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
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
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
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
29 May 2014 @ 07:34 pm
03x. [Action - Fourth Wall Event]  
[A. Olivine City, outdoors.]

[Well, while usually at this point in the festivities the hills would be alive with the sound of shit gratuitously blowing up, it seems that Kimblee has found something else with which to occupy his time.

An...obnoxious, mulleted, poorly-dressed something.

The guy admittedly looks a fair amount like him in the face, except the eyes are decidedly wrong and he looks younger by a good amount; he's wearing a really poorly-fitting Amestrian military uniform, and judging by the way he that generally appears to give so few fucks that it ought to be criminal he doesn't seem too wigged out by suddenly being somewhere he's not supposed to be.

It seems he's done this before.

Of course, Kimblee himself has standing orders to kill this guy should the opportunity arise, and he fully plans on acting on those as soon as he's done doing...whatever it is they're doing outside of this café on this lovely Thursday afternoon; granted, he doesn't seem like he's in too much of a hurry to do it right now, especially since they have exactly one knife between the two of them and the moron with the mullet currently has possession of it. Kimblee currently has his left hand splayed out on the table, watching whatever this other guy is doing with it; he looks like he's stabbing something over and over again.

Upon closer inspection, it seems that knife is darting in and out from between Kimblee's fingers; it seems that they have an obscenely fast two-player version of the Knife Game going, and Kimblee seems way too fascinated by a game including the prospect of this guy possibly missing and stabbing him in the hand, and when the guy he's with finishes off the round he simply passes the knife across the table and sets his own left hand down, splaying his fingers out to let Kimblee have a go.

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why we don't allow weapons in Route. Idiots bond over them.]



[B. Just about anywhere.]

[...of course, that isn't going to last long, and for the rest of the weekend the hills are going to be alive with the sound of shit gratuitously blowing up. But hey, this time they're blowing up to the general tune of science.

It seems Kimblee has found a few errant shards of crystal; upon discovering that they do...well, a lot of nothing to actually power his alchemy up (because you never know), he's doing the next logical thing and infusing them with energy just to see what's going to happen.

The crystals absorb that odd blue energy from his hand easily enough; it's what happens next that's a bit alarming - at a distance it looks like they just sit there for a while, but at a bit closer range it's obvious that that energy is just bouncing around inside the gem, becoming more and more volatile the longer it's allowed to do so, and beyond a certain point...well, it's hard to say because Kimblee promptly throws it with great force, and as soon as it's gone it explodes in all its magnificent crystal-shrapnel glory.

...He's got a couple of small cuts on his face from when he threw one of those shards straight up; needless to say, he's not doing that anymore, though he doesn't seem to mind the blood. We throw outwards, not up, clearly.]





[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, the second scenario can be literally wherever you want him - happy fourth-wall, everyone!]
 
 
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
03 March 2014 @ 03:21 pm
031. [Text]  
You know, I've realized that whenever I address the network nowadays, I always include some sort of apology for the morbidity of the subject matter; the subject matter is never any better the next time around, which I think just draws the validity of the apology into question by now. Ah, but that's neither here nor there - the subject today is still, however, not any better, so consider the apology this afternoon as genuine as it always is.

[In other words, sorry-not-sorry. Kimblee...]

I would like to discuss morality today, actually - perhaps befittingly, since there are so many morally dubious individuals around as of late.

Assume for a moment that you come across someone in peril; you're in a secluded area, and no one else is around to help this individual but you. The specific sort of peril they're in doesn't matter, but for the sake of argument, assume that it's something that you can handle easily - assume that assisting them won't kill you, and even if the situation you envision is dangerous you can call the authorities for help and that would be considered "assisting" for the sake of this experiment. For whatever reason, the person in peril cannot save themselves; if you don't do anything, the situation will prove fatal for the person you've come across.

No one will know if you help the person or not. You won't be punished or penalized in any way for not helping them - in other words, you have no legal obligation to do so - but if you don't, the person in peril is going to die. You've never met the person before this moment; there's nothing about their appearance or situation that implies that you should consider them an enemy, but they aren't explicitly a friend or an ally either. Just a random stranger that you are given the option of rescuing.

