The things Absinthe lists are all valid. They're all perfectly acceptable reasons to keep marching forward in an attempt to find value in a life where nothing felt like it had meaning. He doesn't deny her whatever justification she needs for her purpose. He just listens, archives the information, and keeps moving on.

After all, his job is to simply chronicle and continue his search for the truth of the world.

"Not me. I don't need to control anything. I'm just here to make sure the future is bright and prosperous. So people like you can live happy lives when this is all over." He mixed lies with truth until one was indistinguishable from the others. "That's all the world needs from a worthless cog like me."

He tipped the flask back, feeling disappointed when the run of cheap liquor finally stops. He peers into the flask to confirm it's empty, before leaning back against the tree. He touched a blade of grass, watching it die from the contact with Dynergy.

Another sensation, stripped away.

"It's what this body was meant to do. When it's over, I'll be forgotten." This body, even if it didn't belong to him, was ultimately his. It was a curse wrapped in ice and stone. He rubbed two fingers together and watched tiny pieces of material come away. "But change..."

He laughed again. The admin's hair was disheveled and his face was pale. A reminder that he was hitting the bottle constantly, now.

"What a worthless thing." He tossed the flask into Absinthe's lap. "You out of booze?"

---

Absinthe Blackwood

She was talking to him. Holy shit. Melody Miro was talking to him! This was the best day ever.

"Please send it out to Howard Slayte. It's my favorite album! It's the best one you've ever made, and I really like the track abou-" The admin was cut off by the loud marching of Team Rocket infringing upon the meeting. The archaeologist paled, before checking his broken watch. "T-team Rocket?!"

He let out an audible gulp. To most, it looked like the archaeologist was afraid of the thugs that were infringing upon Freya's banquet. For Howard, it was audibly worse. He felt naked without his Sygna Suit and armor. What if someone recognized him?

Then Neon started talking.

He was talking. Holy shit. mint frost was talking to them. This was the worst day ever.

"I'MSORRYMELODYI'MAFRAIDOFTEAMROCKETBYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" As quickly as he appeared, the archaeologist melted into the crowd as Mint prepared to spar with the upper echelons of the League. "ILOVEYOURWORKBYEEEEEEEEEE!"

What a strange fellow.

Hopefully he wouldn't come back.

---

Melody Miro

He watches her heal, and thinks of Bryan. The Rocket Beast's preferred trick was to employ Heal Block against such threats. Unfortunately, the admin lacked the foresight to bring a Pokémon like that. The Lifebringer already had loved to deny people the luxury he himself held.

Yet thoughts of the captive Rocket Beast were tossed aside for the time being, lest they throw the archaeologist off his game.

"My name? Hm. I'm just one of your many fans, Melody. I love your albums." He allowed himself a moment of complacency by indulging in the childish nature of appealing to a pop sensation. He was her fan. He didn't want to fight her, and yet he had to. It was the only future allowed to him. "Fox."

Remiel Calcifet cast a long shadow, long and cold and dark and heavier than the crown that would one day rest upon his head.

"I'm not all that strong, really. The other three admins are better trainers. Stronger. Smarter. Faster. But I appreciate the compliment."

From the folds in his armor came a large chunk of crystal. The Z-Crystal flashed, larger than several comparable crystals. Yet the golem it corresponded to was far larger than an ordinary Pokémon. It would need the boost. Howard weighed it in his palm as he regarded Melody.

"How did Kyle die?" The helmet flashed. "Really."

---

Melody Miro

Worldcaller.

Howard didn't have the heart to tell them that the world was already theirs. Long after everything was gone, humanity's mark had been carved into the echoing recesses of history. Yet the word had a different meaning to Howard than it did to the draconic duo, and he kept that meaning to himself.

He leans against a hut as they do their ritual. Its meaning is in tradition. A series of actions given meaning through repetition over epochs loses its value if the cycle is broken. Howard was simply there to bear witness to this event. An observer who acknowledged history, while shouldering history of his own.

It was a shame that he was, by definition, their enemy.

It was a shame that Hoenn's legacies would clash with each other, some day.

It was a shame that Howard Slayte would likely lose.

"While you two do that, I'm gonna find more rocks." Howard gave a half-salute, before meandering deeper into the city. As he did so, he reached into his pocket to pull out a lighter and cigarette. Fingers scarred by Dynergy fumbled with the mechanism, before finally setting the cheap tobacco ablaze. "Hm."

He puffed twice, steadying his nerves.

"I was right." He murmured quietly as he passed between ancient huts in this forgotten necropolis. "They were born two thousand years too late."

