Mr. Fox…?

It was him. Bathed in a crystalline glow, and birthed from the fiery hot tera crystals all over Scizor. The metal insect spared an annoyed glance backwards before he returned his focus to the Regice. Grigori kept his eyes affixed. How could he not?

“You’ve returned,” he muttered. In time to witness the death and destruction of an entire city. Caused by his judgement.

Except… not quite. Instead, the newfound beast that emerged alongside Howard and a companion cleaved the Regice in twain. Their blows followed the legendary dog’s path, until the golem screamed out. It looked to be in pain. Pain? That couldn’t be right.

But now wasn’t the time. A massive Nihilego prevented their imminent demise, a weapon clattered to the ground in front of him, and Shred’s Primeape kickstarted a new existence. All in such a short amount of time. Yet here he was.

Nothing but a hammer, a Scizor, and the ability to watch. He was not the hero here, even as the dyna-energy and its toxic energy convinced him he was. His mask felt heavy against his face, shattered and broken. So too did his armor. And it was hard to call himself a villain, in this exact moment.

Just like in the prison, as was here. A bystander, nothing more. That’s how it’d always been, though. Right?

While Grigori could only watch and wait, Scizor seized to claim his destiny. Whatever that would be, beneath the orichalcum sun and with fire in its skeleton. Even he could muster the strength to deliver his own Close Combat, aimed directly at the arm that wanted to obliterate them all.

He knew his purpose. 

---

Tl;dr
 - Hey Mr. Fox is back
 - Man a lot is happening right now, and my head hurts
 - While Scizor Close Combats the Regice's arm, Grigori has a little bit of a revelation

Grigori looked at the woman with a vaguely confused but determined look. It was rather strange, for someone that hadn’t even remembered his existence to feel so strongly about his momentary departure. Enough to even grasp him, as if that would keep him anchored down.

But he shrugged off her hands like one would peel a leaf from their shirt. His shirt and calm demeanor hid the muscles that made the movement all too easy. Massive. Strong. “I agree with you.”

“But it is that bad,” he followed up. “And you won’t be alone. annalise henderson still resides here, and Rory Faust as well. Furthermore, once me and her hopefully settle our… problem. I’d be moving back in. If she allows it.”

Ultimately, it was up to Annalise to allow him the feeling of forgiveness. That was an impossible to predict outcome.

“But I must leave for a spell. If you so wish to meet again, I will be staying at an acquaintance's place. june sleigh , if you’ve met her. She lives in Mauville as well.”

---

marilee beaufort

Even as Imp sent the Pangoro back into the sand, it wasn’t slow to retaliate. And sure enough, its mighty muscles put a hefty dent into the Grimmsnarl. He went reeling backwards, his hands aflutter in the air to maintain a semblance of balance. Thankfully, it did not fall into the sand. That’d spell defeat.

But a scowl formed on his lips, and he raised his arms high. Torment struck the Pangoro before it could hope to do anything else, as Imp was a Prankster at heart. It was safe from another steely strike– for the moment.

But unfortunately for Grigori, he had no such reprieve against his foe. After all, a straight flying-tackle was an uncommon strategy. Most chose to either cower behind their Pokémon or use a firearm. For that, he held respect for his foe. Especially since he was in full armor.

It meant the worst that happened was the wind was forced from his lungs as his back slammed into the ground below. The hammer escaped his hands, head buried into the sand. On one hand, that left him weaponless.

On the other, it gave him two full hands to grasp his foe. He tried to grapple him off to the side and reverse their positions. Anything to get a leg up. Because if he could– then things would go poorly fast for Beau.

“Give. Up,” he gasped. Muscles bulged and wills fought against each other with all their strength. “Your bravery will be forgotten, and your skeleton naught but a reminder of this scuffle.”

Grigori never lied. He could not. The black line etched into his skin served as a daily reminder of his promise. What would Beau ask of him, as he gave his final breaths?

He did not want to know. But yet again, he hadn’t desired the other tattoos likewise.

---

Beau Fontaine

Against the cold and terrible conditions, Grigori glanced back when the Raging Bolt sang its Swan Song. Crystals of pure ice clung to its chin, and it had long ceased to shiver. That would imply it had any heat left. No, it had reached near absolute zero moments before. That’s why it gasped, and that’s why Grigori recalled it.

But he kept on going. One foot in front of the other. The idea dominated his thoughts, and clouded his judgement in a different manner. Whether through sheer brute force or the ignorance of opposing ideologies, he did not falter. Even as buildings collapsed, and homes were shattered beneath the cold.

He could not falter. To falter was to show weakness, and to show weakness was death. Such was the way of a Rocket– no, of a true Rocket. One who’d seen one war. One who knew the price of failure, from those he once called companions. Friends. Enemies.

But by Arceus if it wasn’t tempting. Yet it carried him far enough, to where those he recognized or didn’t gathered. Shred was there… that marked the end of the familiar faces. Something pulled at his heart, but he ignored it. Now wasn’t the time.

