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Under most circumstances, Tracer would follow his own instincts rather than submit to the judgment of anyone who contested them. Executive Petrel was one of the two exceptions to this rule. The fact that he had chosen to transport their four-man team in an unmarked car, rather than take the...
By the time Tracer regrouped with all his mission cohorts, his garb had changed. Outwardly, he wore no disguise per se, but was instead covered from head to toe with dark camouflage. Underneath, his getup was as near a match to a Team Snagem uniform as Team Rocket professionals could tailor...
Gastly raised his dark eyebrows as Proton hung up. "He actually said 'please,'" he marveled, as Proton parked the farm truck in a used cars lot. "Proton never practices etiquette. This is even bigger than I thought."
"Let's be rid of these fossils inside, and perhaps we'll be able to acquire...
Ditching the ambulance and hot-wiring a farm pickup truck at near-desk went without a hitch. The longest part was not the transfer of body bags, but Tracer's double-check for any hairs or other evidence of agent tampering. When he was satisfied, the group drove back into Pewter, keeping mostly...
Tracer grunted with effort as he assisted Walt and the new Agent White with hauling the pokemon fossils into the back of the ambulance. They'd ended up using some body bags that Gastly had found, which were oddly appropriate, given the deceased state of the ancient pokemon. Still, the Kabutops...
Tracer nodded wordlessly, pulling Jenny's uniform over his shoulders and switching their hats. "Speaking of bone heads," he said as he recalled Squirtle into the officer's pokeball and pocketed it, "those fossils are bound to be heavy loads, and it's not like we can shrink them into pokeballs...
Tracer's walkie crackled once more, and he lifted the communication device to his mouth.
"I'm busy, Doc."
"It's Astral, actually," responded an effeminate, self-important voice. "You have new orders, Tracer. Agent Ruscit is about to obtain some highly valuable fossils from the Pewter Museum...
Tracer's walkie gave a muffled beep, and the Rocket agent lifted it to his ear.
"Speak."
"It's me," came Doc's voice from the other end. He sounded excited. "Tracer, I know what happened to your Haunter."
Tracer glanced at his new Haunter, who had graduated from grabbing pokeball-painted...
"As Alex here says," Carter put in dryly, "we're just passing through. But for the record, the Butterfree . . . guys-" -He refused to dignify the name- "would win the turf war if it came to that, from the tactical perspective." He looked at the Beedrill Boys with a raised eyebrow. "Rather...
For a Ghost-type trainer, Carter proved to be a talkative companion as the remaining trainers drew nearer to the northwestern exit. He took the better part of a half-hour explaining how ghost pokemon were not actually dead mortals, but extra-dimensional entities who frequented the material...
As a Ghost-type specialist, sworn to the Gastly evolution line alone, Carter had a self-imposed ban on capturing any new pokemon. It saved money on pokeballs, but it prevented him from varying his team, even with a Nincada that would have become the semi-invincible Shedinja. Nevertheless, with...
Carter shrugged and nodded to Devon. "Sure, I'm down to walk. If I fly now, my mom'll say I cheated."
***
The visual phone on the wall of Pewter Rocket HQ beeped for a couple of seconds, before Doc's face appeared on-screen. He was greeted by the sight of Tracer in his undershirt, slamming...
An alarm began to sound throughout the ship, signaling orange alert. As message of a telepathic attack spread, Matt wheeled his way through squadrons of soldiers whose brave faces partially masked their nervousness. He could understand their trepidation. Next to Ghost-types, psychic pokemon...
The sound of heavy wing flaps was of a different nature than the one Carter had heard from the previously-aggressive Fletchinder. He pulled himself from his prone position, and walked out from behind one of the trees to see the source of the noise. It was not the attackers this time, but the...
Tracer's thoughts went black as he watched Jakob's Natu launch itself in front of Winnie's Heracross, giving itself up to (once more) foil his capture. As it fell to Fletchinder's high-speed Peck assault, Tracer cursed the psychic bird with all his being. It wasn't the sort of passive curse...
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