triptoprofiling | 002 {ver. 2.0} → {action/audio} Goldenrod City

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002 {ver. 2.0} → {action/audio} Goldenrod City

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[What happens when you take a grown man with a shopping list to a department store? Well nothing as a matter of fact. Quite the dilemma if you tell Norman. You can't get anymore more mundane than searching for a pair of socks and other house-ly supplies on a Sunday. He could have gone a day or two without 'em that but he needs to be outside. Stretch his legs. Do something. Everything about him reads unusually casual: grey polo shirt and a pair of khakis. He's hardly ever worn shit like this.

Things feel as if they are going in an oh-so fast manner as he saunters down the walkway. His eyes catch on all of the different chotchkies on display inside each store. Not sure how he exactly he made it over to the front window with the TMs on display. One of which catches his eye:

TM 22: Solar Beam

Norman finds his hand already pressed up against the window.]

...That's just ridiculous. You're kidding, right?

[His Watchog who has been following this whole time intrusively sticks his small, furry head right in front of Norman's line of view.]

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--t can't always be like this, can it? I can't put my finger on it.

...Maybe. Maybe I miss it. Just can't stop thinking about it. This is what I was working for, right? No matter where you look there was always somethin'. Now? Now I don't know what I'm doing anymore.

[A small breath can be heard.]

Turn off the Gear, Alvin. I can see you.

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Havin' some kinda problem?

[You want to talk about clothing taste? Lancer's is legendarily horrible. Following at his side is a Houndoom that tilts her head curiously at Norman, seemingly wondering why her trainer stopped to ask what this odd individual's deal was.]

You're lookin' pretty damn conflicted there.

[There is a slight lapse in attention until he realizes there is a very loud Hawaiian shirt close by. You can just smell the confusion off of him.]

I uh...No. [He shakes his head.] Just looking.

[Yep. Definitely still not over this.]

Didn't know you could teach your pokemon how to emit a beam from the sun.

[A beat.]

Let alone from a disc. Gives solar energy a whole knew meaning.

Edited 2013-09-18 00:32 (UTC)

[i have many things to be sorry for regarding lancer. fashion sense is the top of the list.]

[really. leather pants?]

I'm gonna level with you, I stopped asking too many questions about it as soon as I realized there were fire-breathing dogs. Doesn't help to think too hard about the logic of it, y'know?

[The 90's is live and well within him.]

[As you can see Norman is the last person to ever judge someone's fashions sense. He is more preoccupied on a circular plastic disc than how those flames on Lance's shirt are flamin'.]

I'm right there with you. Fire-breathing dogs...psychic cats...the list goes on and on.

[...And his bug-eyed meekrat but Alvin has become more of a oversized housecat than anything. An oversized housecat who likes to run errands Norman.]

The physics doesn't make sense. This could just be unquestionable mythical magic. Which it is because I've yet to see any scientific report about it with the exception of breeding.

I ain't a physics expert to say the least, but this is much weirder than magic, trust me. Most of that's got pretty much nothing on these guys, going off of just how widespread and commonplace they are. Never mind all the other crazy shit about 'em.

Edited 2013-09-18 02:03 (UTC)

[Point. At least in the fictional tales Norman has ever read/watched there were only several magical creatures in their mythos. This is an entire fuckin' ecosystem that can boggle any adult human brain (or any kid who lacked an imagination).

Norman sits on Lancer's remark for a moment as he pulls himself away from the store window.]

That's because everything is in your face. You can imagine the idea in your head but when it's right there in front of you then it becomes the craziest thing you've seen. Crazier than all other things you'd imagine.

I don't know...After being here for almost year? I just want to find an answer or two.

Try bein' here for three and still not knowing shit. Like I said, I try not to ask too many questions and just go with whatever happens.

[Shrug. This is the face of a man that just does not give a fuck.]

[Norman was there at some point. That point where there was not a goddamn thing he could about anything. It was nice but frustrating. So fuckin' frustrating. Admittedly he could be much more proactive about the situation but he keeps drawing blanks about it. Too much fresh air is screwing with his brain cells.

...Wait a minute.]

I uhh-- sorry, but did you say three years?

Comin' up on three, I'm pretty sure. Give or take a couple months.

[Oddly, Lancer did not seem remotely conflicted or even concerned about that. What a weird guy.]

Yeah. Yeah, I think we've spoken before.

[If he's right then this is the same guy who he spoke to when he "re-entered" Johto. If not well...awkwaaarrrrd.]

We were talking about Ponytas back while I was in New Bark.

[Not like that last bit was sounded awkward. No sir.]

Yeah, I remember you. Name's Lancer, but 'that one guy with the flaming horses' ain't a bad name either.

Interestin' but I'll stick with Lancer. Call me Norman.

[Mr. Flaming Horses does have a nice to it but no-- he's got a reputation to keep.

That's if he has one to begin with.]

[But hey! Look down here! This here Watchog is tugging on Norman's shirt, giving him an annoyed with them big ol' swirly bug eyes of his.]

--? Oh...And this is Alvin. Not a fire-type but his sense of direction in the woods is unbelievable.

Edited 2013-09-27 06:41 (UTC)

...Hell of a look he's got on his face, isn't it? [dem bug eyes, man...]

This here's Olldóiteán. [He gestured to the Houndoom sitting next to him and wagging her tail.] Helluva good friend and spits fire all over the place.

Yeah. You get it used to it though. Doesn't become so intimidating once you realize they're one night patrol.