But Regice? It needed to be stopped. Howard’s golem raged, despite the lack of orders. Perhaps the goal was to give it purpose, a mind of its own. Grigori’s own mind hardened against the trials ahead, seen by the sheer number of Barriers. Too many to count.

But who could conquer them all?

An unlikely face emerged, showered in a glow of white light. One of his Pokemon decided to make itself the chosen one, and took fate into its own hands. Claws, rather– the white made way for red. Pincers clicked, and one wrapped around his armored wrist. Over his Tera Orb. Grigori’s eye widened in shock.

“Scizor?”

“Scizor!” The creature scowled. Splotches of discolored pigment splashed its exoskeleton in various places, reminders of its arrogance past. Yet it stood strong. Ready to face whatever came ahead. And given the sun, it adapted perfectly. A blaze of ember coated its armor, and a hat of red-orange crowned his head.

“Then… go! Protect Dewford, given our companion's sun!”

“Scizor!” He did not need any further prompting. Or any at all. He knew the way forward, as it was a given: crush all that stood in the way. And the Regice would learn the hard way as a Bullet Punch to pierce the veil rushed forth.

---

Tl;dr
 - Grigori recalls a fainted Raging Bolt (Sad!)
 - Joins with the others, only recognizes Shred (Also Sad!)
 - Scizor joins the fray, and Tera Fires and then also Bullet Punches the Regice

It was sudden. Too much so, for Grigori to react. One second, he towered over the beaten teen and her weakened Pokémon, seconds before they were obliterated. The next, a flash of red engulfed the world. Coated their reality in its binding energy. Soon, it became hard to even breathe.

It dug into his flesh, a physical manifestation of his imminent sin. It cut the draconic energy in-twain in midair. Its halves scattered across the landscape, which sent more mortar and stone all over the background. Dust drifted across the scene and coated them in its fine gray powder.

Raging Bolt struggled, but stood no chance against the red chains. Grigori did as well. Neither could hope to break the bonds that now held them captive.

“You…” he spit out. His mind wasn’t in the right place. He’d already damned himself to hell so many times. Yet this was the first that the sorry soul on the other end pulled him away from the hellish fate. Nobody had ever done so before, even if unintentionally.

“Why?!” he screamed. Struggled. Fought. “You musn’t reach him, you–”

Then, the world turned frigid.

---

Eris Halla

Everything clicked into place, and Grigori’s expression softened. Comedically so, as Alison revealed the ugliest side of the problem. The secret, best left buried so that no one will know. No one could ever possibly find out.

Fear of the unknown. A conversation he had with another young woman after a traumatic event.

“Then…” Grigori sighed. What had he told June, all those months ago? “Be prepared.”

“I do not know your struggle there, and perhaps, I never will,” he said, eyes focused on his coffee cup. “But I know someone who does. And… she had to do something. Like you. The path is different, but the motives are the same. Loss is a painful thing, and there is no right answer for how to grieve.”

“All you can do, and I can offer, is to be ready for whatever happens. In due time, you’ll find the answer– and it’s one that can only be revealed by the river of time and your traversal of her waters.”

It would be that no matter what they did, no matter how much they struggled, that death was finality. There was no return past its point, and nothing they could ever hope to do would bring their loved ones back. It was hell, but one they could escape. As soon as they learned to let go, then things would work out well.

Guilt flooded him. Painfully so. Grigori sighed, then wiped his eyes. “I’m sorry. Deeply, deeply sorry, June.”

June? “Alison.”

---

Alison Everly

Eventually, the chains released Grigori. As much as he struggled, and try as he might, he could not be bested by a teenager. When his limbs were freed, alongside the Raging Bolt, he fell to one knee. He gasped, then heaved as his eyes focused into the pavement.

He had failed. Failed. Unable to stop a single person. If the higher ups saw him, after this, after this prison? There wasn’t any need to guess the fate that awaited him.

But, perhaps, now wasn’t the time for a mental breakdown. One singular drop of wet regret fell from his face, and he wiped away the rest. Right. The only thing the sudden change in the town could mean was–

Dyna-energy flooded the town, and somewhere in the distance, stone cried. Shrieked. Grumbled beneath the weight of a massive golem. Dewford feared Rocket? Nonsense.

They had yet to know true fear. This was true fear, released by the will of a single man.

Mr. Fox. What had you done?

“I’ll… I’ll…” he tried to say, but the energies present clouded his mind. Much like the prison, or his meeting with Elisabeth Fiorelli , thoughts were hard and judgement muddled. “I’ll save the town. I’ll stop the madness.”

Heavy feed carried him forward, in lead of a Raging Bolt which shivered at the onslaught of the cold. At the edge, its frigid grasp was somewhat bearable. Somewhat. the Pokemon raged against the machine, and shot out a terrifying Thunder.

