Giovanni would awaken in a swirl of color. There were so many colors, as far as the eye could see. Oranges, blues, reds yellows greens browns magentas cyans, even colors Giovanni never saw before, mixing, melding, swirling together in every direction.
There was no ground beneath him, yet he wasn’t falling. He was floating through the rainbow void, slowly, to a bright light in the distance.
A Voice rang out.
“Hello!”
“This is the portal to the world of Pokemon!”
“Before I can let you through, though, I’d like you to answer a few questions for me.”
“Are you ready? Then let’s begin!”
“What is your favorite battle style?”
“What is something you regret doing?”
“What is your favorite thing you have created?”
“Do you believe in redemption?”
“A building is partially in ruins. Do you repair what was destroyed, or tear down the rest and start anew?”
“A friend asks you to climb a mountain to defeat a great beast, but you may not be able to return. Do you accept?”
“What does ‘strength’ mean to you?”
“Two people are battling a friendly match. A person who has bested you, and an apprentice of yours. Who do you root for?”
“What is something you consider an intrinsic part of yourself?”
Today I was talking to Scrap Gege and found out more about the god in black who likes food!
It turns out that he is the Earth Master and his name is Ming Yi. No wonder I like him the best! I picked a great favorite god! I bet you anything he has the coolest rock collection in the 3 realms. If I meet him or his friend again, I'll be sure to ask if I can see it.
M-maybe I can even show him my rock collection?? Do you think he would look at it if I offer?
It... won't be that impressive to an Earth Master... if he even agrees to look... but... (⌒_⌒;)
She makes a move to approach Giovanni's residence, then stops, furtively double-checking the address on her Pokegear. The eldest Gym Trainer--Clair's most trusted protégé--fiddles with her silvery braid, adjusts her cape slightly, and squeezes her eyes shut for just a moment. Okay. Focus. Time to step up.
"You're the classiest among us, Fran," the ever-chipper Lola had mentioned before saying her goodbyes in the mouth of the Dragon's Den. "If anybody can get this done without any more drama, it's you."
"...It's me," Fran reaffirms to herself, straightening up and reorienting on the task at hand. Clair's Dragonite, Greatheart, gives her one last nuzzle of support as the lanky tamer steps up to knock gently at the doorframe.
"Mr. Sakaki? Frances Akiyama here, attending on Clair's behalf," she calls out with a hair of repressed uncertainty. "Thank you for holding onto everything for us. And, um, for your time..."
one year is far from enough time to acclimate- rather, he knows he should have done better / he's faced this sort of pressure before, and still there was something different. since he'd been picked up by unfamiliar officers and taken to some high security facility to meet a rather strict director, he'd felt different, too.
in return for materials and a new laboratory of his own, albert wesker had agreed to offer his aid- to play the part that he would never admit that he had loved most. the mysterious, but well respected captain of S.T.A.R.S.
"If you don't mind my asking, what interest does Interpol have in this case?" › @earth-master
giovanni sakaki is well known to interpol. the former leader of team rocket, one of many terrorist organizations- it seemed each region of this dimension had some sort of terror. everything from groups resembling the mafia to eco-terrorists, dictatorships and large corporations manipulating the flow of politics by having their hands in nearly everything.
it was almost as if he'd never left umbrella in the first place. it was almost like he was back in raccoon city.
❝ it wouldn't have been on the radar if this case didn't consist of a string of disappearances stretching almost thirty years- the first filed police report was on april 7th of 1997 by an officer jenni asahira. ❞ he's done his research, of course- that report was only the first, and the disappearances had continued to raise concerns.
it's more than that, though. he knows it's more than that, and maybe giovanni knows, too. because looking at giovanni makes him think of looking in some sort of odd mirror- where some things are quite similar and others are wildly different. ❝ erick snap died of rather brutal wounds. per reports, he was also rather fond of following in the footsteps of miss yuri. she certainly drew the attention of interpol at that festival. some rather interesting individuals attended- we had reports of an undead dragon. ❞ a pause then, followed by a soft sigh. ❝ i do wish i could say i offered to come of my own volition, but my superior officer insisted that i come. she's one to seek justice, no matter the cost. thirty years is a long time to leave people wondering- my superior wants that justice and closure. but for me, there's something nostalgic about it. ❞
he thinks of mountains. of gunfire and the whir of a helicopter. he thinks of death and old gold and rot- of rended flesh. of hazel eyes reflecting hurt and anger. he remembers dying. he remembers hearing someone call his name. but there's no chris redfield here. there's no evidence to say that there's any sort of secret lab under the old mansion, but wesker still knows when he stands over a grave of forgotten names. ❝ i do hope this team formed by lady aya has better luck than the one i was with the last time i was sent to investigate a string of disappearances... ❞
He gets a message from an unknown number, with an attachment.
The attachment is a picture of a chair- your chair, the "Evil Chair"- but it's not in the Viridian Gym. It's in a completely different place, but you can tell that wherever it is, Giovanni's personal aesthetic is apparent.
[txt] You already know who this is.
[txt] How well do you think you can navigate the Safari Zone?
Oh, he's pissed.
Green was just at the gym the night before, the chair was still there, and now he's awake and squinting at his phone and wishing he destroyed those secret entrances and changed the locks on the gym.
He's gonna have Gyarados Hyper Beam this smug bastard again for good measure.
