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[ANONYMOUS IMAGES/TEXT]
[Today, Johto, you're in for a treat - clearly, someone has decided that there aren't nearly enough photographs shot from hipster angles on your Gear. Don't worry, that will be remedied shortly. After all, a series of images has hit the network this afternoon!
Granted, the images are a bit...unusual. A couple of unconscious NPCs, shot from incredibly close up. A few glimpses of the Rocket uniform on the person pinning said NPCs against the ground for the sake of the images. A set of Pokeballs in gloved hands, the telltale red R visible in the background, emblazoned across the clothing of the person holding them - anyone who's familiar with the organization can infer that said Pokeballs have been stolen.
...oh.
No glimpses of the face of the Rocket who's done the stealing; the images have been submitted anonymously. Accompanying the last image - the stolen Pokemon, the red insignia - there's a line of text, equally anonymous.]
We're still here.
[ACTION]
[A short while after the text goes out, there's another attack.
There's some poor sap of an NPC on the ground, having come out on the losing end of their confrontation with a member of the criminal organization; the Rocket has his boot planted firmly in the center of the NPC's upper back, pinning him down at the shoulders. At a distance, the Rocket looks similar enough to the rest of his organization: dark hair of indeterminate length - it's either very short or tucked up under his hat, it's a bit difficult to tell; long gloves and knee-high boots, pale grey and sharp-looking over the dark clothes; the red R emblazoned over the chest. He's rather thin, and his shoulderspan is incredibly narrow, and there's an odd, shaking tightness to his posture; there are a couple of stray locks of hair at the front that have managed to work themselves out from underneath the hat, falling down into the man's face.
He isn't bothering with the mask issued for official work; his face is visible. Were he in Goldenrod this would be different, but now...why bother? It isn't as though there are usually many people on this particular route anyway.
He's smirking like a madman; his amber eyes are alive, the pupils constricted. Get close enough and you can hear him laughing a bit, though the sound is quiet today. Controlled.
Welcome to Route 36, a couple of days outside of Violet City; Kimblee's been a bit overstimulated lately, that's all, the stress of playing nice for the last two and a half weeks finally getting to him.
It's nice to let some of it out.]
[Today, Johto, you're in for a treat - clearly, someone has decided that there aren't nearly enough photographs shot from hipster angles on your Gear. Don't worry, that will be remedied shortly. After all, a series of images has hit the network this afternoon!
Granted, the images are a bit...unusual. A couple of unconscious NPCs, shot from incredibly close up. A few glimpses of the Rocket uniform on the person pinning said NPCs against the ground for the sake of the images. A set of Pokeballs in gloved hands, the telltale red R visible in the background, emblazoned across the clothing of the person holding them - anyone who's familiar with the organization can infer that said Pokeballs have been stolen.
...oh.
No glimpses of the face of the Rocket who's done the stealing; the images have been submitted anonymously. Accompanying the last image - the stolen Pokemon, the red insignia - there's a line of text, equally anonymous.]
We're still here.
[ACTION]
[A short while after the text goes out, there's another attack.
There's some poor sap of an NPC on the ground, having come out on the losing end of their confrontation with a member of the criminal organization; the Rocket has his boot planted firmly in the center of the NPC's upper back, pinning him down at the shoulders. At a distance, the Rocket looks similar enough to the rest of his organization: dark hair of indeterminate length - it's either very short or tucked up under his hat, it's a bit difficult to tell; long gloves and knee-high boots, pale grey and sharp-looking over the dark clothes; the red R emblazoned over the chest. He's rather thin, and his shoulderspan is incredibly narrow, and there's an odd, shaking tightness to his posture; there are a couple of stray locks of hair at the front that have managed to work themselves out from underneath the hat, falling down into the man's face.
He isn't bothering with the mask issued for official work; his face is visible. Were he in Goldenrod this would be different, but now...why bother? It isn't as though there are usually many people on this particular route anyway.
He's smirking like a madman; his amber eyes are alive, the pupils constricted. Get close enough and you can hear him laughing a bit, though the sound is quiet today. Controlled.
Welcome to Route 36, a couple of days outside of Violet City; Kimblee's been a bit overstimulated lately, that's all, the stress of playing nice for the last two and a half weeks finally getting to him.
It's nice to let some of it out.]
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