L 0 ST CAU S E

I advise you to be very afraid of what is to come. [a closed roleplay blog]

[stealexploitprofit]

A King and His Kitty || Giovanni + Proton

[stealexploitprofit]

         Giovanni’s searching took him as far as Castelia’s docks, where a good number of Pidove and a few scattered Wingull were populating the pier and perched on… nearly every available surface. Persian’s paradise, if there ever was one. Giovanni scanned the area, searching for the tan fur or a telltale red glint in the setting sun from the gem on her forehead.

        There was a flurry of activity not far from where he stood, a flock of Pidove fluttering into action and taking off as someone got too close to their pecking place. The scene didn’t hold Giovanni’s attention long; he was already starting to look elsewhere when out of the corner of his eye he saw something dart forward and launch high into the sky, snatching up a Pidove just before it flew out of reach.

        He turned to face the action, watching Persian land with effortless grace, a Pidove clasped within her jaws. It was an impressive sight; Giovanni’s pride was tempered only by his wish that she would’ve waited for him to return to her before taking off.

        With his Pokémon now in sight, Giovanni’s pace was far more leisurely as he approached Persian and the person she had used as a launching pad. He emerged from the surrounding crowd, catching Persian’s attention as she circled the stranger.

        She broke away from the man and padded over to Giovanni, a loud, rumbling purr starting up in her chest. She dropped the Pidove at his feet, then butted her head against his hip, dragging her cheek across his black pants.

        Giovanni heaved a sigh. Spoiled pet, wasting his time with a roundabout search when she was doing nothing more than playing cat and mouse with the local fauna. With any of his other Pokémon… but, this was Persian. After a moment’s delay, Giovanni obligingly pet her head and scratched behind her ears. He might’ve complimented her catch, had there not been an onlooker to their reunion.

        Speaking of. Giovanni looked up at the man. Tall, unusual hair, looking like one might expect of someone just assaulted by a large cat. Giovanni straightened out, taking a few steps closer to the stranger to address him directly. “She can pack quite the punch with a jump like that. Are you hurt?” he asked, entirely out of politeness rather than any actual concern.

[thewrathofteamrocket]

Teal locks askew, bruised, Proton stared a moment, incredulous at the smug Persian grinning glibly at him.  His frustration at the crowds was momentarily forgotten, only to be replaced by irritation.  “Really!?”  He snapped sharply at the cat, brows pulling down.  Something about this particular Persian’s gleaming eyes was tugging at Proton’s mind, a familiarity he refused to place.

The Persian, however, was oblivious to Proton’s ire and quickly dismissed him for her master.  A flush climbed up the executive’s face as soon as the clean shoes and well-creased pant-leg came into his field of vision.  Not only used by some smug feline, he had been caught on his ass among the dirt and Pidove.  The ex-Rocket scrambled to get to his feet before the well-dressed man could look down on him.

The man’s voice caught Proton off guard, and a pang went through him- it honestly felt like someone shot through his chest.  Yet still his mind refused to make any deliberate connections just yet, still...  The voice seemed to draw a force of habit out of him and he was immediately on his guard, his seafoam eyes shooting from the man’s toes, racing up his body, to his face.

The man was not the same, Proton decided immediately, as he remembered him.  Older, not so booming and beaming, and brilliant, and scary.  Though the last time Proton had seen the man, heard that voice, he had been a Grunt.  Tiny, insignificant.  A shudder went through Proton and for a long moment he stared stupidly, unaware of the mixed emotions playing out on his face.

He flipped between joy (he had found Giovanni!), shock (in Unova!?), frustration (alive.).  Finally the ex-Rocket settled on anger, anger was easy, it was like breathing.  Fingers curled into the strap of his backpack, brow furrowed.  And suddenly the was street swallowed by the long shadow of a skyscraper as the sun touched down.

“You.”  

The monosyllabic response rattled between Proton’s teeth and shot from narrowed eyes.

[thewrathofteamrocket]

(I’m still alive I promise, as far as I know I only owe Clair but if I’m wrong and I somehow missed something please poke me.)

[rewatchingpokemon]

[thewrathofteamrocket]

hades

I mean, I dunno, I don’t really think about the after life too much.  It makes more sense that you just keel over and that’s it, boom, gone.  Snuffed out like a candle.  But then again... ghosts...  Hhhhhgh.  Ghosts.

[thewrathofteamrocket]

poseidon

What am I afraid of..?