As he poked around, Howard plucked a rock off the ground and tossed it up and down in his hand.

---

freya morningstar Roy Aker

It's kind for Grigori to assume that Howard was even remotely intelligent, given that he had left his best tools back in Petalburg to pick up litter.

Yet one might call it a show of restraint, to avoid flipping the table by smashing the Loyal Three under an attack the size of a city. Yet it'd solve all of their problems if Regirock or Koraidon could just appear and kill these three bastards with a snap of the finger. Unfortunately, life is full of disappointments.

Which is why as Freddy gives Fezandipiti the blushing side-eye, all Howard can do is shake his head, roll his eyes, and be happy that he's never made a fool of himself out of love.

Dealing with Shred's swooning for Lulu made a man wise.

"Fuck!" Howard dodged to the side as a Sludge Wave cascaded over Serizawa, poisoning the Pupitar due to Munkidori's Toxic Chain. A genuine chain had yet to form on the pupa, but there was still plenty of time. "Oh, for fuck's sake. Do something!"

Fuming, Serizawa leered at the monkey, which caused it to let out a shriek. As he prepared to scry the future, Munkidori saw a maw open to give way to a set of Psychic Fangs.

Howard, meanwhile, used his Sygna Suit to throw rocks at the monkey. Those, the monkey dodged. The nearby dog and bird were not so lucky.

---

Grigori Sokolov Shred

It kept him content because for the first time in Grigori Sokolov's life, he was building instead of breaking.

Concrete must've felt as soft as silk when one's hands were as stained as his. It was a revelation Howard was beginning to come to as he sat in his office and rebuilt the city he had failed to save. Petalburg was replaceable. The people were not. Thus slivers of soul were shaved away to bring warmth to cold hands that had lost their homes.

In that sense, Howard and Grigori were the same. He wondered if that was why the older grunt looked at him and silently hated the man he was becoming.

Not that he blamed Grigori. Howard hated it too.

"Yeah, there are." Death was one thing. Being forgotten was another. Being chained, as well. "Going through life sober, for one thing. Human beings need something to anchor them. Booze. Love. Freedom. Ideals. Truth. Passion. Dreams."

Howard spoke of the last one with noticeable pride.

"Everyone spends their whole life drunk on something." His, more than ever, was his war with Eternatus and his perpetually evolving relationship with desk work. As the world flickered for a moment due to June's powers, he wondered what she was drunk on. Freedom?

Maybe.

Howard frowned at her final statement as the pit swallowed them.

"Such as?"

---

june sleigh ameena abadi

"No. You're crafty, and if I touch you, I think I might scream."

Even the smallest of mercies was denied to the deputy. His life had been spared. He sat in a hospital, waiting for a woman who loved him. Howard would not abate Montgomery from any of the small discomforts that slowly racked up to make his existence a perpetually dull ache.

Who knew what Montgomery James could do without his hands tied. Deeply buried, but the boy afraid of the man in the desert still cowered in the depths of Howard's soul.

"But Dewford's PD deserve to know the truth of that attack. It was a mistake. Nobody was supposed to get hurt. Nobody was supposed to die. Yet in the end, it'll be worth it." Howard inclined his head. "Regice needed an upgrade. The Ultra Deep Sea could provide it. It has. Now, it's ready."

He turned back towards Montgomery.

"Ready to help kill a god."

---

Montgomery James

"Ah, my head's fine. It's just defective. This whole vessel is defective, but that's our secret."

Howard thumped his fist against his chest as he spoke.

He's definitely concussed. He watches a piece of timber fall from the roof into the roaring inferno as the house continues to fold in. An iota of the admin hated watching it happen, preferring preservation to destruction. Yet there was an eerie beauty to watching things just fall apart and get engulfed in ash.

In retrospect, it reminded the admin of his life. What a terribly depressing comparison.

"And it's fine. I look better damaged. Makes me look less like a doll you'd dress up and more... used." His hat was slightly askew, but it hid faint cracks of magenta light that lined the skull, like a vessel on the cusp of overflowing. It helped that the hat was iconic. Even a member of the Elite Four wore it on television. "Eh, it doesn't fuckin' matter."

He took a deep breath. The air was cold despite the house burning.

"Nothing does. But that's fine." He gestured for the flask, fingers grasping. "Booze. Food. Women. Men. Ideals."

He snickered again.

"Everyone spends their life drunk on something."

---

Absinthe Blackwood

She brought up the prison. His eye twitched.

"I KNOW THAT!" He snapped at her, clearly frustrated. Howard sighed and turned towards the pile of statues. "They ruined our lives! They stole our Pokemon! They deserve to rot and die. They did! They will! They'll continue to! And we will continue to beat them back because we will continue to win!"

