silph_co | [LOG | POST TRAINING

[LOG | POST TRAINING | CLOSED]

Who: Monsoon, Armstrong, IV
Where: The Goldenrod Base
When: March 12th
Summary: Monsoon arrives, discovers his old boss is here as well. Later on, he finishes his training and is introduced to a potential new ally to work with Armstrong and himself.

[What a grueling first week it's been. As if being thrust into some stereotypical bootcamp situation wasn't bad enough, getting used to having a human body was even worse. Not to mention being alive again. It had been around 5 years since he "died" as a human and became a cyborg. The limitations were no longer there. With his segmented robotic body and use of magnetic energy, sometimes he felt like he was truly invincible.

That wasn't the case any longer though. No superior body, no magnetic powers, Monsoon was back to being a basic human. This much was painfully obvious whenever he forgot he couldn't walk up different surfaces, jump from high heights with no damage, basic human functions like eating, or couldn't control things through his magnetism. (To which Auntie Apricorn found endlessly amusing, even mocking him by calling him "Lorentz Force.") Whoever brought him here didn't even have the courtesy of returning him his mafia-gained tattoos, although that life was technically behind him.

Finally done with his training, extremely sore, and now a "free" man, the albino reports to the barracks and walks into the room. He scans the other individuals, his eyes falling on a rather large fellow that looks... extremely familiar....

Wait a minute.]

... Boss?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Even with a single word Armstrong knows that voice. For Monsoon to be here would be the height of bizarre though, given the oddly-specific criteria he seems to have had to go through to end up in the dusty barracks he now found himself. Still, with him having washed-up on these foreign shores after death he can't help but grant that it makes sense his subordinate would have done the same given that they were killed within a day of each other.

Rising from the footlocker he'd been hunched over he turns to face the new arrival, cutting a ridiculous figure in the upjumped London paperboy costume he had to wear. He felt a touch less laughable upon seeing that Monsoon was stuck wearing the same monkey suit, but also shocked to see the man was flesh-and-blood again.]

"Monsoon?! What in the Goddamn are you here, and in the flesh no less?!"

[He strides towards the man and goes to wrap his arm around his shoulder, hoping to the contact will make the pair feel more at home despite the alien surroundings.]

"How in the hell long have you been here? And how in the hell did you end up back in one piece?!"

[It's a ridiculous suit and fits him terribly. He really wishes he could get it tapered in or something. Why have these suits look bad if you want to be taken seriously?]

I don't know. I assumed this was some bizarre form of the afterlife.

[It's not like this is unusual behavior for the large man when it came to their dynamic. To feel it in his flesh and blood body is... odd. Certainly not unwelcome though.]

Hmm... It's been... a week, I believe? I've sort of lost track of time. Your guess is as good as mine, boss.

[Monsoon frowns, it finally setting in what Armstrong being here means.]

... I assume that, because you're here, Jack got to you?

[Armstrong's own Rocket jumpsuit fits him decently all things considered, but that only serves to make the outfit look all the more ridiculous given its aesthetic. The vaguely Baker Street Irregular vibe that it presents would be infinitely better-suited to someone younger or of smaller stature, but the hulking fifty year old only manages to look like he's wearing a kid's Halloween Costume instead of anything resembling intimidating.]

"Yeah he got me, but not without that shitwipe Sam butting his nose into things. He manages to be insufferable ass even posthumously, so I'll have to thank him personally for tipping the scales against me if I see him here. Even still... I'm damn sure I passed-on a few of those memes you so enjoy talking about on him. It was pretty easy to shatter his paper-thin ideals and offer him some of my own in return, so I'd imagine things will get real interesting back home over the next couple of years. Whether he likes it or not, he's become my successor now."

[He sighs, realizing that he's just casually discussing having gotten killed. Was he that hardened in life, or was it just this bizarre marooning that had made it so easy to become numb to his own death? Either way, this was his reality now and no amount of dancing around it would change that.]