I guess... if I’m being forced to be honest... I’m afraid of losing Crobat...  and drowning and...  ...I guess I’m scared of being trapped.

[thewrathofteamrocket]

Aphrodite: what you find attractive in a person?

Long legs, and a nice ass, (Proton being gross aside, what he finds attractive physically and personality wise are two separate issues.  Stronger willed people that challenge him tend to be more interesting in the long-run.  Short term, any pretty face will do, unfortunately *kicks him in the shins* psst, he’s also a sucker for nice hands and strange, sharp smiles, but I didn’t tell you that.)

[shakespearean-soprano-deactivat]

SEND ME A GREEK GOD

[ignxous-deactivated20160810]

raging-midgardian-soprano:

Aphrodite: what you find attractive in a person

Apollo: favourite piece of music

Ares: opinion on war

Artemis: favourite animal and why

Athena: share a piece of wisdom

Dionysus: red, white, or rosé?

Demeter: favourite season and why

Eros: describe your crush

Hades: do you believe in life after death?

Helios: opinion on tanning

Hephaestus: do you think disability can ruin a relationship?

Hera: opinion on feminism

Hermes: last text you sent

Hestia: describe your ideal house

Pan: opinion on gay rights

Persephone: is climate change really a thing or is everyone just overreacting?

Poseidon: list three fears

Zeus: three places you want to travel to

[thewrathofteamrocket]

Come To Nothing

[knifepxint-blog]

He’d missed the rain. Most of the region was dry this time of year, but summer storms rolled in occasionally and blessed the earth with water. Storms like these didn’t happen in Hoenn.

Which was partly why he’d left. But more so because he began to realize he’d spent his entire life in Hoenn, fighting for some better world that culminated in nothing and he refused to let his life waste away there without seeing the rest of the world first.

And he was only just starting to realize how small Hoenn was to other regions. Goldenrod City was enormous, sprawling farther than Lilycove. Not that Lilycove was big, but…well. Biggest city in the nation. And it couldn’t compare to this.

Archie took a step back, underneath the awning of a store, in order to light a cigarette. 

There were dark stories behind Johto. Large crime syndicates existed in every region, but Team Rocket had a bloody track record. Though Archie had admittedly lead a terrorist organization in Hoenn, he never killed anyone. Aqua’s ecoterrorism had been planned carefully to avoid casualties. They wanted to get attention and recognition, not vehement hatred. And yet…

In the end, it was all for nought. Much like Rocket, he supposed, now that they were disbanded. He wondered what their members were doing now, if not in jail. 

Matt and Shelly were safe, he knew, but the other members of Aqua? He’d lost contact. Would he even recognize them if he saw them? Surely they’d recognize him, but would they acknowledge it?

Frowning, he took a long drag of his cigarette to push the intruding thoughts away.

With a wet thud a body collided into his own. Archie nearly dropped the cigarette and stumbled back in shock, blinking several times to focus on the offender. A blue-haired man, younger than Archie, stood not even a foot away, soaked to the bone.

“Hey,” he started, lip curling back in snarl. But his eyes latched onto a dark bruise forming along the man’s jaw, and his aggression faltered. “…You alright?” He furrowed his brows. “What’s got you in such a hurry, kid?”

[thewrathofteamrocket]

The other body that had halted his momentum so efficiently was solid, and taller.  Proton felt himself practically bounce off the other, who seemed barely moved by the impact itself.  Proton had somehow staggered himself back into the deluge, and he stared at the bearded and intimidating figure through a fringe of soaked hair that had plastered itself firmly to his face.

Kid..?  A flush rose up on his cheeks, suddenly feeling quite foolish next to the other man, and self-conscious besides.  Abruptly aware of the throbbing bruise on his jaw and the gathering snot on the tip of his nose that had been provoked by the chilled rain.  Proton grimaced, and in a white-knuckled grip pinched his sleeve against his palm and swiped it under his nose.

Stubbornness almost had him continue to stand out in the rain, rather then step under the awning, but in the end he folded, crunching his pride down and stepped a bit closer to the imposing figure.

“’M fine.”  He found himself snapping, was he irritated?  He tried to bite his tongue a little and rolled his shoulder, titled his head a little in a half-formed gesture to the sky.  “Got caught in the rain, don’t worry about it.”  Proton narrowed his eyes a little and not so subtly took in the measure of the man before him.  Something about his dress and his voice...

“Not from around here, are you?”  He really hadn’t meant that to sound as accusatory as it had, but Proton’s blood hadn’t quite cooled from the fight, his pride demanded he snap and growl.

