Psychic Aggression {Ace Attorney and Pokemon Wattys 2016} (Complete)

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Goldenrod City had everything. Sarcastic whores, a radio station, but most importantly: underground storage of all the extra things gym leaders did not need. To those who knew about it, it was the treasure trove of the Kanto-Johto area. For him at the very least. He'd been fucking Whitney, the gym leader, ever since the invasion, hence giving him access to everything. Including the station to a certain degree.

Obviously taking over it would a bad thing, but to him it didn't matter. It was still his town. He controlled the manipulative strings from the back, which was good considering the damage he was at liberty to inflict upon those who knew him from back then. Goldenrod was his home town, actually.

Executive Proton enter the storage areas, discreet as possible. It was dark down there, freezing from the water which dropped down. One feeble drop at a time to cause complete anarchy in the concrete systems. Cold and callous. Like he was, like he had trained himself to become. He thrived on his attitude. It made him an excellent leader.

He was a freedom fighter, a revolutionary. Team Rocket existed to fix all the issues they ignored. He was fighting against the tyranny of a government who would allow all those underneath them back in the past to go to waste. So what if people were killed? They didn't matter if they were in the way of progress.

Proton searched room after room until he found what he was looking for. Pewter City. He took his lock pick set and began to listen for the clicks. As he began to align his tools to the holes inside the lock, he hummed. This would work well against the pink suit. A little intimidation never failed.

He locked the door behind him, leaving the room pitch black. Only the sounds of the soles of his feet echoed, along with the slow dripping of water and faint flickering in the distance. His vision adjusted the best it could, leaving him with grey sight as he searched for his objective. Upon opening the first box, he found candles and some holders. Perfect. That was what he needed. Sweat poured down his head as he began to light the candle and proceeded to lock the door. He needed silence.

Pulling out the single book he brought with him, Proton sat laid it down on the singular wood stool that was in the room. On top, he set his gun and a rag. Those would be cleaned after he got his materials. He headed over to the boxes, upset. If only Surge hadn't needed to have been killed. The gym leader was an expert in the particular field. He could have helped.

By the first box, the Team Rocket executive found what he was looking for. He took off his vest, flinging it to by the candle, and began to examine the goods. Checking for sweat, which would mean automatic leathlity, he nodded. Even though they had been stored in a hot room like this they were fine. He lifted the box, ever so careful, and set it down on the floor. That was not his main priority.

He needed to find wires. Lots and lots of wires. That would scare the pink suit just as much as his knife did. The knife of traitors. It reminded of bleeding a sow. A stab to the head and then gutting all the blood out to the floor. He felt as though it was a shame he could not do the same to the pink suit. Messing about with his Sabrina was one thing, but compromising Team Rocket was another. He deserved a slow and painful bleeding out from the knife of traitors. That he would not get, though.

As Proton found the box of wires he laughed. There was little need for them there, considering the circumstances. However, they were in excess. No doubt they were cheap. He chuckled. And brought the box over to his jacket, laying the copper on the floor carefully.

Then, he cleaned his gun, the pieces clicking as he prepared his weapon for when court returned to session.