[attr="class","tbeapponetop2"]

[attr="class","tbeapponetop3"]

[attr="class","tbeapponeper2"]



a life spent built around discretion, secrecy, and espionage has led him to become PRIVATE, to say the least. rarely does he disclose any personal information, rather opting to use an alias or even a made up identity. he's fairly certain that arya isn't his given birth name either, but it's the one he's had and the one he remembers. in addition to being private, the cause has also made him CAREFUL and TACTICAL in his actions. it's led him to become an excellent intelligence officer, one who's LOYAL and DEVOTED.[break][break]

he's a CALM person in general but when he's agitated he becomes AGGRESSIVE and RUTHLESS. he's good at hiding his emotions, to mask it with a stoic and stale persona but really, because he's so devoted to the cause it isn't hard to agitate him. hurt a pokemon in some shape way or form and he'll be affected by it, as much he tries to hide. he's CLOSE-MINDED, often rejecting conflicting thoughts and emotions about the cause to stay loyal to it.[break][break]

despite being loyal and devoted he's still FLEXIBLE when it comes to loyalties to organizations. he's loyal to the cause, and whichever organization best represents it is the one he'll help. deep down no matter how much he tries to repress it, he feels GUILTY for all of his actions. he carries a huge amount of burden. he tells himself that it's okay, that his actions are justified as long as it's for the cause. some might call him DELUSIONAL or even BRAINWASHED. for staying so devoted. should the cause ever fail, or should his belief in it ever falter, however, that'll be the start of his decline.

[attr="class","tbeapponebio2"]

ARC ONE

dusk has long fallen when he knocks on the steel door; it rattles, calls for someone to tend to it. each breath he exhales forms a cloud of white smoke that dissipates within seconds. it's cold, he's cold, but he's taken over by adrenaline that warms him when the door swings open. immediately his hand lunges out of his pocket and in it, a knife that swiftly pierces through skin. he covers the other's mouth with his hand, muffling a scream as he forces his way into the building. he shoves the man backwards, causing him to fall onto the ground. blood gushes out from his abdomen, staining the wooden floor below them. there's a whimper, a cry for help but it's quickly silenced. the door swings shut behind them.[break][break]

they say it gets easier, that eventually the guilt vanishes, fades away just as the victims do. but it wasn't true, not by a long shot, and arya was living proof of it. it wasn't his first mission nor was it his first kill, but the amount of guilt that plagued him remained the same. but it was for a greater cause, he told himself; a cause that'll change the world. but his belief in the cause falters at times, cracks that show with every action he makes.[break][break]

but the cracks always gets filled. always.[break][break]

he slides open a drawer and runs his fingers against the lining of the wood, feeling for any irregularities. he finds one at the top right corner. he pushes against it. the wood gives in and flips upwards to reveal a secret compartment underneath and inside was a sole flash drive, black in color. he has no idea what the contents of it are; it wasn't his job to know, it wasn't his mission. he pockets the flash drive and gently lowers the layer of wood back into place, sliding the drawer shut making sure to look like it had been untouched.[break][break]

and then he's gone; he walks right past the stabbed victim, out the door, and into the world once again. mission success.[break][break]

ARC TWO

'again.'[break][break]

it's rough, vigorous, each blow harder than the last; but he takes it, he has to take it. he fakes a step to the left but it only comes back to bite him. he's slow, much slower than the opposition. he takes a hit and falls to the ground immediately. bloodied sweat drips onto the once clean floor, staining it as bruised knuckles lay flat. he looks up to cold eyes, furrowed brows, and that same old smirk; it's so subtle that it's easily missed but it's there, the smirk, it's always there.[break][break]

it's training, he's told, told that it'll make him stronger, make him a weapon for the cause. and he believes it. but what reason does he have not to? this has been his life; the training, the missions, the cause. it's what he was taught growing up, what was enforced into his head. he's growing to not only become a messenger for the cause but also an advocate for it. he understands it, realizes it, wants it.[break][break]

he gets back onto his feet, stares at the smirk that has haunted him, that still continues to haunt him. he readies himself, clenches his fist and waits. but there's something different about him this time; he's not in a stance, his arms are down by his side, and there's a curvature on his lips that's oddly familiar.[break][break]

there's movement. he braces himself.[break][break]

down.[break][break]

ARC THREE

"haxorus."[break][break]

there's a roar that's swiftly followed by a crash. concrete gets sent flying into glass, causing shards to disperse onto the floor that quickly gets crunched under a boot. he's running as fast as he can. there's a hole in the wall caused by the haxorus; the dragon's free for now, but he'll find him after all of this was over. a distant roar soon follows. he smiles. he's safe.[break][break]

but he isn't in the clear just yet.[break][break]

he weavers around a corner and swings a door open. he hides behind it predicting someone to follow him in. and he's right. the door swing opens but he's there to stop it, to slam it back shut. it catches the other's arm and causes him to stumble back. now the door flies open and he's quick to seize the opportunity. he takes one step out and swings a fist at the other. then another. and another. it ends with the other on the floor with a broken nose and a bloodied face. he kneels down next to him and searches his pockets.[break][break]

