Orion's intent is vicious, but not murderous. When the bike careens off the road and its rider is thrown, TELEKINETIC energy from the ALAKAZAM seeks to soften Isaac's fall. It would still hurt, and immensely at that, but he'd be spared the broken bones that might've otherwise resulted from the crash.

The silent wings of an INFILTRATOR do little to betray a NOIVERN'S presence as it swoops down from above, Orion sliding from its back. It doesn't attack, instead sustaining the TAILWIND that had carried them down.

"Cepheus. Heal."

A SLOWKING released at the Ranger's side fires a HEAL PULSE at the Rocket, a back-up plan in case the Alakazam's cushion had failed. The gems on the Pokemon's crown wink in the moonlight.

For all his attempts to sustain life, there is no mercy in Orion's eyes. Their depths are dark, cold as the metal of the prosthetic arm he stretches out in expectation.

"Lykos, Slateport Rangers." Though difficult to make out details in the gloom, his uniform identifies him with the red badge and armband. "Hand over the Pokémon you stole."

His right hand, of flesh and blood, reaches for a radio to call for back-up.

A surprisingly genuine laugh follows an empathetic grimace. "That's how it was when I was on the Council," he admits. It's not often he talks about before, but he feels at ease around @nikita. "No end to the work. But at least you're able to get out today."

It was a lovely day for it, the sun bright and warm to soothe the earth after the recent storm. Hoenn's heat was too much for some, but as a Lilycove native it only felt right to Orion.

Of course, that heat led to a mighty thirst, and so after a brief pause the ranger turns his Girafarig toward home. His own attention remains fixed on Nikita, however, and he offers, "If you and Rapidash want something to cool off, you're welcome to stop by the Ranch. I'm the only one working today." So there was no risk of strangers setting anyone off. "Capella's the liveliest of my lot despite her age," or maybe because of it, "so there shouldn't be any more spooks."

Mehh, the Gogoat insists, getting to her hooves when Altair nudges her gently with his horn.

Sensing the potential for discomfort, an unwillingness to intrude, he insists, "It wouldn't be any trouble."

Pathetic.

"He's full of shit!" But the officers aren't listening to him; they're attending to Chu-e Choi as he whimpers and snivels. "You're full of shit. Coward."

It's not helping Orion's case.

The mere insinuation that he, Orion Lykos, might be comparable to Rocket, stuns him into a sputtering, silent rage. How dare you? But his hands are cuffed and the fight is over, so the disgruntled Ranger only nods to indicate which pokeball belongs to his Silvally when asked. He doesn't want Perseus to get in any more trouble because of him.

As he's escorted away from his would-be victim, Orion catches the tail end of a question posed to Choi.

"... willing to come to the station to answer a few questions?"

Why had he let Tam Fawley talk him into this?

Ah, right. Because he owed his Captain after Tam had given him his job back. He hadn't put up a fight as a result, responding only with an alarmed 'oh, okay' when told that he and Noah Camus were the Captain's plus two.

Clover's presence is soothing, at least, as well as that of Orion's Absol, Altair. The Disaster Pokémon sports his red service vest and curls up next to Orion's left side, seemingly indifferent to all the action.

"It's been a while since I've been to one of these," Orion confesses quietly, in the hopes that only Tam and Noah might know his vulnerability. "Before... well." His tight smile does nothing to disguise his discomfort as he wiggles the fingers of his metal hand in an explanation that's likely not needed. "It's nice, though," he adds quickly, not wanting to drag the mood down. "To see everyone again."

Unfortunately, aside from his fellow Slateport Rangers, Orion doesn't recognize anyone else beyond their reputation. Councilwoman Elinor Anderson draws his attention if only for their similar Ranger-to-Council pipeline, and he silently hopes she fares better than he had.

"What kind of pizza?"

- He's with the PECHA COBBLER boys (Tam, Noah)
- OPEN TO INTERACTION; Orion's just awkward
- Has his ABSOL with him
- Asks Elinor Anderson what kind of pizza she brought

Orion certainly keeps his head down now. His shoulders slump under the weight of shame, the absence of his prosthetic arm feeling all too obvious as he pushes himself up from the bench with his good arm and crosses to where Tam has opened the cell.

"Thanks," he manages, soft but hoarse with emotion.

He doesn't deserve Tam Fawley bailing him out. He hadn't been wrong about Chu-e Choi but it had been a stupid decision to attack him in public and risk the reputation of the one person who'd decided Orion was worth a second chance. He regrets his actions not for himself, but for the Captain.

At the desk, he can't meet the eye of the female officer who hands back his pokeballs and prosthetic arm. He'd been affronted when they'd taken it from him, but the fact that it could be detached and potentially used as a lethal weapon was apparently enough to justify the dehumanizing confiscation. She seems sympathetic, and somehow that's worse.

"Do you need any help...?"

"No," he says, too quick and a bit too sharp. "I've got it."

He's had the arm long enough that the process of popping it back into the socket is routine, if difficult and still embarrassing to do with eyes on him. He does it anyways, flexing metal fingers before closing them around his pokeball belt and slipping it on.

The absence of his badge is noted, but not commented on. Probably gave it to Tam.

He doesn't ask.

