maskormenacelogs | (no subject)

Guzma just offered the carpet an odd stare, but didn't question it much beyond that before getting on. Poe did say he was the fastest thing around...but a weird rug? Definitely not what Guzma was expecting, and maybe he'd have put up more of a fuss, but there were more important matters. It didn't stop him from looking down at the carpet below them though, with an uncertain expression, though.

"Fortunately he's in Maurtia Falls, so we ain't needing to hop cities or nothin'," he started to explain. It might be questionable why Guzma actually knew where the guy lived, but when you're stuck in a hospital, pissed off and waiting for your friend to come out of surgery, with nothing to do but dwell on that anger and worry? Well, you find ways to occupy your time, and Guzma is nothing if not obsessive when it comes to his grudges. With enough digging, he was able to figure out where Archer resided. Thanks internet!

"He lives near the north end of the city, not too terribly far from downtown—kinda near some of the more decent neighborhoods." As he continued to explain, he questioningly put his hands on Poe's shoulders, uncertain if he needed to hold on when this thing took off. He wasn't afraid of falling off, hell, he wasn't afraid of a lot of shit right now, but he didn't want to slow them down by not being secure enough.

"Once we get closer, I'll point the place out," Guzma huffed with a dark sort of amusement, "if he ain't hidin' in his crib, we'll just have to help ourselves to his shit till he gets home, huh?"

“Alright, that makes it easy,,” Poe replied, and as he spoke the carpet quickly began to rise. It was a surprisingly smooth ride- the apparently flimsy carpet firm and stable under Poe even if it had a little give. But as they rose they started to kick up speed and the wind started to rush past them, too. He wasn’t even going half speed yet, and they were still climbing higher, the trees and buildings starting to shrink below them.

“If he’s not there, we pick a good vantage point and wait till he comes back. I don’t want to give him any heads up that we’re coming, if he’s got any kind of security.” Plus he wasn’t interested in Archer’s stuff.

Just the man.

With the carpet rising, Guzma looked down, watching as the ground got further and further away. It was a strange, mainly because he should be feeling a bit more apprehensive about trusting not just Poe, but this carpet in its ability to securely carry them. Yet it seemed to be able to do so, and he wasn't nearly bothered by the prospect of them falling to their demise. Even as it picked up speed, and the wind's strength proportionate grew, he felt fine. That Spark was one hell of an effect, and Guzma certainly liked it.

"Tch, what you scared of some security? Look, if you ain't feeling up to this, you can just drop me off and head back." He retorted with a dismissive huff as his gaze returned to Poe. It was less that Guzma even wanted Archer's things, so much as he wanted to do anything and everything to piss Archer off at this point—look, Guzma's petty as hell. If helping himself to his food, and maybe breaking some of his shit was a precursor to the beating he was going to receive, then so be it!

Anything to rub salt into the wound to get the message across. To show just how much Archer wasn't someone Guzma feared, but that Guzma indeed someone Archer should.

“No, I don’t want him getting wind of us and spooking. Hunting him down if he knows not to go home would be a hell of a lot harder.”

They were finally high enough now for Poe to kick in at full speed. “Alright, hold on,” he warned, and the like a punch to the gut they were streaking through the sky fast enough to steal the breath from their lungs.

"Mm... Guess you got a point."

However, Guzma's pretty sure he could track him down, his Pokémon could cover a good amount of ground, his grunts too. He can't argue, though, that if the weakling took to holing up in his apartment, it'd be much better for everyone—well, except Archer. With Poe's warning, Guzma did just that, holding on a bit tighter and bracing himself for the speed. Even with the warning, it was utterly impressive how damn fast this rug could move, and Guzma had to adjust his hold on Poe to compensate for it even more.

Particularly when he had to grab his glasses before they blew off entirely, sticking them on the front of his (blood stained) shirt for safe keeping. This little maneuver of course destabilized Guzma a little, and so the arm that saved his glasses ended up wrapping around Poe's waist as a reflex. A little awkward, but a lot less awkward than falling to his death on his way to avenge Archie, so he can't really complain.

