Sluggodile
amorphous and from selazaar
Randy
Bright and early. That's how Randy liked his mornings.
How he didn't like them was bright, early, and demanding he get ready to risk his life to save some trainer he didn't even know. 'Course, word had gotten around fast, especially when the words "voluntary" and "dangerous" were thrown around. A lot of missions were voluntary. Even more were dangerous.
But the two together? That was a particularly new twist.
Randy made sure his person was stocked and ready-- two magazines, his silencer, his Pokemon, and a small, pocketable gas mask. He wasn't so much a soldier as he was an infiltrator. And as such, he figured his job here would me much, much more difficult than running in with some kind of automatic weapon and a Pokeball or two, just in case.
"Well, maybe not more difficult," he thought aloud, the familiar, soft click of his pistol sending a tingle down his spine, "just... different. No need to think like that, I don't think."
Ticka-tacka! Ticka-tacka-tick!
Randy glanced up, one of his Pokeballs rolling around excitedly. Supposedly, Gengar had heard the news through its ball. He'd been listening it, it seemed. Sure, ti was the Ghost Pokemon's job to do so, but regardless, it felt a little intrusive that the Pokemon was listening in on him, in particular. Still, it was hypocritical of him to be so critical of his Pokemon's antics. They'd probably serve them both very well in the coming hours.
- - - - -
The whirring of the helicopter blades at the Mistralton Airport blew unnatural wind across Randy's tired face, though his long hair didn't flow in the wind. He'd tied it back in a tight ponytail, and that flipped in the wind, sometimes tickling the face of the soldier behind him. Here, he was one of tens, maybe hundreds. A tight, trained unit, some with, and some without Pokemon.
Regardless, as Randy scanned the crowd with his bloodshot eyes, he wondered just how many of them would be coming back.