Solf J Kimblee
31 May 2015 @ 02:40 am
04X. [Action/Fourth Wall.]  
[A.]

[They say that time heals all wounds, and most everyone who's had any sort of serious wound can tell you that "they" are full of absolute shit; the fact that this guy's shown up with the front of his jacket ripped open and covered in blood is probably enough to say that that he totally agrees on the "absolute shit" front.

That isn't to say that he's alone, though; Kimblee remembers him (partially because Kimblee remembers everyone but mostly because it's sort of hard to forget an alternate-universe version of yourself that's so different you're absolutely certain the world made some sort of fundamental error when it spat the guy out and called him you), and he'd managed to catch his attention in an entirely reasonable, perfectly affable way when he'd seen him - ...or, well, okay, he'd caught his attention via an explosion across the way that may or may not have been very well-controlled, because he imagined the mulleted moron would like that.

But! Either way, they seem to have made nice and now they're out in the open messing with something, and whatever it is it's probably nothing good because Kimblee's actually deigning to kneel on the ground in that white suit of his, sitting back on his heels and trying to disregard how dirty he's going to be when he stands up again, but for the time being he seems more interested in whatever his counterpart's got going on in his hands. That particular "whatever" seems to be a mason jar, presumably full of water from the lake they're hanging out next to.

And it looks like the mulleted one is explaining something, and his eyes slide closed while he's talking and he's smiling in a vague, pleased sort of way, and there's a brief flash from his hands and when he tips the jar and pours the water out the grass fucking corrodes.

Ask him to do water into wine and he'll laugh it off; water into hydrochloric acid, however, is apparently entirely doable.

Kimblee just kind of stares at him, before he smiles and asks him to demonstrate again; the guy he's with shrugs and says he can do one better.

...We might not want to let him do one better. Just saying.]




[B.]

[Of course, when he's not participating in the chem lab from hell, Kimblee can be found elsewhere; it's been a good long time since he's had his alchemy back, and like hell if he's not going to actually use it. He seems agitated this time around, though, as though he's not entirely sure what he's doing with it; it's far less elegant than it usually is, more explosions for explosions' sake.

It's not good enough, for whatever reason; after a moment of deliberating following a rather hard aftershock, he brings his hands together again and the energy he's using shifts from blue to red.

The Stone he's using isn't visible, but it doesn't really need to be for it to be obvious that he's using it; the sheer destructive power of it is going to absolutely destroy the shit out of a large distance down the route.

He laughs a bit once he has, the sound strange and breathless; that's better.]




[OOC: The idiot in question in scenario A is Kimblee's 2003 counterpart, who's sort of a hot mess; if you want to yell at one of them in particular, specify which and the mulleted wonder will be replying from [personal profile] alchemicals.

Otherwise...welcome to the semiannual KIMBLEE SIT THE FUCK DOWN party.]
 
 
Solf J Kimblee
15 April 2015 @ 05:09 pm
042. [Text, and one other thing.]  
[TEXT]

I've noticed that when people are asked the question of whether they would change any major events in their past, a prevalent answer seems to be "No, because everything that's happened to me and everything I've chosen to do have made me who I am today." Sometimes I find that position unbearably arrogant; who's to say that the person you could have been – as terrifying though that notion seems to be for most – wouldn't be an improvement on you are now?

Not all changes are for the better, but there's no reason to assume they'll be for the worse, either.

I hold to a general principle of not regretting anything I've done; that hasn't changed, even now. Just the same, that doesn't mean that sometimes I don't wonder what would have happened if I've chosen to do something different at critical junctures of my life, regardless of how pointless that practice actually is in reality.

The idea of seeking solidarity in such notions is also pointless, but I suppose today is good for indulging in things like that. If I have any questions to pose to the rest of you today – and I admit I didn't start this with that sort of thing in mind for once – I suppose what I want to know is whether you would change anything or not. What it is doesn't matter; I just want to know whether such doubts have crossed your mind before, whether you find it plausible or not.

At the very least those feathers from on high are good for one thing, and that's ensuring that such insipid thoughts aren't keeping me up at night; I've been sleeping surprisingly well since picking one up.



