The Road [Growlithe Nabbing]

[Caramell 🍬]

Rain poured from the dreary skies above. Their pitter-patter pounded against the translucent glass windows of the building, causing long streaks that blurred the vision of the outside world. Colorful blurs shifted by, either by long feet or by strong wings, coupled with wild calls whose shrill sounds managed to penetrate through to the interior of the building. Time passed along the shadows that played in the waterlogged world outside, broken into moments of quiet relief when someone bigger and badder chased the visages off entirely.

Caribes wandered through the open hallways of the organization, carrying boxes from one room to the next. They were lickspittles burned within their core. A devious mind that spun with thoughts of grandiose faraway goals and ideals, they minded not playing lackey to the administrators who lorded their power over Caribes’ head. Some tested the elderly’s body and physical capabilities, often scoffing at the thought that Caribes could handle the load they placed upon their shoulders.

They weren’t bothered. Prison shaped them into the literal hidden brick wall that they were underneath the layers of clothes they carefully constructed over their thin frame. Caribes’ body shifted from the once spry and lively looking form to something strange and anew whenever they caught a glance in the mirror, though ultimately just as familiar as the back of their eyelids. Their hair was solidy greyed, shedding all the colors of the once rich reddish browns that used to adorn their often-cheeky expressions of their youth.

Then one admin stopped Caribes in their tracks and held out a piece of paper, which was easily passed from one Rocket member to the next. “Impressive stamina.” The Admin stated, a sly smile crawling over their lips with dark eyes whose glow hinted at more devious thoughts. Caribes raised a singular eyebrow and glanced at the paperwork curiously enough, their gaze licking at every syllable on the passages before them. “Think you can be more useful than someone’s coffee maid? Hmm?” The admin snapped coldly.

Caribes didn’t like this admin – Joseph – and the admin didn’t like Caribes. It was mutual. If there was enough of a break to lend Caribes the capability to, they would have loved to shove Joseph’s snarky responses back down the younger man’s throat and remind him who it was that the Admin thought he was talking to. In their heyday, Caribes was a fearsome opponent to cross paths with and had no quarrels in making members of their own organization that proved useless to their ultimate goals disappear. This was not the time.

“Hunt down some vagrant who can’t even shape themselves into a productive member of society?” A rough laugh. The joke was largely missed by Joseph, whose eyes narrowed harshly as his lips curled into a tight frown. “What? Too tough for you, gramps?!” Joseph snapped, arms folded firmly over his chest. He tapped his boot against the linoleum flooring underfoot impatiently awaiting Caribes’ final verdict. They were no different than this vagrant in many ways, being misfits of society itself.

But unlike the homeless camper whose whereabouts remained a constant mystery, they just wore ‘not being a productive member of society’ better. They had a roof over their heads and a way making dishonest living that allowed them to afford the qualities of life they preferred, so long as they were crafty enough to do so. “Actually, quite the opposite. I’ll be back with the mongrel before nightfall.” Caribes snapped back. They headed down the long hallway to the front doors to the establishment, then hit the road towards the wilds of the open route near Cherrygrove City.


OOC: Keeping the same three: Graboid, Gizmo, & Octalus! ONLY THESE THREE ARE IN THIS THREAD! Using all 4 of my X-Small Candy on Octalus to boost to Lv 9! Also teaching Octalus Earthquake (TM). Teaching Graboid Stomping Tantrum (TM) and forgetting Mud-Slap. Teaching Gizmo Dig (TM) and forgetting Astonish. Self-updating new levels & moves but leaving items to be confirmed by mod. ^^

^{Words: 608 | Caribes - Graboid - Octalus - Gizmo - Chuckie - Orla - Annabelle}

[Lamont]

The steady drumbeat of rain pelting against the cobblestone streets accompanied by gusty winds whipped through the open spaces, sending the rain into swirling patterns. An artistic array of rainbow reflections met any puddle due to the plentiful presence of the flowers decorating the town whether it be raised beds, hanging pots, climbing vines, or just the little strands poking out of cracks in the road. To say the blustery rainy day was but an annoyance would be an understatement. Despite the seemingly miserable weather by most normal standards, today the city was very much alive and bustling.

