In the face of chaos, terror, poison, and overwhelming odds, and for the first time in two and a half years-- Grigori faultered. He looked to the sky with despair, and fell against Pumpkin. Shred and Howard had once again combined. Annalise had recognized him, but even she coudl muster the focus toward the threat that loomed. Even Jayden, despite his attempted murder, had people to support him.

Grigori was alone. By his own doing. That made it sting all the more.

Except for one. Pumpkin stared at her trainer, and grumbled.

"Gambit."

"Huh?"

"Kingambit! Kinga-kinga--"

"--worthless maggot!" She screamed as she trudged past her trainer. "A sitting stone gathers moss and supports nothing but bottom feeders! The strong live by doing, and the weak subsit by hoping they go unrecognized!"

"Hide behind your mask, foolish man, but you will be no better than the bullies that threaten to eliminate us all from existence! Mere nothings that pray nothing stops them-- for that would show just how weak they are."

Everyone else had set them up for success. Her acquantainces, Doug and Gouging Fire (not really anything, but it was there sometimes and didn't step on her toes), launched their amazing Signature Kill Attack towards the Okidogi. Thus, there was only one place for her to aim her strike. One blow to secure victory against a common foe.

"March fowards, with your heads high, honorable ones! For I am your leader, and a leader. NEVER. FALTERS!"

As the Okidogi raised its Cornerstone mask, to strike her down, she went first. The Sucker Punch struck the mask straight in the center, among the cracks that sunk deep into its make. A strike to secure a future that nobody could possibly predict. 

For that is what the strong do, and the weak could never. And Grigori was weak.

---

Tl;dr

 - Grigori enters despair mode like a goose

 - Fuck it, Pumpkin Main Character Time

 - Laments her trainer, even if he can't understand her

 - Promises to win the fight

 - Takes command of the Pokemon side of the trainers, as she is a Kingambit and that's their whole thing

 - Sucker Punch the Okidogi to (hopefully) Secure Victory

q2Gyqk1I

Grigori listened with intent, sure to not miss a single detail. That included the deep, dark stare into the latte and the obvious lie that attempted to cover it up. Pretend everything was okay, despite the complete opposite.

Where had he seen this before?

Grigori mimicked the drink motion, and ‘ahhh’ed’ as he once more wiped away the whipped cream. A few more sips, and he’d be free of the nose blemishes.

“What happened?”

His demeanor grew as serious as the situation, and he leaned forward. Bluntness was the only way forward, in these situations– he knew first hand.

---

Alison Everly

“Then…”

Maybe that was the point. In the real world, the toxic chain dominated as Avatars the populace. Rocket to their grunts. Gods to their believers. The magenta had yet to appear in this dream land, and its influence removed. Grigori could feel it, as abstract as it was. His mind clearer, if only a minute fraction so.

“Mr. Cross, what if… the chain is corrupting our visions? Shows us our dreams and nightmares. Tries to convince us of something,” he coined. Jayden saw his wildest dream come true, while he had seen a supposed dismal, bleak future. A theoretical nightmare. The chain corrupted it to feel nice.

It was an easy, honest, clear truth that explained a lot of what had occurred. Why he would ever want Rocket to fail, yet himself to live past its red legacy. “What if it wants us to believe what we saw?”

Jayden would see Grigori the most relieved and suddenly relaxed he'd ever been in the short time they've known each other. 

---

jayden cross

“I’m happy to hear,” Grigori commented. It was only a bit of a surprise to hear her not dive into a deluge of complaints and transgressions, but perhaps she was more restrained than he predicted. Wouldn’t be the first one to put up walls to hide. june sleigh did it too, in her classically stubborn fashion.

But it also meant that he could spot their outlines if the circumstances were right.

“But please, if you ever feel overwhelmed or like you’re about to break, let me know, and I can speak with someone,” he wiped away the cream and tapped the table with all his fingers. Emphasis. “Give you a break or an exemption from the more rigorous training– If only for a day.”

Thank goodness his strange relationship with jayden cross was working out the way it was. He could get those truly in need of rest into a bed with little repercussion. Most of the time.

“And speaking of end goals, I was curious as to what you did before this position,” he leaned back in the warm metal chair. “I’m not privy to your file, but if I’m not mistaken, you were… in pageantry, yes? I think I remember your face from a newspaper.”

That’s as far as his knowledge went, for better or worse. He can only imagine the cutthroat world that was the beauty world. Despite the warm weather, he shuddered in his chair. “If you'll allow me an answer: why the change in field?”