[ text ] i already did it before, old man
[ text ] how well you think you can survive another hyper beam btw? once i get my hands on you again
The crinkled, dirty business card is held at a careful distance, as if contaminated with some sort of rot. An exhausted sigh rumbles forth from Clair's chest. She can't believe it's come to this.
Despite the tamer's noble efforts, it's becoming clear that Blackthorn's poaching problem cannot be contained through force alone. For every criminal brought to the police, three more Neo Rocket accomplices sprout from the forested crags. Their harvest is relentless. And Clair and her patrols are being stretched beyond all reason.
The proud Gym Leader rubs her eyes, examining fresh cuts and bruises, her only rewards for attempting to keep the peace and save the dragons. The ever-stubborn part of her soul still doesn't want to quit the current warpath tactics, but Clair is wiser now. Finally willing to look back over her shoulder.
Even so, swallowing her pride is no less painful. With a shake of her head, the scowling heiress punches the ink-smudged number into her Pokegear, raising the device to her ear. She is so tired.
"...I need to talk to you. Where can we meet?" A pause. (Clair may be fighting the urge to hang up right then and there.)
"It's about the poaching solutions, nothing more. I'm...I'm ready to hear your ideas."
Another pause, followed by softer speech. (In some ways, she's still so young.)
"It's impressive you participated at all," Giovanni approaches the Dragon Trainer after everything was said and done, "I thought it would be fair of me to let you know I was thinking of granting your wish for a little bit, had I won."
He chuckles, folding his arms behind him, "But in my opinion... I think you're tackling your problem from the wrong angle."
Giovanni hands over a plain business card with his new League email and contact information.
"If you really want help, don't hesitate to ask. I just have a few obligations first."
"...I don't need your help."
By contest's end, it's become clear that Giovanni has changed, free from the dubious associations and criminalities that had clouded an infamous past. In fact, despite Clair's frosty attitude, he's been nothing but supportive towards her and the fellow Secrets participants. Charismatic, reformed, grounded.
And yet, the Blackthorn Gym Leader cannot forgive him, not yet. When Clair even looks at Giovanni, her blood boils. She does not see a pardoned man, but an enduring symbol, a grim reminder of a once-unshakeable criminal organization, now shattered into a hundred cutthroat, feral splinters.
(Blame the Clan for her present inability to change. Imagine growing up with the weight of generational lineages bearing down upon your shoulders, the sacred rules and your own role already laid out before you with uncompromising rigidity. Clair has been trying lately, trying hard to dislodge herself from the past, but she's like an ancient wyvern trying to spread her petrified, stony wings for the first time. It's hard to wrench the clocks forward when the past is so comfortable, predictable, easy.)
"I don't care that Lance trusts you. I'm not a diplomat like he is. It doesn't matter that you're not involved in Rocket affairs anymore--pardon or no pardon, monsters are still hiding behind the symbol of the organization that you led," she hisses, not afraid to get in Giovanni's face, peering up at him with narrowed eyes. "And yet you have the nerve to tell me that I'm doing things wrong? When I'm meeting you for the first time on some inane reality television set? Hah!"
Clair snatches the card out of Giovanni's hand, crushes it in her palm...but doesn't rip it in half. Her voice breaks.
"...I've been fighting this battle for months. Turning poacher after poacher over to the police. Pulling starved, mutated Dratini out of cages that are too small for them. Scouring a mile of mountainside every day," she rasps bitterly, kicking at the ground. "You don't know what it's like. You couldn't begin to understand."
"Interesting. I didn't think that someone such as yourself would deign to be in a place such as this."
The former Rocket Leader is entirely too relaxed in his approach of the proud Blackhorn, the corners of his lips dimpled into an amused smile.
"So, what does bring the dragon out of her Den? If you don't mind my asking," he asks in the flippant manner of someone who didn't actually care whether or not Clair minded being asked at all.
"I could say the same about you."
Giovanni's casual introduction is met with immediate bite, his easy tone crashing into her wall of defensive iciness. When Clair turns to stare down the former leader, her crystal-hued eyes are narrowed to slits, lip curled, fists trembling at her sides.
The glitziness of the contest seems worlds away now, sliding abruptly out of view. An overwhelming flurry of conflicting emotions roil inside Clair's mind like the waters of the Dragon's Den, the color draining from her pale cheeks as she reckons with...all of this. (An unfortunate misunderstanding.)
Be a good representative for Johto, for the Clan, an inner voice reminds sternly. Punch him in his stupid, grinning face, a younger, more impulsive voice cries out. Clair shakes her head and the cacophony of internal dialogues are mercifully silenced, but she remains all tension--muscles taut--like a coiled Dragonair ready to lash out.
"...And I do mind. Rockets have been relentlessly poaching Dratinis from the Blackthorn mountain range lately. Your people. Your fault," the Gym Leader growls through clenched teeth, folding her arms. "When I win this stupid competition, I'll ask for enough resources to crush them and their entire operation for good. An operation that you're probably very familiar with. You'll go down with them."
Clair is being nasty, unfair...but that's because she doesn't yet understand. When you spend most of your waking hours literally training under a rock, timelines become blurry. In the tamer's mind, the Giovanni who she glares at with such revulsion is still very much in charge of Rocket's rogue splinters...and still very much responsible for their twisted activities.
