She ignores him. He'll Google her later.

He's treated (subjected?) to a length discussion about pastries on their walk to the café, but he doesn't seem to mind. Conversation makes him anxious, but simply listening to someone else's passions was kind of nice, even if he didn't fully relate.

His brow furrows when the lady behind the counter gives them a look.

"Coffee, two cream two sugar, and a slice of the cherry pie."

He follows her to the table and sits.

"Did they think we were together?" He sounds amused. "Don't worry," he adds, "I'm gay. You're safe."

If she's famous, she probably gets propositioned a lot, right?

Orion blinks, frowning at her. "I wasn't gonna ask." He's blunt, but it's not out of intention to be rude. He's confused, if anything. "You famous or something?"

He nods, when she correctly recalls his name.

Always more of a follower than a leader, he doesn't hesitate to pursue as she heads for the door.

Should Calliope Marks wish to wax poetic over food, she's in luck, because Orion doesn't realise the trap he might be stepping into when he asks: "Pies?"

It's not the sort of 'odd' Orion meant; he doesn't bother to correct her. She'll find out soon enough.

"No one does this job for the money," he agrees, then frowns. Canting his head, he amends, "Least, not when they have better options."

It wasn't as if the Rangers underpaid, it was more that they were overworked. Spread thin across a region that couldn't go a week without falling apart, with workplace hazards that should grant higher benefits than they did. Orion became a Ranger because he loved the work. He stayed a Ranger, in spite of his injury, because he'd go mad if he didn't have something to do.

"Speaking of," he agrees, frowning. "It's very... localized."

It bore the distinct resemblance of a storm caused by a Pokémon, albeit a little larger than ordinary. Perhaps many Pokémon working in tandem?

"We can send out our Pokémon, now..."

He does so, a battle-scarred NOIVERN joining Dragonair in the skies. SLOWKING and SWAMPERT are released onto the deck of the ship, while TENTACRUEL and LANTURN patrol the seas, the latter ILLUMINATING the way.

mission: a deadly job
valor: search and rescue

His heart is beating faster, adrenaline spiking in his veins. The excitement of a high-stakes job, a thrill he chases if only to feel human again. Tam's command registers over the radio, and Orion almost smiles.

"On it. Over."

A dark energy coalesces around his metal arm; the Rotom within forms a NASTY PLOT for their foe.

Tam's plan is to disable the grunt with the gun. Unfortunately for all parties involved, that grunt happens to be the one who steps up to the door that Orion steps through. The Captain's FAIRY LOCK prevents escape. Both entrances are blocked. It happens over mere seconds: eyes narrow in suspicion, a hand slips too close to a bulge in fabric, and Orion lunges.

He's not fast enough.

The crack of the gunshot echoes through the warehouse.

It doesn't feel like getting shot. It's different, when your arm is made of titanium. It feels a bit like he's slammed it into a brick wall, thrown from the impact. There is pain, as well, nerves both artificial and authentic registering the force and wrench of his shoulder. Lungs ache and scream for air as the breath is driven from them, concrete against his spine.

The warehouse EXPLODES.

mission: boom boom bakudan

Orion sits in stereotypical sour silence as the meeting progresses, particularly when Laurence Anderson begins to speak. Not because of the man, but because of the implication behind words whose lines Orion reads between.

An A.Q.U.A meeting, I'd bet. He wasn't invited.

His mood is lifted somewhat when Tam Fawley leans over to whisper something to him, a startled laugh bubbling in his throat. He'll play it off to onlookers as if Tam had just told him a joke, but whispers back to his boss, "Head Ranger. The other one."

He'd only ever met Senon in passing, himself.

Orion isn't one to approach others, even for purposes of congratulations, but should annalise henderson or Guillermo Marceliño catch his eye, he'd offer them a tight-lipped smile (because he's socially awkward, not because he disapproves) and a nod.

When Calliope Marks sits next to him, shoving his stuff aside, he doesn't complain Nor when Tam offers them up to the metaphorical wolves of Mt. Pyre. Perhaps Hailee Jacobs might be upset, based on how she'd reacted to seeing him on their recent assignment, but Orion sees it as an unfortunate, if uncomfortable, part of the job. He has experience with Mt. Pyre, however unpleasant.

"Wouldn't matter where they chose," he mutters to the Slateport Squad. "People are going to be affected."

Stronger than his hatred for Rocket in that moment, as Tam places faith in him, is Orion's urge to do good for once. So he nods, expressing gratitude with a look when words fail him, and slips from the captain's side to approach the dock.

Once, it would be effortless to blend in. Now, sunlight catches on his metal arm and draws the occasional eye. He does his best to ignore any looks and to act as if this is nothing more than a routine patrol, a bored expression settling as he traverses the length of the harbour. Orion stops to lean against a rail, thumb brushing his radio.

"It's unguarded. I'm going for it, over."