While the vibrant blooms bowed under the weight of the rain, the people did not. Even though slowed by the gusts, pedestrians huddled under their umbrellas determined not to be deterred. The sun occasionally poked itself out from a puff of heavy cloud giving hope that soon the rain may let up. Cafés remained busy out the door. Some patrons still braved the bit of warm wind on the mostly protected sidewalk patios. A nearby corner store had simply extended their awning and put up a wind breaker, protecting the more resilient produce that was left outdoors for their foot traffic.

The bright colours of a floral mural in the distance seemed even more vibrant and deep thanks to the wet sheen coating them. The mural, depicting a burst of sunflowers towering over a sea of varying pansies, wavered and shifted with the wind and rain, a reminder of the town’s resilience and charm. Not that such a thing would mean anything to the Team Rocket member.

The thrum of vehicles barely making a note above the wet patter and splashes was probably equivalent. This day, the city of flowers would have no gentle tinge of sweetness from the outskirts of honey trees and berries. It was only earthy musk.



So the question was: where would they begin?

With so many shapes moving about the possibilities were endless. Though, a growlithe wasn't exactly an uncommon sight with the IPF Academy in town so simply asking around about it generically was just as likely to lead Caribes to the police. With all the rain tracking would prove difficult in any classical form. It was doubtful even the target pup, even ignoring its misfortune of typing for this weather, would have trouble following anything through this.

How will Caribes begin the search?

(( All items updated ))

[Caramell 🍬]

The air around the old city carried with it a strange, musky scent that permeated through the landscape. It blended bitter earthen ground now muddied from the heavy rainfall that refused to yield with an almost smoky, woody hint. They growled, disdainful gaze searching through the fog of bodies moving in their quick hurry from one direction to the next. Many huddled underneath umbrellas, with bodies pressed together in an awkward, hardly comfortable fashion for those sharing one of the rain gears amongst themselves.

Where would Caribes search in their hunt for this elusive individual whose whereabouts remained a constant notion of change? Without an address to which they could easily pluck from a sea of terracotta homesteads painted in such similar hues they were mistakably just alike from the outside view, it would prove difficult on its own. They stopped, a curious glance cast on the ground underfoot where what could have been anything – footsteps, perhaps, or tire tracks – were completely washed out from the dreary day.

Questioning the locals would be out Caribes’ thought process. Perhaps, the right shop keep might lead them in the odd direction, or perhaps it would circle Caribes right into the open arms of a couple of diligent police officers whose do-gooder natures wouldn’t allow them to stop their haste on account of a little rainfall – even if such rain seemingly flooded out sections of pedestrian walkways and made things increasingly difficult to navigate. They needed to find signs of human life outside of the norm – perhaps scattered remains of trash beyond the couple stray pieces? Or even a scattered fabric could spell the possibility of an encampment – perhaps nearby?

Caribes was prepared to check some other methods, as well. Broken webs spun from fastidious arachnids in their hastened need to catch their next meal often hinted towards larger beasts, like people, trekking through the area. Their hope was that a trail of litter might help Caribes hunt down their target through the back alleys of the vibrant city. Caribes was no fan of the rain and lacked the appreciation of artistry that might have drawn others to the mural.

Especially with rain pouring from the heavens above in a frenzied fervor, while they might have noticed it in their attempts to keep a keen eye on the landscape around them, they heeded it not. All that remained was a single, simpleminded goal, and one Caribes was confident they’d eventually find their culprit and wrangle possibly the only companion the homeless vagrant had to their name. One question remained poignant at the back of Caribes’ mind like a bad itch they couldn’t quite fully scratch, though. Why was this pup such an important target?


OOC: Looking for more than your average amount of litter, or even accidentally dropped goods, around the city and alleyways.