Private message to Archer. )
 
 
Solf J Kimblee
19 January 2015 @ 07:16 pm
040. [Text/Action for Route 34]  
[TEXT]

As a former soldier, I've had to consider and handle the question of when it's considered acceptable to take another life. It's hardly a question here, since in this world life is incredibly well-protected and death is incredibly cheap; however, seeing as this place hasn't just dissolved into an anarchic killing spree, it seems that most of us still have a basic grasp on morality as we understand it and are of the basic consensus that "murder is bad."

I suppose my question then is where the line is, for most of the people here, and where the difference lies between murder and self-defense. There's the obvious understanding that if someone is trying to kill you, you likely won't just stand there and let them do it; you're probably going to defend yourself or even fight back, no matter how much of a pacifist you are.

But surely there are places where the criteria becomes a bit more difficult to discern...? Say that you have two people drowning in the ocean; there's a plank nearby that will support the weight of one of them. Without use of the plank, both people will surely die. Person A gets there first, but Person B shoves them off, saving themselves but causing Person A to drown in the process.

Was what Person B did murder? Probably. But they were also going to die if they didn't do it – isn't that just another form of self-defense?

What if Person A fought back and was able to hold their position? That's self-defense, in all probability – but they're also deliberately ensuring the death of another person. Is Person A a murderer for doing so?

Does it matter? Either way, a person is dead because someone else valued their own life more. A life is over and somehow I doubt whatever words the living use to make themselves feel better matter much to the deceased.

...I suppose now is when I apologize for the morbidity of the subject matter, although honestly it seems I can't let a year pass in which I don't ask some sort of horribly inappropriate question about murder. I suppose I'm just getting it out of the way early this year.




[ACTION]

[...And in contrast to that self-admitted horribly inappropriate question about murder, Kimblee actually is doing rather well today; if anything, he seems pleased that the weather has broken and it was above freezing for a few blessed moments today, since that means he can actually go outside and not spend most of his time shut in the base. It's large enough to keep him from getting too worked up, but it's still windowless and claustrophobic and if he can be outside, then dammit, he will be outside.

He's just outside Goldenrod today; he's up on Acasta.

It's been a while since he's done anything from up on top of the Steelix – travel is one thing, but battle is another entirely, and he's got some of his other high-leveled Pokémon out with him for the sake of satisfying that latter desire; Acasta's up against Carlisle right now, and from the look of it, it's not so much Kimblee's job to command as it is to not fall right the hell off. But his balance is good and his gaze is incredibly focused, and from the sound of it, he's having a grand time – he's laughing quite a bit, and it's cold and there's entirely too much ice around and he's done this before and it was a good time then, too.

He manages to jump down when a well-timed Earthquake finally takes Acasta out, ensuring that he's well clear of the steelsnake when it falls; apparently he's not having fun unless everyone stands a great chance of dying, and today isn't much of an exception. At least he'll be unoccupied with battle for a while as he spends a while seeking out a Revive that he has somewhere on his person; whether he's going back up later or just doesn't want to leave Acasta unconscious is a bit hard to say, but either way he's around for conversation.]
 
 
Solf J Kimblee
22 December 2014 @ 03:12 pm
039. [Text]  
One of the things I've always found admirable about humanity is their power to initiate change. Not just within themselves, either; that particular power includes the unique ability to instill change in other people – and for some, the world. It's always been rather appalling to me, that so many people would fail to understand how rare a gift that actually is: the actions of a single person have the potential to affect all of human society and leave their mark on the world, affecting and changing the course of the future itself.

It's a good amount of power that most people choose to do nothing with; it's a bit of a shame, really.

But whether we do anything with that power or not, we're all affected by it in some way; after all, the reason it exists at all is because people as individuals are volatile. We can change the world, and so it follows that the act of being in the world can also change us – whether through the actions of others who do choose to utilize that particular power, or just through the inconsistent nature of our surroundings. It follows the law of Equivalent Exchange rather well, I think.

