Entries tagged with sanity is so passé

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

alchemicals.

Otherwise...welcome to the semiannual KIMBLEE SIT THE FUCK DOWN party.]

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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.]

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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!]

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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.]

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

alchemicals.

Otherwise, the second scenario can be literally wherever you want him - happy fourth-wall, everyone!]

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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.]

02x. [Action - Fourth Wall Event]

[It's been a surprisingly explosion-free few days.

It's not that Kimblee doesn't enjoy having his alchemy back, as he certainly does. However, he doesn't have a proper outlet for it (..."proper") and there's that battle recently, odd and dreamlike and just kind of hovering on the outer edges of his memory - he suspects it wasn't quite a dream and there's been more than enough evidence to back that up, but really, there's not much to be done about it.

So he's restless as hell. Restless as hell is never a good thing.

Today he's got Ayanami out with him, and they appear to be exchanging blows; whether encouraging this with something that's actively tried to kill him in the past is a good idea or not is apparently of no consequence to him today, since he seems to be having a grand old time either way - the shocks she's sending at him are being countered with sharp snaps of his hands coming together and whips of energy detonating in midair when they connect with the electricity, and the explosions are loud and he isn't flinching at them in the least, and the look in his eyes is getting manic.]

Again - come now, you can do better than that!

[That's about the point when Ayanami decides to prove that she can, in fact, do better than that; she waits until the next time he fires off one of those explosive currents and promptly Mirror Coats him, and he's suddenly very, very grateful that getting kicked out of Johto for a month and a half seems to have done wonders for his spine because holy shit, nothing like having an explosion rebounded at you for double the damage, getting the hell out of the way is probably prudent.

But then the air clears and Kimblee is laughing like this is the greatest damn thing he's ever seen, and he's looking a bit of a mess but hey, at least he's happy, even if he's probably deaf as hell after that - ]

That's more like it; absolutely beautiful!

[...right. Well, either way, he doesn't seem to mind.]

[OOC: He can be run into just about anywhere because Johto is, as usual for these things, completely on the blink; he's going to be a bit...um, excited no matter where you happen to run into him because yay alchemy, but you are more than welcome to put him where you want him - he'll be ending up in Goldenrod after the event, however, so he'll definitely be there at some point!]

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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.]

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.]

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.]

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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.]

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014. [Anonymous Text/Video/Action for Goldenrod City] - ROCKET PLOT

[ANONYMOUS TEXT]

[Unlike the other anonymous messages that this particular 'Gear tends to send out, there are no images attached to this one. Nor are there any particularly threatening messages - in fact, the message attached isn't threatening at all! Really, unless you're keeping very close track of who's sending what, you wouldn't think it was coming from the same source.]

i understand that there are a lot of you who were disappointed last week - something about how there were no fireworks on the fourth??? and there was something else called tanabata that not everyone may have heard of. i'm glad that people are spreading the word about things like that - celebrating culture is important!

and because it's important, a few of my friends and i have arranged a surprise for you! most people seem to be in goldenrod city, so we'll do it there - meet us in the square in front of the department store at sundown tonight. we want to make johto a special place for you, and to make you feel welcome here - i hope the later date isn't too disappointing!

if you can't be there, don't worry! i'll broadcast the fun for you over the network; it'll be great!

[Well. Uh. While it's completely anonymous and therefore less embarrassing than it could have been...Kimblee is typing like a hyperactive teenager. This can't possibly bode well. At all.]

[ACTION/VIDEO - GOLDENROD DEPT. STORE, SUNDOWN]

[And just as promised, after the sun goes down and there are a fair few people in the square - some NPCs, some not - there will be fireworks.

They aren't exactly high-grade, so the display isn't too impressive at first - a few pretty colors, maybe, but nothing terribly elaborate. Clearly whatever hyperactive teenager sent the message to the network will get a YOU TRIED........ Award, but it's nothing to write home about.

...and then other displays begin enhancing the explosions.

It's a bit difficult to pinpoint exactly where they're coming from, as there seems to be at least three Pokémon contributing to them - and the bolts of electricity must be coming from a Pokémon, they're unmistakably attacks like Spark - but the electricity seems timed to enhance the blasts put out by the fireworks, causing far larger explosions, shocks of electrical energy dancing between the trails of embers raining down from the sky.

Rather pretty, all things considered - it's gone from the work of an amateur into something far more advanced. Probably someone who knows what they're doing.

And while everyone's attention is trained skyward, that's when things start to go wrong.

It's a very planned-out sort of wrong; a calculated sort of wrong. A "something is firing Zap Cannon directly into the crowd" sort of wrong.

Whatever it is, it doesn't seem to be aimed properly; Lock-On is clearly not being used. However, it's difficult to say what on earth is being aimed at in the first place; those who are quick enough to not get fried (easier than it sounds, given the lack of aim here) and analytical enough to notice patterns will realize shortly that there is none, though the attacks do seem to be coming from one particular direction - the assailant is situated on the rooftop of the Goldenrod Department Store. Certainly, making your way up there will ensure that you find one of your attackers.