---

Alison Everly

“Change is natural, over the course of a life,” was all the comfort Grigori offered. His change was the realization of his position in life. How much pain he’d caused, and how much he regretted it. Nothing physically monumental, but every journey started with a single step.

Howard’s was that he was a lot more capable of doing bad things than he’d like to have admitted. Such was the nature of a human and their soul. Capable of many great things, like pioneering a mission to save a region, and perhaps even the world.

Capable of many awful things, like the furthering of the goals of a self-admitted totalitarian government.

“I will do my best,” he promised. Their current training left many too tired to even complain by the end of it. It’d have to be augmented of what they already did; adding more would guarantee his failure. Even then, he didn't suspect he'd obtain more than a half-dozen bodies for the misison. But it'd have to suffice.

“And… Mr. Howard?”

Grigori patted him on the shoulder, a momentary pause as he started to leave the kitchen and back to the front door. “I will die before the situation deteriorates like such. We both know it.”

“And for that, you have my word.”

He did not let the admin try to say anything otherwise. He strode with purpose back to the moving truck, his shoulders rolling all the while. Their break was over. It was time to return to work as a mover. A much simpler, thoughtless job. And for that, he was grateful.

---

howard slayte

“Ms. Fiorelli.”

Grigori smiled at his over-eager boss with all the warmth of a hot summer’s night. It was all too often that he remembered the characteristic underbosses of the organization, those who had too much ambition with their positions of power.

For better or worse, Elisabeth Fiorelli had made such a pointed impression.

“I’ve seen them before, once or twice,” he admitted. “Utilized them. I’m afraid it’s been quite some time.”

He wasn’t one to delve into these strange digital worlds. For once in his life, he had to admit that the technology absent in his youth, or even middle age, had surpassed what he understood. But to be fair, this sort of technology was well above most of the other grunts understanding as well. He didn’t lose sleep over not knowing or trying to know the technology.

It’s not like the League was trying to shove the grunts into digitized worlds as a combat method yet. He could afford it.

“And it’s… going, to say the least,” he said. Things were a lot harder this time around. He learned so much about himself, yet it felt like for every step forward, there was also a step back. Time didn’t heal everything after all. “But I must thank you again for showing me that there is still work to be done.”

He did not regret it, and he would not let Elisabeth think herself clever for what she pulled in her office, all those months back. “But, if you could please give me a run-down of our purpose here today, I would appreciate it. Specialized training, I presume?”

---

Elisabeth Fiorelli

Giving away these Gacha Pikachu/Clobbapus to one Michael Davis

Taking Trapinch, Pikachu, Clobbapus, and Dragonite

He struggled against Jayden, who pushed him into the ground. “YOU…!”

Annalise took a sideswipe and held on for dear life. “YOU FORGET YOURSELF. REMEMBER YOUR VOW, OLD MAN.”

The world crumbled and cracked. He was back in that awful pit, surrounded by dozens of others who battle for their lives. Yet the one who held him down flickered in and out of reality like TV static. As if his mind didn’t, couldn’t, comprehend them. He struggled, but couldn’t with his limited senses.

“You promised me…” ■■■■ bashed his head into the stone. No matter how much he tried, the grunt could not overpower his adversary. He didn’t want to. His bones were too weak against him. Who could be so determined, so adamant, to remind him of these truths? Visions of a time long forgotten?

“...wake up. FLY.”

howard slayte . Together, they flew.

Down to the cold, hard earth. He’d known physical pain enough to know of its habituality. Of course, such a fall hurt bad. His back screamed, and his arms struggled to carry the weight of his upper body as he sat upright. Bones mended, muscles healed. Either they could, or they couldn’t. There was no middle ground.

But that look… the look annalise henderson gave him. His nerves shot on all cylinders. His heart raced. His eyes grew double in size. Slowly, he reached a numb hand to his face. The mask had cracked. A portion of his face was revealed to the world. Even as he desired for the toxic chain to hide him in his shame, that too disappeared.

Realization crept into his mind, and he rose without so much as a grunt or a scream or a sob or anything. One hollow step at a time, past the reuniting of thought-dead Pokemon, or of Ogerpon’s new human ally, or the dynamaxing of legendary beasts, of them at all, or Jayden’s attempt on another's life.

He did not deserve such happiness. Even as he shambled along, and found the team he had before he was imprisoned here. Six poke balls, lined up in a perfectly straight line. All he did was collect his belongings, eyes firmly affixed to the floor, and wandered back to the breeding pit.