Most would probably agree that rescuing a person in peril like that is the "right" thing to do; I'm sure some would disagree, either because their beliefs are a bit unorthodox or because they want to feel edgy. So my question isn't necessarily what you believe - my question is why. Can you justify it, or are you just operating under "what feels right"?

Answer me anonymously if you'd like; as usual, your identity doesn't necessarily interest me, but your answer does.
 
 
Solf J Kimblee
03 February 2014 @ 10:58 am
030. [Anon Text + Images.]  
[Well, good afternoon, network - it's been a few months since this particular device has been active. There's an ID assigned to it, of course; those familiar with Team Rocket's activities in the past may recognize it as belonging to the individual calling himself Seth.

He's been inactive lately, as far as crime goes; that doesn't mean he hasn't been busy.

Today's message comes with a few lines of text and an attachment; the text is definitely deliberate, to say the least.]


What does this world mean to you? Do you think it's something worth protecting, or would you rather sit on the sidelines and watch it burn? This place is more than sunshine and Pokémon battles. If given the choice to make a difference, would you take it?

[As usual, there's a set of photos attached to the message; the first few show a desk in a nondescript room, covered in various mechanical things - those who are familiar with incendiary devices and triggers in your world will likely recognize them. The rest?

Those are bombs. A lot of bombs.

The last two are the usual shot of the Rocket member in question, in full Team uniform and shot from about chest-level, keeping his face and other defining features out of the shot. He's not holding anything stolen this time around; rather, it's one of those white cards that he's used to deliver messages before, the words written on it scrawled out in thick, blocky lettering as though someone had gone over the words repeatedly, obscuring any sort of distinctive handwriting for the sake of making it far less identifiable.

LET'S HAVE A WAR.


The final shot is similar to the first; only the card has changed.

OLIVINE CITY.

YOU HAVE THREE DAYS.
]
 
 
Solf J Kimblee
06 August 2013 @ 10:46 pm
027. [Text/Audio - Locked Rocket Frequency]  
[TEXT]

[Well, the network is getting a somewhat saner post from Kimblee this time around; he seems to have settled quite a bit since the bout of whatever-that-was involving the rain and the Anoriths and the...crazy, let's not lie to ourselves.

So there's text again tonight, and not a whole lot of prelude or explanation with it.]


In the interest of equivalent exchange...what would be the largest sacrifice you would be willing to make, in order to receive whatever it is that you desire most? For the sake of argument, you would receive exactly what it is you want, without any hideous Monkey's-Paw, literal-genie side effects. Adhering to the spirit of the law as well as the letter. I don't care what it is in particular, and you don’t have to specify. Just whatever it is you want most. What would you be willing to sacrifice for it?

Ah, and assume that offering your own life isn't an option, because that renders the question an entirely moot point; however, I’m not saying lives in general are off-limits - if you'd kill a room full of strangers, then you would, and you won't offend my delicate sensibilities any by saying so. On the other hand, if you don't consider anything to be worth it, then I'll question your powers of imagination but so be it.

Answer anonymously, if you're more comfortable doing it that way; after all, I'm not looking to measure how depraved my acquaintances are - your name is of less concern to me than your answer.




[AUDIO - ROCKET FREQUENCY] )
 
 
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
08 March 2013 @ 11:42 am
023. [Anonymous Text + Images/Video]  
[An anonymous text will be going out to the network today; the ID is consistent with the one that usually sends out things along these lines from Seth.

Surprisingly (and lbr, probably refreshingly), there aren't any images of Seth's "work" prefacing the text; it simply gets to the point.]


It's been a year since we first met. As predicted, I'm still doing just fine. Those who stated I would be caught before the year mark have officially failed in their task.

But as I've said before, I like to level the playing field a bit once in a while. It keeps things interesting for me. And since people in this place tend to like their anniversaries, I thought I would celebrate mine with an invitation for you.

I'm in Goldenrod City for the next week. If you want a battle, you're more than welcome to it.

I have eyes all over the city. Set up a trap for me and I'll know. But meet me as my equal and you'll be rewarded.

No tricks. No lies. Just battle.

Contact me and we'll see what can be arranged.