Normally now is when I would suggest some sort of thought experiment to the network at large, probably morbid or inflammatory in nature, but I did promise someone that I would try not to be pointlessly negative for the sake of the holiday. Instead, my interest is elsewhere today – I want to know how this place has changed you. Positively or negatively, it matters very little to me; I'm just curious about what this place has given you, or perhaps what it's taken away.

Be as literal as you like, and as anonymous as you like; as usual with these sorts of things, your name interests me less than your answer.
 
 
Solf J Kimblee
07 November 2014 @ 04:34 pm
038. [ANON TEXT + IMAGES]  
[Good afternoon, network! It's a surprisingly nice day today; the sun is out, and while it's not warm per se, it's warm enough to be pleasant.

The last time "Seth"'s device had shown up on the device with this particular sort of message, it'd looked about to snow; he's finding the weather far more favorable this time around.

The first image to hit the network is a view of the streets of Ecruteak, as shot out what looks like a window of some sort; there doesn't seem to be anything on the walls of wherever this was shot from, though the curtains are light and filmy-looking as they billow inward with a light breeze, a bit more elegant than the normal hotel fare. Possibly a private residence of some sort. The leaves are in their full fall colors outside; it's a pretty shot, if not particularly interesting.

The next image is panned down a little – you can still see the window, the curtains having fluttered to a bit more of a standstill, and there's still some of the view of the outdoors; what's new is the table beneath the window, covered in black cases and wires and triggers.

Bombs. Plenty of them.]


I'm not the first one to note that this world isn't safe.

[And there's the text, moments later.]

Aqua and Magma tried to save the world by destroying each other. Some of you try to save the world by destroying me.

Will you succeed this time?


[The next shot is a bit more casual than most of this nature, though as usual, it seems to be set up across a table of some sort. It's his stance that's different; "Seth" has one forearm braced against the wood, and he's leaning forward heavily enough for his stance to look idle, almost bored. As usual, his face isn't in the shot, but if you look you can see the usual Team Rocket insignia emblazoned across his chest; his free hand is holding one of those white cards that he uses to communicate sometimes, pinning it between gloved fingers; the words written out in thick, blocky writing, traced over multiple times to obscure any sort of distinctive handwriting.

LET'S HAVE A WAR.


The second shot is almost identical to the first; only the writing on the card has changed.

ECRUTEAK CITY.

ONE WEEK.





[OOC]

[While the IC timing of this is going to be as he said – the attack will be taking place on the 14th of the month – the log itself will go up on the 10th and will be forward-dated, to circumvent possible continuity issues.

More details about how we're going to run this thing will be forthcoming!]
 
 
Solf J Kimblee
20 October 2014 @ 03:32 pm
037. [Text]  
I come seeking discussion again today, which to most of you should probably be nothing new; if anything, I ought to apologize for it, but I suspect that will ring about as true as my usual apologies for the subject matter. For what it's worth, the subject is better than it usually is; take that as you will.

I'd like to discuss dreams today; I'm sure those that were here about a year ago know exactly why, but in the end that is neither here nor there, and you don't have to have experienced it to discuss this with me.

I'm sure we're all no strangers to very vivid dreams...? The sort that immerse you so entirely that they almost seem real...surely there are a few qualities here and there that mark them as dreams, but they're disregarded in favor of whatever is actually happening right in front of you. Dreams like that can hardly be said to be different from reality, can they? They invoke feelings within you; they encourage you to continue thinking about them long after you've awakened. You could even say that dreams like that have given you experiences that you might never have had, were you awake – you've gone on adventures and met people and done things that affected you, all while physically being asleep.

Say that there was a way to live like that forever.

Suppose that there's a machine that will put you under, rendering you solidly asleep and allowing you to experience whatever you want. The machine can simulate any pleasurable experience that you choose, instilling all the thoughts and feelings that would come with actually going out and doing those things for yourself in your waking life. There would be no pain or suffering; it would be an experience in pure bliss for as long as you were plugged into the machine.

Again, you could stay that way forever, if you so chose, living out the rest of your life in dreams, and it would be a pleasant experience that's custom-tailored to you. The only tradeoff is that you would be unconscious the entire time; the experience would be entirely in your mind, rather than anything you actually did.