^{Words: 451 | Caribes - Graboid - Octalus - Gizmo - Chuckie - Orla - Annabelle}

[Pixel]

Caribes looked for signs of vagrancy—extra litter and more out of the way areas that had been disturbed in some way that suggested the presence of something larger than the early route creatures that inhabited these streets. The rain made it difficult in many ways, as the wind blew various wet litter down the street. There was even a couple of tipped trash bins that such debris could have escaped from not too far away. But Caribes pressed on, searching and pondering the strangeness of the importance of some random busker's growlithe. This wasn't the companion animal to a police officer or their family. It wasn't some prize winning pet. It didn't belong to some rich brat with more money than sense. It was just...a growlithe. 

Perhaps the guy foolishly borrowed money from the wrong person and was in debt? Now the Rockets were shaking him down for the one thing of value he owned? Maybe the growlithe piddled on their shoe while they were scoping out the perfect spot to commit a crime? It was hard to say without asking more questions or seeing the hound for himself.

Eventually, he did indeed find a couple of promising spots that weren't right next to tipped bins.

One was even tucked in an alleyway behind some businesses, sheltered from the worst of the weather. There were a few more boxes here than expected. Lots of papers. Though when he investigated closer, Caribes wouldn't find a busker sleeping in some sad wet fortress of cardboard, but a fat and happy little trubbish that stared at him with big, confused eyes. It was possible it was nesting in some more clues, but if Caribes wanted to find out, he'd have to scare it off.

---

Caribes found a [LV 9] Trubbish!
Will be chase it off or leave to look elsewhere?

[Caramell 🍬]

The elderly gent remained steadfast in their search even as their mood soured. Old wrapper to fast food chains floated in crumbled heaps on the thin stretches of water, carried off to the gutters that led down into Cherrygrove’s vast sewer systems. Discarded, broken toys from young children half buried in the soggy sands and tall grasses around the outskirts of town turned up half-hearted clues of families whose rugrats ran a little too wild and whose parents remained too lazy to properly clean up after their offspring.

There had to be more to the story than this! Even old cannisters from read-to-eat foods and scraps of old clothing traced back to overturned bins littering the grounds around them. With every gust of wind, more trash spiraled as though they flew on hidden wings, floating further from their old homes. It created a bitter Swanna Chase whose neck Caribes wished to snap in half and allow its innards to spill across the ground, painting the sea of blue waterways into a sea of deep crimson.

What gave?! The rain pitter-pattered against the cold, hard concrete. It melodic tunes were deafening, causing Caribes anger to slowly intensify in the pit of their chest. They turned a corner, following yet another trail of breadcrumbs in hopes that this would be different than the last. This time, the piles of litter carried themselves further from the reaches of overturned bins. Several boxes propped up against the backend of an established business, littered with several sheets of paper as if to help battle the worst elements of the weather around them.

Something jumped out from the heap with a wide grin as though the world around it was a blissful paradise. Caribes pinched their nose from the rancid smell and quickly back-paced. They glanced around, quickly considering scanning newer areas in favor of completely foregoing this little varmint altogether. The Trubbish stood on top of… something? Whatever it was, Caribes found it hard to discern, and huffed impatiently underneath their voice. “Go on. Shoo. Get lost, ya little clump of trash!” They snapped, quickly plucking Octalus’ ball from their side to toss out with the click of its button.

The small pink coral with soft blue undertones hopped forward with wide eyes that searched around the area curiously enough. “This weather’s nice, but the environment isn’t. Someone should really clean up the mess.” Octalus huffed, folding his arms on his side with a grimace. Why was there so much clutter in the area?! It made breathing through the acid rain that washed across the city streets difficult for the small Pokémon that thrived in clean terrains. “What on earth are you doing here?” He asked the small Trubbish.

“Don’t chitchat!” Caribes snapped firmly. He stomped his foot on the hard ground with a hasty huff. “Hurry up and use your Earthquake.” Caribes commanded. Octalus began jumping up and down on the ground with enough power and force, he created large quakes along the earthen ground itself. He was hoping he could use the shocking force of his quakes to shake the little trash can off its perch altogether. What a mean spirited trainer Octalus had, though!

OOC: Sending out Octalus and using Earthquake x2.