[thewrathofteamrocket]

Come To Nothing

Why did it all have to end the way it had?  He had asked himself this too many times.  Where had they gone wrong?  Which part lead to the crash and burn that still smarted so, made him twist in frustration?  And why the kid, so self-assured, strong, eyes burning with...?  Was it hatred?  Why did it have to be that kid?  Proton spat the blood out of his mouth as he pushed himself from the wet ground on shaking arms.  Dirt ground into scraped palms.  He stood in the gentle rain and stared at the door that he had just gotten thrown out of.

Too drunk!  Starting fights!  Get the hell out of my bar!  Proton hefted a dry laugh from a heavy chest.  He was sober.

The ex-Rocket pushed his damp hair out of his face and stuffed the other hand in his pocket, rounding his shoulders forward as if to ward off the rain.  It muffled Goldenrod, wrapped it in its cool pitter-patter.  It soothed Proton’s jaw, which was just beginning to turn a shade of purple.  He probed it gently while he walked, almost enjoying the twinge of pain it gave as he pressed his index finger down a little too hard.  Not broken, just bruised, he decided.

The ex-Rocket had been gone from Goldenrod for a long time, laying low after the Radio Tower and Team Rocket’s ultimate failure.  He felt more frustrated than ever, more... more... more lonely.  Lightning forked across the distant sky.

Proton huffed and shook his head once, hard.  The other executives were gone and there was no point dwelling or getting mopey.  Team Rocket was over, time to move on.

Thunder broke the monotonous patter of rain, and as if called by its cacophony the light rain began to pour.  Proton yelped as the cold water began to run down his back, and broke into a jog, the rain obscuring his vision.  He exited the side street, taking the corner hard into Goldenrod’s main road.  He did not see the other person caught in the downpour standing just around the corner.

His body collided with theirs with a wet thud and he fought to keep his feet under him, just barely succeeding.

[thewrathofteamrocket]

(if anyone wants IM unlocked I have it and can send you a message :)  )

[thewrathofteamrocket]

Useless? {Proton&Charlotte}

[couxeurs-blog]

It certainly seemed that both the creature and the trainer were from opposite ends of the spectrum. The dopey-type seemed rather lax and oblivious in its nature and the male before her was thoroughly annoyed with the entire scenario that was slowly unfolding, his face twisted into a look of utter repugnance as he shifted the weight of his companion under his arm. And without fail, following his new position underneath the arm of his trainer, the duo-type began slowly sauntering along the air as if he were still on the ground below them.

Charlotte may of relaxed into a rare smile and perhaps even allowed herself an even more infrequent laugh at the side, but the rise of her good mood was jostled by the sight of a sticky paintbrush thrust out towards her.

“Paintbrushes are easy to replace and I do have several spares,” she said in response to his ill-natured warning, unrelenting to his harsh tone. She wasn’t sure what had earned her such a response, but she wasn’t one to be trifled with either. “Though I’ll be sure to keep a more careful watch. After all, I would hate to be useless in your eyes.”

The entire thing was dripping with sarcasm and she moved her attention from the taller male before her back to the Slowpoke. It wasn’t in her nature to feel bouts of remorse or anything of that nature, but she wondered how he could appear so gleeful under the scornful watch of his trainer. He’d even given him such a name – something truly rude for one to do.

“Thank you for returning this to me, Les,” she said to the Slowpoke, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips as she reached out and gently touched the top of his head. She re-figured the name to be a little more forgiving.

Charlotte lifted her violet orbs back to the male and addressed him again, “Are you in a hurry right now? I’d like to sketch him for a project I’m working on.”

[thewrathofteamrocket]

The softening that occurred on the woman’s face in response to Useless went over the ex-Rocket’s head, who caught only the blunt response to his own words.  He had honestly expected her to take the paint brush and be on her way, maybe flounce on in an ego-inspired huff.  Perhaps shout at him, if he was unlucky.

Sarcasm, now that was interesting.  And the lilt of her voice was curious too.  If he had to guess, Proton would hazard that the woman must come from another region, certainly not Johto.  He shifted his Slowpoke higher again, just in time for the dopey Pokémon’s head to bump against the woman’s outstretched palm.

Proton mentally started counting down in his head, watching the Slowpoke closely for a few seconds.  Five... four... three...  It’s ears drew together and a particularly pleased look crossed its face, legs stretching out.  Three whole seconds afters being patted.  That was two seconds faster than normal...