Would you choose to go under and live the rest of your life happy but effectively comatose, or would you prefer to experience life for yourself, entirely awake, with all the imperfections and strife that may come with it?

You can answer me anonymously if you wish, because as usual, your identity doesn't interest me as much as your response does; if you really want to impress me, you'll tell me why you would answer as you did.
 
 
Solf J Kimblee
09 July 2014 @ 07:37 pm
035. [ANON TEXT]  
[Well, good evening, network - it seems Seth's device is active again, though at the very least he's not inviting everyone to war like he's throwing the world's most unasked-for party this time around.]

You know, one of the things I've always found most fascinating about human morality is the idea that we're higher beings due to our natural inclination to put others before ourselves. It's generally accepted in society that we should be willing to sacrifice ourselves before harming another; I've always found adhering to that sort of notion to both vaguely admirable and sickeningly saccharine. If you must kill one to save another, that's still a life that's lost; why shouldn't the reward go to the one who's willing to fight for it, rather than the one who did nothing to earn it but sit there in pious devotion to doing nothing wrong?

We claim superiority for suppressing our instincts to survive; if anything, I think that would put us lower than dogs, not above them. All this intelligence and no will to live; it's pitiful.

But then, I suppose my lack of understanding of these things is why I can't be considered one of you.

For the time being, however, say I were to humor you in discussion for a while. Do you think your will to fight to ensure your survival actually needs to be tested? Since I suspect the answer will overwhelmingly be "No," I have another pre-emptive question for the heroic types.

Is there anything outside of arrogance and so-called moral superiority that makes you say so?


[...O...kay that's really not any better but apparently, it's just that kind of night.

You know, full of misanthropy.

Because some nights are like that.]
 
 
Solf J Kimblee
12 June 2014 @ 11:25 pm
034. [Text]  
It's been explained to me before by a few people here that alternate worlds are simply a reality for them - that there are dimensions that supposedly run parallel to theirs, coexisting alongside them but not touching or crossing over at all, save by methods that are exceedingly difficult to master and control. Some of the Pokédex entries here seem to support this notion as well - there are mentions of things being able to tear open portals to parallel worlds and the like.

It's also come to my attention that a large amount of people here seem to share the same home world, just with different variations that may or may not be incredibly minor - a school in one world where it doesn't exist in another, a landmark that's slightly different, a renamed city, an event in history changing things ever-so-slightly such that one group of people exists or doesn't. It's not dissimilar to my own world's situation, when it's put that way - what happened with us is exactly that latter instance, actually, it's just that something diverged early on and as such things played out differently. However, it wasn't enough of a split to mean that some of us - myself, people I know, people I don't - don't exist in that other version of my world; we do, it's just that our lives and circumstances are different to account for the change.

If all of the above is true, then it makes me question - it's possible that all of our worlds are connected like that, even those that are drastically different, isn't it? If all worlds run parallel to one another, obviously no two are the same; there's been some sort of change that would warrant the separation in the first place. So if all worlds are variations on each other, those variations also have variations; isn't it possible that those worlds containing countries and races and abilities and practices that you've never heard of or dreamed possible are just further out from the source? Those are the worlds that have been filtered through more and more alternate scenarios until that particular set of circumstances was created.

Although if that's the case, then logically speaking, there should be one master world at the root of all of it - something that we can trace all of existence back to. I'm not saying that would be possible now, since for all we know that world is long dead; just the same, perhaps that world is what chooses us - what decides that we're the fortunate ones, the ones that have withstood the general test of being run through multiple scenarios and circumstances and not been killed or weeded out in the process.

It really is rude of me to make people sit through all of this, but it's something I've given a lot of thought to in the past, and it's been coming up time and again recently, so I thought I would revisit it. I've always found the notion that we were all born because some higher power decided we, specifically, needed to exist to fulfill a certain role in life to be farfetched and hackneyed; in my experience, God doesn't care what you do with yourself, as long as you're not upsetting the natural balance of the world. But I've always maintained that those who change the world have been chosen by the world in some way or another.