"You weren't fuckin' kiddin' about speed, goddamn..." Guzma finally found the ability to speak after that initial robbery of his breath. It helped with Poe's back somewhat acting as a shield against that wind. Despite it, Guzma did his best to keep an eye on the neighborhoods below (even with his wild ass hair whipping about), looking for the landmarks he memorized to ensure that he'd find the place. It didn't take long before he saw one, and could spot the apartment building. With a nudge, he gestured towards it, "Yo! It's that building ahead of us to the right, his apartment's there!"

Poe never jokes about speed, and he couldn't help the little smirk as Guzma's arm slid around his waist. He didn't complain or tense up, though - he was very used to it, at this point.

As soon as Guzma gestured to a build, Poe dived in it's general direction, banking off to the right around a different building to fall into its shadow before curving back towards it. They slowed down, and Poe wet his lips as his eyes narrowed, squinting at it.

"Alright - check the windows. He in there?"

If Guzma saw that smirk, he'd probably get a little damn irritated, so it's best for both he couldn't.

Guzma kept himself steady as they did that little maneuver, keeping his eyes on the building. He remembered the number, but unfortunately the damn windows didn't have the address outside of them, maybe in an effort to keep revenge seeking idiots from finding their target? Probably. Anyway, point was he took a moment to piece out which windows should be Archer's. As they slowly moved by, his gaze flocked from window to window, looking for any sign or movement—

"There! I see the bastard!"

Now, had Guzma not had the Spark going, he probably would not have done what he was about to do. With them getting close enough to the building, Guzma then leapt towards it, entirely off the carpet. Fortunately, Guzma go enough air to catch the wall, and when both his hands and his feet met with it, they stuck. He really didn't look unlike a damn spider on the wall, if a spider had a taste in hip hop fashion and half as many limbs.

Having landed a few feet below Archer's window, Guzma began to climb up, looking over his shoulder to Poe, "Go 'round the front, don't need him trying to escape. I'll wait here till then, yo." Here, of course being right by Archer's living room window, which he entirely intended to bust through once he got a glimpse or heads up from Poe.

Archer had gotten home not all that long ago. He had spent the better part of his night filling out reports and giving statements to the police. He had spent extra time waiting for the police to give his papers back to him, refusing to walk out of the station without either his papers (which proved his gun and its concealed carry were both legal) or his gun (which they had not asked for, but might be confiscated should he be stopped by an officer if he lacked papers).

So it was that he had only recently settled down in front of his computer to summarise the events of the day. His hands were tapping away on the nearly silent keyboard when his Houndoom suddenly sat at attention. Archer paused in his work, examining the dog's posture and where he was looking without turning his own head very far.

The tell was that the creature was looking towards his bedroom. He had left the door open when he put his jacket away, not thinking that someone would be coming by to look in and see him with his back to them.

Houndoom let loose a low growl, careful to not allow the volume to get too high.

He had company, it seemed.

Taking but a moment to save his file (pleased in knowing it would be uploaded to a cloud service - this time's technology was truly useful) he settled his computer into a mode that would require passwords to gain access to.

He did not, however, get out of his chair, deciding instead to allow whoever was there to think he was unaware for some time longer.

He'd grabbed after Guzma when the man leapt, but his hand snatched only air, and then thankfully the man was clinging to the side of the building rather than falling to his death. Well. Alright. That worked, he supposed.

"Alright. Guess I'll go and knock."

It took him a few minutes to get into the building, but then it was just a matter of flying right up the stairs until he got to Archer's floor. Luckily, he had a pretty good sense of direction so he figured out what door was Archer's by process of elimination, and then gave a clear, sharp knock.

"We'll flank him."