^{Words: 537 | Caribes - Graboid - Octalus - Gizmo - Chuckie - Orla - Annabelle}

[Tiki]

"Really? I think the weather is just okay. It's raining and it's making some of my food wet and soggy, and sometimes diluted. Mess? It looks fine to me! The smell of greasy Kalos Fried Combusken oil paired with three days old Basculin Rookidee ice cream puddle really enhanced the homey feel!" The Trubbish explained joyfully to the visitor. "Oh yeah, this is my home!"

As the ground began to shake by the Corsola, the trash cans and poorly knotted trash bags began wobbling and eventually toppling and then spilling over. Bags of plastic wrappers were exposed outside of the trash bags, empty plastic bottles that once held soda pops, lemonades, and water fell to the ground, making soft jiggling sound as they bounced on the ground. The Trubbish hurriedly held onto a recently tossed half bag of maturing sprouting potatoes with horrifying roots growing in strange directions. However, the tremors were too strong. Soon enough, the Trubbish stumbled with the bag of crazy potatoes on top of it.

"Okay, you win! You vibe too much!" The poison type picked up the bag of eldritch potato abominations and fled somewhere far enough to hide.

---

Ocatlus +3 levels, now Level 12!
He can learn Aqua Ring, delete a move?

move ht|KwdkXp_1-4 Recycle. Nothing happened!
EQ p_1-16
move p_1-4 Recycle. Nothing happened!1-16·1-16·1-4

[Caramell 🍬]

There was a small hitch in the plans. Caribes cursed underneath their breath as the ground quaked around them, causing more filth to spill out from some trash cans. Several bottles rattled across the ground, thumping along their trails with an empty reverberation. Some whose lids weren’t on very tightly leaked out, creating slick puddles of unknown goo. They pinched their nose, which they wrinkled up in a disgusted expression of frustration. Why wouldn’t the nearby businesses secure their trash better? Did they want local wildlife or feral Pokemon colonies to knock it over and have a field day in the ruffage?

There wasn’t much more that Caribes could do at this point. They could give up the goose chase on this specific endeavor or bury their hands in piles of littered garbage. Did they seriously lack personnel they could send to do this humiliating work for them? Would the gifts promised for snagging a vagrant’s pooch really be worth all the hassle Caribes subjected themselves to? They were SURE the Admin that sent them on the wild Swanna chase would have reveled in delight knowing the sorts of things Caribes subjected themselves to.

“Rain is good for my kind.” Octalus added thoughtfully just before Trubbish skipped out of town with its trinket of nasty looking potatoes. The acid rain was painful, causing Octalus to reel back occasionally from the impact. Still, there was a love-hate relationship with the rain that soaked his skin, giving him the moisture he needed to stay well hydrated. “I just wish it was cleaner than this. The poisons in the rain burn my skin.” Octalus admitted with a hum. Though, as the small sentient trash bag rushed off, Caribes would jump up and point hurriedly after Octalus’ opponent.

“What the [--] do you think you’re doing?!” Caribes kicked a stray can across the ground. It clinked and clanked all the way to the backdoor of an abandoned restaurant who must not have been able to make it in the modern day’s cutthroat climate. “You don’t let it get away! You beat the stupid [--] to a bloody [--] pulp!” They roared loudly, hands full of soggy pieces of paper and discarded household items, desperately hoping to find that hint of something Trubbish was once standing proudly on top of. Some on, it had to be here somewhere!!

Was it the bottles littering the ground that Caribes needed to pay closer attention to? They plucked a few of the empty healing agents up and turned the empty containers about in their hands. Maybe Caribes would notice something off about them or something that suggested a specific mart they originated from besides Cherrygrove’s – since it was common sense that most of the waste gathered here would most likely originate from the same local mart. Perhaps, a mom-and-pop shop very few people knew about? Or maybe something totally different altogether that was unique to them?

Or even just a clue in a different direction, hidden underneath all the clutter of rubbish, within the hoard? Self updating Octalus learn Aqua Ring and forget Harden.