Who knows? What with proof that alternate worlds like this exist, maybe I'm right.
 
 
Solf J Kimblee
13 May 2014 @ 09:23 am
033. [Text]  
The standard example of existential anguish is said to be standing on the edge of a cliff or other high place; there inevitably comes a moment in most self-aware individuals where they experience the realization that not only do they fear falling to their death, but there's nothing stopping them from throwing themselves off. I've always found it strange that a moment of experiencing true freedom like that would be considered distressing rather than a relief; knowing that there's nothing holding me back - that I am in full control of my own choices, whether it's to stand perfectly still or throw myself off - and there is nothing pre-written into whatever it is that I am that will dictate what I do either way is something I've always found calming.

It begs the question, however - do we choose our fears, and more importantly, do we choose how we respond to them?

If nothing is predetermined and everything about our lives comes down to choice, it makes sense to me that our fears also have to come down to choice, whether consciously or not. The part I'm not entirely sure of is the response.

For example, if one is attacked by some sort of animal, it makes sense that one would fear that animal. However, the response to animal attacks tend to vary - some will try to minimize their contact with that sort of animal as much as they can, while others will immerse themselves in it and attempt to desensitize themselves. Is there a particular thing that predetermines what choice a person is going to make?

I'm curious about your thoughts on it; you don't have to detail what fears you have and how you handle them, though if you would like to that might be helpful. I'm more interested in whether you think this sort of thing comes down to ingrained personality - something more inherent, I suppose - or personal choice, and whether such a thing can be changed.

Answer me anonymously if you wish; as always, your response is of more interest to me than your identity, and quite frankly I'm not in the mood to judge either way.

(As for the existential anguish, I've found over the years that I get the greatest satisfaction from neither the thought of staying put, nor the thought of throwing myself off - I've always enjoyed the notion that if I stand on the edge long enough, perhaps someone will act on their compulsion to put their hands against my back and shove.)
 
 
Solf J Kimblee
08 April 2014 @ 08:35 pm
032. [Text]  
[...and it seems it's time for another round of Horribly Inappropriate Questions, with your host: This Asshole.]

You know, a while ago I posited to the network that this world is based around battle culture – admittedly a softer, watered-down version of it, but battle culture nonetheless. One's power is assumed based on the strength of their personal army; one's social status is determined by how many gym leaders they've managed to defeat, or how easily they can crush those who stand in the way of what they want. It's interesting to me that such a society should likewise be based around a message of love, peace and tolerance; one would think that for the sheer amount of destruction that everyone's carrying around within arm's distance, this place would have dissolved into anarchy long ago.

Equally interesting is the stance on war that most seem to have taken here; even the locals seem opposed to it, overall. I have to wonder why – what it is about this place in particular that makes the idea of war and conflict so abhorrent to all within it.

Ah, but it's entirely likely that it's a matter of points of view, isn't it? I'm from a militaristic society, personally, so war and conflict seem to be the natural state of things – are most nations generally pacifistic like this? Or is this abnormal even by your standards as one of the..."foreigners", I believe they like to call us?

I'm interested in answers, though I can take or leave identities; answer anonymously if you wish, but even if you don't, you know what they say about glass houses.


[...You know, there are some things that never change. Yes, Kimblee, everyone here probably does get mad about genocide; either way, happy birthday, you crazy son of a bitch. If this is how you're going to spend this evening, you are more than welcome to do so.]
 
 
Solf J Kimblee
12 December 2013 @ 11:56 pm
029. [Text]  
Memory seems to be something of an elusive thing for some people, from what I've heard; I've never really considered it to be much of a problem myself, for various reasons both personal and not. But since we're all in this more or less together, and we have no obvious indication of if - or when, depending on your level of optimism - we'll be returned to our worlds of origin, I have to admit curiosity regarding the experiences of others.