After all, if Guzma just busted in, that gave Archer the chance to run out the front door, and that'd likely get the rest of the apartment involved. Sure, they're bound hear some of this, that's inevitable. However, it was much different to beat someone half to death in their apartment, than in the damn hallway. If it were up to Guzma, he'd drag his ass to Shady Factory and wreck him there. No possible witnesses, no possible interruptions.

Oh well, they'll just have to make due, won't they?

While Guzma waits for any sign or signal to break in, he'll be getting Golisopod's Poké ball ready—after all, this dude's a Pokémon trainer too. Even if he used a gun, he was bound to have his own team. Nothing Guzma was worried about, but he wasn't too sure how well Poe could hold up against a Pokémon, let alone a gun. The knock was heard, but still he waited, after all, he wanted to see what Archer would do.

When he heard the knock on his door Archer paused. Houndoom was still looking toward his room, and the time was well past time for any visitor. Though, this world had the scourge of door-to-door salesmen, who had proven to be just shy of willing to face death to get a sale.

Archer stood and straightened his collar, then tugged his gloves on, and readied a pokeball, all within a matter of moments. He would not be caught unawares by whatever might happen next. He stepped a few steps closer to the door, well out of the view of the doorway to his room, and he spoke.

"Who's there? You do realise you are calling at a late hour, yes?"

Poe was not the smartest man and had not totally thought this through. He wasn’t a spy, he didn’t pretend to be one, and he didn’t possess a huge amount of guile. So there was no smooth con artist reply. Instead there were several seconds of silence and then:

“Look, Buddy, you can deign to talk to me at ‘this late hour’ or I can bang on your door all night. You and I have a beef to settle.”

Honestly, at this point Guzma was getting a little antsy.

With Archer just on the other side of this wall, this felt like it was taking too long, even though he knew it would be better to wait till he was certain he'd have the jump on him. While Guzma was a strategist when it came to battle, he was also impulsive and impatient when his emotions were involved, and Archie being shot? Well, that certainly had a lot to do with his emotions.

He cannot hear the conversation clearly, merely the muffled confirmation that there was anyone talking at all, so it was with that and the earlier knock that he came to the decision to make his move. Pressing his back against the wall, he allowed himself to stick through that connection point, while one hand held Golisopod's ball, and the other went full carapace—that arm bashing through the glass of the window with a hard swing of his elbow. A moment later he would throw the Ultra Ball inside, and a flash would form Golisopod, not too far from Archer or the door.

The Goliath of a bug-type staring Archer down with those cross-shaped eyes of his, a flash to them as he focused his gaze—his retractable claws extending fully at the same time, the dual blade-like talons on each larger arm roughly a foot in length each. Golisopod rose his arms, standing in a position ready to strike if need be, as Guzma clambered in through the broken window.

"Better put that ball down and return your Pokémon. 'Less you wanna know what it'd be like deep throatin' one of his claws, yo." Guzma offered casually, like he wasn't about to beat the ever loving shit outta Archer in a minute, but hey, the dude didn't know that. If he could make this dude think for a second he could Sneasel his way out of a beatdown, that'd make the impending one all the sweeter.

Honestly, he just needed to let Poe in, and then they could get to work.

The problem with Guzma's failure to keep to the plan was that now Archer was fairly sure that he was cornered, and cornering an animal is never, ever a wise idea without a plan.

Archer dropped the pokeball in his hand, but rather than it falling useless it opened and a ghost flew out of it, heralding its appearance with a purple mist and a loud shriek that possibly could have broken the glass had Guzma not gotten there first. Archer moved so that his back was against the wall, Guzma in front of him and the front door to his left. He used the moment of confusion caused by the wailing Misdreavus to motion to Houndoom to get between Guzma and himself.

"Leave my apartment this instant." His tone was clear, and his voice more than loud enough to be heard out in the hallway.

And possibly next door.

Between his shouting and misdreavus' screaming he was sure law enforcement would be here soon. He would not be caught on camera making the first offensive move.