"But... yeah. An afterlife is about my best guess as well, even more so now considering you seem to have regrown a body, but the idea that we've been thrown in the deep-end of some kind of virtual purgatory program isn't out of the running yet either."

[Gesturing to the large red "R" emblazoned on his shirt, Armstrong continues.]

"If you've been here a week than you might have noticed by now but, if you haven't, I'll spell it out for you: We're in fucking Pokemon."

[As always, Monsoon listens attentively to the larger man, folding his arms behind his back and taking every word into consideration. It isn't until he's fully finished speaking that he interjects.]

That's disappointing to hear that happened with Sam. He seemed promising. I suppose he didn't share our dreams after all.

[You can bet his frown turns into a grin at the mention of memes.]

However, I am pleased to hear that, while Jack did "win," you were still able to pass on your memes to him. I wonder if he'll make the change this time rather than slipping into a psychotic break like he did with me.

[A sigh. What an easy out.]

It is odd though. I didn't think the afterlife would have me needing to eat and sleep again. That part doesn't match up with everything we're taught about life after death but then again, who truly knows until they've passed?

[He cocks his head to the side slightly, bringing a hand up and holding it out in front of him.]

A simulation makes more sense. Perhaps someone got a hold of our bodies and has strapped us in to their augmented reality project. A taste of what World Marshall did to those children, as Jack would likely say.

[There's a hint of sarcasm to that before the albino shakes his head with a bemused smile.]

Yes, boss. I did notice that. What did you get stuck with for your partners?

[Armstrong cocks an eyebrow. He knew that looking into the twisted reflection of himself that Monsoon was would be one hell of a "come to Jesus" moment for Jack and he'd wondered how the self-righteous cyborg had dealt with the situation, so finding out that he'd decided to pull a stunt like that in-response was quite disappointing.]

"He pulled a what now? I was curious how the slippery little bastard was going to deal with having his beliefs checkmated, but that... that's a shit move. Flipping the table doesn't mean you won the game, and he of all people should know that he needs to put his money where his mouth is when it comes to ideals or they're pointless. For all the hot air he was blowing when he showed up in Pakistan I would have expected a better showing. Goddamn disappointing."

[Armstrong sits down on the bunk he'd been standing in front of with a look of frustration on his face. Letting out a long sigh, he continues.]

"Seems Sam was just as indecisive. That mangy mutt Sundowner dug out of Darpa's storage played a recording Sam had left him right in the middle of me pummeling Jack and it seems that, though he'd outwardly resigned himself to the benefits of our little revolution, he chose to back Jack if he lost. True-to-form the little pissant's smug voice started to echo across the battlefield to give his killer a fucking pep-talk and hand-off gave him that little red pig-sticker of his."

[Giving Monsoon a look of being utterly done, Armstrong shakes his head and continues.]

"All Jack needed was someone to give the idealistic crap he spews an ass-pat and all the work in breaking him down was gone. Granted, whether he liked it or not, he's going to carry on our ideals but that seems to be more because he's too stupid to have his own ideals than anything else. Goddamn fucking Sam putting his goddamn fucking nose into shit... bastard can't even die right.

Speaking of dying though. I don't think this is a simulation. Residual self image would recreate us the way we remember, so while the hole in my chest might go away there's no way in hell they'd do... that."

[Armstrong gestures towards Monsoon's recreated body.]

"You haven't had a body for how long now? Nobody who'd be popping our gray matter into the batter would know what you looked like well enough to write the code necessary to put Humpty Dumpty together again, and nobody who did know what you might have looked like beforehand would give enough of a damn to build the model. It just doesn't add-up."

Extremely disappointing. He admitted to everything but rather than just accepting it and letting himself grow stronger, he played into the "this is my nature" bit. Unhinged. Edgy.

[He waves his hand dismissively.]

He came off like a cringey teenager from the early 2000s, honestly. Perhaps I should have had Sam face him first instead of me... Not that it matters at all now.

