𝕕𝕒𝕥𝕒 𝕝𝕠𝕘𝕘𝕖𝕕

Ah that blank stare was hot, Ackermen wondered how it would feel to have those eyes on him while bleeding out.  “I’ve got clearance, m’two hundred ranked. C’mon don’t be that way.” He leans back taking a sip of the drink.

 “Even if I disgust ya, yer alone in a bar and I can be pretty fun, y’know? I can use my mouth fer other things if ya don’t want to talk.” He plays with his glass, letting the ice chime against its edges.  “Why bother drinkin’ here if you don’t wanna’ interact? Why not drink at home instead? If ya like yer company best, maybe I’d like it too?” 

Finally his eyes rose. Sluggish and heavy, a glimpse up from his drink to the drunkard in front. The mention of rank and his supposed clearance to such information was enough to pique a vague sense of intrigue.

413 never treated his down time as anything but a sort of ‘lesser work’ even when he was pronounced off-duty. For only a moment did they linger on the other, dropping back down to the drink at hand. His digits curl and tighten, a slight smoke wafts from the bottle’s frosted lip. The warmth of his hand melting and heating the glass and the ice that clung to it.

“Name. Rank. Registration. Occupation.”

It was hard to miss the lone grunt hunched in another world, propped up in the corner. Tall, strong features, glum looking, it was just Julius’ type.  He scouts it out, sitting in the booth next to the other, making glances everytime the man wasn’t looking… Which was most of the time. Was that drink really so interesting to be stared into for the better half of an hour? If anything it gave Acker time to drag his sight over the stiff form. 

Finally giving up on the eye contact he peeked over the boothside a drink in each hand.  “Yo! Whats up, not partying?” Julius slides around, sitting himself across from the stranger, features alight with the prospect of contact. He slides one of the drinks over leaning in close. 

“All yours. Hey, tell me ‘bout yourself? Work here long? Got a girlfriend? Boyfriend? Side person?” He snickers. 

Hardly did the grunt move at the sound of the other. Body stiff and rigid, only his eyes followed the other as the inevitably sat before him. Their eyes unmistakably the same he’d felt the whole while since he had walked in. Black wells boring holes within the back of his skull.

The only sound of response was a dismissive grunt. Displeased by the sudden company he was presented with. The lip of the bottle he held coming to meet his own once more, the alcohol burned warm and harsh at the back of his throat. No chaser, no mix-ins, just straight booze. A creamy whiskey.

413 kept his attention low, purposefully avoiding eye contact. This one was needy, greedy.. Disgusting. Despite his lack of acknowledgment the other grunt was persistent in trying to grab his attention. How annoying it was.

[[ A slight update has been made to Giovanni’s page as well as an update for starter call graphics cuz I felt like giving Gio one as well as making 413′s match

cuz I love to make things match and have patterns and things, it’s just nice.

[[ Giovanni is getting a slight reboot here.

“You two.”

413 stood stiff and still before them. Eyes sharp and narrow as he gazed down between the two. With a bitter expression and bitter temper he spoke again.

“My Pokemon. Now.”

He was mad, voice deeper than usual and his words held a vicious infliction. It was serious. A Pokemon of his was missing and he wanted it back. Which Pokemon of his was missing was still in the air, but he was certain it went missing with the twins. Or with one of them at the very least. He swore it.

He just stares down at her.

What a strange little thing to find as he entered the office.

He felt highly inclined to just simply throw the gift away before even opening it, however.. there was something about it that caused him to leave it be until he got to his room. Carefully setting the box down and opening it as delicately as he could manage. He took a few minutes to examine the objects inside.

Reading the note and looking back at the odd little sock thing he glanced over toward the tank where Hime lay curled and asleep under a heated lamp.

413 looked up from the mess he had made with wither grunt who lay limp and passed out, completely battered black and blue and red. His hand gripping the grunts’ uniform tightly while the other grasped firmly to his weapon of choice.

Letting out a grunt he dropped the weapon and dragged the grunt with him toward the door where Tailor was. Leaning down close to the now clearly frightened janitor the said only two words before lifting up and walking off down the hall. Delivering the unconscious grunt in his hand to the infirmary.

“…Clean it.”

Lance had just landed in the city, having flown all the way from Goldenrod with his Golbat, after the fight with his father. He had needed to get far away from his family, not wanting to give them any opportunity to get him back. Though, now he was stuck alone, with barely any money, in a place he had never been before, and it was getting dark. He´d need to find a place to stay soon…

Turning the corner, he spotted the brightly lit front of the casino, seeing the small child in front of it. Making his way closer, he knelt down and smiled, hoping to appear as non-threatening as possible.

“Hey there…what are you doing here all alone?”

The toddler looked up from his squiggly dirt drawings when he noticed the Ekans he befriended slink closer to him, appearing to be hiding from the stranger who had just walked up. Who were they? Did they.. Were they here to tell him about his parents? Were they finally ready to go? They seemed.. ok.

Giving a small shrug to the stranger he was eager to know what happened to his mom and dad. He really hoped they would be done soon so they could go home and eat. He had been good sitting and waiting patiently as he was told.

Fumihiro sat quietly on the ground outside the Celadon city casino. Waiting for his parents who would never come. Taking a stick and drawing in the dirt by the front wall of the building was how he spent his time as he waited. It was getting awfully late and he was getting hungry, though.. this wasn’t uncommon for him. His parents rarely cared or fed him, preferring instead to focus on their gambling addiction. They were poor and always said they would strike it rich.

“…Life is too kind to you…”

The same?

There were weak grunts, stronger grunts, subordinate grunts, insubordinate grunts. There were traitors and those who were loyal to the very end. There were grunts who were lucky.. and those who were not at all.

But what was he? He didn’t know.. but he knew he wasn’t anything special.

Working directly under Giovanni? Yeah, so? Everyone technically worked under the don. That’s just how it worked. The family tree with Giovanni up at the top… and the soldiers at the bottom.

He wasn’t blind, though.. The corners of his mouth twitching down, sharp canines being exposed in a sort of scowl. Hands clenched in fists. He huffed.

Seizing the other he slammed them into the nearest wall. Digits digging rough and deep into their shoulder. A fire burning in his eyes and soul. Glaring down at the other.. Oh.. how badly he wanted to snap their neck, but he had no permission to do that.. So instead he opted to pulling out his knife, letting the blade flick and click out down by his side. Letting out a growl as he brought it up to the others’ neck he gave them a few last words.

Right again.

Though, it wasn’t like he was actively seeking validation or appreciation from anyone. He was doing what he had to, to survive. Being welcomes into Team Rocket was just a great opportunity to slowly climb out of the gutter he grew up in since he could even remember.

…He didn’t care at all what people called him. His registration number? Grunt? Whatever, it didn’t bother him… but…

He had no words for this. Not a one.

The other wasn’t wrong. No correction was needed.

They were just stating facts that he, himself, knew were true.. so why..