Grigori could do this. Just like all those other times, and especially not like the last time. Defectors weren't usually paragons of morality, either. Most of them ran, but continued a life of crime. Didn't like bosses. Miles didn't seem the noble type in his file. This wouldn't be like the last time.

Each heartbeat rang in his ears, a fast-paced drum that kept an impossibly high tempo for such low stakes action. The soft click of the lock cut through the silence like a knife through warm butter. Slowly, the door opened. The grunt followed close behind. He could not fuck up his first mission with a higher up, and especially not his first mission since THAT day.

Unfortunately, the target was wide awake. Fully aware of the situation almost immediately.

(Un)fortunately, Grigori's adrenaline spiked as soon as the man raised his voice.

Instincts took over immediately. "Watch out!"

A poke ball was drawn from his belt and thrown with all his might. Right into the forehead of the Pawmo that dove straight for his partner. It took it off course enough to send it right past him. Those 'cute' Pokémon could be surprisingly vicious if given then chance. Shred learned the hard way a few weeks earlier.

"Imp, cover us!" Grigori watched the thrown sphere return back down to the ground, and out from it came a Grimmsnarl. Just in time, too, as their target deployed yet another Pokémon.

"Stop 'em, Primeape!" Out came yet another creature, similar to the Pawmo. Except bigger, fuzzier, and a lot angrier. It charged right at the Grimmsnarl, readying a Drain Punch. Right before it made contact, the Grimmsnarl clapped both its hands right on the furious ball's forehead. Fake Out.

Quiet wasn't an option. Even worse, the Grimmsnarl took up a large amount of room and that Primeape would just maul either man if they tried to get close. Unlike Zev, the target knew the escape routes by heart and muscle memory. He headed for the fire escape...

"Mr. Harcourt, get me an opening now!" the grunt commanded. Rank mattered little if they failed. In the meantime, he got half a foot away from his own pokemon, ready to capitalize on whatever managed to make happen.

---

Zev Harcourt  

Grigori had reservations about the Toxtricity. Nothing against it personally, but... these things seemed capable of some serious electrical output. Would a being already full of that type of energy seriously be ok if it got triple its own output as an input?

Yet nothing seemed terribly out of place. Neither IMMEDIATELY attacked one another in any terrible way, nor did the Xurkitree back off or run back to the midsts of its 'pack'. "Whatever you and your Toxtricity said, looks like we might be able to avoid a fight. Good work. Mr. Shred."

But, it was hard to pay attention to just the Toxtricity and single alien. As the remnants of the group trailed off into the distance, the grunt examined them instead. They sure were made of cables with one big spark on their heads, but it was the movement of the cables that really impressed him.

Each one felt like a part of a whole, with its own mind and function. A thousand moving parts that moved alone and in unison. How did they examine their surroundings? Maybe a mixture of echo-location and it's ability to create electricity in a funky amalgamation. Maybe their 'heads' were just one big eye. Maybe they moved blind to the world, and only reacted to voltage like a plant did with sunlight.

Well, that's what their plan was for and Shred had upheld his end of the bargain. "If you think your Pokémon 'convinced' the alien to come with us, then I'll make sure no strays get between us and camp. Don't wait too long, though. Scizor, stay with Shred please."

Grigori started his own trek back to base, with his Scizor cross-armed and aggressively on edge. As long as that thing didn't start anything, then it wouldn't finish anything. 

Yet something peculiar happened on his short trip. A rumble shook through the ground, as if a building had dragged itself across the earth. That third sense tinlged in his chest. Those aliens must have the same sense, since a majority of them made some faint buzz and moved as if their lives depended on it. 

What could terrify them so badly that even a bundle of cables would feel terrified? The grunt didn't need long to figure it out as he returned his attention back ahead. Despite him not moving for the last ten seconds, their base grew larger. Closer. Buildings weren't supposed to do that. 

"Wait... Mr. Howard?!"

---

Shred howard slayte

As luck would have it, Grigori locked eyes with the only other singular person interested in the haul presented. Names and faces changed on the regular, but the types to be interested in a thing like this at a place like this were few and far between. In a way, a kindred soul felt comforting. 

But only for a moment. Then the man flung an insult.