[It's still interesting entertaining the possibilities though. What if that had happened? Would Sam still have wound up helping Jack in the end? Would Jack have snapped like he did? Would Sam have won? Would he and Armstrong still be alive?

Something to ruminate on later.

He grimaces at the mention of his human body. What the man says is true but there is one issue...]

They returned me to a state I haven't been in since I was a teenager. You know the stereotype of Asian mafia - my body was covered in tattoos. Now I'm completely clean. I don't even have any scars. My physique is the same though from before I was shot so there is that, I suppose...

[He brings his hand up to tap against his chin.]

Have you been outside yet? How is the world? Is it just as ridiculous as the games?

[Hearing about Jack's homicidal tizzy fit has Armstrong just shaking his head in disbelief as he listens. With the amount of mileage clocked between the silver-haired swordsman and his own Winds of Destruction Armstrong would have figured that working through emotional baggage would have been a near-prerequisite. Still, lucky for Jack he decided to pull that edgelord crap against someone in his weight class. Had he responded to Armstrong like that it would have been a quick decision to just put the preachy bastard down and save his breath.]

"What a load of crap. If he couldn't take the heat he should've stayed the hell out of the kitchen. Swinging a sword stops being a child's game when you're clocking body counts in the triple digits, but there's no telling people like that. I still think he'll make something of himself, but goddamn if that isn't disappointing."

[Shaking his head and simultaneously rolling his eyes one last time, Armstrong returns his attention to Monsoon.]

"Look at the bright side. Being tattoo free means you'll actually get to use all the hot springs this Japan-centric place has to offer, and you'll have the added bonus of not being able to be picked-out effortlessly as a criminal by the world's law enforcement. Speaking of which, yeah, there's cops here just as there's organized crime. Pretty much everything is exactly the same but just with moronic animal sidekicks instead of any kind of actually useful modern convenience."

[He makes a "yyyeeeaaahhh" face before continuing.]

"Haven't seen a single car in the whole time I've been going around. Looks like the mail gets delivered by Pokémon, you have to walk everywhere, and everything is about as inefficient as humanly possible. No idea how their entire economy doesn't crumble into the ground."

[Monsoon's only bothered by it because of Jack's potential. If he were to work through his denial and confusion, he could be a great warrior. A pity he let his ego get in the way of all of that.

The albino hums in response to Armstrong's comment. One can only hope Jack carries on their memes. Whether it's to the fullest or just a minor scratching of it, something is better than nothing.

At the mention of the bath houses, Monsoon just gives him a coy smirk.]

I never let that stop me in the past. You have a point though... Being a blank slate will very much work to my advantage.

[Given the lessons on the Jennys, he'd wondered if they were competent or not. Considering the nature of this world, he's leaning towards the latter.

Another grimace as he suddenly realizes...]

... We have to walk everywhere?

[His poor already sore muscles.]

I knew it sounded ridiculous before but hearing it from you... this place sounds maddening.

[Armstrong nods with an expression that just reads "Yup", sighs, and readies himself to lay some knowledge on his former employee.]

"Everywhere. There's not a goddamn place in this heap that makes sense. They've got bullet trains and ferries, but you need to climb a mountain to get to the next town. Half the delivery jobs are handled one at a time by fucking Pokémon and you'll be lucky if there's a paved road for more than two minutes after you've gone past the city limits. It's a fucking hellscape."

[Armstrong reaches under his matress and produces a pack of cigars. Clicking open the little case of smokes and producing a lighter from his pocket, he ignites one and takes a deep drag. After a moment savoring one of his only indulgences from their previous life, he continues.]

"Doesn't stop there though. They have teleportation."

[He takes another drag from his cigar, wholly using it as a device to keep his sheer frustration and anger in-check.]

"Like, straight-out of Star Trek. Make it to a city and you can just up and poof yourself straight to a place you've visited. BUT, and there's always a but isn't there, you have to slog through the wilderness like it's the goddamn Oregon Trail if you want to get there in the first place. How this place exists as something right from the pages of a science fiction novel and, simultaneously, the least efficient and most tedious society imaginable is beyond me. Either way, though, you're in for a helluva a fun time if you're just getting used to having a body again."