The problem with Archer's failure to keep in mind that Guzma's seemingly chaotic decisions are not without a plan. Did he expect someone like Archer to actually listen to him? Nah, not quite. He figured he'd pull some shit like this, try to play dirty, like the nasty Rattata he is.

Didn't change the fact that shriek pissed him off with how it hurt his damn ears, and earned a growl from Golisopod. The effects of his anger might not be entirely obvious, not until he approached Houndoom that dared to get in his way. Guzma was ready to turn on his diamond carapace should the Pokémon go to bite him, but instead the moment it entered his proximity—it vanished. Like it was never there to begin with.

Guzma was left staring for a moment, but soon a smug expression of realization settled onto his features. Staring at Archer with a dangerous glint to his eyes. Golisopod, in the meantime looked rather taken aback by the fact that Houndoom disappeared, vanished so suddenly he was left gawking.

"We ain't leaving," Guzma asserted as he approached, "We gotta get our chat on, so I suggest you fuckin' pop a squat away from the door, or I'll take you and your Misdreavus out in one go. Don't fuckin' test me, dude."

As Guzma finished, he gestured for Archer to move away from the door. Golisopod was keeping an eye on Archer and that nasty Misdreavus for any foul play as Guzma approached the door himself, unlocking it so that Poe could join the party.

"Thank you," Poe said, with a surprising amount of courtesy as Guzma lets him in. He doesn't look worried or nervous. His hands as stashed in his pockets and his expression is hard as he closes the door behind him.

"I don't think you totally understand how things work around here," He said to Archer, his voice low. "If you think you can shoot a guy and walk away from it."

Edited 2019-09-15 22:29 (UTC)

He allowed Guzma to open the door, still recovering from the shock that was seeing his Houndoom disappear in front of his eyes. If the dog did not reappear at some point in time in the near future he would have Guzma's blood.

When Poe entered and spoke, Archer raised an eyebrow.

"Then you would have me allow him to kill me? At the very least to assault me and hospitalise me for the second time unprovoked? I was under the impression that self-defense was well within the purview of the law in America." He knew damn well it was, as he was in the process of studying things in that moment.

"Well that's just the damnedest thing, dude," Guzma began, turning his attention to Archer more fully once Poe was inside, "I don't give a fuck about any law."

Golisopod moved to be closer to Poe, knowing that if things got a little messy, that Guzma would be alright, but he wasn't so certain about Poe. The least he could do is keep Archie's friend from getting hurt, it wasn't like Archie needed any more stress after being injured, after all!

Which was a good idea, because Guzma was now approaching Archer with that signature grin of his, fists clenched at his sides as he stalked forward. Violent intent more than apparent. There was little more Guzma wanted to do right now than pound this dude's pretty little face in, and that was pretty damn obvious.

"He wouldn't have killed you." Just like Poe had no intention of killing Archer, either. But a guy with a gun knew that his force was lethal, even if he hadn't actually taken a killing hit.

Poe didn't make any move to get closer to Archer, just crossing his hands over his chest and watching Guzma making his approach. He knew he didn't have to. He'd fought Guzma himself - he knew the guy could handle it easily. He just wanted to make sure Archer took the point.

"Let's make it real clear for you. We protect our own, and Archie is one of ours. You put him in the hospital. Let's call this 'equivalent exchange'. Touch him again, and it won't be so equivalent."

Archer pretended to ignore Guzma for the moment, mostly due to pettiness, but in part because Poe seemed possible to reason with on some level.

"It's touching that you have faith in him, however, after being in this world less than a week he saw fit to assault me without any form of action on my part aside from speaking with a boy who means more to me than a child of my own would. A boy who I am the legal guardian to back in my world, who I would sooner die for than see come to serious harm." His master's legacy was, after all, more valuable than his own life. "Without any form of warning he attacked me when offering to meet up at a park. He proceeded to attack me with both his pokemon and his own body.

