“Thank you, Mr. Howard, but it was the least I could do,” Grigori said. He wanted to actually do something, and so he did. That, and it was his job to ensure the safety of his party members. A little bit of A, a little bit of B.

Unfortunately, they were now splitting up again. Shred… however that worked, had wandered off away from the camp. Howard instead approached the camp to probably salvage what little remained of it. Did he help the person who had no idea how to help themselves, or the one that probably didn’t need it but would want it.

The grunt turned to his two available Pokémon, who had rejoined him in the midst of all the commotion. “Who wants to help–”

Brick immediately started in the direction of Shred, while Scizor furiously shook its head and gave a big, red X. Fair enough.

“Make sure you avoid any more of those… cables,” Grigori called to his Pokémon. Scizor retreated back into its poke ball, fed up or tired, or both. Looked like he was on scavenging duty.

As he slowly followed Howard’s trail, the prospect of yet another venture into this space sprouted in his mind. Surely they wouldn’t send all three of them together back to this hellscape which required people far more capable or intelligent than any of them, right?

Of course not. If that were the case, then why didn’t they send the smart ones to start? “I wonder what hi jinks we will encounter on the next expedition…”

---

howard slayte Shred eFrdojfC

Ayer’s magnetism, alongside the Mega Toxtricity that towered over the area, left Grigori in shock. Almost too much to comprehend. For starters, it might’ve been a good idea to lead with that sort of trump card. If he had known Shred was capable of this, he might not have needed to make a near-suicide run for the Golurk.

But perhaps the combination of the two is what causes the base to break into hundreds of massive brick-sized pieces. His bones shuddered from the impact, and he struggled to remain upright. The boom echoed off the very distant cliffsides. Individual or not, most of it the building flies off into the sky.

Much like the Regieleki had before.

Except this time, the impact isn’t nearly as destructive as last time. It felt weird but made sense upon closer introspection. They weren’t right next to the impact zone. A cloud of dust and debris shot into the sky, perturbed by the sheer force.

They were safe. For now. But was their equipment safe?

Why were the Golurk’s arms suddenly empty?

Grigori looked to the Probopass, and his heart sank. Gone were the bricks and stones from the building, yet there still remained a much smaller beard. All their gadgets and tools looked firmly stuck to the Pokémon. “Howard, how bad is it to attach those machines to a magnet? A really strong one at that?”

Scizor rolled its eyes, simply tired from it all. 

---

Shred howard slayte

“I appreciate the review, Mr. Harcourt, but I think your critique part of the assessment means I did far from a ‘good job’,” Grigori stated bluntly. Good job? Objectively, it was mediocre at best. He had acted sloppy. Slow. Cowardly. Zev's tone fell on deaf ears.

Zev, though? His boss had the idea to cover the exit routes. Cut off the target. Leave nothing to chance. Leave emotion at the door. Not even in his younger years had he been that efficient or ruthless. Maybe that was for the best, though, to show neither shame nor glee. Anger nor sadness.

Better to show no emotion for a hit, or show joy in wanton violence? These weren’t the answers.

The correct answer, he thought, was to not do it in the first place.

And then the other shoe dropped. Grigori stopped in his tracks, a wince on his face. This was bound to happen eventually. He could not lie, but that did not mean he had to tell the entire truth. That would make him the next target.

“There was an… accident, to put it one way,” he said carefully. “The last person I killed was an old friend. Defector, from a long time ago. Some buried emotions came to light in a way I deeply regret. Still haunts me to this day, despite being… not even two years ago.”

Grigori turned his head a crack, enough to gain eye contact. “Guess you could say my head isn’t in the game.”

He knew it didn’t exist in the file, but he also knew that Zev wasn’t born yesterday. Odds were that Zev could put two and two together and surmise the supposed date of this ‘hit’ with when his mission completion rate took a nosedive. Or what type of missions he stopped doing up until this point.

---

Zev Harcourt

PURCHASING/REDEEMING

welcome to the poké mart!

1X Mega Accessory (Grabbing a Scizorite) (500 PD)
1X TM (Close Combat for Scizor) (60PD)

TOTAL

do come again!

560 PD

“I said we need to hurry,” Grigori complained as the Hatterene emerged. Why waste time doing this here when they still needed to vacate the premises? His care could wait a minute.

Yet as the Heal Pulse took effect, his gripes slowly faded. They still remained, but perhaps most of it could’ve been attributed to the mind-numbing pain. Now, the bleeding slowed to a trickle. That metaphorical red-hot knife in his side became just a thorn.

“...Thanks, Mr. Harcourt.” That was all he said before he retreated the Grimmsnarl and hobbled over to the window. “Let’s get out of here before half the neighborhood comes down on us.”