the building's on lockdown; the lights are out, emergency lights have since kicked in, there's an alarm that echoes through the building. it wasn't supposed to be this bad, not this many casualties. they saw it coming, they had all the time in the world to plan against it. but they got cocky. he got cocky. they played defense when they should've done the opposite. and even then, it was a weak defense, one that could've been so much stronger had more planning gone into it. they underestimated their opponent.[break][break]

the building's being overrun by the enemy. some of his allies have been captured or even killed. suddenly there's static in his ear which makes him press a finger against the earpiece. 'f-fourth floor...help...' it only takes him a second to spring back onto his feet and start sprinting through the hall, barging through the stairway with his shoulder. he knows it's risky to charge in blind, but they needed his help. the fourth floor was also known as the research lab which meant they'd be ill-equipped. he has to help them.[break][break]

footsteps echo off the walls with each step he takes. six. five. four. break. he immediately tackles the first person he sees and breaks through a glass wall. there are shards of glass that scatter onto the ground; he picks one up, jams it into the person's side before throwing a punch. out of the corner of his eye he sees two more rushing over to him. he waits until one of them swings before ducking, he grabs hold of the arm and uses his momentum to send him literally head first into a wall. he's too preoccupied to dodge the punch that comes, it catches the side of his jaw, cuts it, but adrenaline numbs the pain for now.[break][break]

there's a kick to his mid-region that connects, but as soon as the next one comes in, he catches it, grabs hold of the leg and pushes against it as he makes it back onto his feet. the enemy trips over and he's quick to sprawl on top. a punch follows, then another, and a couple more before he's sure the enemy's out cold.[break][break]

hard breaths leave his mouth as he pushes himself off. he hears glass breaking from around the corner, understands that the researchers still needed his help. he sighs and wipes blood off his jaw courtesy of the cut. red runs across his hands. he taps at the earpiece. "run out into the hallway." footsteps start getting louder and louder. he's not sure how many are coming but he prepares himself for the worst. he'll take whatever's thrown at him, he'll do what he must for the cause.[break][break]

and so he does.[break][break]

but despite his efforts he still could not stop the fall of plasma.[break][break]

ARC FOUR

he slips into a darkened alley, his footsteps bouncing off the brick walls that surround him. he plans his step carefully, slows his pace and shortens his stride as he focused on hearing. a door soon swings open and out comes a machoke; bruised arms, scarred back, trash bag in its arms. any slither of pity he had left flew out the window. there's a guy that follows the machoke out towards the dumpster, big guy, tough, ripped. it only makes what he's about to do easier.[break][break]

no words leave his mouth. he slides a knife out of his pocket, fingers curl around the handle in a familiar grip. it's clear how much he's used the knife by the handle, marks in the shape of fingers give it away. his grip around it tightens and when his shoulder brushes past the man, the knife lunges forward right into the man's mid-region. his other hand quickly goes to muffle the screams. he's ruthless in his attack, repeatedly stabbing the man until no more muffled screams could be heard. he releases his hold and lets the man fall onto the ground lifelessly. he turns back to the machoke.[break][break]

"you're free now."[break][break]

but it doesn't move.[break][break]

he kneels down to the body and searches it, pats his hands up and down to find any irregularities. he finds one in the shape of a pokeball. he holds it up for the machoke to see. "keep going that way." he points to the right, west of here out in the wild, away from humans and civilization, hopefully. his releases his hold around the pokeball, letting it fall to the ground and immediately after he hears the impact, he brings his foot up and stomps on it. and then a few times more, grinding it against the ground under his boot.[break][break]

"go."[break][break]

he watches as the machoke finally turns and sets off, albeit slowly. this is his legacy; the one that people are going to remember him for, the one that matters the most to him. it's essentially plasma's legacy, and he carries it even during his time with imum. that was the most logical thing to do after the fall of plasma, to move regions and join imum. not many other plasma members knew about it mostly because of the secrecy around the organization. but he wasn't like the other members, he wasn't just a regular grunt; no, he had a reputation, one that follows, one that stays.[break][break]

ARC FIVE

"breach."[break][break]

he braces behind the cover of concrete. an ice punch soon follows, one that breaks through concrete just enough to form a passageway. crash. chunks of concrete come crumbling down onto the ground, it acts as a signal. then the breach happens.[break][break]

troops of pokemon and grunts alike charge in and among them, graves, with his feraligatr and hydreigon who immediately spread out on their own. the mission was simple, raid a pokemon association instillation and take control of it. this particular raid would be more difficult than the others, primarily because the opposition knew it would be coming. there have been other raids that came before this, and it was clear that this instillation was next on the republic's list.[break][break]

graves has been involved in most of them, but participating in the actual raids wasn't his main objective; it wasn't even one of his objectives, but he participated to help further the cause. his main objective was reconnaissance, to just gather intelligence on the various locations; the guard shifts, the rotation timings, entry spots, exit spots, weaknesses, vulnerabilities, all of which combine together to make a successful raid viable, no, it makes it certain.[break][break]

it all goes by in an instant and the next thing he sees is his hand wrapped around a guard's collar, his face bloodied and broken, and a pokeball in his limp hand. he slows his breathing and releases his grip. the pokeball falls loose and tumbles onto the ground. it's swiftly stepped on, crunched underneath his boot. he looks around. there's a small smile on his face.[break][break]

victorious.

[attr="class","tbeapponebot2"]PLAYED BY NOODLES

[attr="class","tbeapponebot3"]