[The text is punctuated with an image, taken in what appears to be a mostly-dark meeting room; the focus of the picture is on a set of six Ultra Balls, shining dimly from what little light is illuminating the room. Visible behind the table they're set on is what's clearly a Team Rocket member, visible from the upper chest to about his hips; he's leaning against the table, gloved hands braced on either side of the set of Ultra Balls, and as usual, the red R insignia on his shirt is able to be seen easily enough.

The second attachment is a brief video. Though his face is still out of the shot, the Rocket in question seems to have seated himself behind that table; the Ultra Balls are still displayed in front of him, but a white card is obscuring some of them, pinned between two of his fingers. The card is handwritten in thick, blocky lettering, as though they've been written over repeatedly, obscuring the handwriting and making them less identifiable.

MY NAME IS SETH. A YEAR AGO TODAY, I BEGAN MY WORK.

AND I KNOW SOME OF YOU HAVE WANTED TO MEET ME IN PERSON.


He turns the card over slowly; there are two words written on the back, in the same style as the front.

ANY CHALLENGERS?]



[OOC]

[If there are any takers when it comes to this challenge of Kimblee's, there will be a log set up later this week to accommodate all your battling needs! This post is for the sake of arranging such things, should anyone be interested in trying to throttle the bastard. This isn't a plot so much as it is a post in two parts, so to speak.]
 
 
Solf J Kimblee
22 January 2013 @ 09:57 pm
021. [Anonymous Text + Images/Locked Audio - Rocket Frequency]  
[ANONYMOUS TEXT + IMAGES]

[Kimblee hasn't been back in Goldenrod City for very long; he's well aware of the attack on the Tower, however - his contacts here have made him very aware of that.

He's well aware that he shouldn't do anything rash; however, his pride does have quite the tendency to get involved in decisions where it really has no goddamn business being, and as such, an anonymous text goes out over the network.

Seth's clearly making a reappearance tonight.]


It seems some of you have been enjoying yourselves lately.

[There's no clarification regarding exactly what he's talking about; however, there are, as usual, pictures accompanying the text.

The first is par for the course, as Seth goes; a set of six Pokéballs held in gloved hands, on chest-level with the person holding them - his face isn't visible, but the red R insignia on his uniform clearly is, even in the dim light of the room.

The next three photographs are decidedly more straightforward, in terms of what he's trying to get across; each image contains two Pokémon in heavy, reinforced cages set up in front of a black backdrop of some sort - birds, all of them. They seem alive, though "unharmed" is a bit of a stretch; they seem to have been roughed up quite a bit.

More text, clearly continuing on from the first line.]


So have I.

[One more image follows, similar to the first - though instead of Pokéballs clasped in his hands, he has a white card pinned between his index and middle fingers, the words written on it scrawled out in thick, blocky lettering as though someone had gone over the words repeatedly, obscuring any sort of distinctive handwriting for the sake of making them far less identifiable.

TELL FALKNER THAT SETH SAYS HELLO.]



Locked to the Team Rocket frequency. )
 
 
Solf J Kimblee
03 September 2012 @ 08:47 pm
016. [Anonymous Text + Images]  
[And tonight, with no fanfare, a text hits the network. Completely anonymous, as always; those who have done their homework would recognize the 'Gear number as the one ascribed to the device that's been showing off several other attacks that have been broadcast to the network.]

Good evening, Johto.

The last few times we've spoken have been a bit unbalanced, wouldn't you agree?


[Ah, there are the pictures. Still images from the attack on the square in front of the Goldenrod Department Store, along with a few other images - the attack on the Kimono Girls and against a few random civilians, the Goldenrod Pokémon Center being destroyed. Little unpleasantries like that. Scroll past them and the text will pick back up, don't worry.]

You've told me so much about yourselves, during those attacks. I've gotten to know several of you quite well, actually.

For the time being, I would like to even the playing field a little. It will keep things interesting, I think.

From the time that you contact me onward, you have an hour to ask me anything you like. I can't guarantee you'll like or be satisfied with the answers, but it'll be better than nothing, I imagine; anything is up for discussion, short of my current location.

And don't worry - I'll introduce myself, just to spare you some time.