OOC: Hunting for them clues that was hinted before!

^{Words: 514 | Caribes - Graboid - Octalus - Gizmo - Chuckie - Orla - Annabelle}

[Pixel]

Hints. Clues. Signs from Arceus himself left in the formation of tea leaves stuck to the bottom of trashed paper cups. Anything would be useful to Caribes right now as he trashed the trash that lay here in the alleyway. Now that the trubbish had run off, abandoning its hoard, he had free access to the wet papers and countless treasures underneath. At first it really wasn't much. Just generic bits—the local pokemart nearby, some menus from local restaurants, empty cans and bottles. But after a while, he would find more promising signs. Older, but relevant, as if perhaps the Busker knew better than to stay in one place for too long, but the trail existed if one looked close enough.

Inside of a sodden cardboard box he would find a flyer stuck to the side.

Once peeled off, the glossy paper was revealed to be advertising a 'Rain or Shine, Music at the Park' event. The dates were basically every weekend this month...which meant that the event was going on today.  

[Caramell 🍬]

Most of the rubbish remained useless piles of trash mankind loved to collect and subsequently discard as though they could create countless more. There was little need to heed the concerns of an already overstuffed world full of garbage littering their streets sides, burying itself inside of the heavy rooted system of their wild grasses, and floating along the open waterways of their rivers and streams. Why would there need to be a reason to worry about such things?

In the heat of the moment, with rain soaking their face through the thick plastic poncho they wore diligently over their clothes, Caribes sided with the environmental freaks who stood on corners yelling at random passersby shuffling back to their forgotten apartments about the dangers of littering. They wanted to take half of the rain-soaked debris and smear it in the faces of those that would so easily toss them on the ground, even if Caribes might have been a culprit of such petty things in their own past. Who needed clippings from local restaurants when the apps for your phones showcased the same offers and coupons at your fingertips?!

Then something caught their eye. A small smile deceptively slipped onto their face, curling the edges of their face. Caribes reached one hand into the cardboard box and carefully peeled the small glossy scrap of paper from its side. It was slick, glued by the elements in place, and weakened in its usual dexterity. They had to move slow, nails clicking against the sodden cardboard, sometimes puncturing small holes until they finally managed to free the glossy paper from inside of the cardboard box. Their terracotta gaze ate up the advertisement with ease.

A… rain or shine music festival? The bar for entry was on the floor, welcoming all who wanted to come and hear the sweet tunes that would liven the atmosphere. What a wonderful idea! Immediately, Caribes turned and stalked off, finding a safe single stall to slip into and sneak on some durable denim jeans and band shirt with ease, before turning and traveling down the open streets around Cherrygrove to the lively festival full of younger and much more energetic adults.

Someone turned to them whilst staggering on their feet, a sloppy smile swishing along their face. “I LOVE THIS MUSIC! THINK THE SINGER WILL SIGN MY SHIRT?!” She screamed before being pulled away by assumedly her boyfriend, who offered Caribes a half-hearted apologies. “No worries, mate! I just learned about this festival from my nephew! I love all types of music, so I had to check it out!” He added enthusiastically, eyes widened with false delight, yet sharp enough to keep an eye out for anything out of the norm. “Do they really perform every weekend?! This is so cool!” Caribes carried on.


OOC: Checking out the music event! ^^

^{Words: 469 | Caribes - Graboid - Octalus - Gizmo - Chuckie - Orla - Annabelle}

[Pixel]

The young man who was minding his very drunk girlfriend and keeping her from roaming off just nodded to Caribes. 

"Yeah, there's music here every weekend. Believe it or not there's some real underground stars that come here to spread their name around in hopes of making it big." He explained. "There's the smaller bands that can barely hold a tune in a bucket, sure, but if you stay long enough, I'm sure you'll find someone here you've never heard of but want to hear more from." 

He motioned to the nearest stage where a young woman was rocking out on a guitar and showing off her skills as she screamed into the microphone to an adoring audience. Given the branding on the stage, it was evident she had a cult following.