So, with the help of the Gengar, the two men descended the fire escape and returned to street level. While the road they came from lay on one side, the grunt began to walk in the opposite direction.

“I know a path over this way,” he explained. “Great cover to the proper wilds, and once we’re there we’re in the clear.”

Unless Zev had done his own scouting (or had a flying type), then Grigori knew that this would be the best path. He’d taken it a half dozen times for similar reasons, and another half doze for convenience. This was home turf, after all. He knew it like the back of his hand.

“And if you got a pair of wings, then feel free to do that instead,” Grigori bent down to grab a small rock. With a grunt, he lobbed it all the way up the building to the roof. A signal to his Scizor that it could come back down.

---

Zev Harcourt

“You can call me Grigori, Mr. Kouji,” Grigori said.

Slim odds they’d ever get the chance at that again. A near once-in-a-lifetime opportunity experience flushed down the drain. He couldn’t take his mind off of it. That was something he had wanted to do for ages now. If he were the type to keep a bucket list, that’d be one of the first three things written on it.

While Kouji retrieved his tea, Grigori approached the fridge. At least there was still some cake to be eaten here. He had baked it last night and covered it in chocolate frosting and sprinkles and all other sorts of sweet confectionaries.

He could practically taste it from across the room, and the excitement only built up as he got closer. “I hope you have a sweet tooth, Mr. Kouji, because I do not hold back when it comes to–”

The door swung open. Inside were the usual suspects: labeled Tupperware, bottled drinks, fruits. However, absent was one respectably sized cake packed to the brim with colorful, sugary delights.

And despite the health benefits of not being able to take a single bite from it, his heart skipped a beat. The plate was still in the fridge, though, and atop it sat a note. “How’d you know it was my birthday, big guy? Thanks from the past!”

The grunt’s legs buckled underneath him. He didn’t remember when his mouth opened, but the start of a scream came out nonetheless. “nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO–”

---

Kouji Matsubara

In the moment, Grigori took hold of Howard's own shoulders and shook them twice as violently. "This is great. Mr. Howard! That will surely stop the building right in its tracks!"

Yet as Shred tried to supercharge the Probopass, nothing happened. A second and third try proved just as uneventful. These things were chock-full of energy, but the one Shred grabbed seemed entirely uninterested in the release of it. Why?

Wait a second. That Toxtricity looked absolutely drained. They liked to take the electricity, and they surely were capable of releasing it. But they wouldn’t do it on a whim. No, there needed to be another thing. Something with electricity already. And a colossal golem currently held numerous electrical machines…

“Brick, cover me!”

Without as so much as a warning, the grunt ran off. Right towards the Golurk, currently in the middle of being attacked by the building. Brick wasn’t as fast as its trainer, but managed to keep up enough to fend off any stones that floated and swung in the air. As soon as they reached the titan, the Druddigon charged recklessly forward. Its head shimmered grey-like as its monstrous Iron Head bought Grigori an opening.

But how to get up? Well, the Druddigon itself would be a good start. He ran up its back and quickly hopped off onto the nearest stable surface. A solid block that crumbled off from the blow, but it didn’t stay long. Blocks higher up on the temporary encasement shuffled down to keep it immobile. Thankfully, this provided the perfect opportunity to get higher and higher.

Only after a few steps and Grigori a final leap. Golurk were tall, but the machinery was only to its chest. He grabbed the first one he could get his hands on, a radio, and let gravity bring him back into the Druddigons arms. “Brick, toss me back, please!”

A grunt of affirmation, and the world shifted. Pulled back above its head, then flung with all of its strength. Air whipped against his face, as well as stone and sand, but the arc wasn’t enough. He was too big, and the distance too long.

His feet hit the ground, and he hit the ground running. Just a little further. Almost there… yes! Back to the Probopass. Without much time to waste, he pushed the device into its body. It practically flew from his hands and slammed into the side of the Pokémon.

And that got the aliens' attention. Black cables snaked from its body, directly to the machine. Static blared from its speakers, brought to life by the electricity that pulsed from the alien into the machine. “Mr. Howard, we’ve got power!”

---

Shred howard slayte

Well. This was certainly anti-climatic. To Grigori’s dismay, the tea leaves were not handed to him, nor this other person, but a third, unrelated party. What the hell did this guy do to win such a wondrous gift?

A crisp, ten poke-dollar was all it took, and the precious cargo exchanged hands. Into some other young adult, surrounded by a few friends, “Alright bros, let’s go smoke the SHIT out of this!”

The small group cheered and quickly exited the break room, chants of ‘Smoke it up!’ and ‘Let’s fucking go!’ left in their wake. Just like that, his hopes were crushed into fine dust. Scattered into the wind. Was one’s heart supposed to feel this heavy?