“Are you in a hurry right now?  I’d like to sketch him for a project I’m working on.”

Was she serious?  That was not the response he expected from anyone in response to Useless.  His mouth opened for a second, as if to speak, but he honestly didn’t know how to respond, and he flicked his gaze between the Slowpoke’s dumb face and her own intent eyes.  Slowly his teal eyebrows drew down and a frown tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Are you fucking with me?”  Voice deadpan, he tightened his hold on Useless unconsciously.

“I’m very aware how stupid this Pokémon looks, I don’t need some kid rubbing it in my face..  He’s damn useless, but he’s my Useless and probably has enough deeply suppressed confidence issues without your help.  Why don’t you run off an draw some Pidgey or Caterpie.”

[thewrathofteamrocket]

Useless? {Proton&Charlotte}

[couxeurs-blog]

Even though the end of the warmer seasons meant that much cooler ones would soon take their place until the first flowers of spring bloomed, the weather lately had been rather mild in comparison to what early November should of felt like. The temperature had hardly dropped below that of a chilling breeze and even when it might of inched closer to uncomfortable, the warm rays from the sun overhead balanced everything out. Cloudless days met the sight of decaying leaves rich in festive colors of brownish-orange hues and it truly looked like a magnificent scene.

Like many other people who had the afternoon cleared, Charlotte had decided to once again try her luck at the infamous National Park in order to catch some inspiration. Her earlier attempts had been futile; several disturbances had disabled her from sketching in peace a few days prior and such nuisances from both aggressive, battle-happy and sniveling young adults had thinned her patience, pushing her far from the realm of being able to brainstorm.

She’d only be in the area a few more days before she would have to travel east back the way she had originally come and she didn’t want to miss the opportunity to indulge in the autumn scenery of the park. 

[thewrathofteamrocket]

“Stop- would you- put that down- Sto-  Dammit Useless, SIT!”

The entire place had been packed with several different groups of people – parents taking their young children out for the day, teenagers challenging one another in the midst of taller grass and the occasional couple nervously shuffling around one another. It wasn’t that uncommon to hear some loud noises, but the sudden shout had caught her attention enough to have her glance over her shoulder to see a male in his mid-twenties quickly heading towards her, agitation staining his features as he scowled at her feet. 

Charlotte’s vision shifted from the shouting male towards the ground where she saw the cause of the frustration – an obvious tailless cross-type who held a paintbrush between its lips. As if on cue, the Slowpoke lazily dropped the brush and she watched as it rolled over to the male before her. 

She’d been so caught up in both shifting the weight of the large easel and focusing on a spot that would mean the less bit of disturbance that she hadn’t noticed the painting tool slip from her fingers. She assumed the psychic-type had wanted to return it to her after spotting it, much to the annoyance of his fuming trainer.

“Useless?” she echoed once they were close enough to properly hear one another, her violet hues raising from the Slowpoke and towards the trainer. 

Proton’s eyes snapped from the Slowpoke to the person who had dropped the object of his Pokémon’s interest.  A woman, maybe in her twenties, striking violet eyes.  Proton grimaced, tugging at the brim of his hat and causing a shadow to fall across his own face.

“Yes, Useless.”  His voice came as a low grumble, and he dipped quickly to scoop the chubby Slowpoke up and tuck him under one arm.  In the same motion he picked up the lost paintbrush with deft fingers.  He straightened stiffly, the Slowpoke beneath his arm wagging his tail nub and moving his legs slowly as if he thought he were still walking.

Proton stared down at the creature’s happy mien with mild disgust, hitching it up higher on his hip.  His seafoam eyes tracked across to the woman and a lax hand extended the brush to her.  How must he look, toting this foolish Pokémon around?  Hardly fitting of a Rocket Executive...  Hardly impressive in any way.

“I’m assuming this is yours- you should be more careful with your things.  One day you might lose something actually important.”  The brush in his fingers spun to point brush side up towards her chest, punctuating the veiled insult.  Truthfully, he was feeling irritable to begin with, and embarrassed to be seen with the pink blob who had so kindly gummed on the woman’s paint brush.  The insult came too easily to his tongue.

[thewrathofteamrocket]

Useless? {Proton&Charlotte}

The National Park was never empty, always people coming and going, or enjoying the fair weather- Proton supposed.  That’s a thing people liked to do...  But it was just after midday and the Park was as quiet as the Park ever got. Kids were in class, business folk firmly sequestered in their cubicles.