"That's 'Candy Crocalor Crush' over there. She does rock-punk stuff. She's from Goldenrod I think? But she's been hanging around town since the start of the festival and shaking hand and doing all of that stuff for self-promotion."

The young man pointed to another stage were a trio were playing some sort of country-pop-rap mix? They were...questionable. Maybe their mic was just bad, but they seemed to be having fun and the crowd was bouncing to the beat.

"Those guys over there are locals—"The Squawkabillies". Everybody in Cherrygrove knows them and probably the other way around too. They're not the best, I'll admit, but they do charity work and donate a portion of their earning towards helping the homeless. I've talked to them once after a show. They're real cool dudes."

Then he pointed to the last stage visible from where they stood where a group of girls danced all cutsie, emphasizing the lead singer at the center as she danced.

"I'm not really into it, but if you're one of the folks who likes the whole K-Pop Idol scene from Kanto, those girls over there are the 'Heart Sweets.' They're apparently really popular so folks have been coming in from all around to come watch them sing."

[Caramell 🍬]

Caribes allowed themselves to truly commit to their role and play the part. They listened to the young man’s introduction to the different bands on makeshift stages, really pouring their heart and souls into their performances. Excitement lit up Caribes’ eyes, as though they were a child again within their gaze alone, and they turned to each of the performers while quietly nodding thoughtfully. “Oh, that’s pretty sweet! I wish I knew sooner, so I could have enjoyed more music. But you know what they say…better late than never, right?!”

They chuckled, raising a hand up to the back of their neck. They scratched nervously before turning away from the young man with a friendly wave. They needed to blend in, covert. There was little that Caribes could do going full force after the obvious trio they found their attention immediately drawn to. If there was a chance that anyone was on alert that Team Rocket wanted information on the vagrant blight on society, they couldn’t allow themselves to be so recklessly noticeable.

Caribes traveled from one band to the next and just enjoyed their tunes. Candy Crocalor Crush carried a very interesting tune the younger generation easily melded with. Several in the crowd around Caribes were barely adults themselves, and they doubted a single person was older than their thirties. While they would notice the oddball grey hair here-and-there, Candy’s tunes simply didn’t speak to Caribes’ generations or their struggles. “She’s… not bad…” Caribes commented when a random person from the crowd gushed about how she was just the perfect performer he’d ever known.

Eventually, Caribes shuffled away to Heart Sweets. They plopped down next to an even younger crowd who all shouted, with some professing their love for Heart Sweets. Caribes felt… disgusted… at the way some of the men acted, causing them to shake their heads and slowly comment underneath their breath. Were there really diehard fans like this in such events? It was simply pathetic. “She’s… not really my style, sorry…” He commented to one of the ‘diehard fans’ who seemed absolutely disgusted by Caribes’ answer.

Finally, they made their way over to the trio known as the Squawkabillies. “You are amazing people!” Caribes commented, blending into the s small crowd. “I want to give back to my community the way they do.” They added, more to themselves and the crowd around them now than to the trio on stage – though loud enough to be hard. There was hope that it wouldn’t take much more effort than that. Perhaps, share a love for wanting to help those less fortunate. Wouldn’t one of them know of a way that Caribes could donate their time or give back?

Many would say these things, after all, then dry up when offered ways that they could actually give back to their community. All Caribes needed to do was set the line and see what might snap up. They definitely weren’t bad as far as bands went, but they needed to find themselves. It just sounded like they weren’t sure which direction they wanted to go, so most of their songs were completely off from the beats that they created when compared to their lyrics. At least, that’s the way Caribes felt about them, though they stuffed those thoughts way down low to try and become a ‘new and true’ fan.


OOC: Checking out the Squawkabillies!

^{Words: 565 | Caribes - Graboid - Octalus - Gizmo - Chuckie - Orla - Annabelle}

[Pixel]

Caribes would approach the stage of The Squawkabillies. He would call out to them and chatter to the people around them, trying to blend in like a true fan. They would perform a couple more songs before waving and telling everyone that they would be available to sign autographs for a small fee that would go straight to their current charity. People cheered was they went backstage to put away their instruments and ready themselves to do signings.