Instead, once they're out in the midday Hoenn sunshine, he looks to Tam like a lost puppy seeking direction. Where to? He's sure he already knows.

mission: cut one's losses

Perseus can do nothing against the barrage of attacks launched by the Lopunny, but Altair intercepts with a hasty DETECT that nullifies the worst of the damage. Panting, snarling, the Silvally takes advantage of Absol's defense by setting up a HEAL BLOCK that shimmers through the air. This was going to be a war of attrition, but—

"Police!"

Orion barely hears the shout beyond the ringing in his ears. That Chu-e Choi is cowering from him, tears running down his cheeks, does nothing to stop the ranger's wrath. His metal fingers curl into another fist, electricity sparking down the length of his arm. Choi's split lip gives him hope. He isn't immortal, not entirely invulnerable, and if Orion can just get close enough—

"Freeze!"

"Sir! Return your Pokémon!"

This time he hears them, whipping his head around like a cornered animal with his teeth bared. Were they stupid? Had they not seen this asshole turn into some crystallized demon? They're surrounded, now, several officers and even one of Slateport's Elite rangers that Orion's never met penning them in with bodies and Pokémon alike. A beautiful golden-furred Arcanine growls at him in warning, evidently waiting for her master's permission to pounce.

"He's Rocket!" Orion snaps. "He's the one who—"

"Return. Your. Pokémon."

Altair had stopped the moment the officers had sent up the call, slipping to Orion's side and pressing close without continuing the assault on the 'pitiful civilian'. Perseus has no such understanding of the law. The Silvally whirls around to lunge for Chu-e, only for a sharp whistle to send the officer's Arcanine charging in with a crippling CRUNCH.

"He cut off my fucking arm," Orion insists, but they're not listening to him. With his Absol standing down and his Silvally indisposed, Slateport PD close in for the arrest. "Get OFF me!"

But his murderous intent extends no more to the officers than it had to Choi's Pokémon, so words are his only (and useless) defense as his hands are cuffed behind his back.

Orion's laughter is soft, strained with telltale society anxiety.

"I do, yeah. Don't worry, the trails are public." The fences were meant to keep his Pokémon from wandering into the trails and disturbing those who sought to walk or ride them. "Guess I should put up signs in case this happens again, though."

The Ranch was new to him, purchased less than a year ago for a good price when its ailing caretaker had finally opted for retirement. The buildings themselves were old, weather-worn and in need of renovations. But they were his, a project into which he could direct his time and energy in some attempt to heal from the trauma Rocket have put him through.

Capella, seeming to relax with the knowledge that the Rapidash had no intention to pursue, flops down in the grass with a muted mehh. On closer inspection, the Gogoat is nearly as old as the Ranch, patches of grey showing through her brown hide.

"Do you ride often?"

Girafarig had been a deliberate choice, for Orion — the awareness from its tail allowed him to feel more at ease, with no need to glance over his shoulder in constant worry of a Rocket ambush.

"Oh, good." Orion manages a brief smile. "Cheers, then."

Orion, too, has nothing but appreciation for Tam Fawley. The Ranger captain had saved him from the shame of forced retirement and even bailed him out of jail, for Arceus' sake. That he still had the job after that disaster was a miracle he owed to Tam alone.

Taking an experimental sniff of the beer when it's offered to him, Orion tips it back and chugs a few sips as Caleb Harcourt offers information on the brewery. Lowering the can from his lips, Orion nods. "Oh, yeah, I pass that place all the time. I live just outside of town." He cants his head in thought. "Never met the owner, though." That is is, as Caleb describes, a 'cute girl', means nothing to Orion.

He's not usually one for small-talk, but Caleb has won him over with beer and a laid-back attitude, so Orion indulges him.

"My whole life." He leaves out the suspension. "Was stationed in Fortree-Lilycove before, though. You?"

mission: sparkling spawning

Small though it was, the ranch does boast at least two other staff who were happy to step in when Orion's duties as a ranger kept him away from the property. Today, though, it's just the man and his Pokémon to deal with the damage done to the pastures in the aftermath of a storm. Blessedly, most of ranch's denizens were too lazy to capitalize on the broken down fence near the trailhead, save for one particularly stubborn Gogoat.

"Capella," Orion scolds, receiving only a stubborn bleat in return. "Don't make me chase you down the entire trail!"

He's more relaxed here than he would be in any social setting, sat astride a Girafarig that trots out toward the trail. His Absol, ordinarily reluctant to divorce itself from his side, runs out ahead of the stubborn goat in an attempt to cut off her escape. It's as amusing a sight as it is unusual, the somber disaster Pokémon planting his paws in the ground like a common Rockruff and letting out a sharp bark to warn the Gogoat back.

But it's not the Absol who halts Capella's progress, in the end. It's a Rapidash. The flames and heat given off by the equine Pokémon seem to spook Capella in ways that Altair's presence had not, and the Gogoat huffs before dropping back to seek Orion's protection.

"I'm sorry about her." The sun's in his eyes, at first, and he doesn't recognize the woman astride her Rapidash until he lifts his flesh-and-blood arm as a shield. The reins are gripped confidently in his left, metal hand. "Oh! Ah, hello, Miss Wells." He laughs, the sound soft and edged with his usual discomfort. "There was a storm," he explains, please don't think I'm incompetent, "so Altair and I are just rounding up the stragglers."