Albert Rosenfield

[Ladies and gentlemen of Johto and Kanto, something rather odd is afoot on your network today. Upon closer inspection, it appears to be the ceiling of some kind of garage-like room, rendered in video and slo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-owly moving past at a glacial — yet determined — pace. In fact, it's probably what the ceiling would look like if a Gear camera was pointed at it while that aforementioned Gear was being stolen by a pair of Shuckles.

Which, as a matter of fact, is exactly what's happening.

Unfortunately for these criminal masterminds, their getaway is moving at approximately the speed of molasses left out on a park bench in Siberia, so more likely than not they're going to be noticed before anything productive comes of it.]

Well, you look like you check out, pal...

[—and apparently Albert is somewhere in the vicinity, too, given the proximity of his voice as, presumably unbeknownst to him, his Gear goes Shuckling across the floor.]

No obvious growths, no changes in teeth or coat, eyes still look bright, appetite's good...

[The purple head and glittering diamond eyes of a Sableye creep into view on the camera now, disrupting the slow-moving shot of the ceiling, and a minute later things go dark as two little clawed hands close over the lens and Gear.]

Huh. Doesn't look like there's an upper limit to these things after all. Never mind the fact that education of yours just cost as much as grad school, if not — what're you doing, Impy? Don't play with that. Just leave it there, it's fine.

[The darkness recedes, and now the Gear is on its side on a lab table — one currently covered in the pieces of fifteen broken TMs — and Albert is visible next to it. He's wearing his lab coat and gloves as usual, and is holding a Buneary who is rather nonchalantly nibbling at a piece of lettuce.

Albert continues his inspection of the Buneary another few moments, then checks his watch and heads out of sight, still carrying the Pokemon in his arms.]

Sweep and Scrappy can take care of the mess. Let's get you back in the cage, Bruce.

[And on that note, purple hands descend again, and after a few buttons click, the Gear switches off.]

( Off-Network | Current Contents of Albert Rosenfield's Briefcase )

~
[It's afternoon waning toward evening in Saffron City, and at the moment Albert Rosenfield can be found in one of the city's small Pokemon parks, a briefcase stowed securely on a nearby bench and a pink rubber ball in one hand. With him today are his Scyther, obediently hovering near the bench and briefcase like a good underling, and his Poochyena, who appears to be more interested in the ball than anything else.

Albert, meanwhile, is spending the majority of his time giving the ball a series of thoughtful squeezes in his hand while he thinks, but occasionally rears back and lets it fly in a surprisingly graceful arc — at which point Gandhina unfailingly tears off after it, paws scrabbling at the grass and dirt as she hurtles off into the distance to retrieve her toy.]

The problem isn't going to be isolating it, it's going to be getting it to stick around long enough to do any good. However those mushrooms came about, evolution or divine design, you've got to give them some credit — we're looking at pretty nasty stuff here. Direct contact ought to be the easier of the two to handle, once we come up some way of making the neutralizing agent stick. Respiratory...unless you've got any bright ideas, we're gonna need a mask.

[At this point, Gandhina comes charging back with a now-somewhat-slobbery ball in her teeth, and Albert crouches down to retrieve it from her, but sets it aside and stays down to examine her adorable puppy muzzle and jowls.]

Hold still, you dumb mutt — you know, I was going to say it'd be a problem to cut off the use of your jaws with a rig like that, but anything that keeps you from picking up everything under the sun —

[Pleased by the attention and presuming these words of her master's are praise, Gandhina's tail is wagging at about a mile a minute.]

Dummy, grab the tape measure and toss it over here. Not the easiest task in the world without a set of opposable thumbs, I know, but hey, you're a bright bug, I'm sure you're up to the challenge.

[And then, as a Scyther leans over to retrieve the aforementioned tape measure, he abruptly notices that the Gear is on and quickly — and probably a little guiltily — shuts it off.]

~
[Later, a more intentional bit of commentary from Albert hits the network.]

So whose bright idea was it to hide all the tolerable cities on the other end of a six-hour train ride? Skyscrapers, business districts, a concert hall. Five minutes out of the station and I'd already counted eight coffee peddlers.

Now all that's left is to turn a corner and come across a bakery selling thirty-one flavors of pie, and by golly, we'll have ourselves the makings of heaven here.

[So Johto, have you ever been treated to the sight of a happy baby Togepi up close and personal? Well, if not, today you're going to have that pleasure as this video comes on; trilling quietly but cheerfully, Egghead the Togepi has somehow found his way up onto the surface where Albert last abandoned his Gear and is now happily amusing himself by poking at the buttons. Hence, the video that follows is sporadic and clipped in parts; sometimes the video cuts out entirely and switches to audio, while at other times there are large chunks missing that come interspersed with gibberish text.

When the video is on, however, the network at large is treated to the sight of Egghead peering merrily into the camera, surrounded in the periphery by an assortment of items that comprise Albert's work over the past month — stacks of paper covered in neat but cramped handwriting, small plastic bags with what appear to be samples of berries, powders, leaf clippings, mushrooms, bits of fur, and other assorted snippets inside, an open box of latex gloves, and half a pack of cigarettes.

However, there appears to be some commotion going on in the background, providing a decidedly odd soundtrack to Egghead's playing. Some of it is the recognizably nervous woofing of a Poochyena who is pretty sure her trainer wouldn't be happy to discover Egghead's antics; most of it, however, is Albert's rapid and acerbic tone itself.]

—best we're going to get in this damn — I'll duct-tape you to that table, Thing, if you don't quit trying to make a speedy getaway. What do you think you are, the Harry Houdini of coconut crabs? All right, now where's th—

[The video cuts, and then—]

dddddddddfifffffffffioooooooooo

[And a minute later, the video resumes—]

—nna do you first to keep him still, and then you're the follow-up to put him to sleep, got it? ...Hey, don't give me that look, princess, Cooper told you to behave and I'm not exactly thrilled to be depending on a five-foot owl and an electric mutt for this, either.

[Abruptly, the video cuts out, but the audio continues.]

Okay, now I just need — Dummy, you better not be touching anything, if I have to sterilize you again I'm go—

[And then—]

afdsfafdfdfdfdfdffffffdfsssefwees

[A while later, the video resumes—]

—kay. Now listen, it'll be just like you practiced. Don't start thinking too much, got it? Calm, confident hand. ...Scythe blade. Whatever.

All right. Gandhina, take Egghead and get out of he—what are you doing? Leave that alo—

[And with one last half-pitiful, half-guilty whimper from Gandhina, the feed closes for the final time.]


[OOC: Responses from Albert will come ICly a while after this post, once Thing's emergency tochukaso removal surgery has concluded. Because what happens to a Paras when it evolves is just plain scary, man. Also, Tricia the Manectric and Holmes the Noctowl, referenced herein, were borrowed with Coop-mun's permission!]