Dashed Expectations

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PostPosted: Sun Jun 30, 2013 1:39 am 
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"Ugh. Fine." Flareon sighed. "Fine, we'll just watch the story of Sir Rudolf P. Lightning or whoever and his magic discovery that if you scream at the clouds enough, the clouds punch you in the face!" He paused and eyed the TV contemplatively for a moment. "...Actually, that would be kind of awesome."

"Yeah," Espeon said, re-opening his book and scribbling things with a renewed fervor on the teambuilding worksheet. "Some other time..." Sigh.

"And besides, everyone knows that the Steelixers are obnoxious, washed-up has beens. The Buckin' Bouffalants are where it's at."


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PostPosted: Sun Jun 30, 2013 1:49 am 
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"See?" Jolteon said with a smirk, "Now you're getting it. Electricity's pretty rad like that. The sky's way of punching you in the face. That and it kind of makes everything go, that part's interesting too, but, details."


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PostPosted: Sun Jun 30, 2013 5:04 am 
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Eevee just groaned a little now, pushing the pillows away and getting back to his radio. Okay, I deserved that a little. She sighed to herself, tuning the radio around some more. Still, after that Teambinder comment...

"And yesterday, the self-proclaimed heroes of Celadon City thwarted an attempt on the very sanctity of the world, as otherworldly and scale-y visitors struck on the roof of the Celadon Department Store." The radio host's female voice soothingly regaled.

"Yeah, yeah, and I bet you have a little buffalo afro you wear on game day, too." Vaporeon replied with an eye roll.

"Afterwards, the Rangers vanished into the day, like the heroes they are." The radio continued. Vaporeon sipped his drink. The show began: An electric opening involving THUNDER and LIGHTNING and EXPLOSIONS and SCIENTIFICALLY MINDED FELLOWS WITH SILLY MUSTACHES AND WEIRD HAIR. "And the Rangers...Rangers...Rangers..."

From within the suit, Eevee raised an eyebrow. The radio host's voice was changing, distorting, slowly being replaced by a new, more masculine one...one with quite a, mmmm, nice Brazilian accent. The kind of change that indicated something odd. Is the radio tower being taken over? Is it a message? Eevee questioned to himself as he quickly raised the volume. A glitch, maybe? It sounds static-y... He desperately tuned the knob of the radio slowly, right, then left, getting the resulting station perfectly clear...

"Rangers." The voice was clear now. Male. Probably mid-30s. Eevee deduced. "I have called in to this radio network to make an important announcement." The ever-increasing volume of the radio, courtsey of Eevee, was quite booming at this point. Vaporeon had appeared to have gotten into a duel with it, the two constantly increasing the volume of their respective entertainment devices. "I have received important insider information on news relevant to you. In precisely three hours, a robbery will occur at the City Bank of Saffron City. The scale of the robbery will require forces beyond the means of the law enforcement. So I have come on to implore you to stop this crime. I repeat..."

The message was starting to repeat now. Eevee jumped up. "Guys, did you hear that?!"

"Yeah, who knew Albert Einstein had a pet Jolteon named Calculator?"

Silently, Eevee wanted to scream. Scream hard. And long. And probably with some obscenities.

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PostPosted: Sun Jun 30, 2013 5:30 am 
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"Yessssssssssssss." Jolteon uttered as the show came on. It's entirely possible that he continued the low hissing that was the end of that "yes" throughout the entirety of the show (or however long the rangers would end up watching it, anyways).

Leafeon, meanwhile, was plugging her ears, in an almost-fetal position, being less than pleased by the loud !#%$ of noise that resulted from the two competing sources.

Glaceon, however, was more than a bit interested in the radio broadcast, putting away his diary journal and walked up behind Eevee without a word, ready for action.


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PostPosted: Sun Jun 30, 2013 5:34 am 
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Eevee began to turn the radio back to a normal level as Glaceon approached. "Glaceon, would you kindly freeze the television for a moment? I...require the rest of the team's attention. Their attention is difficult to get."

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PostPosted: Sun Jun 30, 2013 5:46 am 
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Glaceon looked over at the television, !#%$ his head slightly as he considered the thought. On one hand, they probably didn't have the money to replace it.

...

Glaceon nodded confidently, now, slowly walking over towards the television.