"I do not expect you to understand this, as you do not seem to be from our world, but pokemon can be quite deadly to humans. Comparatively we are frail creatures. Crobat, the first pokemon he attacked me with, is capable of force strong enough to kill a man with ease, breaking Every Single Bone in the process. Muk, the second pokemon he attacked me with, well after I had already sustained open wounds, is a creature known to live in sewers. Its very body is toxic, and depending on the chemical content of the individual muk, can cause serious permanent injury.

"From that encounter alone, had I not managed to stumble my way to the hospital without getting attacked further in the process, I would have certainly experienced sepsis by the time anyone would have found me." Archer raised his chin a little. "With my own experiences with the man, I had every reason to believe that the second he released his Crobat and told it to attack he was going to finish the job he started. Seeing as how he is a stronger trainer, I could not rely on my pokemon to be able to defend me. I had to resort to the use of a firearm so that I could have a chance at surviving this man and his senseless grudge against my very existence."

"If you want to protect your own, consider keeping an eye on them." That's what he would do, after all. Then again, surveillance was one of his many, many talents. "An ally who is unhinged and attacking unprovoked is clearly someone who needs someone to look out for their best interests and talk them down from doing undo harm to those who have done nothing to wrong them."

It's at this point his gaze shifts to Guzma, and he makes no secret of it.

Man, that sure was a lot of rambling Guzma gave not a single fuck about. Guzma never cared much for who was in the wrong or who was in the right. It was all such subjective and personal perspective related garbage that you could wrangle anything to put someone in the wrong. What he cared about was the state in which Archie was in, and who had caused it to get their just desserts. Hand delivered, quite literally, by him.

Morals were the shackles of the self-righteous, and Guzma couldn't care less about those trying to appeal to him or others through them. At the end of the day, you hurt one of his, you pay the price. By the end of Archer's spiel, Guzma towered (quite literally, standing at his full height) before him. Letting out an amused huff, he tilted his head to crack his neck in that almost comically stereotypical tough guy fashion, before rolling his shoulder to really sell the image.

"That sure was one hell of an attempt to appeal to two dudes who ain't got no sympathy for a Sneasel like you, yo," Guzma sneered down at him, that wild look in his eyes as he snatched at the front of Archer's shirt to draw him closer, getting right into Archer's face with his own, "We ain't give a flyin' fuck why you did what you did. I give even less of a shit what Archie done to you—if he acted that way, he had his reasons. Just how he be, man."

Guzma's free hand clenched tightly, his knuckles audibly popping from the tightness of it. It was a little weird, because Guzma was feeling a little compelled to talk than just beat this dude in. Maybe it was because of how much Archer was trying to Wurmple his way out of this beat down, that dragging it out a bit, raising that anxiety of his impending doom seemed too delightful to pass up.

"You can act all kinds of innocent, but ain't no one really innocent, huh? Only fools and hypocrites try to sell that garbage, but sooner or later the truth comes out, and everyone sees ya for what you are—trash, some just hide it better than others," Guzma let out a dark chuckle, eyes locking with Archer's own, "But I ain't so blind. I see you for what you are, and what you're deservin', and your boy is here to deliver!"

"Sepsis." He says it utterly blandly: he's clearly not impressed. He knows the healing power the nanites carry. Archer might have believed he was in trouble, but he wasn't. They could take far more than a normal human could. "Your own experiences don't mean shit. I know Archie. I know his Pokemon. You brought lethal force to a fight that wasn't there. Unfortunately for you, I already know enough about you and Team Rocket to not give a shit what Archie wanted to do to you. I know you deserved it."

He's bluffing, a little, though he doesn't sound it. His knowledge of Niko's time with Team Rocket is next to nothing - he's had to piece a lot of it together between Archie's mumbled ramblings and Guzma's anger. He may not know Archer deserved it, but he trusts Archie. The man might have lashed out but it didn't come from no where.

