[AUDIO / PRIVATE - TEAM ROCKET FREQUENCY]

Good evening.

[The voice that comes over the 'Gear tonight is calm, at least; soft and open, a bit high-pitched perhaps, but generally not unpleasant to listen to. Confident, in a bit of a self-satisfied way. So it goes.]

My name is Solf J Kimblee; I hold the rank of Beta within this organization. I suppose I owe you all an apology for being away from the organization itself for so long.

I think it's time to remedy that a bit.

As one of the field agents in charge of assisting with the training of the new recruits, I would like to extend an invitation to all of you - particularly the new ones that I have yet to meet, although I would like to see those I'm already acquainted with as well. It isn't an order; again, it's just an invitation to talk. I would like to get to know all of you, and to have a fuller understanding of your talents. Should you require orders or simply want something to do, I may have a proposal for you; we'll see.

I would prefer meeting you in person; I'm in the Goldenrod base for the time being, but if you're currently elsewhere, neither time nor money is a problem for me. Let me know where you are; I'll meet up with you.

I must say that I'm pleased with the work I've seen so far, however. Do keep it up, hm?

[It's been several days since Kimblee spoke to Archer in Olivine City; he had decided the morning after that conversation that it would be for the best that they keep their distance from one another, at least for the time being - the last thing they needed was to be unsure that this was going to work, after all. He needed space.

And he certainly has gotten space! The room he's in when the feed flickers on is rather spacious, all things considered; of course, the actual size of the room is a bit difficult to determine, given that the place is kind of the most retina-searing green imaginable. Like a factory of limes exploded in here, people. That is the level of green we are looking at.

Kimblee is pretty easy to spot, however; he's wearing the usual white, which is incredibly ill-suited (no pun intended) for his current activity, all things considered: namely, he's getting rid of all the green. Clearly, he's decided that he's somewhat unimpressed with the lack of activity lately - he's still working those mutations out of his system, and flooding his system with electricity has left his motor skills...uh, lacking, for want of a better term - and he's decided to remedy this by simply having at the room with a can of paint and a roller brush. Never mind that he grew up incredibly spoiled and has never painted a damn wall to save his life, and the fact that his motor skills are, again, shot to all hell; this can't possibly be that hard to figure out!

...needless to say, there's a huge amount of dark red paint just kind of everywhere on that poor wall. There are several good solid sections that are painted in a perfectly normal, rational manner, of course - and then there are sections where he's really obviously slipped, thick red haphazard streaks all over the place, before he seems to have worked out what he's doing and reset himself on some sort of halfway sane path...somewhere else entirely.

It's fairly clear that he's been at it for a while; this entire room is going to need to be redone by the time he's finished with it, but at least he's trying?

The camera follows the wall for a moment, showing the room in all its...uh, glory, before flicking back to Kimblee, kneeling by the wall and smiling in an incredibly content, if a bit vacant, manner. He's completely alone in there, just amusing himself with a can of paint.]

...still haven't made any progress...

[Kimblee's voice is soft but clear; he sounds as though he's speaking to someone, despite...being...completely alone in the room...]

...they'll probably never find whomever did such a number on the Centers. Such a display...I understand that they will be down for some time now. And they haven't a clue who was responsible for it. For any of it.

[He doesn't sound bothered by this, nor does he sound particularly pleased; he's just making statements. At no one. He pauses for a moment; his hand's slipped again on the brush, drawing another jagged streak against the wall. He looks momentarily displeased at that, linefacing hard, before moving on to pick up where the line stopped.]

Shame that the infection spread to so many, though, especially with the vital cities running so low on medical supplies; I wonder how many were hit by it. My own mutations will fade shortly, I'm sure - it will be unfortunate if this keeps up for much longer. It's incredibly inconvenient...not that I don't miss the power, however. That was lovely, while it lasted.

[He pauses again. Smiles to himself.]

It wasn't quite like alchemy, but it was close enough. Such a beautiful feeling...I wouldn't mind feeling it again. Perhaps someone can assist with that, if they ever work out -

[There's a rather odd, blurred flash of green-and-white across the screen before Kimblee can finish that thought, then the video feed shuts off; it takes a moment, but a bit of text goes out to the Network before too long, also from Kimblee's 'Gear.]

i think my trainer is broken

[...yeah, Kimblee's Gardevoir is getting a bit...concerned about this talking-to-the-walls business.

Kimblee will definitely answer responses as they come in, though; he's not that out of it, though it may take him a few minutes to get on it.]

[ANONYMOUS IMAGES/TEXT]

[It's been a while since the last anonymously-sent post like this hit the network - images sent from an individual obviously from Team Rocket, depicting seemingly random attacks on NPC trainers and showing proof of the Pokémon that had been stolen from them.

