[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.]

[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.]

[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.]