[Monsoon isn't one to make strange expressions outside of his unnerving grin but the fact that Armstrong confirms his question and explains how absolutely ridiculous this world is has him pursing his lips and gritting his teeth.]

Truly a hellscape of the worst kind...

[This place is going to take a lot of getting used to. If that's even possible. Or they'll have to find some way to have the logic of this world not rot their brains.

Speaking of, the albino pinches the bridge of his nose.]

This is going to be a chore. I suppose at the very least, I'm happy to hear they have some form of teleportation.

... Even if I must walk there to unlock the thing before I can use it.

[He sighs.]

Are there any other "lovely" perks to this place I need to know about before stumbling into the "outside world" or is that the brunt of it?

[Still holding his cigar Armstrong holds it out a distance and taps the end with his middle finger, causing the ash to fall from the tip.]

"Sadly there seems to be more than I can count when it comes to the sorts of things that we'd consider culture shock. I'm sure I'll have my hands full when it comes to sifting through all that kind of crap, but those are some of the biggest ones I've found up to this point. Don't get me started on their economy though. Nothing makes a goddamn bit of sense when it comes to pricing, let alone supply and demand."

[He takes another long drag of his Cigar before gesturing for Monsoon to take a seat on the bunk across from him.]

"Forget the world at-large though. What do you make of these Rocket people we've apparently been Shanghaied by?"

I appreciate the warning you've given me thus far.

[Monsoon takes the invitation and sits down on the offered bunk. He thinks for a moment on Armstrong's question.]

They're... cartoonish in their purpose. The training was decent enough if you've never dealt with any of those factors but... it all feels like a bad joke. I'm sure you breezed through everything, of course.

[The albino shifts forward to lean against his upper legs, clasping his hands together.]

I assume you also wish to stick with this rather than find a way out, right?

[Armstrong makes a dissaproving face at the mention of Rocket's methods of operation.]

"As much as I hate to admit it, these two-bit goons seem to have a bizzarre amount of resources at their fingertips. More so, even, then it makes sense for them to have. For an organization that seems to consist of a bunch of mustache-twirling caricatures and makes their money off petty larceny the size of faciliites, their personnel numbers, and the technological resources they command are beyond disproportionate. Even if it's just for the sake of making use of the money they're clearly throwing around I'd say staying-the-course is our best bet for the moment."

[Pausing his thought to shake the ash from his cigar Armstrong pulls a slender silver tube from his pocket and drops his smoke in, saving it for later while simultaneously preventing it from fuming up the barracks room any further.]

"It's more than that though. I don't know how to say it, but I get a real funny feeling from these Rocket bastards. So much of this world doesn't make sense and I'd be wiling to bet that they're sitting smack-dab in the middle of it the illogical vortex we've found ourselves in."

[He clasps his hands together and leans forward to speak more directly to Monsoon.]

"Furthermore, whether it's a simulation or the honest-to-God afterlife I don't think it's a coincedence we ended up here. Something can pull the strings to cosmically shangai us into the world's most inept criminal organization so I don't think it's a wise move to go awol unless we have a very clear idea of what we're getting ourselves into. I'm guessing you'd agree?"

I had noticed they seem rather well-funded... A strange juxtaposition, certainly. Just like everything else in this world.

[They were probably getting glares from the other barracks people due to him smoking, not that Monsoon cared. Even if the fumes tickle at the back of his throat like when he was a teenager before he was exposed to all of that on a daily basis. That's not a sensation he missed at all. ... It's just smoke though.

He leans in when Armstrong does, looking over his "borrowed" sunglasses, and taking a moment to think over what he says.]

You have a good point. Then again, when don't you?

Yes, I agree that we should stay if these are the cards we've been dealt. Perhaps we can make this organization into something formidable.

