Pokémon Information Affiliation: Team Rocket Starter: Voltorb (previous starter, dropped down to level 30) Password: Strawberry Marmalade
Samples First Person Sample: [Kimblee is actually addressing the network via video today; if he's at all off-put about that whole disappearing-for-a-month-and-a-half business, it's not showing in his demeanor. If anything, there's a light smile playing about his features; it's admittedly a little creepy, almost as though he's trying to be endearing, but at the very least, he sounds amused when he speaks, so maybe it's not so bad.]
My, it seems this place does still have its sense of humor, doesn't it? And here I thought that perhaps I'd only lost three days at worst - it was a bit of a surprise to find out otherwise.
Ah, but that's neither here nor there, is it?
[He tips his head a bit, gesturing idly as he does so - a vague sweep of a gloved hand in the general direction of the device; that smile hasn't left him.]
There's not much to report from home, unfortunately; it'll be a pleasure getting in contact with all of you again, however - hopefully you've all been at least reasonably well.
[And with that, the feed shuts off; however, that clearly isn't it from Kimblee tonight. A few minutes later, another audio message goes out over the private Rocket network; his voice is cold and clipped, nothing like the amiable tone from earlier.
He has no idea if he still holds his rank or not; he suspects he doesn't. Like hell if he won't throw it around anyway.]
This is Team Rocket Beta Solf J Kimblee, reporting back in for duty; to my superiors, I admit that I don't know what happened, but I assure you that it won't happen again.
To my subordinates, you are to check in with me immediately - and I expect a full report regarding what happened here in my absence. This is not a request, mind you; however, as always, those that are useful will be rewarded. I'm good to those who are good to me; it'll serve you well to keep that in mind.
Third Person Sample: While Kimblee couldn't say he had any idea how any of this had happened, he knew for a fact he was very, very displeased with it; the Voltorb he was currently dealing with seemed to share the sentiment, as it had promptly tried to shock him into submission. Thankfully, it didn't have the full range of attacks that Kimblee remembered it having - its level seemed to have dropped back down to thirty, as opposed to the eighty-eight it'd had when Kimblee had given up on it the first time due to it turning into an electrified ball full of rage and attempted murder.
At least the fact that it seemed to have devolved made it easy enough for Kimblee to lock the stupid thing in the closet, because really now.
"I suppose you're wanting some sort of apology," he said from his position at the desk next to the closet in question, seated with his arms folded and legs crossed idly at the knee; his tone was more than enough to imply the likelihood of that happening being somewhere between zero and none. Really, he was fairly sure trying to talk to this thing at all was highly indicative that he'd lost his mind somewhere along the way, but he was running out of options and his starter was not running out of obstinance. "Honestly, you're lucky that I'm trying to work with you at all, given that earlier display of yours - incredibly rude, by the way. I ought to box you again immediately for it."
That was just greeted with odd, staticky sounds that Kimblee didn't understand; however, from the sound of it, he wouldn't be surprised if the stupid thing was telling him exactly where he could shove that box of his. He just sighed, bringing a hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose for a moment as though trying to ward off an impending headache; his lack of ability to believe this crap was not remedying itself.
"Neither of us have time for this. Do you at least understand what a ceasefire is, or is that expecting entirely too much?"
More weird staticky sounds; at least these sounded less openly belligerent. More questioning than anything.
"Ceasefire. It's exactly what it sounds like. Unless you want to spend the rest of your natural life, however long that may be, in my closet, we're going to have to call one."
Silence.
"...all right, listen. Once you reach level eighty-eight, if you still want to attack me you're more than welcome to try. I welcome the challenge, really, as by then I'm sure I'll need some excitement in my life again. But until then, I need a starter that isn't useless - and my second is rather useless - and I'm sure you're a bit discontent with the lower level, hm?" He leaned back against that chair of his, resettling before he spoke again. "So why don't we both adhere to Equivalent Exchange, call a truce for now, work with one another and all that, and when it comes to the whole wanting-to-kill-each-other thing, we'll cross that bridge when we get there."
