explosivecombat | 025. [Text/Action for the Rocket base in Goldenrod City]

[TEXT]

[It's been something of a long day, really, though Kimblee really can't say why - there have been frustrations, surely, but nothing more than what he's accustomed to dealing with on a daily basis.

That said, however, there have still been frustrations. Whether he wants to deal with them or not. Right now there's currently a very large frustration that's been locked up in his closet again, just because the damn thing has neither psychic powers nor hands and it's taken to zapping the Pokéballs out of his grasp when he tries to recall it. Hopefully neither he nor Archer will need anything in that closet anytime soon, because this is just getting ridiculous...]

For those of you who have experience dealing with more...ah, difficult companions, how would you recommend dealing with them? Mind you, I'm not talking finicky, I'm talking about nigh-on homicidal; is there a way to repair one's relationship with them when it's that far gone, or should I just not even bother?

[Not that he knows what to do if the answer is "don't bother" because he suspects releasing a microchipped starter will go over like complete and utter hell, but that is beside the point.]

[ACTION]

[Kimblee isn't straying far from the base today; if anything, he's taken to holing himself up harder into it when he's not dealing with his psychopath of an Electrode. Letting the damn thing evolve had been a mistake; between that and all the other issues that he's very decidedly not wanting to discuss with anyone, he's more than happy to just shut himself in one of the training rooms and set it up to his liking.

Admittedly, the thing looks less like a proper training facility and more like the world's most suicidal parkour-based obstacle course; anyone who comes in to see what on earth's going on in here today may take a moment to find him, but that's likely because they just aren't looking high enough - he's settled on one of the world's most precariously-positioned ledges near the damn ceiling, legs crossed at the knee, and he's taking a moment to get his breath from whatever it was he was just doing.

Yes, he's still wearing the three-piece suit, complete with gloves, though his tie has come undone somewhat and his collar is slipping open; if you can get him to come the hell down from his position (and he'll be easily convinced, if he notices you) it'll become plain quickly enough that there are bandages wrapped around his throat, though there isn't any blood on them.

He seems pretty keyed-up there, though; outside of the vaguely unkempt appearance of his clothing, he's shaking somewhat and those two loose strands of hair at the front have been joined by a few others that have slipped loose from that long ponytail. His gaze is pretty manic-looking, though not to the point of looking like he'll bite anyone's face off just yet; at least there's that to be thankful for.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It has nothing to do with political correctness and everything to do with the fact that I see no need to be unnecessarily rude, but to each their own.

Not familiar with Electrodes by any chance, are you?

[Hang on a sec, he's looking it up. Because research.]

I've seen one before. Or the thing it evolves from, at least — the red-and-white electric ball with the angry eyes. That's what's giving you trouble?

Well, I certainly didn't mention it for my health.

The thing self-destructs when it's bored, you're calling it homicidal, and it's apparently got it out for you.

If you're not mentioning it for your health, there's something seriously wrong with you.

[...buddy is your sense of humor just really dry or

...

look he's just going to assume you're really goddamn sarcastic if that's okay with you

because the other option is that you just Do Not Get Sarcasm and oh god he deals with enough of those regularly so please just be really goddamn sarcastic]

It's good to hear that you care so much, I suppose.

[hey guess what you did it you broke the code

would you like a cookie.]

You got any friends with a Cubone?

[...you do not understand the amount of literal-minded people he has to spend time around, okay]

Is there something I should know about that species in particular, or is it the typing you're getting at?

It's that one in particular. If you get lucky, it'll end up with an ability that makes it act like a lightning rod. Your candy-cane murderball explodes because of a buildup of electricity; drain its battery, start finding ways to draw some of that excess energy off, and you might stand a better chance of getting it to settle down long enough for you to make amends.

[...huh.]

I've raised creatures with that ability before, so I know what to look for.

There are several reasons why my "candy-cane murderball", as you put it, is the way it is, but that sounds like a solid enough start, anyway.

You've got some other options, too, but most of them are worse. Drugging the thing, for example.

...I'm not exactly in the practice of carrying substances like that in my back pocket, and I doubt it would let me get close enough besides. The thing already knows Selfdestruct; it's fully capable of detonating, and believe me, it's already attempted once.

Assuming it's awake and sees you coming. Throw some sleeping powder on it first; that might do the trick.

And who do I have to thank for all this advice, exactly? Don't get me wrong, it's appreciated, but it's rare for utter strangers to be so helpful.

It's also rare for anybody in this damn place to have a lick of common sense when it comes to answering questions. I won't be surprised one bit if you end up with three people turning up to tell you to just battle the thing into submission and at least one calling you a monster because you didn't hug it enough as a kid.

Albert Rosenfield. And you are?

Well, I certainly can't deny any of that; at least not if I want to remain honest.

Solf J Kimblee - it's a pleasure, Mr. Rosenfield.

I'll bet it is.

For the record, assuming you can get some of that electricity off the thing or you manage to drain its batteries far enough that it can't explode anymore, your long-term management plan is to put it on a diet. They eat electricity and they get it by soaking it up from the atmosphere around them. Run down its juice and toss it in a box lined with rubber, and see if that works to make it less volatile.

If it comes to that, then I will; otherwise, I do know what I'm doing, believe it or not.

Yeah, see, I've learned not to take that for granted around here, either.

Edited 2013-06-19 19:00 (UTC)

[...the amount of "oh, you" here, Albert.]

Does it make you feel any better to know that I've been here for sixteen months total?

Does comparing prison sentences ever make a jailbird feel better?

That depends on how well the inmates can play nice.

Which is supposed to mean what, exactly?

That at risk of sounding cloying, this place is only as pleasant as you make it.

Or maybe it just means that we're surrounded by idiots and I can understand why you're annoyed. Whichever interpretation you prefer.

Then let's stick with the latter and save the cute words of inspiration for a day calendar.

Gladly.

As for you, shall I assume that you're always this charming?

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