Being enough of a distraction to pull Jolteon's attention away, by some miracle, he looked up at Glaceon's lumbering form over the television, smiling as he spoke, "Hey, Glace-buddy, good to see you interested in this stuff, sure you could learn a thing or twhat are you doing."

With that, Glaceon brought his hands down on the television, which quickly chilled over, the picture growing rapidly fuzzier and more static-filled before completely going out.

To say Jolteon's eyes widened and his mouth frowned would be an understatement. His expression could only be described as the look of someone who just watched a man wearing cleats treating a pool full of puppies as a trampoline. It was unclear if he'd ever recover.

Leafeon, meanwhile, finally unplugged her ears, now, happy at the noise content being halved, looking around a bit quizzically as she listened in on the radio message. As soon as it clicked what it was saying, she immediately jumped up, frantically waving her arms in the air, whining, "Guys, we gotta go help 'em!"


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PostPosted: Sun Jun 30, 2013 5:50 am 
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"Everyone!" Espeon shouted at exactly the same time as Leafeon made her proclamation.

"Oh, what." Flareon was slightly nonplussed at the TV being frozen. Honestly, would it have killed that brown pipsqueak to have said something? But it was a whatever thing. There were always other TVs for people who weren't complete social recluses who liked watching shows about lightning arcing once. Still...that opening had had some good ideas. He had counted at least one lightning fist and one set of really crazy hair, which was two steps in the right direction for boring historical documentaries. "Good going, Ice T. That was impressively gratuitous."

"We should heed the words of that radio over there!" The lavender ranger finished, pointing, as his book fell to the wayside, somehow immaculately on top of the binder even if it didn't appear that that had been planned in any way. "It sounds like someone is in trouble!"


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PostPosted: Sun Jun 30, 2013 5:53 am 
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"Hey, what's the deal?!" Vaporeon shouted as the television chilled over. "You better hope that works when it th-ow!" Vaporeon's annoyed rant at Glaceon was annoyed by a swift and not really painful dope slap to to the back of Vaporeon's head. Vaporeon quickly turned around. "What was THAT f-"

"Listen." Eevee instructed. The message repeated itself again. Vaporeon grumbling the entire time, of course, but...understanding the need to stop this robbery. The TV thing was a BIT of an overkill, though... "We've gotta get on top of this. Saffron City needs us!" Eevee said enthusiastically.

"...Got it." Vaporeon replied, the water in his glass splurting upwards and forcing his helmet into the air. He jumped right off the couch, holding out his arms and doing a full 360 spin while he did so, before landing with a flourish, the helmet perfectly placed on his head a moment after he landed. A single drip of water on it sparkled in the light of the room. "Ready." He said, getting up from this totally non-chalantly.

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PostPosted: Sun Jun 30, 2013 6:06 am 
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Throughout all this, Jolteon remained completely stiff, his expression locked solid into that look of horrified despair. Not caring for this, Glaceon pulled him out from underneath the couch, lifted him up, and slapped on his helmet (although he couldn't manage to find the other boot). Jolteon still not moving an inch, Glaceon hefted Jolteon over his shoulder, carrying him as he went to follow along.

Leafeon quickly ran over to the cubby she placed her gloves and helmet, quickly replacing them as she ran back over to the rest of the group, skipping to a stop on one foot next to Flareon. As she did so, though, she froze in place, resulting in her falling over not a second later.

"Oh geeze, bro, you smell awful. I'm sorry, but, no criminal deserves to deal with that." she said as she got up, reaching to hold her nose, only to be quickly foiled by her helmet. "I can smell you through my helmet, I mean, trust me, I'm well aware of how great the training is for you by now, but, just, please clean yourself before we go." she whined.

At this, Jolteon's lip quivered slightly. That was about the closest he could manage to a laugh right now.


