Yarvick "The Raticate" Xelsez
Team Aqua
AMS Deathwing, Mirage Island, Hoenn
Affected RPers:

After a few hours of nonstop surfing, where Yarvick looked every which way like a paranoid conspiracy theorist certain that a man in black was about to give him a memory wipe, he was back at Mirage Island and the AMS Deathwing, a mighty beast of a ship. New guns had been installed on the thing while Yarvick was out-they looked like massive gatling guns, ready to rain lead death from above. There were also two new ships-one the AMS Fairy Dragon, a battleship armed to the teeth with basically every heavy gun in existence (and adorned with a butterfly-winged Dragon, grasping a minigun and winking). Yarvick heavily approved. The other was a cruiser, looking rather plain in comparison to the other two, the AMS Deathknight-though that was adorned with an armored skeleton, holding enough machine guns to make any orc jealous. In any case, he climbed aboard the Deathwing, withdrew Oceanus and Rhea, and prepared to meet the Aqua Fence.

The Aqua Fence was Eric Sequoia Brailis, or 'Greaser' for his permanently greasy hair and the fact he never took his sunglassess off. He wasn't the most ruthless fence Yarvick saw, but his prices were stingy and he was very adamant that what he would buy was not directly illegal. He was a fence, not a drug dealer, as he said. Yarvick traveled through the many halls of the Deathwing, considering how he'd argue to him what the thing was worth. He tried to aim for its size compared to other meteors and it's 'incredible' backstory. It would all be targeted by collectors, but they paid big for stuff like this, and this covered multiple markets.

On the way there, Yarvick passed by the skunkworks, where all of Aqua's science happens. It was infamous for two things: It smelled of chemicals and sweat almost constantly, and they were all just a bit crazy, except maybe the man in charge, Titanus Hale. From what he heard of passerby grunts, a few of them had been asked by one of the 'skunks' if they wanted a Pokemon's tail.

Yarvick would avoid it like the plague if he could. He did not distrust science or scientists, it was just he distrusted the skunks of the skunkworks. They were all mad scientists in their own way, and unless something awful happened he would try to dodge direct contact. He would accept any boons they gave to him, but he'd try to stay away. Mad science was not in his interests.

After a few more turns, he finally found the man in his usual spot-a small break room. The 'break room' was more of a bar than anything, with a bartender and various alcaholic and non-alcaholic beverages. There was also a jukebox, a couple of pool tables, a few chessboards (surprisingly), and even an XBox 360 with 4 controllers and a small cache of video games of any man's tastes. Not too surprisingly, Greaser was in the middle of his favorite pasttime-getting utterly hammered with scotch.

Yarvick wasn't a boozehound by any means. He only drank for big parties and his ability to hold down more than a single can of Miller Light without puking his guts out was nonexistent. He didn't smoke at all, either. A few people called him a pansy for it, but Yarvick needed good lungs. In any case, Yarvick sat right down next to Greaser, tapping the space between them a few times with his thumb.

"Huh?" Greaser went, turning his head towards Yarvick. "Oh, it's you, Yar...Sup? Got Sumthin' fer me?" He said. Yarvick and Greaser only talked when there was something to sell, and even drinking as hard as he can, Greaser knew. Yarvick liked it that he was drunk-easier to barter with.

"Howabout a Meteor?" Yarvick said. "The one that dented that old navy ship...I don't know the details, it's a space rock with some naval importance, can't remember the names or places. Space geeks will be all over it." Yarvick said. "Nicked it from the Slateport Museum."

"Oh, yeah, 'dat job of yers...Yeah, I fink it was 'da HAS Halberd, or somethin' like 'at. Yeah, I know what yer talkin' 'bout," Greaser said. His heavy drinking didn't inhibit his memory all that much, it seemed. Or maybe he just remembered his National History class. Greaser took another swig of his bottle. "Lemme see it," He demanded. "Need to see if it matches."

Yarvick pulled out Hyperion's Poke Ball and sent out Hyperion, who still had the Meteorite.

Hyperion fell, back first, onto the floor, Meteorite clutched tightly in his hands. Yarvick's face fell like Hyperion's body, and a frown appeared on Greaser's face. Even drunk, he could tell that wasn't good.

"That 'Zam looks as sick as f***, Yar...Didn't know 'bout no weird virus on 'dat rock...Yar, take it to 'da meds, get rid of 'dat sickness, and 'den we'll talk...But it looks like the rock I'm finking of, yep." He said, turning back to his booze.

Yarvick was still staring at Hyperion, before heeding Greaser's good advice, returing Hyperion to his Poke Ball, and rushing to medbay. What the hell was going on? All those cleanings and s**t, did they do nothing?!