[A pause before grinning.]

Or we simply use it until we're able to get to the next level.

[This was far from the first time Armstrong had lit-up in the dormitory area so, by this point, any protests there might have been had been well-and-truly stamped-out. As far as Armstrong was concerned they ought to have been thanking him for having had good enough taste to go with cigars rather than cigarettes or, god help them, skunk weed. He only had so many of the things left from his arrival though, so guarding each and every stogie was definitely a priority.]

"You know they own the radio tower above this place right? In a city this size you know the kind of capitol they have to be throwing around to own real estate like this just to run as a front? There's definitely more to this shit than they're letting-on. They seem to have gone your way of things as well, as they've got their fingers in the casinos in both this city and the one the next state over."

[Armstrong vaguely gestures in the direction of Kanto, despite being underground and the directions being all but meaningless.]

"I don't like being dropped-into any operation blind, so I've got a hell of a lot of research to conduct before I'm comfortable making any moves. This whole Poketax they've got for stealing from people is a pain-in-the-ass as well though, since it means you're going to have have to pull some petty shit or else you'll get your knuckles slapped for inactivity. Whole thing is goddamn frustrating."

[He rolls his eyes at the situation, shaking his head in a mixture of disbelief and dissaproval at the same time.]

"You though. You've just gotten your body back. Can you still... you know... do things or do you think you're riding the bench now?"

[One can hope this place doesn't have skunk weed, for everyone's sake. The scent alone is a crime on humanity.]

Is there? That certainly was a smart move on their part.

[Monsoon chuckles softly, brushing back his hair from his face.]

Isn't it amusing how history repeats itself? If that isn't a sign that we, but more specifically myself, were placed here for a reason, I don't know what is.

I wish you luck in understanding the laws of this land. If anyone can make sense of such madness though, it's you.

[He takes a moment to look down at one hand, clenching it and extending his fingers before looking back up to meet Armstrong's gaze.]

It's been... awkward, to say the least, but I'm certainly not on the bench. I just need to be mindful of how I move my body before actually executing the action.

Which, should you need me to cover the petty crime aspect of our "job"...

[He flicks the brim of his repurposed sunglasses with a smirk.]

... I'm more than capable of doing so already.

[Monsoon's mention of taking care of jobs for him sparks Armstrong's memory, and he snaps his fingers at the recollection.]

"Oh! Speaking of jobs, I didn't come through my training alone. There was another outworlder, that's what the people here call us castaways, and the great minds at Rocket saw fit to partner us up. So I have an officially-mandated "other half" now."

[Everything about the logistics of Rocket drives Armstrong up a wall. From insisiting on wearing the most easily-recognized cartoon villain costume imagineable to insisting on parterning people like they're Bonny and Clyde it was illogical through-and-through. Armstrong clenches his fists hard enough to crack his knuckles before deciding that pacing would better redirect his steam.]

"Kid's apparently a Duelist, which is some fancy entertainment-themed fighter. You should see the getup he wears most days. Thing looks like he robbed Beethoven's armoire, but I suppose that fits his old-timey title. He seems smart, which is good, but he reeks of that kind of smart where they think they're the only person capable of intelligent thought in any given room so... yeah. That might well come to a head down the road if he decides he rather be in business for himself."

[Now slowly walking back and forth in front of the bunks Armstrong lets out a deep sigh.]

"His dad's apparently a fucking Archeologist though, so he comes from one hell of a weird background. His world has a lot of the same AR and VR tech we do, but all seems to have gotten pushed almost exclusively into the entertainment scene... it's bizarre."

[The snap has him cocking his head slightly.]

Oh? Oh my. I wasn't paired with anyone when I arrived. Perhaps I lucked out.

[He sits up more rigidly, careful not to crack his head on to the upper bunk, and watches as Armstrong paces.]

A Duelist...