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PostPosted: Sun Jun 30, 2013 7:01 am 
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Saffron City, a city so often looked upon with a sense of glamor that it was known was "the city you want to visit," no doubt on account of a campaign that had been run a longer time ago than anyone could remember involving hula dancers - although that had been shut down due to certain allegations. Still, that was hardly the most important thing to note about a city that was easily the largest in the entire continent of Kanto. Saffron City was such a big, central city to the very lifeblood of the region that it was distressingly common for young trainers on their way through from Celadon to confuse its Gym Leader, the legendarily vicious Sabrina, as the fifth leader. Such mistakes often ended in tragedy, but that was the sort of price that trainers paid from tackling a leader known for her love of psychic types head-on. It was technically true that the Indigo League itself was the center of Kanto's power base, but as far as the average citizen would tell you, the only thing they did was sit around and wait for young children and occasionally those of less young-childlike stature to show up and trounce them for the sake of entertainment. No, it was Saffron City, the seat for one of the most prestigious gyms, the base of operations for the largest corporation in the region - and one of the largest in the world -, and home of the Pokemon Trainer's Fanclub's Kanto headquarters, that was the heart of Kanto.

"You have no money. Good day, ma'am. Neeeeeeeext!"

It was this kind of civic pride that kept Jacques, bank teller and employee of the month for seven months (eight if not for that !#%$ Claire) of the Kanto National Bank, able to proudly tell various customers the exact number of zeroes that they had left in their bank accounts.

The National Bank was a powerful civic institution, or so one would have surmised from its opulent interior. Sure, from the outside, it was kind of a generic skyscraper building erected from colorless stone, much like any other building in the city on account of multiple ordinances, but the bank shared a block with the illustrious Silph Co. It could afford some crazy Donphan tusk-flooring and gold lining on the ceiling, as well as several chandeliers. This was on top of the expected fixtures of any reputable bank - glass walls separating the teller from the chaff, to mix old-fashioned metaphors, and a few automated machines for people with money to burn and no desire to deal with people. All in all, the establishment was pretty massive and impressive on the interior, and this was even if today hadn't been a busy day, as it was today. A lot of traffic was coming in and out, and it was the teller's civic - NAY - divinely inspired duty, to keep everything moving along.

"B-But, I deposited money only a week ago!" The old lady was the frail sort. Yes, the sort that showed up in every employee pamphlet. Jacques was familiar with their type, he noted, as he tugged on and straightened his bowtie. The pamphlet said 'these people deserve sympathy,' but that was simply corporatespeak for 'these people are not in possession of any funds' or, as the common vernacular might render it, 'they broke!!!!' He would not be suckered in by their trembling physiques, their dodgy, blinky little eyes, or their wavering voices. The law of the bank was absolute - no money, no...getting to stay in the bank and hold up customers with your pleas of 'OH I HAD THE MONEY IN HERE YESTERDAY'...ey. No, Jacques was not part of the staff who got to write the law of the bank - what of it?

"Ma'am. If that were the case, our security systems would find it." The mustachioed, balding man eyed his lunch briefly as his stomach growled, before turning back and flipping on his air of stark professionalism as he brushed at the sixteen strands of hair that he had. "Does it look like they're finding it?"

"W-Well," The lady began with a slightly quivering lip, "I wouldn't exactly know." She looked a little weepy, but Jacques could spot false tears from a mile away. That was a skill he had picked up from at least two spouses with the same talent. He would not cave, not at all. He was a stonewall. It might as well have been his nickname, if Stonewall Jacques didn't sound somewhat off for some reason. "I can't see that screenambob from here."

"The proper term," Jacques began with a slight tsk, "Is screen, ma'am. There is not a Bob here." He chuckled a little internally. Little did the lady know that Bob was in the mailroom. It was one of those little office in-jokes that the customers would not get. And judging by the look that Victoria from the desk next to his was shooting at him, maybe nobody else would get it either. Or she had the hots for him. It was one of the two, and those were always really confusing. "Regardless, it is obviously a rhetorical question. Our security systems have not found the funds you deposited in the bank. And do you know what that means?"

"It means she is pretty much flat friggin' broke?" A voice offered from somewhere back in the line.

"Exactly. It means she is pretty much flat friggin'- sir, I will have to ask that you not interrupt the Kanto National Bank's business." Jacques shot a look through his round spectacles at where the voice was coming from, using all his clout as a bank teller to intimidate it into the silence that came with the deliberate and powerful amount of respect that such a high office deserved. "Interrupting the Kanto National Bank's business is the job of the Kanto National Bank." That settled that in his mind, especially so as he saw the suspected source of the interruption - who he was chalking down in any case on the invisible chalk board that only existed in his mind - a somewhat handsome looking young thing with a poor taste in sea-green bang placement, step back into the line.

"Uuu." The lady began, with a tear in her eye.

