means it'll get you where you need to go. All that remains is actually getting it open and going through.

"Anyone got a screwdriver?" You call out, glancing back to Howard and Grigori as you thumb the screws. "I need one that's pretty small, average fit, with a head shaped like... Okay, it's shaped like a Y. We need a Y-head screwdriver."

---

UNIQUE PROMPT - Shred just woke up in a FACKIN' steamin' mood, yeah? Because he lived, in a SHITHOLE! D'yknow what he means? SPIKEMUNTH, is a FUCKIN' SHITHOLE! He HATES the fuckin' place! HE FUCKIN' HATES IT!! IT'S FULL OF DICKHEADS, HE FUCKIN' HATES IT!!!
howard slayte Grigori Sokolov

Your eyes narrow at Howard, then narrow more as you glance back to Grigori, and then narrow even further as you look back to Howard. They're ruining this for you. How are they ruining Turbo Super Ultra Hell for you? Not even two minutes ago, you were being fully and wholly electrocuted, but you're more annoyed with the lackadaisacal attitudes of your allies to your suffering. Is it possible that your overall lack of care and empathy has led to you cultivating friends with little regard for your wellbeing...?

No. It's your teammates who are wrong.

With a shrug, you step inside the husk of a room, and proceed to stumble forth towards the giant bulb in the middle. A giant bulb, surrounded by wires, and burnt corpses. Hm, yeah, okay, sure, this isn't suspicious at all. You might have been born at night, but as it happens, it wasn't last night. You might make a lot of mistakes, but you never make the same one twice.

"I'll poke this bulb, alright..." You mutter under your breath, grabbing a Pokeball from your belt and tossing it straight upwards. "Skeledirge, hit it with a Shadow Ball!"

"ALRIGHT!" The crocodile emerges from a flash of red light, rearing onto its hind legs as it stares down its target. Ghastly energes pours out from his maw, swirling between his fangs, flowing in and out of his teeth and coalescing at the very end of his snout. "Time to blow that sucker SKY HIGH!"

"Chirp chirp!"

With a loud snap, the Shadow Ball was launched forth, soaring towards the bulb at high speed. Finally, you've turned the tables. Now it's time for the cables to feel what it's like to suffer an aggravated assau--

THWACK! As casually as though it was swatting a fly, a single cable came loose and slapped the Shadow Ball down, sending it flying down and obliterating a stray corpse. Then, as though offended by the idea that it might be attacked when it was simply doing its job, the bulb stood up and walked away, striding out the open door on wirey legs.

"...Hm. Well, that was pretty fucked up."

---

howard slayte Grigori Sokolov

character tag: Dan Halen Shred [break]
format: 2v2, doubles[break]
augmented traditional?: no[break]
pokemon: [MEGA] Grimmsnarl (Male), Pickpocket | Sucker Punch, Foul Play, Spirit Break, Play Rough, Drain Punch, Wish[break]
Lokix (Male), Swarm | First Impression, Lunge, Throat Chop, Sucker Punch, Bounce, Axe Kick.

"You have feet, Gregory, and I KNOW those scuffed boots have rubber soles." You retort, having plenty of time to complain as you struggle to unhook yourself from your makeshift zipline. "Just kick me time! I'd do the same for you, you know."

Granted, after what you've been through, you might be more inclined to kick him in the head, but that's neither here nor there.

"And don't think you're off the hook either, Slayte!" You shout to your second accomplice. Ironic, since you're still also not off the hook. Eventually, you grow sick of limply struggling and just abandon the hook, leaving it behind as you walk after Howard. "You have Claydol AND Excadrill in your pockets, and you can't lend a hand?"

Grumbling under your breath, you walk up to the burnt husk of a build, attempting to push open the door, and finding little success. So, instead, you look for a handle, only the find nothing of the sort. What the hell is going on with the door? You consider trying to kick the door down, but decide against it. If you end up breaking your leg, these two'll just leave you behind and go off to figure out the secrets of the extradimensional electricians. God, whatever happened to "teamwork makes the dream work"? Did it get replaced with "fuck you Shred Zeppelin" when you weren't paying attention? Lord have mercy...

"Alright then, bud: You're the smart guy. Open the door."

---

howard slayte Grigori Sokolov

"...I don't get it."

"What is there to get?" You glance over to your motley crue of would-be lifeguards, towards Salandit and Doublade and Quagsire. They're all hunched over, sitting or hovering or laying atop a nearby cluster of rocks. Meanwhile, you're knee-deep in seawater, peering through the murk, trying to figure out if you should have taken off your trousers before you waded this far in. "I dive in, I get things. It's easy."

"Like, for free?"

"Yeah, they just dump shit in here, and if you fish it out, you get to keep it." You further elaborate. "They don't even make you pay for it! We're basically stealing from them."

"B-but it's not actually stealing, right?"

"God, you're such a dork, you know that? Yeah, yeah, it's not ACTUAL stealing... Doublade, what do you think, jacket or no?"

"HARK! Such a silly question! The dashing hero cannot rightly take the spotlight if he isn't clad in his most regal attire! It is your veritable armour against the hazards of the underwaters. Verily, if thou are to avoid the perils of the used car batteries and dormant sea mines, then I would most recommend retaining thy garb."

"Mm. Good point." You nod, tuning a solid eighty percent of that out. You hadn't really thought about it, though. Did they actually clear this out before setting it all up? You're not going to go under and end up detonating some misfired missile, are you? And are you willing to take that risk just to get some cheap prizes that are worth, realistically, a couple of pokedollars at most? And is there any way you can answer that question that doesn't make you sound riddled by poverty and strife? "Alright, you know the plan. Quagsire, if I'm not back up in five minutes, come for me. Until then, just make sure nobody snatches my phone. Got it?"

"Got it, Zhrep Shreddlin!" The axlotl cheerily replies with a wave. Or, well, more accurately, he's replying with QUAG QUAG SIRE!, but you're doing a little interpreting here. Simple stuff, really. It's a wonder more people can't figure this out. "Have a goodly swim!"

With one last thumbs up, you take one last deep gasp of breath, before diving into the sea to claim your lost treasures.

"So, uh, he thinks he can hear Quagsire now, too...?"

"Oho, do not worry, little peasant boy! This matter is beyond humble stagehands such as you and I."

"A-ah. Yeah. Okay..."

---

eqMY|iFZ
2 - Pokeball, the worst role possible and proof that God himself is furious at my indolence and plotting to bring retribution to my homestead.