[There's one more image after the text ends; it's the sort of picture that usually closes out these transmissions to the network - a shot of the Rocket agent in question from the chest down to about the waist. The room behind him is dark, though it appears to be a meeting room of some sort, if you squint; the Rocket insignia emblazoned across his shirt is clearly visible above his hands, which are obscured by the pale gloves that come with the uniform. Instead of the usual Pokéballs clasped in his hands, however, there's a white card with a few words written on it in thick, blocky writing, as though someone had written the letters and gone over them repeatedly, rendering them unidentifiable through handwriting alone. The words are highly visible, standing out against the stark, glaring white of the card in the flash of the camera:

MY NAME IS SETH.

PLEASED TO MAKE YOUR ACQUAINTANCE.
]
 
 
Solf J Kimblee
27 March 2012 @ 05:50 pm
010. [Anonymous Images + Text/Possible Action for Ecruteak City]  
[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!]
 
 
Solf J Kimblee
08 March 2012 @ 02:22 pm
008. [Anonymous Images + Text/Action for mid-Route 36]  
[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.]
 
 
Solf J Kimblee
07 February 2012 @ 03:36 pm
007. [Text/Action for Violet City]  
[TEXT]

I ask that you forgive the morbidity of the question, but I find that there are some things that can't exactly go unasked -

I've heard rumors that if one dies in Johto, one doesn't exactly remain that way; has anyone actually proven this? If so, whom, and by what means?


[ACTION]

[Early afternoon in Violet City will see Kimblee dressed like quite possibly the world's most pretentious horseback rider, what with the black pants tucked into the pale grey knee-high boots, an amber shirt that's perhaps far too nice for the occasion, and the usual thick gloves over his hands, the ends of which disappear neatly under his sleeves. It would look halfway appropriate were he in the company of...I don't know, a Rapidash or something similar, but instead he's got Carlisle out in front of him. Kimblee seems to be checking over his murder mammoth, who's been at a bit less than 100% after almost a week of constant pushing to get to Violet City in the first place; however, after several days' rest, he seems to be doing fine. Kimblee is singing to himself as he circles the creature; it's not entirely perfect, but it's a decent mimickry of the tune Emmy was singing a few days ago.

Either way, he doesn't seem to be bothered by the fact that holy balls it's cold out here; hell, he's not even Blofelding it up with his Pineco right now. Obviously, whatever it is he's doing, he's a man on a mission. Or something.]
 
 
Solf J Kimblee
25 December 2011 @ 06:41 pm
005. [Video]  
[VIDEO]

[Good evening, Johto!

The room is a bit dim when the video feed flickers on; Kimblee seems to have set the Gear on some piece of furniture in front of him - probably a desk of some sort. The room is nondescript, the walls bare, but it's spacious enough and there's what looks like that long trenchcoat of his draped over the edge of the bed behind him, as well as the edges of those boxes that the care packages came in, almost out-of-frame but just barely visible.

The room is his, after all, he just hasn't bothered decorating the place.

His voice is calm when he speaks, his posture casual - he's leaning back in whatever chair he's sitting in (and either it's a hell of a swivel chair or he's leaning it back on two legs and balancing it like that), and his arms are folded across his chest; despite that, however, there's a definite cocky note to his voice.

Someone's pleased with what he's received for Christmas, holy shit.]


My, my - judging from the feeds today, I'm not the only one who's received gifts from an unknown benefactor. Whether this is a sign that we've been favored by this world, or whether someone simply has a strange and possibly sick sense of humor has yet to be seen.

Perhaps a bit of both.

[And when he unfolds his arms, he's playing with something; it's moving a bit too quickly between his fingers for the camera to really focus on it, but whatever it is, it's small and solid and gleams a bit when it catches the light. A crystal of some sort, perhaps, blood-red in color.

For those from his world who would know a Philsopher's Stone when you see one: yep.

However! Kimblee will just be smiling and it will be a very pleasant expression, actually.]


I should hope that you're all enjoying yourselves; it's been such a lovely season so far.

[End feed.]


[OOC: It's been a lovely season indeed. Some of his CR has received things from him, just for the sake of reference; enjoy it?]
 
 
Solf J Kimblee
15 November 2011 @ 08:28 am
003. [Voice/Action for Route 44]  
[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.]