They'd briefed Jacques for this. He distinctly recalled somewhere in the back of his keen, professional mind that there was a long talk about customer service and how the customer was always right. That was obviously true, but only in distinctly nuanced circumstances. The reality of the fact was that the customer was always right, except when Jacques' lunch break was coming soon to eat the sandwich he had put a painstaking half hour into and said customer was not showing up in the records and was also tearing up in his face, which he would flatly not accept under any circumstances at all. One of his hands stamped a notepad under his desk with 'NOPE.' That stamp had been an important expenditure on his road to being ready for service in the financial sphere. "Ma'am. You need to go now. We will send you correspondence in the mail that will contain a phone number that will give you an e-mail address that will, if you follow the procedures outlined in the business card enclosed, lead you to a spreadsheet with someone that you can call in order to obtain further assistance. I am afraid that helping you is just," Jacques raised his hands in a practiced, plaintive gesture, "out of my hands. Next!"

"But I-"

"Next!"

"Uuu..."

"Oh boy," The male voice from earlier seemed to jump. "Is it my turn? Man, it's felt like friggin' forever. You guys aren't much for speedy service," He stepped forward, shoving the old lady to the side. "I was getting sick to death back there. Of boredom!"

"Sir, that's lovely," Jacques began, "But we at the Kanto National Bank deal in people who are sick to death, of needing to withdraw money." The balding teller imagined in his head for a brief moment that there was a floating Jacques Pride +1 floating next to his face in bright white cursive. That was a pretty good zinger, if he did say so himself, although based on his glances over at Victoria's desk to the right and Herman's to the left, nobody was willing to bask in the moment with him. They are just jealous! Or in love with me. Goodness, I wish I could tell...!

"Ha. Haha." The man chuckled as he stepped closer to the desk. "That's a pretty good one. Did you work on that one between shifts?"

"No." He had actually worked on it during shifts, but he wasn't about to tell a customer that.

"Aha. I see." He was actually less a man, as Jacques took a closer look, and more of a boy. He knew the type - he thought with an internal grumble - those sorts of haughty college graduates fresh out of some academy, university or other, with some fancy degree in Biology, Engineering, or Eeveeology or something like that. Thought they just owned the world, walking around with smirks like - yes, just like the one the boy had on his face. Admittedly, the thick, somewhat heavy looking vest and pants that he had on were not, as such, standard for this stereotype that Jacques knew and despised, especially when he was on break and eating the soup that the bank's servery had on offer, but the signs, they were all there. "Well, could you pull up my account for me?"

"Well sir, that depends on if you can provide me with a name." Ooh. Another zinger. Jacques was on a roll today, he reflected with a practiced internal smile that any customer service employee worth his or her salt had perfected.

"Of course, of course. Let me just find it." He reached into his vest.

Find it? Wow. College graduates weren't all they were cracked up to be these days, were they? "Find it, sir? I hope you can, otherwise we certainly cannot." Jacques permitted himself a stroke of his bald- thinning hairline.

"Yes, well, I believe if you look under Byte Do-What-We-Talked-About, it should be in there somewhere."

Haha. Very funny. Jacques would get on that one, right as he decided on the proper deadpan joke to crush this child's self-esteem in time for that sandwich. Or at least he would have considered it, had his computer not melted in a burst of light. Hmm. That isn't in the pamphlet anywhere, He reflected. Did management change up the standard hope-crushing procedure when last he had checked?

Screams came from around him and from the people assembled around the desk waiting for service.

No, this seemed like standard hopes crushed to him. Well, minus what seemed like a hole that he now had where his right shoulder should have been. When had that gotten there? Jacques certainly hoped that had been in the contract somewhere. He had a good dental plan, but a good shoulder plan? Businesses didn't cover that, and he needed to get that cover- Oh god, I've been shot through the shoulder, this hurts a lot and we did not cover this in the employee seminars.

"Oh, and while you're at it, do you think maybe you could punch in another name?" The boy smirked as his hand smoked. "You tellers sure are friggin' slow," He mused as the teller finally seemed to realize he might have been in mortal peril and ducked under his desk. "I think if you punch it in, you'll find it under- SALISBURY, GET THE FRIG GOING ALREADY!"