[Doesn't make it any less difficult to sleep when you've got this massive rodent staring you down. Same could be said about owning a hell dog with horns.

...Taco used to be a real quiet pup though.

Translation: Norman owns a Houndoom as well. Typically they're real nice dogs if you don't press the wrong buttons. In fact, to show he comes in peace, he will stick his hand out for the Houndoom to sniff and/or lick (worst case scenario: he gets bitten) at.]

Nice to meet you, Ovaltine.

[That All-American Boston accent never fails.]

Ol-doh-chean. [Siiigh.] Man. Nobody ever knows how basic Irish works these days.

[that's because the language is goddamn insane, lancer.]

Oh, well. Gotta say these guys are damn good bodyguards. Not that I really need it, myself.

That's what I said.

[Pssh, must be a New Yawkuh.]

There isn't much to 'guard' around here anyway. Unless you count anything Team Rocket does.

[Lancer rolled his eyes at the insistence, but said nothing more on the matter. Nobody spoke the damn language around here, anyway.]

You say that now, but wait until some more soul-sucking bugs or freaky skeletal shit show up.

[Remember who's been working at the department store again for about the last week or so, Norman? Well, you just happened to show up as he was using his cuteness to hawk free samples outside the department store. He's got his little apron on and everything, and he lights up when he sees his traveling partner.]

Norman! Alvin!

[Team Rain being the proactive bunch as always. He never thought Shaun would take on a side job-- well, not when he's still 12-years old. Maybe when he was a little older but Norman isn't one to argue about keeping too busy.

The little voice from Shaun has Norman's full attention now as he and his Watchog pad towards the kid.]

I guess I came just in time. Everything okay?

[Uncle instincts are a GO!]

[Norman, he's not even 12 yet.

But being the target demographic for this world, the people who run this place are perfectly willing to give him a job as a perfect little salesman - provided he doesn't work more than two hours a day.]

Yeah! I'm almost done. Were you looking at the TMs because you wanted to get a present for Alvin?

[Ehh ajhdskj close enough, kid.]

[The second Shaun mentions TMs, Alvin's little ears twitches and proceeds to look up at Norman with a pleading twinkle in his eye.]

No, I was only looking.

[Annnnd Alvin droops his head in disappointment. Story of his life.]

If I'm going to do that then I'm going to need to put in more time with the other five if I want to face Whitney. One disc won't be a game changer.

[Awww, Alvin. Shaun makes note of that for later - maybe for Christmas, little guy.]

It can be if you pick the right one! Like Normal-types are weak to Fighting moves, so a really tough fighting move could make it a lot easier.

[Something about the pushy asshole's voice sounding lost and unsure needles Blake. Naturally the thing to do is antagonize him.]

What's the matter, Norman? Having a midlife crisis?

[And there's something about that gruff voice from the lieutenant makes him wear that "Not this shit again" face.]

Nothing... It was nothing. I was just babbling. Forget about it.

[Blake can hear that face.]

Nope, too late. Out with it.

[Not that he's been feeling similar lately or anything.]

[Sigh. Gdit Carter.]

Ever think what's going to happen to you in the next few years? Staying here, I mean.

[What did you expect him to do, be tactful and considerate?]

[Like right now, he's going to snap back something bitter and sarcastic.]

Yeah. I used to think I'll wake up tomorrow and I'll be back in the real world every day. Now I keep forgetting.

Guess it's about time to face up to it and start making plans.

[At least, that was the plan.]

This place could use a competent police force.

What?

[No seriously Blake that came out of left field. When the fuck did you become non-violently proactive?]

You want to start a police force?

[Blake growls] Yeah, asshole, I'm a fuckin' policeman, remember?

[You don't have to sound that shocked.]

Doing something useful is part of what I miss about home. Some lady Mi Casa is already on board.

[It was actually her idea, but Jayden doesn't need to know that.]

[Policeman. Yeah...

When was the last time ever felt busy? The last time he ever looked death straight in the face for the sake of someone else? Everything about this entire world felt passive; the only scratches Norman has ever received were the ones inflicted by small, fuzzy forest critters. There is nothing at stake here. But this is what he fights for. Why is he so discontent with tranquility?

Could it-- No. He can't think like that. More is at play here. This world...it's pretty big. At some point Norman had lost sight of the big picture. About time he does something fucking productive around here.]

My Kasha?

[Starting with pronouncing names correctly.]

You realize this is going to take a lot time and organization, right? You're asking for an entire police force here. It's going to take more than a week to set anything up.

Edited 2013-09-27 22:31 (UTC)

[It's not right to go for so long without getting your hands dirty. Blake hasn't beat up a punk in ages.]

[It's a job that somebody has to do, that was always his philosophy. It makes him itch to think that here it's not getting done. If things look nice, that doesn't mean nothing nasty is going down; it means nobody's digging deep enough to find it.]

[no, no, you idiot, that's all wrong. Blake'll show you how it's done.] No, Mee-kassa.

[He makes a derisive tch.] Can you think of anything better to do?

The cops around here are a damn joke. Somebody has to step up.

Yeah, that's what I said.

[GEEZ Blake-- Don't you listen?]

[On the other hand...It does leave Norman to seriously consider his options. Which (at the moment) are little to none.]

...If you-- If we are going to do this then it's got to be done right. No cutting corners.

Don't give me that shit, I've been in this business since you were watching cartoons in footie pajamas--

Wait. [His voice is wary. He's not sure how to take that.] What do you mean, we?

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002 {ver. 2.0} → {action/audio} Goldenrod City

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