"Even if you didn't- " And here he steps closer, one hand going out to tough Golisopod's side, stepping in front of the pokemon. His face was incredibly hard, and for good reason: until Archer, Poe had put all of the Pokemon people he knew firmly into the 'often weird, often fucked up, but not lethal' category. Archer had changed that utterly.

"Even if you didn't deserve it then, you shot my best friend. So you sure as hell deserve it now."

He had no idea if Guzma's spark had warn off, or not - had no idea how long they lasted. But hey, a little extra adrenaline probably wouldn't hurt, right?

He raised his hand, pointing his finger like a gun at Archer, then swerved it to the side, pointed it at Guzma, and snapped his fingers. The spark flared.

His training kicked in and within the time it took Poe to pull his finger out and point it at Archer, he was on the move, not bothering to be careful of the computer on the desk behind him he jumped up on the flat surface and attempted to get cover behind it, drawing his gun as soon as he was down.

"Further attempts to get close to me will be seen as an attempt to harm me and I will defend myself. This is fair warning. Leave now."

Once again this was said quite loudly. Anyone in one of the adjacent apartments would have at least heard the majority of that. He was making sure there were going to be witnesses of some sort, even if not eye witnesses.

As Archer slipped away, Guzma wasn't bothered. Maybe it was just the situation, or it was the spark that Poe just imbued him with, but it all seemed like good fun for Guzma. Far too satisfying to call Archer's bluff as he stalked forward, cocky and without fear. After all, he couldn't feel fear, and a silly gun wasn't about to take him down like it did Archie.

"Dude, there ain't gonna be no attempt to harm you, only the hard damn reality of it!" Guzma shook his head with a grin, glancing at Poe with an expression that basically said 'can you believe this guy?' before he turned his attention back to the coward behind the desk. Golisopod seemed more nervous than Guzma as he stayed close to Poe, his trainer opting to grab hold of that desk, lifting with quite a bit of force to flip it (with everything on top of it) towards Archer.

He might not have his super strength anymore, but Guzma was certainly a strong dude without it, and that extra kick of adrenaline certainly didn't hurt nothing!

And that was what Archer needed. Action that was officially an attempt to harm him. Video would show he was in the right to defend himself now. It was almost pitiful how easily these fools had given him everything he needed for the future.

While he had been able to push off the wall fast enough to avoid the desk itself, he had been hit by many of the things atop the desk, including the computer monitor and his (previously well organized) assortment of pens. He instinctively grabbed the stapler with one hand as he reached for his gun with the other.

He threw the stapler, using it as a momentary distraction and aimed at Guzma the next moment. Then he pulled the trigger.

Little did Archer realize that all his evidence didn't mean shit to someone like Guzma. For all Team Rocket was an organization that both skirted the law and operated within its technicalities to do their shady business, Team Skull openly defied the law. Challenged it and its moral beginnings, and gave not a single fuck who they upset or crossed in so doing. Guzma wanted people to know he was violent, wanted people to know that no law would bind him, nor intimidate him into complacency. Archer's plan meant nothing to him, and he'd be sure to make that fact a continued reality.

Guzma's not surprised a little dude like Archer was quick enough to get out of the way of the desk, but to throw the stapler with such accuracy, and to whip out that gun with equal deftness? So, maybe this dude wasn't just some skeevy pencil pusher. The stapler was hardly a problem, seeing as Guzma was able to hit it out of the air before it could hit him, but then the gun fired and the sound cut through the air like a serrated blade.

In mere moments the scene played out. The desk flipping, Archer dodging and firing, the shot hitting Guzma—the sound of metal ricocheting off of diamond piercing the air almost as painfully as the shot itself. Then there was a second sound of metal against something diamond-like: Golisopod's shell. The bullet met with Guzma's own carapace, veered off towards Poe, and with reflexes honed from being both a Pokémon and years of battle, Golisopod grappled Poe against him with five of his arms, the last one shielding the bullet from making its unintentional mark.