Soon they were out front and available, shaking hands. 

An older woman gave them a crisp fifty dollar bill, thanking them for what they did for her son last year. The main singer hugged her, telling her that they were honored to help their community, and that they couldn't repay her enough for supporting them when they were punk kids in need of a place to sleep and she offered her garage.

Eventually they would end up in front of Caribes. They would ask if he had anything he'd like them to sign, cheerful and earnest.

The singer would eye him curiously, "Hey, you're the guy who called out about liking our work yeah? Haven't seen you around before, I don't think. You new to Cherrygrove or just hear about us from friends? Or did we help one of your friends? That happens now and then. We love to hear success stories."

[Caramell 🍬]

It was easy enough, all things considered. Caribes blended in, waiting around with the rest of the fans who seemed diehard over the band and their mission to help end homelessness in their own modest ways. They waited, collecting a cup for some of the free fruit-flavored water offered from giant jugs from a nearby booth. When the ban resurfaced to sign autographs and chat amongst the remaining fans even as most of the crowd slowly dispersed to other sections of the event, Caribes made sure to secure a spot within the queue by paying their retributions to help out the homeless.

A small fee in the grand scheme of things. Should the mission prove successful in the end, Caribes would find their riches beyond measure by finding the wretched vagrant. How or why Team Rocket wanted his only companion would remain a mystery perhaps until the very end, though they were more than happy to help snag a pup just as easily so. “Oh yeah! Anything that helps out the homeless really gets to me…” Caribes nodded, wiping away a small tear from the corner of their eye as they fought the urge to choke up.

The elderly lady turned around and placed her wrinkled hand on his shoulder, offering the elderly gent a hug. They took it greedily, embracing her warmth. Caribes was so close to her in that moment, that they wrinkled their nose a bit from the off-putting smell that lingered – only noticeable if you were butt-up against her. Maybe a genetic disorder that made it difficult for her to manage her own body odor, despite some of the best supplies offered in stores? Or, something else? It was very light, and could have simply occurred from being out under the hot sun for too long during the event.

“You may have helped some friends.” Caribes added, before turning the moment into a story of their youth. “Actually, my parents were stranded on a deserted island just before I was born. We were homeless all my life, making our own makeshift shelters until strong winds would steal it away.” The tears wouldn’t leave, causing Caribes’ lips to twitch. Whilst most were all part of the act, some were real as the memories of their youth playing with a young Anorith slowly came flooding back.

Ain’t not was I’m going to waste my tears on that [---]ing creature! Caribes shoved the memories deep, deep down inside of their mind. Evolved Pokémon were evil beasts and needed to be corralled up and shipped off far from humanity, so that no one would have to endure what they had to endure. “I actually… want to give back. Some are suffering through so much, it’s never really their fault they are homeless. I wish more people knew that. Some are struggling with their health, for instance. That’s why I love what you do.”

Test the waters, see if it would work. To slowly open up with traps stretched out so that they could snag the trio inside of their webwork of lies. “There are a few around Cherrygrove I want to help. A young lady with two small children around Burke’s Bake Shop? And a gentleman with a canine companion. I was hoping that maybe I could find long lost family or something? Or find a way to help them get connected with a decent shelter?... I don’t know. What can I do, really?” Caribes sighed in frustration. “I just…don’t want others feelings as hopeless and helpless as I used to growing up, though. It’s such a rough life.” But Team Rocket made the roughness easier!


OOC: Seeing what they might be able to gather!

^{Words: 614 | Caribes - Graboid - Octalus - Gizmo - Chuckie - Orla - Annabelle}

[Pixel]

The earnestness in Caribes deceptively innocent facade clearly won over their charity driven hearts. The lead singer nodded along, looking like he recognized the folks he spoke about. "Even in a small town like this, where folks try their best to help their neighbors, people slip through the cracks. Ms. Sally and her kids, they got away from some abusive creep back in Violet, but we're not sure if she's even got family to fall back on. She's a proud one. But she loves those kids. If you see her at the store and wanna help, buy her groceries and don't make a fuss, she won't accept cash..." There was care in his voice. In his eyes. 