However, there are secondary attacks that seem to be following the Zap Cannons - smaller attacks, Spark and occasionally Thunderbolt, though that latter one seems to be a bit more infrequent - and those seem far more directly-aimed, trying to take out individual targets rather than shooting into the crowd at random. These are coming from another rooftop a short distance away - one of the nondescript, privately-run shops that aren't directly affiliated with the Department Store itself. Entering that shop will find the shopkeepers knocked out, so it's clearly neither of them doing anything - so who else is up there?

Should you be in Goldenrod City and wanting to investigate the electrically-based mayhem, pick your path - either the Department Store, where you'll find the individual with the ridiculously powerful attacks and no sense of aim, or the nondescript shop, with the weaker attacks but some sort of strategy.

And for those not in Goldenrod City? The fireworks were definitely filmed for you. And after a sudden burst of jittercam veering off into the crowd? So was the attack on the civilians, until the feed suddenly snaps off mid-attack. Should you try to respond to this particular signal, responses will come a couple of hours later.

Enjoy.]

[OOC]

[HELLO, ROUTE. Kimblee is one of the Rockets that submitted himself as a human guinea pig for the sake of gaining stupid amounts of elemental powers! Of course, there's no way he's doing this entirely on his own - he has some...help, shall we say - but even so, he's having himself a pretty good time tonight.

Should you choose [action], regardless of which path is taken - the larger threat overall or the one that's actually strategizing - I'll be engaging you; feel free to mingle among yourselves as well, if you see fit to do so!]

0??. [Action / Fourth Wall event]

[It's been seven and a half months since Kimblee has arrived in Johto; seven and a half months since he's felt whatever restrictions that are on his alchemy here loosen and fall away, leaving him with sheer destructive power flowing through his body.

But today, he can feel it. Oh, can he feel it.

Today he's out on one of the routes, training. That isn't anything new.

What is new is the way the route has been ripped up, large swaths cut through it; Kimblee is standing somewhere among all of the destruction, his breathing jagged. Those 'fortunate' enough to see what he's doing will get a glimpse of dark red energy flickering between his palms, sharp and crackling like some sort of demonic lightning storm in miniature, before he drops down and forces the energy from his body, chaining together a series of explosive reactions that detonate somewhere deep within the ground, ripping up fiery trails of destruction that rip through the earth, destroying everything in its path. The explosion chains doesn't seem to be hindered at all by obstacles in their path; rather, they seem only to be spurred on, ripping up anything in its path as fuel for another detonation.

The sound is immense, as are the shockwaves in the trail of those explosions; they don't carry on forever, but they're certainly not caused by any sort of natural phenomena.

Needless to say, Kimblee isn't training his Pokemon today...

Though he's certainly in one piece after the explosions stop, Kimblee doesn't seem to be all right, exactly; he seems to be having huge amounts of difficulty controlling himself, shrieking and shaking with laughter, to the point that he looks damn near about to fall over. If one didn't know any better, they'd likely think he was intoxicated; however...]

This sound...the power...! It's truly been too long!

[Another burst of laughter rips out of him.]

After all this time...I still...

[...oh boy.]

I love this!

[...Kimblee, please...]

Entry tags:

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.]

Entry tags:

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!]

Entry tags:

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.]

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.]

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?]

00?. [Action for Goldenrod City / FOURTH WALL EVENT]

[Normal: Kimblee is hanging out on the outskirts of town today, wandering around in the snow.

Also Normal: His current activity is centered around forced population control on groups of wild Pokémon in the area; most call it "training," the local Rattata call it "horrifying."

Still Normal, If A Bit Disconcerting: Said population control involves a lot of loud explosions, followed by some kind of disturbing laughter.

Decidedly Less Normal: Those explosions are happening in rapid succession, too quickly for them to be caused by Selfdestruct without a lot of Revives...

Wait, What?: Hold on, Kimblee's Pokémon are nowhere to be seen.

Arceus, Please Save Us: ...yeah, those explosions are coming from Kimblee himself.

...oh dear.

When things aren't exploding, he's still more or less composed, if you see him from the back or at a distance; there's nothing frantic or erratic about his actions - if anything, his movements are very tightly controlled and almost unnaturally calm. He's simply walking around in areas that are quite obviously still tall grass, despite all the snow, and seeing what he finds. It's his expression that's obviously not right; he's got an >8D face going on that's only capable of being rivaled by very spoiled children being given free rein in a candy store on Christmas morning. And once something jumps out at him from that grass, it quickly becomes very obvious why.

He brings his hands together with a sharp snap, then drops down easily, the motion fluid; it isn't long before snow and general destruction is flying everywhere as explosions rip through the ground.

They're nowhere near as powerful as they might have been with the Philosopher's Stones - Johto wasn't that good to him, and the realization had led to a bit of linefacing at first - but they're still alchemy, and after two months without?

Feels. Good. Man.

So yes, there are a lot of explosions somewhere outside of Goldenrod (...okay, pretty much everywhere outside of Goldenrod eventually, because he's not going to stay in one place); Kimblee's just laughing like a maniac and...clapping like a moron, fainting Pokémon left and right as he goes. Today is awesome. Awesome.]

Entry tags:

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.]