Where danger loomed. Another fight. Would he even be able to protect himself, let alone those he thought dear to his heart? “I’m…”

A Kingambit emerged, and hugged him from behind. Grigori faintly felt wet tears stain his tattered robes. “Gambit! Kingambit!”

“Sorry,” he whispered. Then, hell broke loose.

---

Tl;dr
- Howard stops him, and he is too silly to fight back
- He and Howard fly
- On the ground, pain is temporary, but guilt and shame is forever
- Husk ignores all the hubabaloo, and gets his stuff back
- As his Kingambit attmepts to reunite with him, he apologizes
- Implied that this happens right as the 'threat' emerges from the ceiling
_H7nsIHe

“But–”

It was just a bear, Grigori.

Was it?

He let Howard correct himself. Instead, he doubled down. For better or worse, he could not triple-down about the blatant misinformation. The grunt had seen the admin care for the bear. Even if sometimes it strayed into the madness of scientific discovery, it came from the heart. It was never harmful.

A ball could be remade, or replicated. A Pokémon, or even a person, could not. And for that, Grigori rose like an old man from the bench. Ancient, he hobbled over to Howard and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Sit, you fool. Sit.”

There wasn’t an option. He half-helped-half-forced the archeologist to sit down. To rest.

It was the ravages of time, that flesh suffered from, that made it all the more important to remember. Metal could not, the same way its weaker brethren did. It stood, it watched, and it felt nothing.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He rubbed the skin in a circular rhythm. What did he always tell June? “I find that conversation about things such as this helps us, in a way. Connections, common humanity. Anything is better than nothing.”

---

howard slayte Shred

Howard Slayte was becoming the perfect admin. The situation, the broad time to get things into order, even down to the metaphor of a chess board. Grigori wondered if his soul agonized as much as his own did. If for the same reasons. And if not, then how? Things best left unsaid and unknown.

But the mind ever wandered.

“Only slightly personal,” he explained. Unfortunately, as his eyes glimmered, his mouth kept its signature ever-so-slight frown. “From December. But most of it is the position. No hard feelings.”

So, that meant… late May, if everything took as long as possible. Early May, if they were lucky. These people would know peace for a month. The people had a penchant for impending doom, and maybe they would notice the stillness of the wind before the monsoon of disaster. Some surely would. Nature had a way to warn its people, directly or otherwise.

“What will you have me do, to prepare? What little I can do, with the new training regime,” he asked. The glimmer died. Replaced with a momentary thousand-yard-stare. Hours upon hours of physical endurance tests, fights, stratagems. Hours of something he loathed, for a fight that’d drain his sanity. Then, he was back. “Even more training, I presume?”

---

howard slayte

"Let's rest here," Grigori motioned to the nearby table. Quite a perfect spot, all things considered. It rested on the outskirts of a plaza, where dozens of food vendors peddled their wares to everyone out and about. Furthermore, it caught that uncommon sunlight that'd been absent the last few months, and a gentle breeze tempered its power. Quiet, but not so much to be stiffling.

They could also make a break for it, in the very, very rare circumstance that any League Officers thought them from Team Rocket. Odds were next to none, but never zero. Grigori scoped the scene as he took a seat, his very sugary coffee nursed in his hands. Its warmth radiated into his hands, and its comedic amount of whipped cream stained his nose with every drink.

Nothing stood out. Good. Now, they could talk. "Ms... Alison. I appreciate you meeting me out here. Sometimes a break can be just the thing one needs to regain their strength. Especially with the... harsher than normal training."

Brutal. Abhorrent at times. He'd seen perfectly average grunts pass out from the strain, their bodies pushed to the limits. Not him, though. And as one of the senior grunts, it was his 'job' to ensure that none of them died in the training. War was on the horizon, but an army could not win if their soldiers were injured from the preparations.

"How have you been acclimating to the new job?"

---

Alison Everly

“Some civillian, I-I think,” he struggled to recall their name. It was someone he’d met maybe three times ever, and only hear the name of twice. “A friend of a friend. The people don’t matter, Jayden!”

He was alone, then. The admin was too focused on the reality of the dream to question if the dream was true at all. For him, it was a threat to the future that Jayden oh so desperately wanted. One that Grigori had no stake in. Except the admin thought it so, and thus, he was at odds with him.

A terrifying prospect. An awful one. His fears, his anger only grew. “I need help, advice, and you pester me with details over something we don't even know to be–”

He stopped. Caught himself. the grunt dug his fingers into the admin, against the ice crystals dug into his skin. “Mr. Cross. Did... did you see the magenta chain? In your vision?”

---

jayden cross