Guzma was left a little stunned by the suddenness of it all, but only for enough time to glance at Poe and Golisopod in that protective embrace, before he turned his attention to Archer with a wicked smirk, "You ain't gonna take your boy down with that, idiot! But you're free to waste your ammo if that'll make ya feel better, yo!"

Fearlessly he marched forward, his skin taking on a strange appearance that looked less like human skin, and more like a bug's carapace with the plating and segmentation that appeared even on his face. Fully activating his ability as if to present the futility of Archer's resistance. Regardless of whether Archer fires more or not, Guzma never loses his pace, not till he was looming over him, leaning down to grab at Archer's wrist to wrench the gun from his grasp. His other hand clenching into a fist to start the beat down with a christening swing aimed at Archer's face.

It all happened so fast, and suddenly Poe was encased in Golisopod's protective arms. He hadn't flinched at the gunshot, or the ricochet - hadn't even blinked as the bulled went whizzing past him. But he felt his heart skip a beat when he realised just how close it had come.

He let out a hard breath and raised a hand to touch the Pokemon's arm gratefully, and didn't try to move from its grasp. He couldn't really help, with this. He'd come with Guzma for a reason - he knew the other man had this well in hand. He was here to witness, and to warn.

"You really didn't learn you're damned lesson about the guns, did you," Poe growled. "Don't make me bring mine next time."

Archer did not look like a man who was about to have the shit beaten out of him. He knew how this was going to go, but he was perfectly calm. While his face had been one of surprise when his shot had failed, he quickly regained his composure. He tried to avoid Guzma, but unfortunately found himself unable to get far enough out of reach to avoid it.

Internally, he was full of a mixture of rage and triumph. The fact that these insects had dared to trespass on what was his, assaulted him, and expected nothing to come of it was infuriating. Had this been his world they would not make it out alive no matter how they had tried. He would have personally seen to that. In this world however he was lacking in power and influence.

However, that was where the triumph came in. Every action they made against him without any legal support gave him more of what he needed. It was no secret that Guzma and Archie were close, so even if he had lacked evidence of that being the source of the attack Archer would still have had some ground to stand on concerning the violent tendencies of a public figure's associates, but the fact that this was all on camera and he had done everything right. Guzma would be unharmed by this, but Archie would not. While Archer was not completely aware of what Poe's job was, he had no doubt that he could easily use the footage - especially that of Poe threatening to come back with his own gun - to make the man's life harder.

In the end, they were just going to make things harder for Archie when Archer finally made his move against the man. Archie would be brought down in both the eyes of the public and the eyes of the law, and it would be all the sweeter to see it affect everyone the man loved.

So that, that was why when Archer could not move out of the way he simply attempted to block, knowing it would be futile, and dreamed of the ruin he would reign down upon those who had wronged him.

He took the hit and looked back at Guzma as if completely unbothered. He had taken far worse. He would take yet still more terrible as he worked to regain the power that was rightfully his.

Poe's words were like vague echos to Guzma as he really gets into the thrill of this. Of working up to beating this man senseless for what wrong he's done him—what wrongs he's done Archie.

Really, there was nothing quite as cathartic. For as much as he loved his Pokémon battles, there's just something primal and raw in beating down a man with your own two hands. To feel the connection of fist to face and body both. How your own hand bruises from the impact, the pain from it like electricity through your nerves that serves to further fuel you, than deter you. The pump of adrenaline, each spike of it drawing you further and further in...

The block did little to stop the strength behind the blow, the connection only inspired another to follow. For a moment, his eyes caught Archer's, that apathetic coldness to them only inspired Guzma further. He'd make him fear him, even if it took beating him within an inch of his life.