One of the guitarists looked thoughtful.

"Gentleman with a canine companion...you don't mean Freda's trainer do you?" he asked. "A real pretty, like best in show worthym growlithe? And a scrawny, skittish guy that plays music in front of the shops sometimes?"

The singer also started nodding with recognition, "Him? I see him now and then at these concerts. Man is passionate about music, but I wish I knew more about his story... Hard to help someone who runs off every time to talk to him about food banks and shelters..."

"I tossed him a fifty once when I saw him playing and he bolted. Like he thought I would take it back and laugh...guy's been hurt..."

"But I coulda swore I saw him earlier today by the food stalls."

"I hope he's not rummaging through trash. Humans deserve better than trash."

"Who can say..."

By the sound of their chatter, the target in question had to be close.

[Caramell 🍬]

Caribes remained unsurprised that their made up story of the hardworking mother who couldn’t make ends meet with her children rung a bell in the hearts of the caring bandmembers. Why wouldn’t it? The economy was so tough that even dual-income families found themselves struggling and wanting for more, even when one or both parents worked multiple jobs just to try and tread the ice a bit better. It was thin ice, though, and it had such deep cracks it was a wonder more didn’t plummet underneath the icy-cold water’s surface already.

“Miss Sally…” A tear clung to the corner of Caribes’ eyes and eventually jumped over the ledge. They thought back to their time on the island and pictured their birth mother, Cassandria, who was eventually replaced by the mother-like figure Cassandra who took them in underneath her wing, alongside her partner Baron. If it hadn’t been for the two evil-doers, Caribes would have passed away along with their old blood family, who were much too weak to survive through the cruelties of this world. If only they’d listened in the beginning and left the wild prehistoric Pokémon of their island alone… “I would be more than happy to get her family some groceries to help them.”

The conversation shifted, now onto the man of Caribes’ one and true fixation. Would they be required to stop along the way and make good on their promise? Staple foods that would help carry the family further would be a bit cheaper than fresher foods that provided more nutrients but weren’t very shelf stable. They could spare a few cans – perhaps they’d straight up pilfer them, if they could get away with the hijinks without blowing their cover. Who really knew what the future held in store, right? “Freda…” Caribes hummed, scratching the bottom of their chin in deep thought.

That was the exact name of the companion pup they were after. Too much eagerness could lose them the case. Not enough interest in what the other knew might isolate them from their own ‘well-meaning’ cause. So, it was a careful blend of emotions, played at just the right levels, to help throw off any unwanted heat and keep the heartwarming, bonding emotions at their highest. Just a bunch of well-meaning folks wanting to do good in the world. “Little tiger-striped looking dog with a cute tuft of fur on top of its noggin?” They asked, describing the Growlithe nearly perfectly. A picture had been attached in the homeless man’s file, making this an easy thing to do.

“Maybe his passion didn’t give him the success he deserves?” A sad sigh. It was an unfortunate fate in life that many talented people would fall through the cracks. Talent wasn’t the only motivator to success. Talent and skill could get you to the door of success, but there was a fair bit of luck that pushed you over the threshold altogether. And even if you managed to gain entry inside, sometimes all it took was one bad day to lose everything you worked your whole life for. Caribes knew that all too well, after spending a couple of decades in prison.

They eventually shoved off, traversing through the noisy event until the managed to find the food stalls where several bins stuffed full of half-eaten food pressed up against the sides of the wooden structures. So many people gathered around them in long lines, some snapping at each other over who would order what or who was paying. Caribes kept their eyes peeled, easily joining the shortest line for some novelty sandwiches all named after different genres of music. “I’ll have two Burning Desire Sandwiches! Thanks.” They chimed, waiting on their meal.


OOC: Searching the stalls! And ordering an extra sandwich because I'm clearly a good citizen.

^{Words: 625 | Caribes - Graboid - Octalus - Gizmo - Chuckie - Orla - Annabelle}