A near once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to make something with his own two hands, with such a rare item… gone.

“Well… gotta go. Have fun talking about whatever stupid shit you two were on about,” The original owner said before departing himself. That left the two of them alone in the room, not another civilized soul in sight.

Grigori sighed, “Perhaps we should’ve compromised. I apologize for my half of the blame. Looks like neither of us get what we want in the end.”

Perhaps not all was wasted. An idea sprang up in his head, a potential happy end to this sudden soul-crushing experience. “Say, maybe we just… have some regular tea and cake? Should be some left in the fridge over there.”

---

Kouji Matsubara

Grigori flinched as the crystal extended. Blood painted the area around Miles–the target. He kept one hand pressed against the wound, desperate to keep it from bleeding hard. His heart pounded against his chest, adrenaline thick in his blood. It'd sting for weeks to come, but not the worst in the world.

Arceus above, he should’ve fucking stayed home. Came up with an excuse. Taken up more missions in his downtime. Twiddled his thumbs while some other fucker got the ‘luxury’ of a mission with someone like Zev. Hell, he should’ve offered to do all the hard work himself as a show of ‘strength’.

At least the man would’ve had a halfway respectful fucking sendoff and not become an impromptu art display. He shouldn’t have asked for help. Should’ve figured it out on his own. Grigori grunted and sat upright the best he could, “I’ll live–”

Oh, Arceus, the smell. The sight. So clean, yet so bloody. Miles had been alive not a minute before, and now his corpse clattered to the ground. Empty. A rush of nausea and déjà vu sent his head into a whirlwind. Words got caught in the back of his throat.

He swallowed. No. Look away. Push yourself up. Do not connect the dots. This man does NOT look like him. Nothing at all. Focus. Focus. Loud noises. His own deep, laborious breath. Not that, from earlier. They needed to go. Now.

“Won’t matter if we get caught. Need to retreat. Mission complete. Whatever.”

Slowly, he rose to his feet. He peeled off his vest before they left. For medical purposes, they’d need to cut it off anyway for stitches. It did no good here. For personal reasons, he draped it over the tar-- Miles.

He started to hobble over to the window. The rooftop would probably not end well, and the way they came almost begged to end in capture. “Cops usually don’t hang out around this area, we should be good if we–”

A bump into the Grimmsnarl sent him stumbling. All the way across the room, into the kitchen. Fuck, this hurt. When had the last time been since he’d been stabbed? It never felt this excruciating before. Blade must’ve gone deeper than he thought. That or the adrenaline wore off.

Or both. “...Hurry."

---

Zev Harcourt
 

If it weren’t for the conditions of their environment, the fact that he found out about this through Shred hoping to 'make bank', or how they had walked for long enough to nearly kill his good mood, Gregori would’ve been a lot happier given the task.

Rarely did the opportunity to do good AND not step on the ever-present toes of his association arise. Even better when the thing he had to intervene in didn’t involve a person. His heart went out to the victims of this dastardly bear, but it was too late for them. Now it was critical they find the newest round of missing people.

And equipped with tall rubber boots, at least his feet only contended with the thick sweat that built up from a hike through the bog. The positives were important. “Mr. Shred, I’m afraid my answer is still the same as it was two minutes ago: We’ll arrive when we do.”

That wasn’t a lie. They would very much arrive to the small search party in time. However, he was sure they’d taken a wrong turn along the way. Or went straight when they weren’t supposed to. And with Shred, he couldn’t reveal that his capabilities for travel without a GPS were… poor, to say the least.

Shred would call him the ‘result of a failed chainsaw-lobotomy’, and he wasn’t about to be yelled at when he'd need the strength for when they did find their target. Maybe he should’ve brought a map to this thing after all.

The rain made the consideration a moot one. It’d just get ruined in the rainfall, which the grunt had no protection from. Oh, to be a Seedot that huddled for cover underneath the leaves above. “The search party wouldn't leave without accounting for all the members that signed up, right Mr. Shred? That would just be disastrous, given the circumstances.”

---

 - Grigori and Shred approach Area 1.
 - However, they are lost as fuck. Unable to find the main group (we are going to get jump scared by freddy fazbear)

 

Hatred was a cruel thing to hold. Just as it leads to unforeseen, terrible actions against the one held in contempt, it hurts the one who held it in their fist. An emotion with no right or wrong. And those with it must suffer the consequences of their actions. Grigori knew it all too well, as he clashed with his own emotions mentally.

However, Fate deemed it necessary to also make it a physical confrontation. And it hurt. Even though the figure was bruised and bloody, it fought as if in its prime. Past that, even. No punch flew a hair out of place, no opportunities to punish jabs. His blocks only threatened to break his arms, and open attacks his ribs. Surely a punishment for his past, and no better person to dish it out than this face.