"You are not wrong, sir," he stepped closer to both of the relevant people, "I would not make a good tea with it. However, where you are wrong is that I would use it for something like tea."

Tea? All the claim of nationality did was confirm his mind hadn't quite grown to its full potential. Grigori wouldn't make a good tea with it because he didn't make tea. Anyone with even an ounce of knowledge in the brewing process could do an adequate job. Uncultured was settling for tea with tea leaves.

His plan? Simple. "While a tea made from 'Ten Year Gyokuro' sounds pleasant, you set your sights low. I believe I could turn these leaves into an exquisite cake, given the opportunity."

He had tasted it once, many years back. A master in the field had concocted the confectionary delight, and he had gotten only a few bites. Yet those had been the singular best bites of cake the grunt had ever had. Ever. And even the chance to attempt a recreation was too good to pass up. Perhaps even worthy of a Bucket List.

"Or maybe some other pastry. The sky is the limit. You'll learn that when you get older, kid."

Two could play the 'age' game, though.

---

Kouji Matsubara

"Do not fret, Miss Eleanor," Grigori walked in the direction the girl had pointed, "I'm sure that 'Jesabel' is perfectly safe. Perhaps she is not even in a tree after all!"

Note to self: do NOT mention the Skitty being in a tree. In all honesty, that'd probably be one of the most idea places for it to be hiding. The branches would provide cover from any birds of prey, and anything on the ground would be unable to reach it (hopefully). Yet Eleanor seemed especially upset at the idea, and that was not what they needed.

Castform, meanwhile, stuck back with the girl. It bobbed around her head and made happy little calls. An attempt to cheer her up, but its effectiveness left a little to be desired. Its only party trick was a scaled down Rain Dance, which it still hadn't mastered to its fullest potential.

Its other moves were out of the question. What Pokémon would Hydro Pump or Hurricane at a time like this?

The tall man started his search in the undergrowth, careful to not upset any of the natural fauna in the area. Skitty weren't very big, so they couldn't leave big tell-tale signs of a hasty exit. Any bits of fur would be a half-dozen pink hairs, paw prints as light as a feather. 

"Do you have any Pokémon treats on your person, Miss Eleanor? Maybe that would get its attention." Grigori examined a particular point of interest. Either someone really needed to get their scalp checked out after a terrible hair dye attempt, or that was the fur of a certain feline. "You were right. It went this way. Come, we'll track it down."

He did not wait up, and quickly delved further into the undergrowth and light forestry. 

---

eleanor blair teska

By the time Shred caught up, Grigori and his Pokémon were well over half the way there. It didn't seem like it at first, but the grunt knew how to close distances fast without looking the part. He didn't even seem bothered by it, either. 

Too focused on how to best deal approach this 'problem'. An assault would be a last resort option. Yet caution was of the utmost importance. That scene from their last trip still stood fresh in his mind, as if it had been just earlier that day. And the creature in the middle, unfazed by it all...

"Mr. Shred," he called out, "There are... a lot more of these things out here than first realized."

That or the way they grew with each step he took closer finally took effect in his mind. What first were little more than a couple feet tall soon turned into miniature statues, almost double his own height. A surprise, but nothing they couldn't handle.

Even better, almost none of them noticed the oncoming group. All except the one that stared them down earlier. It kept its gaze firmly fixed on the three of them, still as unmoving as before. Even Grigori felt his heart pump slightly harder at the sight of it. 

"Well... that one knows we're here. It also hasn't alerted its neighbors. Yet. Us blindly approaching it is out of the question. Do you have any ground-type Pokémon? Perhaps that would work best. See how it reacts to a non-hostile creature of vaguely similar kingdom."

Unfortunately, none of his own Pokémon fit the bill. Scizor looked ready to attack the thing, the way it reciprocated the invisible staring contest. His Kingambit would try to kill the thing outright. And his Druddigon looked intimidating as is. 

---

howard slayte Shred

BLOOD MUD & IRON SIGN-UP

ON THE HUNT!

CHARACTER: Grigori Sokolov[break]
PKMN TEAM (3 MAX): [break]

WHAT IS THE IC REASON FOR YOUR CHARACTER'S PARTICIPATION?: OOC, Gregory needs to stop Freddy Fazbear from destroying the Pizza-Plex (Hoenn)! IC, Grigori figured this is a good way to do some good without stepping on the toes of the ever present Team Rocket and getting reprimanded at best. Afterall, this is an everyone problem, not a faction problem. 

Side note, will get a proper Kingambit sprite in a day or so. Thanks for the patience!

Howard's explanation made sense, but did little to quell Grigori's annoyance. Oh well. He'd get over it soon enough. Best not dwell on the implications and simply move on.

"Let's not argue about our knowledge of said 'alien'," the grunt butt in. "When part of our mission in this dreary place is to research it in the first place."

Grigori motioned for his Scizor to join them outside, and then took a few steps away from the base. "I propose we try and safely 'encourage' one to join us at this base. If they do turn out to be friendly, then we can maybe use one for a more reliable power source and a specimen for research."

And if they weren't friendly? Well, they all knew what to do in a situation like that: either battle them or run back into the real world and start from square one again. Not the worst idea, considering that their 'base' took heavy inspiration from what it was built upon: rubble and remnants. 

Or try to defend the shoddy place they called 'camp'. Howard's call, since he seemed to have the most investment in the place (personal or otherwise). 

And above all else, he could feel more useful to the group. Anyone could stand there and stare out a door, or read off of whatever items or data points Howard needed to be read off. Grigori could 'enforce' the Xurkitree to do things, like 'not kill them all' or 'don't attract more of your kind here to test just how many teravolts can course through a human before their eyes explode'. 

So, Grigori started for the creatures, metal insect in tow. "If you so desire, feel free to tag along. Otherwise, I will let you know how my expedition goes when I come back."

Hopefully he came back.

---

Shred howard slayte

In response to Zev's release of a Gengar, Grigori would release his own Pokémon: a Scizor. Once again, not at all an attempt to remain naturally hidden. Any light at all would catch and reflect off its carapace. The grunt nodded to the Pokémon, which nodded back and dashed ahead. By the time it mattered, the bug would be in position on the stair well. 

"Front door is usually the best door," the grunt agreed. Especially in a place like an apartment complex. Those didn't have the back doors found in houses. Options for escape were to jump out a window, fire escape, or somehow get through the front door.

If that managed to happen, then these two weren't suited for their positions in Team Rocket.

Fighting types? That would only be problematic in the sense that they liked to cause commotion. Make noise. "If you can handle any deployed Pokémon, I can handle the target. Of course, if you agree with it."

He took the lead up the stairs, careful to not make any sudden noises. A plan started to form inside his head. "I'm unsure what you have in mind," Grigori whispered, "but I picture we sneak in, silence the target, then make our exit. If our target is awake, then we hit fast and hard. If it drags out, then perhaps best to go loud and deal with the consequences' afterword."

Strictly business. The grunt regarded this operation as a banker would a transfer of funds. Yet in such close quarters, it was impossible to ignore the way he took his time up the stairs. How Grigori gripped the handrail with bone white knuckles. Or the tense air that surrounded the man, palpable enough to cut with a knife. 

What could possibly get him so anxious? So tense? Impossible to guess. 

They reached the top of the stairs. The grunt crept along the floor, like a snake in a shadow. At the end of the hall was their target. Despite the eerie quiet that engulfed the space, faint movement and rumbles of activity made it present that one of these rooms had activity. Each door they passed crossed it off as the source, until they stood in front of the targets' door. The apartment that belonged to Miles Dubois. 

Fuck. "You want to take point, or me?"

---

Zev Harcourt

This... was an honest effort, to put it nicely. 

Grigori examined the camp an art teacher might a first-grader's 'pièce de résistance'. With lots of compassion, understanding, and a flurry of words that one would consider appropriate in order to convey an idea without making them cry in the process. Howard didn't seem the type to start bawling if someone called his product 'garbage', but it didn't hurt to be courteous.

If only Howard got the memo, as he turned to him after explaining that they'd need a lightning rod for electricity. Grigori sighed and pushed himself off the rubble 'chair', Scizor right behind. "I will not say no, Mr. Howard, but please do not make this sort of expectation a habit."

"Nor you, Mr. Shred," Grigori leered at the other grunt. Seriously, did they consider him little more than a pack mule-slash-chatot in a cage? He was more than capable of doing... literally anything else. Instead, he got to watch the other two set up camp while he watched the front door. A part of him hadn't quite recovered.

But it was his fault, probably. His attempted self-sacrifice wasn't necessary in the end, but it set precedent. He'd do it again in a heartbeat, but he didn't need the other two to rely on such a fact as well. He walked over, snatched the lighting rod from the ground, and marched to the outside. 

Now, where to put this thing? Probably from a crack in the building, and angled away from the building. Or perhaps in the ground-- no, probably in the air. Thankfully, their 'residence' did not lack for available places to shove such an apparatus. He picked one a few feet to the side, as high as possible. It only took a little elbow grease to get the thing firmly in there.

"Mr. Howard, could you please ensure that this is what you need? I would be lying if I said I knew exactly what you needed."

At least nothing seemed out of place on the outside. Except the distant Xurkitree, which... roamed the plains? It was hard to say, at this distance. They either moved slowly, or not at all. 

---

Shred howard slayte

"Alright, you fucking bastards," a voice boomed from within the break room, "I'm gonna be nice JUST this once time!"

That got Grigori's attention rather fast. 'Nice' and 'Team Rocket break room' did not go hand in hand. Much like oil and water, it was pointless to try and mix them. There was a reason he did not frequent the place: most of the time, things went sour and people got pissed off at each other.

That and he didn't want his lunch stolen. 

So, he contined on down the hall. Wonder what that guy is--

"I've got this bundle of Johtonian tea leaves, called the 'Ten Year Gyokuro'--"

The grunt stopped in his tracks. Did that man stutter? Or was this another ploy to get a few extra bucks from scamming the new recruits that didn't know the difference between mint and mary jane?

Either way, he turned around and crept towards the break room. The voice continued on, "And I can't find a fucking buyer! And this shit reeks, so whoever wants it more can have it or some shit. I don't care, I want it GONE!"

His eyes widened. So this guy did have the real deal! Sought after for its pungent smell, it was a true delicacy in Johto. Grigori had tried to get some in Hoenn before, but the price had been too much.

And this stranger wanted to hand it away? No way he could pass up on it. He burst into the room. Thankfully, a couple other grunts mulled around, entirely uninterested in whatever the tower of a man had to say. "Sir, I couldn't help but overhear your desire to part with some 'Ten Year Gyokuro'. If no one else wants it, I'll--"

Never could be simple, could it?

---

Kouji Matsubara
(Kick the Bucket List Mission)

These missions were the ones Grigori loathed the most. A younger version of himself would've been ecstatic for numerous reasons. Perhaps because he was going to be accompanied by a more senior member. Because he got to be violent and let himself do whatever he wanted. Because maybe he'd get a pay raise from it.

But that Grigori was long gone. This one loathed every step he took down the street, dressed as he always was. There was a reason he let everyone else get their pick of the available missions, or request certain 'problems' to take care of. All the young recruits jumped at the opportunity for stuff like this. Wanted to claw and tear their way up the ladder.

At least old and current him had always agreed there: stability was best, and a raise in status would only put that in jeopardy. And if this mission went extremely medicore-ish, then he might get the chance to keep things as they were. Perhaps even convince this defector to leave the country and never look back. 

At least, that's what he WOULD tell himself if he hadn't promised to never tell a lie again. As he slowly approached Zev, he pulled his mind out of the depths of despair. The less emotion, the better.

"Good evening, Mr. Harcourt," Grigori responded. Unlike his boss, he didn't adopt a quieter voice. No one came around this area. "I have no questions at this moment, though the brief did not mention potential escape routes. I went ahead and scouted earlier, took note of a fire exit directly outside our target's window, and the stairway that leads to the roof. Worse comes to worst, we can flee on the rooftops if things get... rough."

'Target'. A 'trick' they used in the military (or so he heard). Less humanized, the better. 

Then... why did his muscles shake? His mind in top gear, still stuck on that one night? Grigori knew why, but he was allowed self ignorance. Unless, of course, this doomed soul forbade it. Time would tell.

"Best be quick and quiet," Grigori turned to the relevant building and started towards it, "Well... my apologies. Presumptuous of me to pretend this is your first mission, Mr. Harcourt. I'm sure we both know how best to act."

---

Zev Harcourt