It’s shot rivaled the distance collapse of a tunnel system in intensity for anyone near. Granite Cave, Granite Cave… how to get to Granite Cave…

---

Tl;dr
 - Grigori upsetti spaghetti that he couldn't even beat up a teenager
 - However, there's a much bigger problem at hand
 - Starts to head towards Regice, slightly delusional of what kind of man he is at the moment
 - Raging Bolt forgot a coat, like mom said to bring, and shoots a Thunder in teen angst

As Shred utilized the Terastilization orb, so too did Grigori. They were at the end of a long journey, and they just needed to make one final push. One more good assault, and their foe would be vanquished. Runerigus adopted the strange helm, a half-globe, as it clapped its hands together. Tendrils that stretched throughout its rocky limbs went further.

Straight for the Claydol. Their fates would soon be intertwined, as its attack charged up. If it went through, then the sentient stone would surely perish. But so too would the massive behemoth of a Pokemon.

"Their Destinies are Bound," Grigori called out. "Failure is no longer an option!"

---

howard slayte Shred walter delmar Roy Aker

OYHhk2oZ

Move Used: None.

Moves Left: Just Crafty Shield

+10 to roll from Tera

“Apologies then– I wasn’t aware of who was exactly home, at the moment,” Grigori said. He had hoped it was a number of zero, but one was an acceptable alternative. As long as it was not annalise henderson , then everything was alright. His shoulders unstiffened, and he returned to the side of the bed.

“And for the sudden scare. And mess,” he tacked on. “I would offer to clean it up, but…”

The silent suitcase spoke for him, and the absence of noise was punctuated by the sudden movement of its zipper. Closed, ready for whatever trip it was destined to take.

“I’m going to be leaving, for a few weeks. Maybe a month or two, if necessary,” he explained. Memories flashed in his mind. From the prison. What he tried to do to Annalise. How he’d almost succeeded.

“Me and Annalise are on… rough terms. Not my place to speak on the matter, I’m afraid,” he said. Until he was able to clear things up, and beg for forgiveness... it was better for everyone if he wasn't here. Even if the supply of sweets would shrivel up to whatever was written on the list for the grocery store. The roommates would be an unfortunate casualty of their tensions.

---

marilee beaufort

For better or worse, the Red Chains stopped Grigori dead in his tracks. Bound by their psychic energy, as sudden and abrupt as the Dragon Pulse that erputed the ground on either side of Eris. Within moments, the Raging Bolt is halted. It screamed out and struggled against the abrupt prison. Yet it found no quarter.

Grigori eyed the young one, taken aback yet even more infuriated. It was growing harder and harder to not find justification for his actions. He had been given a task, and this only made it harder to accomplish. "Your struggle will do no--"

Cold. Sudden chills wracked his body. He instinctively shivered and looked around. There wasn't anyone there. Nothing.

Then, the ground shook. Suddenly, and the Raging Bolt still struggled. Yet it was held fast, secured to the earth. Unlike the light pole, which fell backwards and slammed into the ground with a massive, ringing thud. Were they on the brink of a natural disaster?

Realization hit him like the Red Chains. Yes. They were. And it came in the shape of a golem, forged in Never melt ice and the goal of this entire operation. Attack a city, buy time to delve into the Ultra Deep Sea.

As frost coated his armor, he lowered his hammer in defeat. "That. That is why you can not find Howard."

If Grigori was going to kill her, whatever was going on in that cave would remove her presence from history. And soon, they would all find out exactly what Mr. Fox had in mind for this raid. This endeavor to kill a god and raise hell.

---

Eris Halla

“Wrong answer.”

Of course, Grigori agreed with his foe. In almost every sense of the idea, they were aligned. To fight for something one cared about was paramount. To not stand down in the face of trouble was crucial. Especially if it meant to help the lives of those innocent or otherwise uninvolved with the affairs at hand.

The only way they differed was the color of their faction. The most important way to differ.

That’s why he answered how he did. It’s why he regripped the hammer, to better swing with. It’s why the Grimmsnarl, with a grin so wide and teeth so sharp it rivaled the monsters in children's nightmares, was the first to engage.

It immediately went for the Pangoro, ready to Play Rough with the fellow that matched its energy, its strength. Meanwhile, Grigori walked calmly forward. He had no reason to rush to conflict. No desire.

But, perhaps in the increased time to fight, he could find the willpower to strike a fellow human with the intent to maim. Kill, if necessary. “Your fate was determined the moment you set foot out of safety. If you’d stayed hidden, your odds of survival were one hundred percent.”

His heart sank as the hammer raised. Pointed straight to Beau. “Now, they rest next to zero.”

Only then did he charge, ready to cripple a leg in one fell swoop. He was back in Kanto, back in the armor. A monster, nothing more. Only monsters spoke as he, and acted likewise.

---

Beau Fontaine