Memories being the finicky things that they are, I'm sure we all have things we remember vividly about home - people, places, various other whatnot that I'm sure mattered to you at the time. I'm mostly curious about the people; you don't have to give me specifics if you choose not to, but I want to know -

What sort of things do you remember most vividly about the people that were important to you, and what sort of things do you not remember but wish you could? I'm sure we've all had that jarring moment when we realize that we don't remember what someone's voice sounded like, for example; I want to hear about things like that, if you don't mind. As always, do it anonymously, if you wish; I have less interest in your name than I do your answer.

Perhaps someday I'll learn to ask questions that are more seasonally-appropriate for any oncoming holidays; unfortunately, I've never really been one to adhere to the spirit of a season that I have no real understanding of in the first place.
 
 
Solf J Kimblee
09 October 2013 @ 04:21 pm
028. [Text]  
[Well. The previous night's sleep was absolutely hideous, for reasons that Kimblee really doesn't want to discuss, especially not with the network as a whole; however, the lack of contact with people is possibly the last thing he wants.

So. Polling the audience time again. Let's do this thing.]


While I know that this world has a tendency to pull some strange sorts of mayhem when it comes to bringing people here, have any of the rest of you found people from a different version of the world you came from? I'm not talking about different points on the timeline - though if any of you have experienced anything particularly strange on that front, I'm interested in hearing about that as well. What I'm referring to are instances of the world being identical up to a point, and the subsequent differences led to the timeline of your world and the timeline of this alternate version being entirely different.

From what I understand, this can lead to things such as another version of you living out an alternate version of your life; an example of what things might have been, if you made different choices. I know that it's a popular theory, philosophically, but have any of you received irrefutable evidence that that's the case in whatever reality you came from?

Because I have.
 
 
Solf J Kimblee
27 July 2013 @ 01:57 am
026. [Audio/Action for Route 35, just outside Goldenrod City]  
[AUDIO]

Goodness, it's only getting worse out there...

[Audio posts from Kimblee are reasonably rare, unless he's on...ah, "official business"; however, tonight he clearly feels like addressing the network as a whole for once. His voice is tight, though it's remaining controlled; there's a sort of quietness to the feed, as though he's indoors for the time being - god only knows exactly where, though, because judging by the BGM, he could be anywhere in Goldenrod.]

I've seen a few swarms in my time here, but I don't recall them being this bad in quite a while, much less this angry...perhaps this place is finally starting to strike back. I can't imagine the world being terribly pleased with how frequently the "foreigners" find their way here, after all; upset the balance too far in one way or another and the world will take notice, I've found, and if you think that will result in anything but a battlefield in one way or another, you're either idealistic or very, very sheltered.

[There's a clatter of movement in the background, a vague quickening of his breath as he speaks - heading down stairs, maybe?]

I've always enjoyed the notion that this world is built around conflict and the culture bred by the battleground; perhaps it's finally living up to its potential. Time will tell, I'm sure; while I suppose now is when it would be relevant to ask what sort of thing you're fighting for back home, I'll spare you the tedium - after all, the answer to that, when such times are upon us, is always obvious.

[A heavier thud then, and quickly-paced steps on even ground; whatever stairwell he's on, he seems to have seen fit to jump the last few steps, and his words are picking up speed a bit as he continues.

Those that are familiar with the way he is when he speaks will likely recognize overstimulation when they hear it; those who aren't...well, he sounds excited, at any rate. Excitement is good, isn't it?]


But for now, the hour grows late, and there's a battle to be had; perhaps I'd like to hear about some of your battles, myself. Not the reasons behind them - again, those are usually obvious and boring, really. But what victories you've won, if any. What victories you're seeking.

I'd prefer they be true, but you're more than welcome to make something up if you'd like. After all, it's not like I'll know the difference, right?


[ACTION]

[So. It's hideous o'clock at night, it's raining, and things are getting loud just past the northern borders of Goldenrod tonight. And not, like rampaging-Pokémon loud, though that's likely also pretty loud.

More like "shit blowing up" loud.

It seems Kimblee's finally taking the time to properly, uh. Bond. With his murderball of an Electrode. After all, if there's one thing they both can agree upon, it's that destroying things is ridiculously fun if you do it properly. Right now he's enjoying terrorizing the living hell out of the newly-local population of Anorith; this likely isn't going to make them any less mad about the state of the world, just saying.]
 