"You're gonna learn, one way or another, what it means to cross someone like me," Guzma offered, his voice unnaturally calm. It clashed with the look on his face, that wild and chaotic sort of delight as he used that grip on Archer's wrist to slam his front up against the wall. His own body pressing against him to pin and hold him firmly there as he kept his arm wrenched behind his back. Honestly, the size difference between the two was a little obnoxious, particularly with such proximity as this.

"You'll be lucky if ya can walk once I'm through with you."

...Which, if Guzma was really thinking about his word choice, maybe he would have said something that sounded a whole lot less like an innuendo than that. Naturally, he meant he might be breaking his damn legs, but the position he currently had him in certainly didn't help his poor word choice. Regardless, the intent is made far more clearly when Guzma reeled back his free hand, clenching it into a fist, before aiming a strike at Archer's ribs.

Poe didn't get closer. For all his bravado, he could never take pleasure in this sort of thing. It had to be done. The guy had it coming and he had to be taught a lesson, but Poe was a pilot. The men he killed, they went up in balls of flame without Poe even having to see their faces. On the ground, he took out storm troopers before they even saw him.

He was trained in hand to hand combat but he didn't have the stomach to take a guy out that way.

So he just fell silent, and watched.

One thing was clear immediately: Archer was still somehow not intimidated. He raised an eyebrow at him before speaking, as if Guzma's comment was somehow... Cheeky? "I have met many people like you, I have crossed them and they have crossed me. I have yet to be impressed."

And it was true. He had come in contact with many people who had Guzma's particular brand of 'charm'. Some of them had been his rivals for promotion, though those who had actually been any threat had found themselves undone by their deeds coming to light. Sometimes he had come across someone like Guzma in a rival organization, someone who threw their weight and personal strength around as if that made them worth something.

It didn't, of course. Their lack of vision meant that they were ultimately useless if they wouldn't bow down to Rocket.

The lack of intimidation, while annoying, merely continued to serve as fuel. Guzma was nothing if not a fount of determination in the face of adversity. Pulling Archer back, he kept a tight hold on him as he turned the other man to face him. He wanted to see him more face to face, than merely an over the shoulder glance.

"Yeah? Well, I ain't here to impress ya."

He was here to make him pay.

It didn't matter what Archer said, people could hold their fronts as much as they wanted, not everyone broke in that way. Guzma knew that well enough. With that same fist that became intimate with Archer's ribs, he struck again, but at Archer's stomach.

Guzma's strength was nothing to sniff at, that was for certain. Nor his relentlessness. He let no time pass between strikes, as he brought another punch in to the same spot, and then another, and another... His other hand holding Archer's arm behind his back still. After a few more powerful hits, he then tossed the Rocket Admin to the floor, to tower over him, stomping his foot down mercilessly onto the other man's already battered stomach.

He wasn't done, but he wanted to get a good look at him before he bashed his face in.

"Man, you look fuckin' pathetic."

Archer took the blows admirably.

Well. As admirably as one could. His body still betrayed him, however. His eyes widened with each blow, and had he not been held up he would have perhaps fallen at some point during the attacks, more due to how his stomach churned and tried to expunge what it didn't have.

Archer had tried to get to his feet when he was thrown, he would not pretend to be cowed, but he had been unable to get to his knees before the stomp came. There was a choked breath as he gathered his wits about him.

Just in time to look up at Guzma, to continue to look unimpressed, unafraid. The light of rebellion was good and alive, perhaps more than before.

It was taking much of Archer's willpower to not tell Guzma how worthless he really was, to tell him the facts of reality. Archer had debased himself (because, surely, it had been according to plan, as opposed to any true lack of power) in front of far, far worse men than him, far more terrifying men, and in the end they had laid at his feet, begging for mercy.

(He never, ever showed mercy.)

A shaky grin came to his face unbidden as he imagined Guzma in much the same position as the filth that Archer had crushed beneath his feet.

Edited 2019-10-31 06:55 (UTC)

(no subject)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Sorry I'm so late! Sleep trouble lately.

It's all good!!

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject