Unfortunately for Rhys, he would see a very, very familiar figure grow out from the side of the road. At his feet was a bird, with a green leek behind his tail. The one-eyed terrorist had a smile on his face, and he pulled something out of his ears. “Little stronger than I thought– but ain’t a problem w’me. Right, Sir?”

He sounded off with a quack and a raise of his leek. A chuckle escaped his lips, and he slowly approached the burning mess of a vehicle. Sure enough, he didn’t see movement from the front half. Yet again, it’d be strange to see that at all. Less nitroglycerin next time.

He thought there’d be a fight. Wanted it. Oh well. He’d settle for the freedom of wild, innocent Pokemon. Unfortunately, the device certainly neutralized several enemy Pokemon combatants. Indoctrinated. A terrible fate. That’s why he kicked away a metal sheet, the hood, and sent it across the road.

“That’s what ye get!” He sent a hubcap into the grass. “Murderous traitors, the lot of ye! Makin’ me do this. Evil. Vile. Repulsive.”

Eventually, he reached the trunk. Cracked open, like a walnut. And he pulled back the shell to reveal the succulent flesh. Several trays of Poke balls, all kept safe in their cases. He took the first Poke ball, labeled ‘Hydrapple’ and examined it in the fires of the wreckage.

Then, he pocketed it. He’d need to find the rangers and make an ‘Anonymous Donation’ to be returned to its native land. It could be an invasive species, and that’d make it worse. He grabbed the one labeled 'Orthworm' and took that one too. Who knew when the authorities would arive. “Sir, check the wreckage. If there were survivors-- fix it.”

“Fetch’d!” He saluted, then marched to his own rhythm. To the side of the car, with a blown out window. Thanks to his small stature, he could easily fit inside the vehicle. Careful to not step on glass, he’d find Rhys. Alive.

---

Rhys Collins

PURCHASING/REDEEMING

welcome to the poké mart!

1X Premium Gacha (From Excursions, Fairy please) (0 PD)

TOTAL

do come again!

0 PD

As they furiously swam away, Tavish kept his eyes locked on the lass. She’d at least gotten the memo, but she had no clue as to how long they had. At least her Pokémon were good ones and helped her keep speed, and even outsped him. Note to self: try to recruit a water-type swimmer to the cause.

Not that Bloke was bad– but he swam on his own. Like he belonged, he crept along the bottom of the sea with efficiency and a strange grace. He continued to shoo and push the wild Pokémon away, and bubbles escaped his lips when he called out to the other Pokémon.

Time was running out, and they’d made a good distance. But… something in his chest stung. His gut grumbled and complained aloud. They weren’t far enough. Furthermore, they wouldn’t get far enough. The clock in his head got dangerously close to zero. Even though the shore was within sight, and within a minute, it wasn't close enough. A minute wasn't long enough. They wouldn't make it.

So, he doubled his pace. He waved to the Pokémon that helped Eris, and furiously jabbed his finger towards the bomb. His respirator escaped his lips, and he started to scream underwater. ‘Barrier, barrier!’ he called out.

Bloke swam up and joined the group. Just as the clock hit zero.

The water shook in the distance, but it didn’t waste any time as it came for them. Maybe it wouldn’t rupture their internal organs. Or maybe it would, and they were two seconds out from death. Who knew?

---

Eris Halla

At the sound of footsteps, Tavish inched his arms around. A light stretch, careful to not disturb the brush. It was nearly time to strike. Now did his nerves act on their own, and pinpricks erupted all over his skin. Adrenaline preemptively kicked his heart into overdrive, and he hyperfocused on the sound of–

What the–

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

A warm stream of liquid struck the side of his leg. It smelled of piss. Reeked. As the stream of yellow painted the chemist, he disregarded his previous mindset. A fire kindled in his brain, and lit his singular eye into a blaze of fury.

Chu-e would see a man, dressed in red combat fatigues, rise from the depths of the bush. As his piss continued, he would rise to his full height. In the dark, he towered over the enemy by a head, and his singular eye glared down at the pissing man.

“Far, far!” Sir leapt from the bush, his bright green leek in the air. It caught the light of the moon and flung it through the woods. Tavish heard the distant chatter and alarm of more grunts, but that was little compared to the current events.

He stood silent, his breathing loud and harsh. And then, his arm pulled back. It shot forward, straight for his face.

---

Chu-e Choi

Explosives were wonderful things.

They were flexible, for starters. Reactivity was a relative thing, and pressure was easier than ever before to apply. Combine the two, and you had yourself a potent weapon for mass destruction. Shrapnel was a popular choice, but chemical weaponry wasn’t off the table (if you were willing to break a few wartime laws).

They were also a fun brain teaser. One wrong twitch, or a misunderstanding, would send the maker to the realm of Arceus before they could even feel the regret of their mistake. It was a thrill to some, a dread to others, and an overall stressful experience. All the better when a complex, dangerous explosive made it to its final resting place safely.

But Tavish’s favorite part of explosives was the applications. As a child, fireworks were the thing that got him interested in chemistry. Many a summer day spent in a shed, gunpowder and books in tow on how to make them. Most failed, but the first one to ever work was the highlight of childhood. But there were more practical applications. Mining, building destruction.

Terrorism.

But was it terrorism to use them against another fellow terrorist? If you killed a murderer, did the overall number of murderers decrease?

The answer was yes, but only if you killed one person. Two, and you’ve created a deficit. Kill enough of them, and they stop being human altogether. Instead, they transformed into a statistic without any humanity left for people to cry over.

All this came together into the simple, yet effective solution to the problem present in the middle of the day. Y’see, he knew that the next people to come over his little beauty in the road would be bad people. Scouted it out, did his research, the whole nine yards.

His bomb was made from simple ingredients, like nitroglycerin, and a pressure cooker. A double whammy of sorts. But that wasn’t even the best part. To make it a pressure-sensitive one on top of that was hell on earth. He’d nearly died seven times in the process.

Thus, he waited a little too eagerly as the quarry approached. He didn’t know the exact shape they’d take, or even if they travelled by vehicle. But they’d have to be glued back together in hell. He and Sir kept their eyes peeled and excitement restrained.

---

Rhys Collins

Smugglers always worked at night. Fewer people, the cover of night to hide the cages, the stillness to help identify any interlopers. Yes, few could ever hope to attack the small convoy that wormed its way through the forest. Yes, Rocket traveled through the Petalburg Woods, on this quiet, cool night.

But one thing they failed to account for, for their choice of path: they could detect those that approached, but what if one had been there for the better part of five hours?

Tavish lay in wait, hidden beneath the dirt and leaves of a nearby bush. Even if they took the path less traveled, it still showed signs of wear and use. Enough for him to make a small little hide-y hole and sit very, very still. He’d enough experience from Galar to know that beasts of burden never liked to stray from the path of least resistance.

Perceived path of least resistance. There would be plenty of resistance tonight. Yet despite the chill of the slight breeze and the knowledge that action would be required very soon, his nerves were unbothered. None of his limbs shook with anticipation, and he eye lacked the twitch of younger men.

With the smallest of movements, he tapped onto the back of his smaller companion. Sir, a Farfetch’d-Galar, slowly grasped onto his leek. Combat was nearly upon them.

So, he waited, and let the prey come to him.

---

Chu-e Choi

Together, the Pokemon worked in unison to drive off the wildlife from the rocky outcrop. While some did so in a strange, alien-esque way, the task was done and Tavish couldn’t complain too much. Even better, they did it in a way that didn’t bring harm to the creatures. This lass showed potential, and he gave her a thumbs up.

And now that the immediate area was clear, Tavish swam closer to the rocks. They only had one easy, convenient shot at this, so he set down the ‘package’ and pulled the tarp of as slow as molasses. He didn’t want to be the one that got blown up.

Eris would see why, as soon as the cover was fully lifted. It looked less like a bomb and more like a black rectangle. Dozens of wires floated peacefully in the current, tugged along by an invisible hand. The chemist focused on the front of the device and fiddled with various knobs and bits.

Shockwaves were going to be the real bitch of the operation. Those’d rupture their organs if they weren’t far enough or had something in the way. Furthermore, if said shockwave broke their cover, then they’d have to hope they weren’t crushed or buried. They’d need time, and just the right amount. Too much and it’d be a waste. Too little, they’d surely die.

So, he set it for one minute.

He held out a hand, all fingers on full display. Then he retracted his thumb. Then his pinky. A countdown, but no word on just how long they’d have. Probably something they should’ve talk about above water, but it’d be fine.

Tavish hit the big red button and pushed off the rock with all his might. A L.E.D screen on full display started to count the seconds down, slowly yet surely. And he swam like the Sharpedo that the Wooper had scared off.

---

Eris Halla

“Good.”

Tavish offered little else in terms of acknowledgement, and even less in courtesy as they left the front desk. Further into the system that was the Galarian Diplomacy section of this building. Either this person was new, lived under a rock, didn’t care, or truly didn’t know who he was. But he wasn’t about to fill in that blank if unrequired.

The easier this went, the better for him. For the cause.

As soon as they stepped into Elise’s office, Tavish shut the door behind him with a firm tug. He pushed against the wood, only to hear it strain against the frame. Good. A few steps were put further into the space, but he would not sit down at any provided chairs. That’s how good men died from traps.

“I won’t waste me– our, time 'ere,” he corrected himself. From his combat vest, a piece of paper emerged. Folded and half and rough around the edges, he tossed it directly onto the ambassador’s desk. “The queen damned me t'this hell, and I’m lookin' t'claw my way out.”

Exile was the harshest crime they could’ve given him. For that, he had to tip his head in respect. “And if I’m to tear Rocket apart with me own two hands, I’ll need supplies.”

If Elise opened the paper, she’d see a massive list of neatly scrawled in items. The ‘supplies’ ranged from simple things, like ‘rations’ and ‘chemistry sets’, to much more elaborate things. Dangerous things. Chemicals she’d never heard of, gunpowder, hollow iron shells. Materials for explosives.

“That's the bare minimum I've deduced to need.”

---

Elise Calcifet

Eris had the help of a mythical, mystical pixie and two other companions. Tavish had a Toxicroak that swam off ahead and started harassing random wild Pokemon, a makeshift bomb, an ill-fitted diving suit, and a dream. Many would argue the lass was far better equipped and prepared for the task.

Tavish would simply ask who made the first move.

Sure enough, he led Eris and her makeshift team through the waters, a small stream of bubbles left in his wake. The steady push of his fins propelled him forward, through the frigid waters. Pokemon of all breeds and varieties swam or scuttled across the sandy floor, through the dull kelp or vibrant plants at the mercy of the tides.

Much like the above surface, the below held much life itself. Tavish, unfortunately, did not have the time nor oxygen to marvel at Arceus’ marvelous creations. Instead, he kept his eyes forward. If the maps and reports he’d stolen looks at were to be trusted, then the Luvdisc shouldn’t be far from the shore.

And rocks started to creep up into the sand, like a rash, and soon enough engulfed the landscape. He turned around to Eris and pointed forward, toward a particular outcrop. He held out the bomb and motioned it to the thing.

Finally, he pointed to the wild Pokemon that hung around the area, and then made a wave motion. 'Get them gone,' he seemed to say. Bloke was well underway of this task, as he scared off a pair of Krabby.

---

Eris Halla