[He repeats in typical Metal Gear fashion although not so much as a question and more as if testing out the word. The description Armstrong gives him gets a soft, airy chuckle out of him. He's dealt with all types of people of varying ages. Typical teenager attitude. That will be easy to defuse.]

You can always toss him at me. I'm sure trying to get a rise out of a nihilist will quickly nip that problem in the bud. After all, he can't be any worse than Jack.

[Monsoon taps his chin in thought.]

An archeologist and enhanced tech... Calls himself a Duelist... Hm. That sounds strangely familiar but I can't quite remember why...

[He shakes his head.]

Ah well. It isn't important. I do hope he hasn't made your life completely miserable.

[Having gotten his rant out Armstrong takes a seat on the bunk again, calmer but still miffed about the situation they've found themselves in.]

"Honestly... I don't think I've even seen the guy since basic training finished. He just kind of got his Pokémon and bounced. He seemed a lot more interested in the competitive side of things with that whole Pokémon League crap, so I wouldn't be surprised if he's out there playing along with the script that the people pulling the strings here have rolled-out."

[Armstrong sighs and rubs his temples, shaking his head a bit before righting-ship and returning his gaze to Monsoon.]

"Not that I can blame him mind you. I've been looking over the perks they give people who successfully dance to their tunes and its legitimately impressive. Successively larger cash prizes, items, experience, and even a sponsorship as a paid Gym Leader yourself if you beat them all. It's like being told you have a legitimate stab at becoming a pro athlete, except you don't even need to be the one doing the physical part. Having someone with strong Pokémon won't be a bad thing down the line either of course but, for me personally, I think I'll leave dogfighting to the NFL."

That makes that easy then, I suppose.

[Monsoon blinks, listening with interest about this Pokemon League. He himself isn't particularly interested in it for the sake of competing but if it offers very good rewards certainly makes it tempting.]

If he's used to competing publicly then it works out all the better to have him be our "public face." He'll know how to woo the crowds and such, not that you don't know how to handle that, but I imagine he's the independent, mysterious pretty boy that crowds absolutely eat up, yes?

That's if he shows himself to be mildly trust worthy as well as competent.

"With you here now I trust that once we've both gotten the chance to get our legs under us it'll be a non-issue. If he ends up being a liability we'll just outperform and leave him out in the cold. If he ends up being reliable though... then we might well end up having ourselves a chance to put the Winds of Destruction back together."

[Armstrong clasps his hands together thoughtfully and leans forward on the bench.]

"Of course, that requires us to actually get our legs under us. I for one plan to hit the books to find out what in the goddamn is going on with this world. With luck it won't take too long to get the lay of the land but, knowing that we're in the world of fucking Pokémon, I'm not counting on an easy dive. How about you? I know you're just wrapping-up what passes for training here, but do you have any particular ideas that stick-out for you to be up-to-speed? I'd imagine weapons, or what the closest we're able to get in this place, would be near the top of that list."

[His smile at the thought of getting together another ragtag group of overly skilled and specialized weirdos is a genuine one. Perhaps it's nostalgia, perhaps it's familiarity, perhaps it's just that Monsoon enjoyed his life as a Winds that makes it so that it's a smile instead of his usual grin.]

I look forward to seeing what the kid is capable of then if that is where your mind went to.

[He leans back on his bunk with his hands on his knees, taking a moment or two to consider what it is exactly that he wants to do or something that might interest him.]

Weapons would be nice, yes. I suppose simply getting used to how this world works and laying low for a week or two might be best. Then I can study the different cities, see what they have to offer, and if anything catches my interest. I daresay I honestly don't quite know what to do with myself. Coming back from death has been... odd, to say the least.

Whatever you have planned though, you know I'm at your disposal, boss.

[Now that he was mostly settled and having met up with Armstrong, Monsoon readies himself to meet this new potential ally for them to work with. Dressed in the rather nice suit he'd been presented with in his inventory and a pair of sunglasses he pickpocketed off another grunt, he heads out with Armstrong to meet this acquaintance of theirs.