And if it weren’t for Scizor, who cut through the apparition with a single blow, then odds are he might’ve died there. As soon as the red claw disintegrated the thing, he fell to a knee. Everything ached in every sense of the word. After this was all done and over, he’d need to reflect for a long time on what the hell this meant.

For now, there was yet another order. A command from @declanwalsh : take down Mr. jayden cross . “Scizor… go after Mr. Cross. Please.”

The red insect raised an ‘eyebrow’. “I’ll be fine, I promise you. I’ll make sure nothing happens to Mr. Walsh, so long as he doesn’t run away from me.”

Another second passed. Doubt still clouded its mind, but Scizor nodded. Then, it charged. Past the other Team Rocket Leaders, past the other Pokémon. Unfortunately for its murderous charge, the snowstorm blinded its gaze. The target seemed impossible to make out in the chaos. CONFUSION swam in its head, a headache further prodded along by the electrical terrain that zapped its strength from it.

But it pressed on. Damn it all to hell if it tore the wrong person to ribbons. By the command of Declan Walsh, it was it or Jayden. And it certainly wouldn’t be itself. A Bullet Punch swung at some figure in the middle of it all, from a bug covered in static and fast-formed white crystals.

---

Tl;dr
 - Greg gets fucking dumpstered by the ghost of christmas past the apparition conjured by Chien Pao, but is saved by Scizor
 - While Grigori hangs back to try and 'defend' Declan Walsh, Scizor is commanded to +2 252+ Atk Technician Scizor Bullet Punch vs. 248 HP / 252+ Def Jayden: 3376-3973 (14066.6 - 16554.1%) -- guaranteed OHKO
 - The multitudes of on-field conditions stop it from perfectly completing this task, and in its confusion instead swings at someone in the middle of it all

Zev ran forward. Grigori had to restrain himself from reaching out and stopping the man himself. Sometimes the most necessary action was to put yourself in harm's way. Especially in cases such as this, when the target had a prime exit opportunity. Not nearly as prime as he would’ve immediately thought, but he had better odds than to stay.

Pawmo would need to be Zev’s own problem, as there was no clear line of sight. While the Primeape attempted to pivot around and attack the person instead, Imp quickly positioned itself between the two. It ate the nasty Drain Punch instead, a firm blow to its chest. However, that left it in a precarious enough position that it couldn’t escape its grasp. It attacked with its own roughhousing, a Play Rough that kept it preoccupied.

Perfect timing, then. Miles knew that he stood stuck between a rock and a hard place. So, he ran towards the rock past Zev. Grigori stanced up, ready to take the man on directly. As soon as he got in range he–

“Too slow!” Miles taunted. His plan wasn’t to run past the grunt, but right into him. They both fell to the ground, limbs tangled. The grunt tried to grab onto just about anything on the target, but somehow failed. Slippery as a Magikarp, he evaded immediate capture. “You’re the best they could send?!”

“Yes,” Grigori lashed out at Miles’ legs with surprising force. Enough to throw him off balance, which toppled directly next to the front door instead of through it. A meaty thud echoed throughout the room. “You won't get away that easily!”

Grigori rose quickly, just in time to pin Miles against the wall. Unfortunately for him, that meant little. A quiet click, and--

"GRAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH--"

His grip weakened immensely. Thick, heavy jolts of pain cascaded from his side. He didn't need to look down to know that a blade dug deep into his flesh. One hand reached for the knife and pulled it out. It clattered to the ground, covered in fresh blood. "Zev, help!"

---

Zev Harcourt

If Grigori had been born yesterday, this would've been quite a convincing argument. Mistakes were a perfect thing to make from time to time. Learning the hard way wasn't necessarily bad. What's the harm here?

Grigori eyed the open hand, reached for it, then gently pushed the hand down. "Unfortunately, I will have to decline. While I appreciate your willingness to make mistakes, it's the responsibility of the older folk to help out the younger ones when necessary."

Trying to use his own argument against him. Certainly not unexpected, but disappointing all the same. There was a world of difference between 'making a decent cake instead of a phenomenal one' and 'letting someone squander such a wonderful opportunity on tea'. The two didn't even come close to one another, even if the tea was good.

It couldn't be better than a cake.

"To use the 'Ten Year Gyokuro' for tea would be too great a mistake," Grigori said. "However, if you let me try my hand at it, I'm sure I can make an exquisite cake. We can share it as well. Down the middle. A cake would surely last longer than a pot of tea."

At this point, it came down to pure desire that clashed against one another. He doubted the kid would agree to his idea, as he didn't agree with the other either. They'd probably need a third party to step in and weigh on the ultimate decision. "Or perhaps we let the one giving away the leaves decide. Would that be more fair?"

---

Kouji Matsubara