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PostPosted: Sun Jun 30, 2013 7:22 pm 
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With that cry of Salisbury, a middle-aged black woman, wearing a pitch black dress that seemed entirely too formal for someone visiting the bank, leaning against the wall by the entrance of the bank began stepped forward, casually walking to the middle of the room, lifting a briefcase she was holding in front of her as she came to a stop. Flicking open the two notches keeping it closed, resulting in the bottom falling out, a fold-out table falling right into place before her in the process, a pristine plate and silverware soon following, landing with a surprising amount of grace for having just, fallen out of a suitcase.

Flipping the suitcase over, this woman, Salisbury, reached in, pulling out two Pokeballs that were strapped down. Holding them both up to her ear, she shook them lightly, listening carefully before nodding to herself and tossing one to the floor in front of her. With that, out came a Taurus, immediately bucking around wildly at anyone who dared stay near before eventually getting turned around, holding still as it stared at Salisbury, waiting.

Pulling up a chair from goodness knows where, Salisbury took a seat by the table she had laid out, brushing her grey bangs out of her face, up into her otherwise black hair as she addressed the Taurus. "'Aight, lad, I 'ope yer readeh ta shine, 'cause i's go time." she said to the Taurus, not even acknowledging anyone else at this point, lowering her voice before continuing, "Do what ye do bes', lad, 'n' cause a ruckus. As distractin' as possible. Jus' be sure ta get 'em aweh from tha safe, remember, like weh practiced. Our buddy's gotta get a clear shot to it so weh can get in 'n' out as quick as possible, ya hear?" With that, she pulled up the other Pokeball, pressing the button on it by hitting it on the plate, more like she was cracking an egg than anything, holding it over the plate as it opened, when out came... a steak. Perfectly cooked and everything. "If'n things get hairy, jus' remember what happened to yer sister here, eh? Is that understood?" she asked, squinting her eyes as she was practically glaring daggers at the Taurus, now. Seeming to understand all too well, the Taurus nodded, before turning away, letting out a loud, bestial roar before bucking around the place some more, then quickly charging through the counter separating the tellers from the "chaff," as it were.

With a smile and nod, Salisbury looked down at her steak, gingerly picking up the silverware so as to begin cutting it, casually starting to eat.

Truly, we are dealing with a mastermind.


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PostPosted: Sun Jun 30, 2013 7:53 pm 
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Alright. So he had a hole through his shoulder and something big and angry had just busted through the counter, probably getting ready to maim and/or kill everyone present. Jacques had to admit that this was definitely the second worst Wednesday he had ever experienced in his dignified tenure as a bank teller. However, he wasn't going to let this get him down. He might let it get him to shriek in a ululating sort of noise that brought to mind the majestic dancing rituals of some Native Unovan tribe he had seen on a history special somewhere, but that was the only concession he was making to chaos. The employee pamphlet was very clear on what you did on lousy days like these - you brushed yourself off and stood back up in time to tell the working mom and her baby to goosestep the gosh darn heck out of your bank and never come back until she had a better story than about how a house fire destroyed all her assets and one of her kids. Okay, admittedly, that may have just been him and, strictly speaking, that part of the pamphlet literally only referred to what you did when coffee or dust got on your uniform, but he was certain that the spirit of the thing was the same!

That was why, even as he continued to scream like a girl, his hands were bravely locking themselves around the pistol that he had duct-taped under his desk for unruly customers. It may not have, technically, been mandated in the employee handbook, but he was pretty sure that once he singlehandedly put a stop to these horrendous criminals and wooed Victoria with his bravery and general manly service to the bank, it would be mandated there. The balding teller made a sort of giggling noise without stopping his scream. They'd probably call it the Jacques Clause. Now there would be a thing to sweet-talk a dame with over a coffee while adjusting his bowtie.

"Alright," The boy on the other end of the counter began, "I think it goes without saying, but nobody-"

Jacques came up screaming from beneath his desk, holding his pistol in hands that were not so much shaky as they were waving wildly around to the point that if he were to fire the gun, there was really no place he couldn't conceivably hit. Oh- He suddenly realized as he came face to face with something that was pink and blue and definitely not his prized golfing Arbok paperweight. -drat.

The thing made clicking and bleeping noises before tackling him squarely in the torso, hitting him with enough force to bowl him over and send him rolling back into a filing cabinet.

When the teller's screams stopped, it became clear that he had been the only one still screaming. The silence was deafening except for the very heavy bull snorts from the angry Tauros.