When they get to the designated meetup point, Monsoon spots who he assumes is IV, as anyone who sees Armstrong and doesn't raise an eyebrow or look unsettled is probably someone who's met him already as well as him fitting the larger man's earlier description, and offers a slight bow before waiting for his boss to introduce him.]

[IV is wearing his usual light-colored duel ensemble, his hair wind-swept and a scowl firmly in place as he leans against the wall of the side street he'd agreed to meet Armstrong and that mysteries 'acquaintance' of his. Their meeting spot is basically the connection between one of the main streets and a quaint hole-in-the-wall restaurant, with popular shops on one side and yet not much traffic where they are. The alley is pretty clean and sunny too, which is good because IV's Rockruff is nosing around in search for anything interesting.

The moment it catches the scent of the two older men, the little canine barks before he stands in front of IV, rock-embedded mane lightly bristling.

IV takes his time looking first Armstrong and then his mysterious 'guest' up and down, taking their measures (again, in Armstrong's case) before he pushes himself off the wall and approaches them. Cocking his head lightly to the side, he nods at Monsoon.]

Is that him? The person you wanted me to meet?

[Armstrong nods at IV's question. Monsoon's arrival in the world had certainly been fortuitous, but Armstrong still wondered how in the world he'd arrived in the world before his colleague despite his death having taken-place afterwards. With a trusted colleague from his side of whatever wormhole they'd been pulled through and his new Rocket-issued partner they had enough manpower to actually get some work done despite the organization's lackadaisical methods. While only time would tell whether or not his new partnership worked-out Armstrong wasn't one to kill a venture prematurely, so giving it the old college try was the least he could do.]

"This is him. Monsoon was an employee of mine back in our world. He's what you would call a specialist in the kind of work we're expected to do now, so he'll be invaluable in our future endeavors."

[Looking now towards Monsoon, Armstrong gestures his hand out in the direction of IV.]

"Monsoon, this is IV. Team Rocket has partnered us up, so it seems the three of us all have a mutual connection."

[A cute dog, protective of its owner. He knows not to judge either too quickly. The albino continues smirking as his attention returns to the dog's owner.]

A pleasure, IV.

[Having already done a bow, Monsoon holds out a hand for a more American greeting.]

I do hope my skills, albeit a tad rusty in this form, will be of use to you both.

[He decides to engage in idle conversation.]

Armstrong tells me you're a Duelist?

Edited 2023-04-23 06:08 (UTC)

[So Armstrong just so 'happens' to have had a 'specialist' for the kind of crimes Team Rocket is expecting from them in his pay? IV thinks that the bigger man just told him more about himself and the nature of his company's 'operations' than he'd actually meant to, even as he smiles and takes the offered hand, giving it a practiced shake that's neither too whimsical nor too strong or too long.]

A pleasure.

[With the pleasantries done, he steps back. His Rockruff has stopped bristling, but it is still watching the two newcomers with a wary eye, looking every so often back to IV to see if things are still going as they should be.]

I happen to be one, yes. Rather high-ranked, too, not that it matters in this place. What kind of special skills do you have? They must be quite something if even our big friend here is that taken with them.

[The last part is added in the gentler tones of his duelist persona, sounding sincerely affable and polite in just the same way IV was brash just before. It's a small free sample of his skills, for greeting's sake.]

"World Marshal was a global military contractor, and Monsoon here was among it's most capable operators. Compared to the sorts of operations he faced in our world the jobs the Rockets are asking to be pulled-off will be virtual child's play."

[Of course that was back when he was fully-augmented, so only time would tell if he would be able to readjust to being organic. That was a bridge to cross when they got to it though, so no need to bring that up to present company.]

"That being said, I'd imagine none of us are happy with the idea of being stuck in this ridiculous loop o pickpocketing for the rest of time. Simple as it is, it's messy and unescessary. The sooner we have a better method of operations the better."

Oh ho? That's quite impressive. A pity it doesn't carry over.