Three weeks later, there's another set; judging by the content, your anonymous friend seems to be getting a bit bolder, given that these pictures aren't showing completely random NPCs anymore.

Those who have been to Ecruteak City have surely heard of the theatre near the middle of town, where the Kimono Girls put on quite the lovely show; from the look of it, it may be a while until they do another one. Two of them are depicted in the first image, lying unconscious, facedown on the floor; what's visible of the ground around them - and there isn't much - indicates that a battle had happened there minutes before the picture was taken. Obviously, it didn't end too well for the girls.

The following pictures are individual close shots of their faces, verifying that all five of them were "dealt with" (read: roughed up greatly); the angles are strangely aggressive, as though taken from directly over their unconscious bodies. The next is a shot not unlike one from the first set - a set of several Pokeballs in gloved hands, that familiar red R visible on the clothing of the person holding them; otherwise, any actual defining features on the individual holding them can't be seen in the image. The second-to-last picture is along the lines of the previous one, only decidedly more direct; the person is again holding things they've stolen, but this time the Pokémon have been released. Not all of them, as there are only two of them this time, as opposed to the several Pokéballs - but they're a pair of Eevees, obviously very young; they look...incredibly confused and kind of dazed, but generally unhurt. Anyone who knows what the Kimono Girls specialize in will likely get the idea behind this one being included - more proof of theft, really. And once more, no glimpses of the face of the person doing the stealing.

The last image is taken from further back, clearly from one of the seats in the audience; the stage is clearly visible, making it immediately obvious that whomever's sending the images wants to leave an impression.

There's a large, dark R singed into the stage. The flames were apparently quickly put out, as they're no longer smoldering; however, the damage to the stage is clear. The Kimono Girls have been arranged such that they're lying beneath the insignia; again, the last image is sent with a line of text accompanying it.]

We've been watching.


( Explanations (Or, How We Learned to Stop Worrying and Love This Shit) )



[OOC:]

[You are more than welcome to do action/mingling replies re: the theatre, though Kimblee and Archer are long gone; the doors have been frozen shut from the inside, so it may take a while to break in - at the same time, it was intended more as a warning for them while they worked (they would hear the cracking) and a temporary deterrent, not a permanent sealing-off, so the ice isn't particularly strong and can be broken/melted from the outside.

Responses to text will come from either or both of them; one of them is minding the Gear at all times, so somebody will respond.

...also yes, assault on the Kimono Girls is mod-approved!]

[AUDIO]

[Kimblee has been fairly absentee for the last few days; when his connection becomes active over the PGC, it...well, it might not be exactly clear as to why, but it goes a long way toward explaining it, at least in part.

The connection snaps to life suddenly, though it isn't a video feed - this is entirely sound, the Voice connection having kicked in as the Gear hits the ground hard. The audio isn't simply white noise, however, nor is it entirely the ever-present background music threading its way through one of the routes near Mahogany Town; that music is present for a brief moment after the Gear connects with the ground, only to be violently interrupted by the unmistakable sound of something blowing the hell up.

Depending on your particular point of view, however, what's possibly more disconcerting than the sudden eruption is the sound that follows immediately after it - it's a bizarre, harsh combination of laughing and shrieking, the sound pitchy and manic and completely uncontrolled. It carries on at about the same utterly deranged clip for quite some time before slowly dying down as the person in question gets a hold of himself; when Kimblee speaks, however, his voice is still shaking hard, and it's obvious he's still not...quite as in control as he'd like to be.]

...beautiful...absolutely beautiful!

[A brief pause.]

That was better...it's been quite a while since I've heard something so moving. Yes, that was much, much better. Such a beautiful sound...

[And then there's the usual white-noise sounds that are a bit hard to distinguish, rustling and footsteps and the like, followed by something that's decidedly more distinct: after a moment, there's something that's definitely singing audible over the connection - not any particular words, or any particular tune, even, just vocalized nonsyllables that Kimblee seems to be making up as he goes, but from the sound of it he's very, very content, if a bit unstable.

And then the feed cuts off.]

[ACTION]

[A short while after that audio post hits the network (the posting itself the result of a somewhat awkward grab at the Gear once he'd realized he'd dropped it), Kimblee can still be found on Route 44; he's no longer screamingly manic, but he definitely looks...rough, for lack of a better term. His hair is draped haphazardly over his left shoulder, the usual long ponytail mussed up and disheveled; his eyes are distant, holding a bit of an unfocused, wild look to them, and despite the fact that he doesn't look like he's slept in some time, there's a general sense of manic energy about him that hasn't quite faded.

This may or may not have to do with the obvious signs of those explosions in his general vicinity, as well as the fact that he's in the process of recalling a rather fainted Electrode to its Pokéball.

...well. Someone seems to have figured out exactly what Selfdestruct does; as a result, Kimblee's a bit...worked up. To put it lightly.]