Proton hissed a short breath, heading toward Goldrenrod, southward across the park.  His old Rocket uniform had long been collecting dust in the bottom of his closet, for all intents and purposes he seemed a normal guy.  The only remainder of better days was the hat perched on his head.  

A more curious sight was the tailless Slowpoke plodding along at the man’s heel, basking in the warm sun, taking in the clean air.  The Pokémon was obviously contented, completely opposite to his trainer’s demeanor.  Proton’s shoulders slanted forward, his hands jammed into his pockets, head down as they walked, and quite uncaring to passers-by.  It wasn’t surprising when the brooding ex-Rocket took a moment to notice when his Pokémon had stopped following along.

Stopping in his tracks, Proton glanced around with mild irritation.  If the pink blob insisted on leaving his pokéball, the least it could do was not wander off...  Honestly I put too much faith in that thing.  He tugged a lock of hair behind his ear and began to retrace his steps, keeping an eye out for the Slowpoke with growing frustration.  There was a twisting agitation in his gut and for a long moment Proton considered just leaving the damn Slowpoke.

But it was only a moment later that Proton caught a glimpse of the Slowpoke, stopping to pick up something in its soft mouth before continuing on its way- away from him of course.  Tsking in irritation, Proton made to follow the pokemon, admittedly a little curious.  It seemed to be following a woman carrying an easel, and once he got a little closer, he noticed his Slowpoke had decided to pick up a paint brush.

“Useless-”  He hissed, picking up his pace.  “Stop- would you- put that down- Sto-  Dammit Useless, SIT!”

The Slowpoke stopped slowly, and equally slowly lowered his bum to the ground before glancing over a shoulder with vacant eyes to his trainer.  “Slo?”  The paint brush fell from its mouth, and rolled towards Proton’s boot.

[thewrathofteamrocket]

(I’d like to take on one or two more threads if anyone wants to jam with Proton.  I can write the first, so let’s plot!)?

[thewrathofteamrocket]

Fight Club {Clair & Proton}

Flashing jaws and leaping flames lit by dim orange streetlights, a damp night punctuated by the sounds of snapping and snarling, claws scraping on paving stones.  It had been raining all day and the ring was a mess of mud and slick pavement.  It made for rougher fights, mistakes were made.  Sometimes someone got bloody.

The fight rings weren’t pokemon battles in the strictest sense, neither were they entirely legal.  The betting was definitely illegal.  The dogs were trained to fight without guidance from a trainer, half-feral, bred to be bulky.  Brought up vicious.  Tucked into back alleys of Goldenrod, and never in the same place, it was lucrative enough if you knew who to bet on.

It had been months since Proton had seen the last of his Rocket funds spent, and he had won a bit the last time he had stumbled upon the ring.  It was encouraging enough, and exciting.  Terribly exciting.  The dogs- Houndour mostly- fought with a ferocity to the point of fainting that Proton understood.  Appreciated even.  On some level he felt like he could read the mutts better because of that- he was like them- snarling, snapping, half-wild.  It should be easy to pick out a winner.

But sometimes outside factors messed up your winner, dragged him through the mud- literally.  Cursing under his breath, nails digging into his palms, Proton watched the pathetic scuffling, desperate for his dog to come out on top.  He was so sure the smaller, scrappier Houndour would be the more desperate, the more determined.  Not so, it would seem, as the larger brute tossed the other.

A disturbance towards the entrance to the alley drifted down towards the ring, and Proton’s eyes shot over his shoulder briefly before turning back to the dogs.  Had to be nothing, some bum not settling his debt most likely...  Couldn’t be officers, someone would have said something.

[stealexploitprofit]

A King and His Kitty || Giovanni + ??

          Of all the things Giovanni was known for, his patience was not among them. Quite the opposite, in fact. So when the ex-Rocket Boss exited the gallery he’d stopped inside expecting to find Persian waiting for him beside the door, and instead saw no cat Pokémon anywhere in sight, his temper was sparked.

         Persian wasn’t fond of Poké Balls; when she chose to accompany him on outings such as this one she typically remained out by his side rather than tucked into his pockets like the rest of his team. Of course, on occasions when he arrived at locations where no Pokémon were allowed in, that meant she had to wait outside. She’d never run off like this before, though. And there were so many people out on the streets…

         With a huff Giovanni began to search the immediate vicinity, checking behind decorative bushes and trees in case she had simply moved to get away from the eyes of curious passersby. However, after a few minutes of searching his pet was still nowhere to be found. Where could she be? What could she possibly be doing? It wasn’t as though she was an impatient creature—not when it came to Giovanni.