It probably said something when negotiating with his murderball was the high point of Kimblee's week; however, given that a few minutes later he was able to let the stupid thing out of the closet without being immediately shocked for his effort, it definitely wasn't a loss.
no subject
Affiliation: Team Rocket
Starter: Voltorb (previous starter, dropped down to level 30)
Password: Strawberry Marmalade
Samples
First Person Sample:
[Kimblee is actually addressing the network via video today; if he's at all off-put about that whole disappearing-for-a-month-and-a-half business, it's not showing in his demeanor. If anything, there's a light smile playing about his features; it's admittedly a little creepy, almost as though he's trying to be endearing, but at the very least, he sounds amused when he speaks, so maybe it's not so bad.]
My, it seems this place does still have its sense of humor, doesn't it? And here I thought that perhaps I'd only lost three days at worst - it was a bit of a surprise to find out otherwise.
Ah, but that's neither here nor there, is it?
[He tips his head a bit, gesturing idly as he does so - a vague sweep of a gloved hand in the general direction of the device; that smile hasn't left him.]
There's not much to report from home, unfortunately; it'll be a pleasure getting in contact with all of you again, however - hopefully you've all been at least reasonably well.
[And with that, the feed shuts off; however, that clearly isn't it from Kimblee tonight. A few minutes later, another audio message goes out over the private Rocket network; his voice is cold and clipped, nothing like the amiable tone from earlier.
He has no idea if he still holds his rank or not; he suspects he doesn't. Like hell if he won't throw it around anyway.]
This is Team Rocket Beta Solf J Kimblee, reporting back in for duty; to my superiors, I admit that I don't know what happened, but I assure you that it won't happen again.
To my subordinates, you are to check in with me immediately - and I expect a full report regarding what happened here in my absence. This is not a request, mind you; however, as always, those that are useful will be rewarded. I'm good to those who are good to me; it'll serve you well to keep that in mind.
Third Person Sample:
While Kimblee couldn't say he had any idea how any of this had happened, he knew for a fact he was very, very displeased with it; the Voltorb he was currently dealing with seemed to share the sentiment, as it had promptly tried to shock him into submission. Thankfully, it didn't have the full range of attacks that Kimblee remembered it having - its level seemed to have dropped back down to thirty, as opposed to the eighty-eight it'd had when Kimblee had given up on it the first time due to it turning into an electrified ball full of rage and attempted murder.
At least the fact that it seemed to have devolved made it easy enough for Kimblee to lock the stupid thing in the closet, because really now.
"I suppose you're wanting some sort of apology," he said from his position at the desk next to the closet in question, seated with his arms folded and legs crossed idly at the knee; his tone was more than enough to imply the likelihood of that happening being somewhere between zero and none. Really, he was fairly sure trying to talk to this thing at all was highly indicative that he'd lost his mind somewhere along the way, but he was running out of options and his starter was not running out of obstinance. "Honestly, you're lucky that I'm trying to work with you at all, given that earlier display of yours - incredibly rude, by the way. I ought to box you again immediately for it."
That was just greeted with odd, staticky sounds that Kimblee didn't understand; however, from the sound of it, he wouldn't be surprised if the stupid thing was telling him exactly where he could shove that box of his. He just sighed, bringing a hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose for a moment as though trying to ward off an impending headache; his lack of ability to believe this crap was not remedying itself.
"Neither of us have time for this. Do you at least understand what a ceasefire is, or is that expecting entirely too much?"
More weird staticky sounds; at least these sounded less openly belligerent. More questioning than anything.
"Ceasefire. It's exactly what it sounds like. Unless you want to spend the rest of your natural life, however long that may be, in my closet, we're going to have to call one."
Silence.
"...all right, listen. Once you reach level eighty-eight, if you still want to attack me you're more than welcome to try. I welcome the challenge, really, as by then I'm sure I'll need some excitement in my life again. But until then, I need a starter that isn't useless - and my second is rather useless - and I'm sure you're a bit discontent with the lower level, hm?" He leaned back against that chair of his, resettling before he spoke again. "So why don't we both adhere to Equivalent Exchange, call a truce for now, work with one another and all that, and when it comes to the whole wanting-to-kill-each-other thing, we'll cross that bridge when we get there."
It probably said something when negotiating with his murderball was the high point of Kimblee's week; however, given that a few minutes later he was able to let the stupid thing out of the closet without being immediately shocked for his effort, it definitely wasn't a loss.