That was the universal truth of mankind. No mountain was too tall for humanity to climb over, and they would continue to toil. They would succeed. The Loyal Three would come back, but he and Andrea would continue to beat them.

"But too many things in this region have gone wrong because we've forgotte-"

'Grrrrrrrfic!'

"Eh?" Howard turned towards the noise, and saw Okidogi ripping through Ogerpon's foilage. He was all for preserving these statues, but Okidogi would still be black and blue by the time he was done with the mangy mutt. "Damn dog!"

He pointed at the spirit masks used to ward off ghosts that the dog had stolen.

"DIE!" Doug roared, barreling towards the dog while Ogerpon kept him busy. The Headlong Rush crashed into the dog, sending him a step back. In response, Okidogi picked up Howard's bear and threw it at him.

---

Andrea Vaneau

Thud. Thud. Thud.

A titan of stone towered over the ruined city, crushing rubble into the torn earth as it lumbered between buildings. Seven dots flashed in ancient remembrance as it looked at the Zorua and any other gathered Pokemon with a crudely carved visage. The pattern continued flashing, before turning a deep yellow.

⠉⠇⠑⠁⠝

It shifted a fallen building with cumbersome hands, pieces of plaster and rebar falling as it did so. It moved the rubble to a pile to be disposed of, later. As it did so, small bits of stone threatened to flatten a small cluster of flowers, which it protected with its other arm.

⠋⠇⠕⠺⠑⠗⠎

It looked at several in turn.

⠽⠑⠇⠇⠕⠺. ⠗⠑⠙. ⠏⠊⠝⠅.

It lumbered off.

---

MARILYN HASEGAWA Grigori Sokolov Calliope Alvara Hitoshi Inoue

Scotch. Bourbon. It's ultimately the same when it's down the gullet and causing the vision to blur and the limbs to sway. Taste is temporary, and sensation lasts longer still, yet intoxication lasts all night. A night for memories and merry and utter insanity.

This flow of events is utterly unhinged. Howard couldn't do much but laugh and chuckle and attempt to work through the past hour. Was it even an hour? It felt more like a week than an hour. When he checked his watch, he realized that it had been twenty minutes.

That caused him to laugh harder as he took a swig of the scotch. It burned on the way down. He thought of the lawnmower exploding, and it caused him to snicker.

"This shit is so fucked. Life didn't used to be like this. It used to be chill." He waved the flask under her nose, chuckling as he did so. He hardly gave her marred lower face a second glance. When an eye was missing, what was half of a face? "It's so..."

He looked up at the sky. Thoughts moved slowly.

"...fucked!" He laughed, and patted the dead grass next to him. "Come on, sit!"

He jingled the flask.

"Drink with me!"

---

Absinthe Blackwood

The ghost town is looking a lot like hell, now that he's collapsed against the tree. The scene is complete. Fire. Brimstone. Ghosts. A devil laughing at the sky. Howard felt something warm trickle down his neck. When he took his finger away from the liquid, it came away red. Concussed. Damn, this had spiraled out of control remarkably quickly.

Absinthe laughed. She laughed, and the admin watched her do so through fluttering eyelids as he waited for his brain to start working again. After a moment, he started to laugh too.

It was absurd. This was absurd. Everything about this night was out of a C-list comedy. Howard started howling at the moon, shaking his head as hysterics overtook him. It took Howard several moments to regain his composure. Only then did words fall from his lips.

"Pfffft..." He grinned like a fool, sole pupil dilated. "Hey, Absinthe."

He extended a hand, gesturing for the flask.

"Sharing is caring."

---

Absinthe Blackwood

"It has everything to do with him."

Everything. This all led back to the sheriff, even if it began with Howard and Montgomery. They were two ships that had left from the same port, only to find themselves revolving around the same lighthouse as they sailed towards their destinations. No matter what way the wind blew, that lighthouse had provided the route.

Whatever ports their ships docked at, only they would know.

"He gave you a second chance, and here you are. How do you think he'll feel when he figures out that you've been fucking with his trust? That you haven't changed from Unova?" Truthfully, Navy wouldn't care. He was a warrior, and he was the Warrior. Yet he dreamed of eternal battle. Montgomery James was a kindred spirit. "Besides, we share his Skarmory's legacy, don't we. Has he told you about Ironsides?"

He looked away from the window, though his face was obscured in shadow.

"I can't leave Rocket. I have too much for them to let me go. If I whisper of treason, my head will roll. that cannot happen."

---

Montgomery James