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Description
Part Two

“Urgh! What the hell is this?!”

The Smeargle had been pacing around the crumpled red blob on the ground that was his captive before he stopped to examine the object that lay in his palm, which was obscured by long ears that drooped with the weight of multiple piercings.

The Smeargle was dressed in Alomomola’s finest suit brand and a large beret. The suit showed no signs of wrinkles, but was artistically splattered with paint of the most aggressive shades of red. If it weren’t for the absence of creases, the Smeargle might have just emerged from a fierce battle as the only survivor, which was, of course, the intended effect.

“Zebediah...” said the Smeargle, his low, snide voice drawing out the last syllable with extreme exasperation. “You know that I smoke only the best Volcorejo cigars...”

From the shadow of a nearby tree, a surly Gengar appeared, eyeing the disgruntled Smeargle cautiously, his gaze quickly shifting from his Boss’ cigar to his twitching tail. As intimidating the purple menace was, covered by tattoos and earrings with a mohawk to match, he seemed to be the one most wary of the other.

“Sorry Boss, but the dealers were out of these...” Zebediah growled.

“And do you think that I care? Why didn’t you just sneak into their private stores and investigate their claim?”

“They said that that they were out...” Zebediah muttered sulkily.

Lovejoy spat. “Idiot! With all your years of experience in our operation, can you remember when we ever didn’t have a backup of anything?! No, it’s a business, of course they lied to you!”

Mr. Lovejoy threw the cigar from his hand to the ground and stamped hard, spraying the surrounding dirt with cheap tobacco. After he was done grinding his disappointment into smooth ash, he sighed. Of course Zebediah would make that mistake. If brains were honey, he'd be the poorest bee. Honestly, could he trust anyone around here? Even Scarmiglone had failed him. A business always had backups, true -- but there were no backups for the Scizor... He spat and turned away.

Speaking of backups...

“Hey, Zeb, make yourself useful. Get out of here and fetch Rumpus and Gee. When you’re done with that, stay here and guard Mr. Waternoose’s friend here. Watch the skies.”

Mr. Lovejoy looked up nervously as the Gengar grunted, bowed respectfully, and slipped into the shadow once again. Like all great plans, Mr. Lovejoy’s had a gaping hole, and he was looking right at it. The boy might know that Lovejoy’s imprison had no roof, but surely he couldn’t ascend the walls.

No, his one source of leverage would be safe from rescue. The boy couldn’t fly, or levitate, and he didn’t have any allies. The Smeargle walked off to meet the air strike, chuckling dryly. Mr. Waternoose was but a rat in a cage.

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NEXT: [link]
PREV: [link]

Application: [link]
Crackerboom Boys (outdated): [link]

---------

Cheers. We'll be gone for a few weeks, but no worries, we'll have everything when we get back... hopefully... And Scowl will get his lardy behind here too if he knows what's good for him.

Description
Part Two

“Urgh! What the hell is this?!”

The Smeargle had been pacing around the crumpled red blob on the ground that was his captive before he stopped to examine the object that lay in his palm, which was obscured by long ears that drooped with the weight of multiple piercings.

The Smeargle was dressed in Alomomola’s finest suit brand and a large beret. The suit showed no signs of wrinkles, but was artistically splattered with paint of the most aggressive shades of red. If it weren’t for the absence of creases, the Smeargle might have just emerged from a fierce battle as the only survivor, which was, of course, the intended effect.

“Zebediah...” said the Smeargle, his low, snide voice drawing out the last syllable with extreme exasperation. “You know that I smoke only the best Volcorejo cigars...”

From the shadow of a nearby tree, a surly Gengar appeared, eyeing the disgruntled Smeargle cautiously, his gaze quickly shifting from his Boss’ cigar to his twitching tail. As intimidating the purple menace was, covered by tattoos and earrings with a mohawk to match, he seemed to be the one most wary of the other.

“Sorry Boss, but the dealers were out of these...” Zebediah growled.

“And do you think that I care? Why didn’t you just sneak into their private stores and investigate their claim?”

“They said that that they were out...” Zebediah muttered sulkily.

Lovejoy spat. “Idiot! With all your years of experience in our operation, can you remember when we ever didn’t have a backup of anything?! No, it’s a business, of course they lied to you!”

Mr. Lovejoy threw the cigar from his hand to the ground and stamped hard, spraying the surrounding dirt with cheap tobacco. After he was done grinding his disappointment into smooth ash, he sighed. Of course Zebediah would make that mistake. If brains were honey, he'd be the poorest bee. Honestly, could he trust anyone around here? Even Scarmiglone had failed him. A business always had backups, true -- but there were no backups for the Scizor... He spat and turned away.

Speaking of backups...

“Hey, Zeb, make yourself useful. Get out of here and fetch Rumpus and Gee. When you’re done with that, stay here and guard Mr. Waternoose’s friend here. Watch the skies.”

Mr. Lovejoy looked up nervously as the Gengar grunted, bowed respectfully, and slipped into the shadow once again. Like all great plans, Mr. Lovejoy’s had a gaping hole, and he was looking right at it. The boy might know that Lovejoy’s imprison had no roof, but surely he couldn’t ascend the walls.

No, his one source of leverage would be safe from rescue. The boy couldn’t fly, or levitate, and he didn’t have any allies. The Smeargle walked off to meet the air strike, chuckling dryly. Mr. Waternoose was but a rat in a cage.

--------

NEXT: [link]
PREV: [link]

Application: [link]
Crackerboom Boys (outdated): [link]

---------

Cheers. We'll be gone for a few weeks, but no worries, we'll have everything when we get back... hopefully... And Scowl will get his lardy behind here too if he knows what's good for him.