[Impressive for someone his age. He'll keep that comment to himself though. Monsoon smirks as Armstrong gives a just vague enough explanation of his prior experience with criminal activities and the like. No point in bringing attention to any specifics, of course.]

You flatter me, boss.

[He folds his hands behind his back.]

I agree. Petty crimes can be... entertaining from time to time. To have the basis of an entire organization fall back on such an amateur act is disappointing, to say the least.

Yes. Same goes for the nanomachines and augmentations in your bodies, doesn't it? It's fortunate that starting with a blank slate only means that we'll get to prove our mettle all over again.

[The words are a low purr, still pleasant, but hinting at steel claws hidden beneath a velvet glove this time.

In the meantime IV corrects his assessment of the men before him a little, moving them and the 'work' they are talking about from the notion of a dubiously-but-mostly-still-legal security firm to 'amoral mercenaries' at best and 'organized crime' at worst. Definitely wartime profiteers, though. You don't hear that kind of casual talking about 'military', 'operations' and 'corrupt regimes' in your everyday bureaus or secluded backrooms, unless their world is a damn lot more different than he and Armstrong had both initially assumed.]

All for the greater good of the Team, I'm sure.

[Crouching down, IV picks up his pup and holds him against his chest while he pets him. He's well aware that that might make him look silly or spoiled to the other men, an arrogant eccentric and his spoiled pet, maybe, but this little act has a very real purpose: IV wants to see how his Rockroff will react to the other men and what they talk about because he has noticed his pokemon paying a lot of attention whenever Team Rocket came up before.]

[Armstrong sighs. Being able to have a hurdle to overcome or a goal to chase was certainly good, particularly for a couple of men who were going to have to start from scratch at such things while in their fifties, but the idea of having the entire slate wiped clean in regards to the information they had in-regards to the world itself was just infuriating.]

"We certainly have our work cut out for us. The absolute state of things in Rocket all but demand that we rip-out the existing network of Agent operations root-and-stem in order to build something back that can actually operate without being in a constant state of confusion and inefficiency. For both myself and Monsoon, too, it seems this place has a lot more investment in the health and wellness of Pokémon than people. Considering coming in here gave me an uninvited heart transplant and Monsoon a full-body augmetic reversal, I wouldn't mind having our I's dotted and T's crossed in regards to healthcare."

[He strokes his chin thoughtfully, weighing his options before continuing.]

"I do think that we can build something actually workable if the three of us play our cards right though. Given the hand we've been collectively dealt I think having something that makes it so we don't have to roll the dice on getting arrested every two weeks would be a definite step in the right direction."

[Prove his mettle... Having to start all over again after having endured so much in his life isn't the most appealing, especially at his older age. Which is why being a cyborg was so wonderful. He had reached peak form in every aspect in life. What more could he want? To start all over again with absolutely nothing but his memories... Sigh.

Monsoon thinks nothing of the interactions of IV with his Rockruff. The dog is cute - although obviously dangerous. You'd need to be an idiot not to see it in the pup's eyes.

The albino simply listens silently to the two as they speak. Armstrong knows what he's talking about and Monsoon trusts his judgement in what he tells IV so there's no need for him to talk unless addressed directly.

He does finally decide to chime in with a witty little comment, giving the two a playful grin:]

... For the greater good of the team, of course.

[IV keeps one eye on the reaction of his Rockruff while he appears to consider both men's words. It's obvious that Armstrong seems to have made his whatever peace with staying in this place, but it's harder to get a good read on the other one -- what's his name again, Monsoon? Sounds like a wind and watery storm Duelist would go by.]

Hmmp. I've had my powers sealed too, but it seems I've gotten decidedly more lucky than you two. And I agree, not having to dodge the oh so watchful eye of the law every other week would be nice. [His hand comes up to scratch his pup behind an ear.] Something bigger and more worthwhile would be more my taste.

Do you have any ideas for that?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[LOG | POST TRAINING | CLOSED]

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After being reunited

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