 
Solf J Kimblee
19 June 2013 @ 12:42 pm
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.]
 
 
Solf J Kimblee
09 May 2013 @ 11:51 am
02X - Reintro. [Text/Locked Audio to the Rocket Frequency]  
[TEXT]

[Well! Those of you on the network today will be greeted by a bit of audio late this morning, from a device ID that's been bouncing back all attempts at contact for the last several weeks.]

...Oh, that's cute.

[...well, if that wasn't the most triumphant return ever, I don't know what is.

At the very least, however, he seems to get over whatever he's almost audibly linefacing at long enough to realize that the device is recording something; he promptly switches the thing over to text - he's never really liked talking at the machine when he's addressing all of Johto.]


My, it seems this place does still have its sense of humor, doesn't it? And here I thought that perhaps I'd only lost three days at worst - it was a bit of a surprise to find out otherwise.

Ah, but that's neither here nor there, is it?


[Kimblee, hon.]

There's not much to report from home, unfortunately; however, it'll be a pleasure getting in contact with all of you again - hopefully you've all been at least reasonably well.

[Oh, well. At least he doesn't seem too off-put by the whole disappearing-for-a-month-and-a-half thing?]


[PRIVATE AUDIO - TEAM ROCKET FREQUENCY]

[...At least, not until the audio message that goes out over the private Rocket network a few minutes later; Kimblee's voice is cold and clipped, and the amiable "tone" from the text earlier is completely absent.

He has no idea if he still holds his rank or not; he suspects he doesn't. Like hell if he won't throw it around anyway. He's a bit displeased at his life basically being a .gif from Community, and he's going to figure out what in the good hell is going on if it kills him.]


This is Team Rocket Beta Solf J Kimblee, reporting back in for duty; to my superiors, I admit that I don't know what happened, but I assure you that it won't happen again.

To the rest of you - check in with me immediately, particularly if you're one of my subordinates. I'm receiving a lot of "ID Not Found" nonsense, and I need to know who's still present; given that and various things that I've had to hear about secondhand, I expect a full report regarding what happened here from someone, I'm not feeling particularly choosy right now.

New members to the organization - welcome to it, and you have my personal apologies for the disarray. For now, you're welcome to introduce yourselves; it'll serve you well to know that I'm good to those who are good to me. Again, prove yourself useful and you'll be rewarded.

None of this is a request. Allow me to make that much clear.

[...oh dear. Well. At least he's not in much position to actually do anything at the moment - this is Team Rocket we're talking about, and if somebody's on the network very vocally overstating their importance and/or competence, that means it's pretty much a day ending in Y.]
 
 
Solf J Kimblee
26 October 2012 @ 04:30 pm
019. [Text/Action for Mahogany Town, and one other thing.]  
[TEXT]

Does anyone know if the hideous creatures permeating this region of late are deceased humans, deceased Pokémon, or some ungodly combination of both?

It's nothing I had ever given thought to before, nor will your answer affect my thoughts on them. I'm merely curious about what it is that I'm repeatedly destroying, and whether I have something unfortunate to look forward to if this place decides that I'm the lucky person who dies on a permanent level out here.



[ACTION]

[Well, a very brief time after that text hits the network, it seems Kimblee has escaped whatever Ghost-free location he was in before.

Kimblee hasn't taken kindly to the ghosts here; he never has, really, and the fact that they're now in the cities isn't doing anything to help with that little issue. However, he's also never taken kindly to the idea that he simply can't do something, or the knowledge that some things are simply beyond his physical and mental boundaries, and it seems that today he's finally reached something of a breaking point.

He has Dorian out with him today, as well as Ramsay; he's loaded the latter with TMs, taking full advantage of the fact that Absols can learn Damn Near Everything. Kimblee himself seems to have decided that he has absolutely no fucks left to give; people in the general vicinity of Mahogany Town this evening may notice a figure dressed in white wandering through the fog, looking vaguely like one of the undead himself. His motions are tightly controlled, the orders he's giving his Pokémon clipped and tense; he's also trying to act like every time he comes across one of the Ghost-types everywhere he doesn't promptly flail a little and overkill the hell out of the poor level 20s with Fire Blast from a level 100 Fire-type.

He seems...determined (it's just a very skittish sort of determined, okay) to find and destroy every damn ghost in this town, judging from the flames everywhere; the local ghost population likely has no idea what it did to have quite this much hell rained down on it, but there certainly is a lot of hell going on here, goddamn.

...he really doesn't like ghosts, okay. At least they can't be harmed with Explosion, else this would be much, much worse.]




[PRIVATE TEXT TO EMMY ALTAVA]

Miss Altava,

I apologize for the abruptness of the message, but I need to speak to you immediately; get in contact with me, if you can?
 
 
Solf J Kimblee
08 August 2012 @ 08:59 pm
015. [Video/Text]  
[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.]
 
 
Solf J Kimblee
19 April 2012 @ 01:07 pm
011. [Video/Action for outside of Goldenrod City]  
[VIDEO/ACTION]

[Today's episode of Oh God, What: Solf J Kimblee Edition is brought to you by a Pokégear that seems to have been knocked to the ground; the shot is incredibly lopsided and at least some of the action is out of view of the camera, but more than enough is visible to convey that there is what appears to be a raging battle going on between a rather high-leveled Ninetales and an unbelievably annoyed Steelix over there. The battle doesn't look like the uncontrolled flailfest that it would be if either Pokémon were rampaging or beyond a trainer's guidance, but if it's a training battle, it's a hideously uneven one - the Steelix is obviously far weaker and at a type disadvantage - and there doesn't appear to be a trainer anywhere immediately nearby.

Of course, if you still don't see said trainer after a moment of looking, it's possible that you're just not looking high enough.

Clearly, today Kimblee has decided that he isn't content to just watch battles from the sidelines, as he's currently commanding this half of the battle from on top of the Steelix. He's trained Dorian well enough to attack unprompted if necessary; right now, he's crouched down on one knee atop Nagara's head, keeping a one-handed grip on the steelsnake and holding his fedora on with the other hand.

He doesn't seem to mind that Dorian is slinging full-out fire attacks at him now, nor does he even seem aware of the heat flowing through the metal of Nagara's body on any level other than purely physical; if you can get a good look at him when Nagara is holding reasonably still, he's flinching a good amount physically and shifting his grip quite a bit, indicating that he's definitely feeling the burn through his clothes, but he doesn't seem inclined to jump down - if anything, he's laughing as the battle rages on, that long ponytail and the length of his white trenchcoat flowing out behind him, and for all intents and purposes he seems to be having a grand old time.

Granted, those who know him reasonably well probably know that the reckless behavior and manic laughter are signs that he's neither pleased nor feeling particularly sane; he's taking the failed attack against Goldenrod City as a personal insult, and he's got a lot of steam that needs to be let out as a result. As such, today's training session is horrendously harsh; as soon as he gets any sort of indication that Nagara is being weakened too badly by the flames - and he seems fairly used to the way battle feels from up here, so he can tell - he's immediately throwing down healing items so she can keep going.

At the same time, Kimblee can't keep it up forever, and really neither can his Steelix. He'll stop eventually, much to the poor thing's relief; she lowers her head to let him down, though he doesn't seem too inclined to move yet - rather, he has his eyes closed and seems to be focusing on catching his breath, and ignoring the fact that he's likely burned himself in several locations. Eventually, however, he does seem to notice that the 'Gear took a hell of a fall somewhere along the lines; he picks it up and snaps it off without checking it, promptly ending and sending the feed the thing had been been broadcasting without being too aware of what he's doing.

However tired he may be - and he does seem incredibly tired, in those brief moments he's visible up-close on the 'Gear; he's been doing damn near suicidal training all day - there's still a tight sense of energy to him, and his gaze is alive; he doesn't seem able to calm himself very well, and it's incredibly likely he'll move on to something else completely idiotic by the end of the day if he's not distracted by anything.]