"...Alright. I," The boy began again, "Think it goes without saying, but no-"

Jacques' gun went off from the prone heap he was currently in, and a random lightbulb on one of the chandeliers hanging out over the room exploded into a tiny shower of glass shards, starting up the panic of the crowd all over again and a few cries or screams as a not insignificant number of people wondered if perhaps they had died.

"For frig's...!" The vested robber shook his head. "Look," He took a deep breath. "Nobody move, alright? That was the message and all of you failed it right now. Especially that creepy bald teller, and well..." He turned to look over the crowd, with a renewed smirk. "You get the idea? Because, if not, we can reenact that thing with the bull in the china shop, only instead of a china shop, it's bones. Capisce? We just want a nice, simple, clean, take-all-your-money-and-bounce kinda deal." What they didn't know was that he was not entirely sure that 'we' included the crazy broad over there who was calling the shots with the bull while eating another bull.


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PostPosted: Sun Jun 30, 2013 8:13 pm 
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A third person stepped forward. He was dressed APPROPRIATELY, like a true TEAM ROCKET GRUNT dammit why couldn't his teammates show a little ROCKET PRIDE. The R on his black shirt was emblazened quite VISIBLY as he adjusted his Team Rocket hat, taking out his...well, okay, the iPod was probably not Team Rocket funded. The glasses with "R" put on the lenses so that you looked through the loop in R? Probably Rocket funded.

"Alright, alright, alright!" He enthusiastically shouted, pressing play on the iPod, oh god he always loved this part. He hummed along...

DA NA NA NA NA NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Aw yeah. That was how a REAL team of evildoers entered a crime scene, dammit! But enough of that, he thought. He had a job to do, he thought. A very explosion-y job. If there was one thing Donut Steel liked, it was explosions.

"GO ELECTRODE!!!!!!" He shouted with really too much vigor, tossing forward his pokeball. He paused for a while after that. Mostly because the lack of an Electrode. Gosh, he was sure he had packed them in the Pokeballs! Had he grabbed the wrong ones? It was certainly a connundrum. One that hurt his head a lot. Hurt his head like four sharp fangs digging into his cranium.

"..." He scratched his head. Huh. He didn't remember it feeling s-

"Zu!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" He shouted as he realized that he had, of course, let out his prized Zubat instead of his only-somewhat-less-prized Electrode. His Zubat had a peculier way of showing affection. A peculier way that involved sinking his fangs into Donut Steel's head, mostly. He screamed as his arms flailed about, running around the bank at a speed only one trained well in the arts of running away could accomplish. The bank patrons tried desperately to avoid his path: Who knew what could happen if they dared to touch the Rocket!

"FNWJGNWJGNJWBHBHAAAAAAAAJBEHGB-WAIT" He very suddenly came to a stop, nearly falling over as his feet skid to their place in front of the vault. "That's my Zubat! Hehehe...yeah, he ain't gonna hurt me." He reached up, petting said Zubat a little. It gave a little SCREEEEEEEEE in reply. "Aaaaaaaw. Good Zubuddy. You just stay there for a bit."

"Zuuuuuu!"

"Good, good." He grinned. NEXT POKEBALL. "Now let's do this for real...GO ELECTROOOOOOOOOODEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!"

This was a much more successful attempt, the white-and-red Electrode (Not to be confused with the red-and-white Voltorb!) appearing in front of him. Steel grinned. THIS WAS. HIS MOMENT. TO. SHINE. SHINE LIKE A FLAMING MOLTRESS!

"USE. EXPLOSION!"

And with that, the Electrodue scrunched down, not a moment later an explosion rocking the entirity of the bank. Steel grinned. That was it. Now they just had to loiter around for a bit, maybe steal some from the customers, then make their geta-why was the door still there.

"..." Good thing I brought along Revives!

"Excuse me!"

He turned at that, at that feminine voice that beckoned his attention, at the girl with the golden locks that flowed down oh-so-elegantly, with the professionally worn bank teller outfit that showed her PRIDE, and thep ride of the Kanto National Bank of course, the smile that could melt a Growlithe from 40 paces.

"Are you trying to rob the bank?" She asked.

"Oh. Um." He paused. Wasn't that kind of obvious...? "Yes?"