         Then the thought that perhaps she hadn’t wandered off on her own occurred to him. What if someone had taken her? One didn’t need to be in Team Rocket to be a Pokémon thief, after all. Not that Persian would ever go easily with any strangers, but her kind weren’t common in this region and she was a particularly fine specimen. If someone had taken her… he had no connections here, not like he once might have. Giovanni bit the inside of his cheek at the thought, his eyes going unfocused as he stared at the people passing him by. He knew what happened to stolen Pokémon. That fact had him somewhat paralyzed, standing still and wide-eyed and dangerously close to an emotion he would not let get the best of him. He could not move, he could hardly breathe, he was—he was—

         He was getting worked up over absolutely nothing. Giovanni shook his head, the noise and life of the city rushing back into him. Idiotic animal, making him overreact in such a way. In all likelihood Persian had simply seen a bird Pokémon and run off to hunt it down. He licked his lips to clear them of their dryness and cursed his stupid, stupid Pokémon. There was nothing to do now but look around for her. If he searched and found nothing, he would return to the last place he had seen her. She was smart enough for that, at least.

         With something of a plan in mind Giovanni began to head down the street, checking in alleyways and anywhere a cat Pokémon might have stalked off to in pursuit of her lunch. Though he tried to ignore it and distract himself with other things, there was a persistent tremor in his hands that continually reminded him of possibilities he would rather not consider.

[thewrathofteamrocket]

He had lingered as long as he could, haunting old haunts, tracing old routes by dimming streetlights.  The authorities- League members and trainers too- were all on their guard, so fresh from the Radio Tower incident... that’s what they were calling it.  No respect for the name of Team Rocket or what they were trying to do.  All the work Archer put in...  The Radio Tower Incident.  Like an inconvenience easily brushed off.  A moment in time no more or less important than any other incident.  Regardless of what they were calling it, Goldenrod was not safe.  Proton needed to disappear.

And Unova... well... Unova was awfully far away.

Proton navigated Castelia’s roads and laneways, purpose in his step.  Gone were the vestiges of the Executive, tucked away in a storage locker back home.  He regretted leaving it.  Stubbornly, he doubted that among such masses of people that he would be recognized even with an R emblazoned across his chest.  Without name or reputation, a criminal is still a criminal, and like attracts like.  Finding a job was easy.

Keeping it... less so.  Proton slid around bodies, the streets were thick with people at this time of day.  His teeth were clenched in frustration, but he kept an even pace, checking the position of the sun at every city block passed.  He was expected before sundown, the delivery was small enough, though it weighed down the backpack flung over one shoulder.

Proton curled fingers into the pack’s strap as the pier came into view and put on an extra burst of speed- not quite breaking into a jog.  He paid no heed to the gathered Pidove before him.  They were common enough, always pecking at some morsel in the streets..  But neither did he notice the Persian, eyes glinting, as it stalked the oblivious birds.  A small flock broke before Proton, bursting in a flurry of snapping wings.  Many nearly missing the top of his head, sending teal hair flying.

One moment Proton was moving forward, scattering Pidove, the next a heavy impact struck his chest and he was all but shoved to the ground.  Over him arched the lithe body of a Persian, seemingly in flight, lit by a low sun, its claws gleaming and fangs flashing as it smoothly caught a Pidove in its teeth.  The large cat had seen fit to use Proton as a springboard, and it was only fair, as the man had so rudely disturbed her prey.

The ex-Rocket held a hand over his chest, trying to get some air back in his lungs as the Persian circled around to regard him with gleaming eyes, a still-twitching Pidove held in her teeth.

[thewrathofteamrocket]

ruby, sapphire, and serpentine!

Ruby: A happiness headcanon.  Happiness is receiving his first pokemon as a child.  Completing his first job for Team Rocket successfully.  Golbat evolving into Crobat after so long working together.  Happiness is also the quiet moments when he’s just drunk enough and the city sleeps, next to him on his sofa that useless Slowpoke snores softly.

Sapphire: If everyone Proton knew where about to plunge to their deaths and he could save only three, who would he choose?  Petrel, Archer, his mother perhaps, or Ariana.  There’s not many people that are worth saving...

Serpentine: How does Proton seduce someone?  Sharp eyes, a clever tongue, fleeting touches and a charming smile... probably.