To his credit, it goes off without a hitch. He boards the vessel with the confidence of a man who belonged on its deck, crossing to the back and resting his titanium fingers on the hull. His Rotom's THUNDER WAVE ripples through the metal. It jolts up his arm, a strange sensation, and he has to roll his shoulder once he removes his hand from the surface.

This boat wouldn't be leaving harbour.

"It's done. Any updates?"

mission: boom boom bakudan

While Caleb seems to wear troublemaker like a mark of pride, Orion grimaces away from the title. "Yeah," he admits, begrudging. "Guess I am, now."

Now, because there had been a before, and was it wrong to long for the days when his superiors would've lauded his accomplishments rather than shaking their heads in shame? Honestly, his previous track record is probably the only reason Tam Fawley bothered to give him a second chance. It's like they're all waiting for him to get better, and here he is getting worse.

Alcohol will do nothing to improve him, and yet he drinks.

"It's not," he says. "A long story. I just yelled at the wrong people, and they were sick of my shit." Sick of the apologies that always came after, the vows to do better that never amounted to much. Shame sloshes with the alcohol in his gut. "So I got a tip for you: don't tell the senior rangers where they can shove it. They don't like that." He attempts to deflect with humour, but there's real pain behind the wry smile.

mission: sparkling spawning

Orion is acutely aware of Tam's presence. He can feel the barely-there brush of the other's arm — not close enough to cause alarm, instead offering the grounding presence of partnership. He assumes it to be unintentional on the Captain's part, but appreciates it all the same.

"Hm. If I can get in there, I can probably fry the motor..." Or his Rotom can, at any rate. His gaze slides over to Tam. "Unless you had another plan in mind?"

It did appear, at least, that there were only two of them. Two of them, two of us. As long as one of them wasn't a secret avatar, Orion reckons they'll be just fine.

mission: boom boom bakudan

Orion ducks his head against the praise, hiding his smile. He's not used to being referred to as smart.

He, too, zeroes in on the suspicious unnamed vessel.

They look like ordinary people. Two of them cooperate to lug a particularly heavy crate onto the dock, one of them laughing in response to some joke that Orion and Tam can't hear. They don't look like hardened criminals, terrorists. It should unnerve him, perhaps, but what Orion feels is a bubbling rage building in his chest. Tam might be able to see the way his eyes narrow, the way fingers both metal and flesh curl instinctively — not quite making fists, as he catches himself midway through the gesture, but telegraphing his thoughts nevertheless.

"We do it your way," he mutters under his breath, as much for his own benefit as for Tam's. "I'll follow your lead."

He forces himself to look away from the suspicious pair, so as not to draw attention with his stare. Brief flashes of imagery invade his thoughts: a flash of metal at a hip, the curve of pokeballs beneath fabric.

"They're armed. One on the left might have a gun." It's possible it was nothing more than a belt buckle, blurry and brief as the telepathic communication had been, but it was better safe. "Pokémon, too. That's definite."

mission: boom boom bakudan

Predictably, Orion isn't thrilled by the shackles of responsibility being locked around this mission. He wants to cut his teeth on the criminals who'd maimed him, not stand idly by as they pretended to be ordinary people going about their lives. But he'd meant what he said: Tam Fawley was the boss. Both in general, as Captain, but also for this job in particular.

"Understood," he echoes. "Supplies first."

When they're still a distance away from the harbour, Orion releases a Beheeyem from its capsule. "You're on watch. Stay hidden, and reach out if you notice anything suspicious. Okay?" With a deliberate look at Tam, he then looks back to Nenque and adds, "Don't engage unless I say so."

Lights flash on the alien's fingers, and it vanishes with a TELEPORT.

"He's got TELEPATHY," Orion explains, in case Tam has reservations. (Which would, given Orion's track record, be entirely reasonable). "So they won't know he's checking in."

mission: boom boom bakudan

Orion's shoulders relax when he chuckles. "Force of habit." As someone who was used to being scolded by his superiors, and often, sometimes the formality slipped out in a vain attempt to pacify. (It didn't often work.)

Still, it's a habit he's happy to try and break.

Orion whistles softly to get Altair's attention, and the Absol pads in from the breakroom with a yawn. As he adapted to Orion's schedule, Altair was also a night owl. Neither of them had much sleep.

"So," he says, en route, "Details. What is 'your way'?"

Orion would happily run in swinging, but he doubts that's how Tam wants to do things. His mission, his rules.

mission: boom boom bakudan

Transporting supplies? Boring.

Orion almost checks out there, and it's only half because seeing Tam in uniform has him feeling some kind of way. He's always found the captain attractive (Orion finds many men attractive) but there's something about that badge.

Team Rocket snaps him right out of his daze.

Tam must see the gleam of bloodlust in the ranger's eyes, for a stern scolding tempers the excitement that builds in his chest. Like a dog being told to heel, he deflates a little before nodding.

"Understood, sir. You're the boss."

mission: boom boom bakudan