The girl looked over the fault. He was about ready to throw Zubuddy there at her, get her off his tail, when she spoke up.

"You'll take a long time if you just keep using Revives without any idea of where to explode!" She began helpfully. "What you need to do is use explosion around the various pressure points of the vault door."

"Uh...huh..."

"Now then, the pressure points of the door are..." He wasn't quite sure how to deal with this, he realized.

---

"...Alright, who forgot the map." Eevee sourly asked as they entered the GATES TO SAFFRON CITY, or rather exited it so as to enter SAFFRON CITY ITSELF!

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PostPosted: Sun Jun 30, 2013 8:53 pm 
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"I," The boy began as he undid his vest and tugged on the cord to the bulky sweats he had been wearing.

One of the hostages less clear on what it was that their situation was could be heard to audibly gasp, and then thud as she fainted dead away.

Which was a bit silly since the only thing under the black sweatpants was just a different set of black pants and white boots with red lining at the top. Pants and boots that were part of a Team Rocket uniform, to be more specific, as the vest was pulled off to reveal the signature big red Team Rocket R. The boy's uniform was a cut above that of the typical Rocket Grunt - which is to say that while most Rocket uniforms were fairly tightly fitted, his was looser and had a high V-collar that was nearly up to the top of his neck, where it was rimmed with a bit of blue, and came down to show off the top of a white shirt.

The boy reached into his left pocket to pull out a pair of gloves, which he pulled over his hands. "Was getting around to doing that, Dopenerd." Although, to be honest, his teammate was probably preoccupied by the world's most helpful bank teller. Then again, honesty was for chumps anyways.

----------------

"We may not have a map, but the answer here is to remain calm!" Espeon thrust one hand forward in a pointing gesture, and swept it from side to side as if to let it survey the area. "After all, how hard could it be to find the bank? We merely need to look for the building that clearly stands out as one with that bank-like quality! The sturdy sort of structure that could hold a vault brimming with untold amounts of lucre!"

"Is that right?" Flareon yawned, looking disinterestedly at his surroundings. "And which building do you suppose that is, Pinky? You think it's nondescript eight story building off to the west? Or maybe it's bland seven story building off behind the wannabe department store over there." He pointed to two random buildings as he went along. "Oh, or maybe if we just keep going straight, it'll be that ten story complex just smack dab in front of us!" He strolled lackadaisically to the front of the group, before facing all of them. "Personally, my money's on lucky number seven, but with so many similar looking buildings to choose from, I bet you can sleuth it better than me."

"Your sarcasm is noted," Espeon sucked his teeth, "And not appreciated, for the record."


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PostPosted: Sun Jun 30, 2013 9:52 pm 
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Giving a light frown, Salisbury placed her silverware back down, daintily wiping her mouth with a napkin before going back to her suitcase she had placed on the floor, flipping open a secret compartment, pulling out a large, red, laminated "R" before slapping it onto her chest, attaching it to her dress. Yes, that would do.

Snapping her fingers, calling the Taurus back, gently patting it on the head as she spoke to it once more, "Yeh, fine job so fer. Weh ne'd to ke'p it th't weh, though. Moment anyone moves outta line, ya gore 'em." With a nod, she pointed to the "R" on her chest as she continued, "Jes' beh sure ya don't botha anyone with tha mark, or that's an instant field trip to tha slaughtahouse, aye?" The Taurus nodded this time, ready for duty.

It was at this moment, however, that another hostage that was incredibly unclear on their situation walked up to Salisbury, pointing to her steak as he nervously asked, "Hey, uh, you gonna finish that?"

Still leaning over by the Taurus' head, Salisbury didn't move an inch, save for her eyes which slowly looked over to this poor, poor, hungry man. Without a word, she slowly moved her eyes back to meet the Taurus', giving a nod as she jerked her head towards this guy who really shouldn't have skipped lunch.

What resulted, well... he made a pretty good example. Yes. Yes, he did.

---------------------


"Well, I mean..." Leafeon chimed in, "...maybe we could split up? A couple of us each could go in a direction, checking out the buildings until we find the bank. Plus, everyone'd still have back-up of some description that way!"

"Or, y'know, we could just ask for directions." Jolteon spoke up. He was still resting over Glaceon's shoulder, despite obviously being out of his state of shock. He's not one to deny a free ride.


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