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?

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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.

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[LOG | POST TRAINING | CLOSED]

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